My deep soul

Chapter 36

The morning sun barely broke through the thick curtains of the Baekje hall, its light glinting off polished stone floors. Jidiwi, Banryu, Sooho, and Sunwoo were forced to stand in a rigid line, their hands bound lightly at their sides, facing the crown prince and Princess Sookmyung. The hall was suffocating, filled with Baekje soldiers and nobles who murmured uneasily.

The crown prince’s gaze swept across them, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. “I hear the king of Silla is among you,” he said, voice sharp and commanding. “Therefore, I will give the king a chance to reveal himself and take responsibility for this… unfortunate incident.”

At his command, soldiers dragged forward the Silla prisoners, some bearing fresh bruises, some bleeding, all exhausted. Jinyoen stumbled along with them, her hanfu torn, hair matted with blood and sweat. The prince’s eyes lingered on her as if she were merely a prize to be claimed.

“If there is a king among you,” the crown prince added, tone dripping with menace, “reveal your identity. If no one speaks,”—he let the threat hang in the air like a dagger—“every fifteen minutes, I will chop a head to send a message to Silla.”

Jinyoen’s black eyes widened in horror. Her gaze flitted to Jidiwi, bloodied and tense, his jaw tight, eyes dark with restrained fury. She could see his every muscle coiled, ready to spring—but she also saw the hesitation, the flicker of doubt.

Jidiwi opened his mouth, a low growl forming in his throat, his fingers trembling—not from fear, but from the  anger  burning through him. He was about to reveal himself, to take control, to strike down the Baekje prince and claim his authority. But then, a firm hand grasped his wrist.

Sunwoo.

He stood beside Jidiwi, eyes unreadable, a mask of steel covering the storm beneath. The hall seemed to grow quieter as he moved forward slightly, positioning himself protectively. He glanced at Jinyoen, noting the fear etched on her face, the faint tremor in her hands, the blood staining her clothes.

He thought of Jidiwi- he knew Jidiwi is the king and he knew the cost if Jidiwi spoke too soon. He knew the danger to Silla if the Baekje prince discovered the king so vulnerably. And he knew Jinyoen—her heart, her courage, her resilience. She deserved more than to witness another massacre, more than to see the one she loved be torn apart in front of her.

Taking a deep breath, Sunwoo stepped forward, voice ringing in the hall, strong and unwavering.

“I am the king of Silla,” he declared, every word striking the hall like thunder. The soldiers froze. The nobles gasped. Even the crown prince’s smirk faltered, replaced by a flash of disbelief.

Jidiwi’s dark eyes narrowed, a storm of emotions swirling inside him—relief, fury, frustration. He didn’t move yet; he let Sunwoo take the lead, knowing the calculation, knowing the risk.

Sunwoo’s chest heaved, but his face remained composed. He let the weight of his words settle over the hall. Every eye turned toward him. He knew the cost, he knew what the prince could do next—but he also knew that he had bought the only moment Jidiwi needed: a chance to protect Jinyoen, to survive, to strategize.

Jinyoen’s gaze softened as she looked at Sunwoo, gratitude shining through her exhaustion. Her fingers twitched, wanting to reach for Jidiwi, to reassure him, to anchor him.
The Baekje crown prince’s eyes narrowed, his pride pricked, and his hand itched toward his sword—but he paused. Sunwoo’s declaration had shifted the game, but not ended it.

The courtyard of Baekje’s royal palace had been cleared, leaving only the assembled soldiers and nobles from both nations. Torches flickered in the chilly morning air, casting long shadows over the polished stones. The crown prince of South Buyeo, Chang, stood tall, his armor glinting under the pale sunlight, a confident smirk on his lips.

“I am South Buyeo’s crown prince, Chang,” he announced loudly, his voice echoing across the courtyard. “Today I plan to face Silla’s king, Jinheung, in a sword fight. This contest is fair, and we shall respect each other. Depending on the outcome, the relationship between our nations will change. No matter the result, I swear before Baekje’s commander and Silla’s hwarang to honor the outcome.”

A cheer erupted from the gathered subjects of Baekje, their enthusiasm ringing out like a storm. Jinyoen, standing slightly behind the line prisoners, clenched her hands, worry etched across her face. She could see the pride and arrogance in the crown prince’s eyes—and the dark, calculating tension in Jidiwi’s.

Sunwoo, sensing danger, reached for his sword, but Jidiwi’s firm hand gripped his wrist.

“ stop,” Jidiwi said quietly, though the steel in his voice made the command unquestionable. “This is my fight, not yours.”

Sunwoo’s eyes flicked to Jinyoen, who looked pale and tense, but he reluctantly lowered his hand.

The crown prince sneered. “I want to fight the king, not some subordinate soldier,” he spat, the disdain dripping from his words.

Jidiwi’s eyes darkened. “I fight on the king’s behalf,” he said, voice low and deadly, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. There was no hesitation in his stance, no wavering.

The fight began. Jidiwi moved with lethal precision, his blade slicing through the air with a deadly rhythm. Chang attacked with force, but Jidiwi’s skill, honed from years of secret training and strategy, was overwhelming. Each strike was measured, each parry flawless. Sparks flew as their swords collided, and the crowd fell silent, watching in awe as the Silla warrior dominated the field.

The Baekje general started to step forward, ready to intervene, but Princess Sookmyung’s sharp voice cut through the tension.

“Stop! Didn’t you say this is a fair contest? The fate of Silla and South Buyeo rests on this duel!” Her words froze the general, and he stepped back, begrudgingly respecting the contest.

In a final, devastating move, Jidiwi disarmed the crown prince and forced him into hand-to-hand combat. His skill was overwhelming; within moments, Jidiwi held the prince at sword-point at his throat, the dark obsession and protective fire in his eyes fixed entirely on ensuring Jinyoen’s safety.

“Acknowledge your defeat,” Jidiwi demanded, voice low and threatening, a promise of ruthless retribution behind every syllable.

Chang’s pride faltered, and he swallowed hard, nodding. “Through this incident, I will not go to war with Silla. I will release the princess and the entire delegation.”

The momentary relief that washed over Jinyoen was short-lived, her breath catching in fear. The crown prince smirked, his arrogance returning as he began to step away—but Jidiwi’s dark gaze pinned him in place.

“What about the subjects?” Jidiwi asked, his voice as cold and precise as the edge of his blade. His hands tightened on the hilt, the air around him taut with threat.

“They have nothing to do with this incident,” Chang said with a cruel grin. “Since they are criminals for stealing, they will pay with their lives.”

Jinyoen’s eyes widened in terror, and her body tensed. Before she could react, the crown prince reached out and grabbed her arm, dragging her toward himself.

“She will satisfy me tonight,” he said, his voice a mix of lust and arrogance. “What a beauty, a noble.”

Jidiwi’s dark obsession erupted like a storm. Every muscle in his body tensed, his hands trembling not from fear but from the searing protective rage coursing through him. The world around him narrowed down to the one person he loved, the one life he would sacrifice everything to protect.

“Let go of her,” Jidiwi’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “I swear, if you touch her again, you will regret every breath you take.” His eyes were black, unyielding, consumed with obsession and the desperate need to keep Jinyoen safe.