I Became My Ex-Boyfriend’s Concubine - Chapter 79

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 79

Half an hour before the Bon-sik, the back courtyard of Sa-jik-dan.
“Is that truly the case?”
“Yes, sir.”
Park Dae-young’s face darkened as he ran a hand lightly over his beard.
Far beyond the pavilion, the sun was sinking low, painting the sky in shades of amber as darkness began to steal across the heavens.
The Bon-sik would begin soon.
Yet what Sang-gil had just reported about the resumption of the Gi-u-je was wholly unexpected.
“Then the Gui-in, Dan-bi, is currently…….”
“She has been moved to the Nae-ui-won and is undergoing treatment, sir.”
Word had come that the Pye-jeon-gak—where he had just confined the child from Sang-ui-won and had the servants beat her—had been engulfed in flames.
The greater problem was that the Gui-in had been there with the child.
Park Dae-young’s brow furrowed deeply.
He had never imagined the Gui-in would go so far as to visit the Pye-jeon-gak in person to save that child.
But even granting that—why had fire broken out in a perfectly sound pavilion?
“Have you determined who set the fire?”
“I beg your pardon, sir, but this happened after I left the scene, so I did not witness it myself.”
“When would that have been?”
“Around the Hour of Monkeys, sir.”
The Hour of Monkeys.
The Gui-in had promised to bring the Okse just before the Bon-sik, around the Hour of Rooster.
If such a disaster had struck at the Hour of Monkeys, it would be nearly impossible for the Gui-in to arrive at Sa-jik-dan in time for the Bon-sik.
Everything had gone wrong—and thoroughly. Who in blazes had orchestrated such chaos?
Park Dae-young hesitated for a moment, then took a heavy step forward.
“I must go to Sa-jik-dan first. I cannot simply stand idle…….”
“Forgive me, sir, but there is one more thing I must tell you.”
“What is it?”
“It is possible this Bon-sik may not take place at all.”
Park Dae-young’s footsteps froze. As he turned, Sang-gil continued in an unmoved tone.
“They say His Majesty himself threw himself into that burning pavilion.”
“What?”
In that instant, Park Dae-young’s mind raced. The Gui-in had been trapped in the pavilion when it caught fire, and the King had gone in after her.
There was only one conclusion: the King had thrown himself into the flames to save the Gui-in.
“Hah…….”
It was scarcely believable.
That a King—a sovereign worth ten thousand gold—would hurl himself into an inferno for the sake of one Gui-in.
Even if that Gui-in currently held the King’s singular favor, to stake one’s own life was an altogether different matter.

“An arrow meant for Dan-bi was intercepted by His Majesty instead.”

Suddenly, a memory surfaced—words once spoken by an assassin sent by Woo Sang at the Sa-nyang-teo.
That unbelievable report: when an assassin’s arrow had been loosed at the female Gui-in, the King had thrown his own body in front of it.
Park Dae-young’s eyes narrowed.
Could it truly be so? Perhaps the affection the King harbored for the Gui-in ran far deeper than he had reckoned.

“Fine. I’ll accept your proposal.”

Yet the Gui-in’s demeanor as she had negotiated terms concerning the King was hardly that of a woman blinded by love.
He could not fathom what game was truly being played.
Clearly, there lay some secret understanding between them alone.
If Sang-gil’s report was true, Park Dae-young was certain the Gi-u-je would fall apart as it stood.
And for him, this would be a blessing beyond measure—relief in the midst of drought.
If the King, holding the true Okse, were to complete the Gi-u-je, it was certain as fire that the Cheon-sim would turn toward him.
He had been watching for any chance to break that game and steal away the Okse, but now the King himself had thrown his body into the flames for him—was there any greater fortune than this?
Park Dae-young’s mouth curled into a crooked smile. A Gi-u-je without the King was as good as concluded.
“Let the Bon-sik commence.”
Yet that arrogant certainty would be shattered utterly.
In the midst of the uproar—where Woo Sang’s agitation had swayed the court officials into clamoring that the Gi-u-je must be halted—the sovereign tore through it all and appeared.
His appearance was grave beyond words.
The sleeves of his yong-po, tattered and fluttering from the ravages of hwa-ma, and his robes ripped nearly in half.
Most striking of all, fresh blood seeped relentlessly from a sharp blade wound that cut diagonally across his back.
It seemed a miracle that he stood upright at all.
As the entire Sa-jik-dan erupted in alarm, Park Dae-young stepped forward in panic and bowed deeply.
“Your Highness! I, Park Dae-young, speak with utmost concern for your health. Forgive me, but your condition appears far too grave. I humbly urge you to proceed at once to the Nae-ui-won—”
“There is a legend passed down from ancient kings, kept as a secret known only to those who wear the crown.”
At the sovereign’s abrupt words, the assembled officials lifted their heads as one. Park Dae-young’s brow furrowed in confusion.
The sovereign looked down at him and continued.
“Wol-lu Seong-u.”
Wol-lu Seong-u.
Park Dae-young turned the words over in his mind. It meant the tears of the moon become rain.
What could that possibly mean in a time like this?
“The tears of the moon fall as rain. And I have found that moon.”
At the sovereign’s words, Park Dae-young suddenly recalled something.

