The exposure of Prime Minister Choi was total and devastating. He was immediately stripped of all power and placed under the highest guard, the final disposition of his treason to be determined by the King. The Council was in utter shock, their self-serving ambition now tainted by the knowledge they had nearly surrendered their nation to a foreign power.
But the vacuum of power was immediate, and into it stepped Princess Anansi—Maya.
Crown Prince Dong-jin, utterly convinced of her loyalty and proven competence, had moved swiftly. He publicly declared her not merely a "Royal Ward," but a trusted advisor operating under his direct authority, a move that shielded her from remaining loyalists of Choi and legitimized her sudden influence.
Now, only days after the banquet, Maya stood before the assembly—an emergency session called to pass crucial defensive laws and restore stability. She was no longer dressed in humble village cotton or borrowed silks. She wore the rich, structured clothing of a respected noble, subtly tailored to echo the colors and patterns of West-Seu—a visual statement of her dual allegiance.
The focus of the assembly was the military and foreign policy, but Maya knew stability required addressing the deep rot of social inequality that Choi had exploited. The farmer who feared losing his land was easily swayed by propaganda.
Maya didn't waste time on flowery rhetoric. She addressed the Council directly on the need for land reform.
"My Lords," she began, her voice steady and commanding, pointing decisively at a large law scroll detailing the proposed amendments. "The stability of Joseon does not rest solely on military might. It rests on the loyalty of its people. Choi divided us by preying on the poverty and fear of the common citizen."
The law she championed was radical: a complete restructuring of the decades-old tax system, shifting the burden away from the struggling, land-owning farmers and onto the wealthy, entrenched merchant guilds—many of whom had covertly supported Choi. It also established new rights guaranteeing small landholders ownership, protecting them from predatory foreclosure by powerful families.
The Council erupted in immediate, vicious protest. The powerful conservative factions, who benefited most from the current system, shouted her down.
"This is madness!" roared Lord Han, a merchant magnate whose fortune relied on exploiting the landless. "This is an attack on the foundations of Joseon! We are not some foreign, radical court!"
"No, my Lord," Maya countered, her voice ringing with conviction, "We are a court that nearly fell to foreign interests because the foundations were too brittle and self-serving. This law is not foreign policy; it is self-preservation."
She argued, she reasoned, and she countered every aristocratic fear with pragmatic, almost brutal logic. She spoke of how a secure farmer would not flee or riot, and how a loyal citizenry was the best possible defense against the type of internal sabotage Choi had attempted.
Dong-jin watched her, a proud, powerful silence radiating from him. He had placed his trust fully in her strategic mind, allowing her to dismantle the entrenched power structures that had plagued his family for generations.
The debate raged for hours, but Maya had done her preparation. She had spent the last few sleepless nights personally meeting with smaller, influential nobles and scholars, using Aisha's information on Choi's corruption to apply subtle, targeted pressure.
Finally, at the Prince's nod, the vote was taken. The law passed, narrowly but decisively. Maya had not only survived the court; she had fundamentally changed the fabric of Joseon society, establishing herself as a potent political force.
She had secured the kingdom's foundation, but she knew the true challenge was yet to come: the arrival of her own past.