Moon's Whisper, Heart's Echo

43. The Father

Min-joon's small fingers tightened around the servant's hand as they approached the chamber. He had always hated big rooms full of stern faces.

The kind that looked like they could squash a boy like him with a single frown.

The servant stopped just short of the door, and Min-joon shifted, trying to hide behind her skirts. But the mudang stepped forward first, her prayer beads clicking softly like distant raindrops.

She glanced back at Min-joon, her weathered face softening. "Come here, little one," she said, beckoning him with a hand.

Min-joon hesitated, his eyes darting toward the open doors. Then he saw her—Nandi. Standing inside, her figure still but her face a mix of warmth and quiet worry.

He bolted to her, latching onto her side like a barnacle.

"What's happening, eomma?" he whispered, glancing uneasily at the mudang's beads, which clicked again as she adjusted her ceremonial robes.

I wish I knew... she wanted to say.

The mudang knelt, lowering herself to his eye level, her movements slow and deliberate. "We're going to say a special prayer," she explained, her voice lilting with gentle patience. "It's like talking to the stars. But sometimes, the stars need a drop of blood to hear us better."

Min-joon's mouth opened in a silent gasp, his eyes growing as round as the beads in her hands. He shuffled further behind Nandi, peeking out like a rabbit spotting danger.

Before he could retreat entirely, Tae-young stepped forward, his footsteps steady, deliberate. He rolled up his sleeve with practiced ease and knelt beside the boy.

"Here," he said, his voice calm, warm as summer. "Would you like to see me go first?"

Min-joon blinked at him, studying his father's face with unspoken questions.

"It's no worse than when you scraped your knee learning archery," Tae-young added, smiling faintly.

"Did you cry when you scraped your knee?" Min-joon asked, his tone more skeptical than frightened now.

Tae-young chuckled, a low, genuine sound. "Maybe a little. But I had a brave young friend who helped me be strong." He held his arm out to the mudang. "Shall we be brave together?"

The boy hesitated, then nodded solemnly, stepping slightly out from behind Nandi's skirts to watch.

The mudang worked quickly, the silver needle flashing briefly in the light as it caught three crimson drops from Tae-young's arm. Min-joon stared, unblinking, at the blood falling into the small ceramic bowl.

"Your turn, little tiger," Tae-young said softly. His hand brushed Min-joon's shoulder, steady and reassuring, the kind of touch that didn't need words to explain it.

Behind them, a voice broke the moment.

"This is nonsense!" Lord Cho's shout cracked through the air like a whip, shattering the fragile calm. "Why would he possibly be the father? The timing—"

"The timing?" The Crown Princess's voice slid in, deadly sweet. "You're sweating, Lord Cho."

Lady Yi stumbled forward, her steps unsteady, her hands trembling. "It's not possible... I made sure... I watched them prepare the herbs myself..."