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WE MEET, BUT IN THE SHADOWS.
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It has been two days since the meeting with Cho-nyo-Gwishin for the King Min Yoongi.
Two days of an unwavering and sluggish salvage since he had crumpled due to his exhaustion and a sense of being incredulous.
Two days of the extravagant messenger of Jinjoseon, Jeon Jungkook's delay for withdrawal to Asadal.
Jungkook had been placed below detention, the observant eyes of the royal guards of the palace located in Pyongyang were declining him to depart and even consent to leave the bedchambers he was allocated, ensuring that he will not discharge. He did not comprehend how the courtyard sever the menace of his, when he merely was a herald, producing the message from the Supreme Dangun in Jinjoseon concerning a resolution to an arising engagement that will demolish all acreages of Gojoseon, bringing them back to the state of mayhem and sorrow as years preceding.
The days were extended, wearisome, and full of nervousness as even Mangjol Young-Nam had been in a state of incompetence over how the King was not conscious yet, unfathomable in the domain of spirits or perhaps in the lands of divinities that had stemmed from the firmaments.
"He is at forfeiture of a part of his spirit," the shaman specified, igniting another incense of bergamot, watching the smoke beginning to form nearby the King who rested in bedstead at reconciliation, sporadically recoiling and partaking his skin covered in emotionless fluid, "it was her who depleted him,"
Bom-Nuri only nodded in sympathetic, glancing at Ye Fu, a healer who had arrived from Xia to succour the medicine, transporting foreign knowledge to Makjoseon, and ensuring it is mastered by the local people. Fu simply studied the King who lay on the bed that was on the wooden floor, attempting to figure out what his foreign restoration can do instead of the traditional shamanic rituals, merely as of now, it was discouraging. Never in his life he had seen an individual fall into a profound coma alike to Yoongi's, and it only powered his exasperation over how he is not adept to assist the superior man.
"How is the King?" A recognisable lenient voice echoed as the doors squeaked and Bom-Nuri tensed, knowing that General Park's presence was superfluous at a time like this.
"The King is still not conscious, his spirit is scratched powerfully now, contrasting the previous encounters," Young-Nam stated, picking up a pot of dried burdock leaves and pouring drops of jasmine tea into a small wooden vessel, "she will not repose until he is taken with her to the dominion of the essences,"
"Prior meetings?" Jimin asked, now standing to the right of Bom-Nuri, "this is not novel?" There was unpolluted disbelief and stratagem within his tone that the advisor loathed without a detailed perceptive.
"Yes, General Park," Bom-Nuri slowly began, "he had been meeting her since his youthful years, and now she had grown far more prevailing than before,"
Jimin regarded at the advisor, eyes eclectic although he bowed nonetheless in approval of his own words, understanding that a spirit following any is a long-term occurrence, intermittent but nevertheless it does occur. Park Jimin was not new to spirit exhausting a presence of one, his father had experienced comparable productions before retiring as it had developed too repeatedly for him to lever, directing his capabilities while leading the military. But for his father, it was merely a Mong-Dal-Gwishi — the deceased soul of an unattached man who was his father's brother, Park Hae-Il.
