As soon as the Crown Prince pushed open the heavy doors, they entered a chamber bathed in the flickering light of burning candles.
Vibrant ceremonial silk fabrics of various colors hung along the stone walls.
Sitting silently in a semi-circle against the walls were twenty-four elders.
Before them stood a group of young initiates, all clad in black with white cloths concealing their faces.
“Step forward,” one of the elders commanded, walking toward a central brazier of burning fire.
The Crown Prince, Woon, Pung, and Chae-woo approached him and knelt on the cold stone floor.
Another elder stepped into the light.
“The King’s *Saheonbu* is a heavy burden—one that must be carried for the sake of the nation. Protect the crown and the throne, and we shall support you with all the power at our disposal. But remember this above all else: the throne comes before your life.”
A ceremonial bowl was brought forth and passed among them.
Each initiate severed a lock of their hair and placed it inside the vessel, followed by the Crown Prince, Pung, Woon, and Chae-woo.
Together, they swore a solemn oath of absolute allegiance to the crown and the realm.
Once the oath was complete, an elder approached alongside a young attendant carrying four sheathed weapons.
“These are the Blades of Kings,” the elder declared, handing them forward.
“In times of war, pestilence, and unrest, may these blades shine a guiding light under the crescent moon.”
The four men accepted the ceremonial swords.
The elder turned back toward the wall, and without warning, a dense cloud of white smoke filled the chamber.
“When we call upon you again, you must answer,” the elder’s voice echoed through the mist.
Coughing slightly, the Crown Prince and his guards retreated outside into the cool night air.
As they made their way down the mountain trails toward the palace, Chae-woo turned to the Crown Prince.
“Your Highness… what was all of that about?” Chae-woo asked, adjusting his new sword.
“You have just been formally initiated into the shadow organization that protects the throne—the true King’s *Saheonbu*,” the Crown Prince explained smoothly.
“What?” Pung asked, brows furrowing.
“I thought we were already welcomed as guards by the ministers in open court. Why was this necessary?”
The Crown Prince let out a quiet chuckle.
“Do you truly think you are the only *Saheonbu*? No. The organization has far more operatives than you can see—and some are much closer than you think.”
The Crown Prince then turned his gaze toward Woon.
“Do you have any questions?”
“I feel somewhat sorry for you,” the Crown Prince continued, a faint smile on his lips.
“You never wanted to be involved in court politics or affairs concerning the crown. But there is no way to wield a sword inside this palace without being dragged into the deep end. You are palace guards now.”
When they arrived at the East Palace courtyard, the three guards bowed and bade the Crown Prince goodnight before turning toward their quarters.
“The voice of that head elder…” Pung muttered under his breath.
“It sounded strikingly familiar.”
“I thought I was the only one who noticed,” Chae-woo added quietly.
Before they could discuss it further, Woon suddenly raised a hand.
The other two instantly froze and silenced their steps.
“Listen,” Woon whispered, his eyes narrowing in the darkness.
“Footsteps.”
Without warning, the paper lanterns surrounding the East Palace courtyard were extinguished one by one, plunging the corridors into pitch darkness.
Instantly, Pung, Woon, and Chae-woo drew their steel.
“Chae-woo, take the northern sector,” Woon ordered in a sharp whisper.
“Pung, cover the western gate. I will hold the eastern gate.”
“Understood!” they answered, dispersing instantly.
A second later, a swarm of masked assassins flooded the East Palace grounds.
At the eastern gate, Woon stood his ground like an unyielding monolith, his sheer power driving back wave after wave of attackers.
Sensing his strength, a heavily built assassin stepped forward to engage him directly.
The duel quickly devolved into a brutal hand-to-hand struggle.
In the heat of the fight, the assassin violently tore away Woon’s outer *hanbok*, while Woon simultaneously ripped the heavy chest armor off his opponent.
The assassin froze, staring at Woon’s bare chest and arms in realization.
“I knew it… You are the Armor Reaper!”
Without another word, the assassin signaled a retreat and scaled the courtyard wall alongside his surviving men.
Meanwhile, at the western gate, Pung was locked in a fierce, multi-front sword fight.
As he parried a strike from the squad leader, a blade sliced through the fabric of his sleeve.
Realizing their assault had failed, the remaining assassins scaled the outer wall and vanished into the night.
Pung quickly retrieved the token and rushed toward the northern gate to check on his comrades.
He found Woon standing amidst the quiet courtyard, carefully scanning the perimeter to ensure no hidden threats remained.
As Pung approached, his eyes locked onto Woon’s exposed back.
Running from Woon’s waist all the way up to his neck was a long, pale scar from a severe sword strike, surrounded by several distinct circular marks left by deep arrow wounds.
The sight hit Pung like a physical blow.
Memories of the horrifying night their family was slaughtered flashed violently before his eyes—the chaos, the blood, and the sight of his little brother lying still beside their mother before being whisked away by the midwife.
Pung’s grip failed, and his sword clattered loudly onto the cobblestones.
He clutched his head in agony, his knees buckling.
Before he hit the ground, Woon lunged forward and caught him, holding his brother steady just as Chae-woo hurried into the courtyard.
Late that night inside the royal study, the Chief Royal Guard and the Head Eunuch stood before the King, bowing low.
“How did the test go?” the King asked, his hands folded behind his back.
“Well, *Jeonha*,” the Chief Royal Guard reported.
“I confirmed something that matches the account given ten years ago by one of the guards I took care of.
“Speak,” the King commanded.
“The guard described the severe wounds inflicted on General Kang Mu-shin’s second son—a deep, vertical sword slash across his back and multiple arrow puncture wounds. Woon bears those exact scars on his body, *Jeonha*.”
The King stood frozen, his eyes widening as if he had just seen a ghost.
“Furthermore, *Jeonha*,” the Head Eunuch chimed in softly, “during the skirmish, I personally saw the carved tiger’s tooth with the golden socket fall from Pung’s sleeve—the very same token Your Majesty bestowed upon General Kang Mu-shin’s children ten years ago.”
A slow, emotional smile broke across the King’s face.
“So… I have finally found the missing children of my dearest friend.”
“Congratulations, *Jeonha*,” the Chief Royal Guard and Head Eunuch said in unison, bowing deeply.
The King’s expression turned solemn and fierce.
“Ensure that not a single word of this leaves this room.”
“Yes, *Jeonha*,” they answered.
After escorting the monarch back to his private bedchambers, the guards left him alone.
Sitting in the quiet darkness of his room, the King broke down, weeping bitterly into his hands as he swallowed cup after cup of strong liquor.