My deep soul

Chapter 31

The evening air was cool, scented faintly of pine and lotus. The pond reflected the dying colors of the sun—streaks of gold and rose trembling on the surface as if unsure whether to fade or linger. Jinyoen sat on the stone ledge, her dark hair falling over her shoulder as she hummed a soft, almost mournful tune, her eyes lost in the water.

“You seem to be in very deep thoughts, Lady Jinyoen,” a voice interrupted gently.

She turned to see Master Wi-hwa approaching, his hands folded behind his back, his sharp gaze softened with curiosity. She rose slightly and bowed her head respectfully.

“Perhaps I am,” she admitted with a faint smile. “Have you ever felt… confused about yourself, Master? As if you cannot quite understand what it is you truly want?”

Wi-hwa tilted his head, studying her with interest. “What do you mean by that, my lady?  You carry power in your name alone. If you willed it, you could even throw the queen herself off her throne. Surely you do not need to trouble yourself with doubt.”

Jinyoen’s smile faded. She turned her gaze back to the pond, her reflection broken by ripples. “Power isn’t everything, Master. It does not heal wounds. It does not bring back the dead. Power makes people greedy—it turns kin into enemies, lovers into strangers. I have seen too much of it. All it brings is sorrow.”

Wi-hwa’s brows drew together. “Then what do you think is worth having, if not power?”

She was quiet for a long while, listening to the soft croak of frogs in the reeds. Finally, she answered in a low, steady voice, “The value of life. That is what matters. Not crowns, not armies, not gold. Life itself.”

Wi-hwa’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly, intrigued. “And what would you say, then, about Hwarang? What should we be teaching them, if not to fight for the throne and protect the kingdom with their lives?”

She finally looked at him, her black eyes shining with a quiet fire. “Teach them to be strong—but also to be kind. To defend the innocent, not just the powerful. To see that every life they protect carries more weight than any jewel on the crown. A true Hwarang must know when to lift the sword… and when to lower it.”

Her words lingered in the air like an echo across the pond. For a long moment, Wi-hwa only stared at her, then slowly, a smile spread across his face—a rare, genuine smile.

“You and the princess,” he said at last, his tone tinged with amusement, “are completely opposite. She speaks often of the glory of victory, the necessity of blood. And here you are, speaking of mercy and compassion.”

Jinyoen rose to her feet, dusting off her hands, her expression calm though her heart was restless. “People have different ways of thinking, Master. That is what makes them people. But I have chosen mine.”

Without waiting for his response, she bowed her head respectfully and turned, her figure retreating into the deepening dusk, leaving Wi-hwa standing alone by the pond—still smiling faintly as though he had just uncovered a secret.
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The morning sun glinted off the surface of the stream beneath the bridge at Hwarang House, birds calling softly in the distance. Jinyoen leaned lightly on the railing, watching the ripples of water move with the breeze. She raised an eyebrow as Jidiwi approached, his posture relaxed but his eyes carrying that familiar, quiet intensity.

“So, you’re going on a hunting trip with the princess,” she said, her voice teasing but edged with concern.

Jidiwi shrugged, glancing down at her before looking out over the bridge. “I don’t really have a choice. I must obey her command. I’m a Hwarang, after all.”