Song of the Black Dragon

ONE

"If you stare into those waters a minute more, you may just fall in."

Sun-ha jerked away from the bridge's railing at the sound of the unfamiliar voice behind her and turned to face the speaker. The imprints of the rough wood were now engraved in her palms, but she was grateful, at the very least, that she had stopped crying some time before.

"That isn't what you planned to do...or was it?" he continued, cocking his head to the right, his hands behind his back.

He was wearing a long black robe—a gwanbok—with white and purple cross-sections. Silver tassels ran along his shoulders, and an embroidered seal of the King was stamped across his black chest. The style of his robe and the softness of his face told Sun-ha he was a hwarang, a flowering knight. The silver tassels told her he was an apprentice, and the seal of the dragon labeled him a direct servant of the King.

"Yongam!" Sun-ha swallowed hard. She was unaware of how long he had been watching her.

What could she say? If he knows who I am....he might use it against me.

As a flowering knight, he was among their last generation. The Tribunal was petitioning the King to transfer the hwarang's military purpose to them, and the Confucius scholars didn't approve of the hwarang's value on physical beauty. They wanted the King to redirect the kingdom's scholarly institution to them instead.

The silken lavender and black hanbok she wore demanded the attention of a high position; the gold sash around her waist gave her away as a Magistrate's family member, and her youth would place her as the daughter of one.

With the waning favor of the King, exposing her would grant him popularity from the inner court.

That is how the lower ranks stay in power.

The apprentice sighed at her formal response and turned to look over the edge of the bridge, his lips curved in an exaggerated frown. The river below was calm and full of petals from the blossoms above them. He glanced back at Sun-ha.

"You know, they say the first King built this Rainbow Bridge to allow the Black Dragon a path to the Heavens again. Could you be here for a second chance?"

A second chance for what? Everyone I've loved...

Sun-ha turned away. Tears were forming in her eyes again, and she held back any words out of fear of sobbing before him.

"Ehhey," she heard him say, his tongue slipping in frustration as he took a few steps toward her. "Will you not answer me? Perhaps you'd want to know my name? It would allow someone with your power to beckon—and use me—at your whim. Isn't that what you'd want, my Lady?"

Sun-ha stopped to look at the apprentice fully. His eyebrows were raised, and his head was tilted in curiosity. The accusation stung her.

I am nothing like that. I am not like my mother.

"Only my birthright demands power. I do not."

He smiled at her words. "If you do not demand it, then I willingly give it: I am Han Shiwoon. You already know I am the apprentice hwarang, yes?"

Sun-ha furrowed her eyebrows. For what reason would he want to acquaint himself with the daughter of a magistrate? But she glanced up at the light, almond tones of his face—his smile, his eyes—and read nothing but gentleness from it.

His gentleness eased the ache in her chest. The ache that had driven her to the bridge.

"Yes, I do."

Han's smile grew.