“They were crafting a great cloth shaped like the moon for the Gi-u-je to bring rain. A moon so enormous that a dozen strong men hanging from it would scarcely suffice.”

Could that moon be what he was referring to?
Yet he had never heard of any legend requiring something other than the Okse to bring down rain.
No Gi-u-je in all the records had ever used such a peculiar cloth.
So why, this time alone—?
Then a hypothesis flickered across his mind.
‘Could the Okse be a forgery?’
But Park Dae-young quickly shook his head.
It could not be.
Had he not clearly witnessed the radiant light emanating from the Okse that the sovereign held during the ceremony this afternoon?
But what mattered now was the whereabouts of that moon.
It should have been handled by Woo Sang, who had received his secret orders. The sovereign could not be unaware of this.
As if reading Park Dae-young’s thoughts, their eyes met directly.
“Yet before the Bon-sik began, someone destroyed that moon.”
The sovereign’s voice was calm, but his gaze was cold enough to cut through steel.
He swept the assembly slowly, each word driven home like a nail.
“And the gui-in who painstakingly crafted the moon at Sang-ui-won has been ravaged by hwa-ma and now rests under ga-ryo at the Nae-ui-won.”
“……!”
The assembly began to stir. Gasps of alarm burst forth from the officials.
But the turmoil was brief. Heavy footsteps echoed across the Sa-jik-dan.
The hall, which had been churning with barely contained chaos, fell silent as if doused with cold water.
From the highest point, the sovereign began to descend the steps slowly.
As he passed through where the concubines stood, all the women bowed their heads in unison.
Reaching the base of the altar at last, the sovereign stood before a white jade basin.
The pure water within lay still, without the slightest ripple.
Then he drew forth the Okse from his breast, wrapped in silk cloth.
Unwrapping the layered coverings and raising the Okse high, he found no trace of the lustrous glow he had witnessed this afternoon.
Thick darkness enveloped the space; the Okse emitted no light whatsoever, silent and inert.
The sovereign gazed at the assembly while gripping the Okse.
“Wol-lu Seong-u. This is a legend passed down in secret only to the kings of old. Do you know why I speak of this legend to you now, in such a time as this?”
At his sharp, cutting voice, Park Dae-young instinctively lowered his head. The gaze piercing through his skull was searing.
The sovereign regarded him for a moment, then turned his eyes back to the Okse. He extended his hand over the white jade basin.
As the bottom of the Okse touched the pure water with a faint sound, gentle ripples spread across the still surface.
“I have chosen to stake everything on the hand that the gui-in carefully laid out.”
Stake everything on a hand? What could he possibly mean?
Before he could comprehend these cryptic words,
Park Dae-young urgently searched for Sang-gil. He had positioned assassins in readiness behind the Sa-jik-dan in case of emergency.
He had not expected to deploy even this final move, but the situation had taken a grave turn.
Just as he was about to signal, the great doors at the base of the Sa-jik-dan opened with a heavy sound.
From within, dozens of dancers poured out.
The dancers wielded long han-sam and moved in perfect unison, their movements following identical trajectories with uncanny precision.
Yet there was something peculiar about the dancers’ appearance.
“That—that is……!”
“A wondrous radiance, Your Majesty!”
A blue luminescence wavered across the robes they wore.
Or rather, it seemed as though the light itself emanated from the fabric, as if the cloth itself were the source of that glow.
“What in the world is happening?”
As everyone gasped in astonishment, the dancers arranged themselves in a perfect circle around the jade basin and the strings.
Park Dae-young gazed upon the scene, his brow furrowed deeply.
“……The moon.”
Yes, it was the moon.
The dancers encircling the strings, pouring forth their light, shone brighter even than the moon hanging in the sky above.
As if they had gathered all the moonlight itself into their very being.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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