216.
The night over Dadu ran deep.
One by one, the lamps of the palace went dark, until only the sound of wind remained in the rear gardens of the imperial compound.
Empress Gi sat in the innermost secret chamber.
No records were kept here.
No attendants were stationed here.
Only nameless shadows clung to the walls and breathed.
She did not hurry.
First, she lit incense.
A dense, heavy fragrance filled the chamber.
"Enter."
Three figures emerged.
The first was a man dressed in black.
His face held no expression, and on his hands lingered stains of blood that would not wash away.
The second was a merchant in a silk robe.
Gold rings gleamed on every finger, and his eyes never rested, moving as if counting invisible sums.
The third was an old man in the robes of a civil official.
Instead of a brush, he held a thin wooden tally.
Empress Gi spoke softly.
"The name of the Empire will not be used."
All three bowed at once.
That single sentence granted freedom—and at the same time imposed absolute responsibility.
Assassination — the blade moves like a shadow
Her gaze turned to the first man.
"Begin with those among Goryeo's generals and officials who have earned names on the battlefield."
The man asked quietly,
"What pretext shall we use?"
"None is needed."
Her voice did not waver.
"People are not killed for reasons.
Stories are attached only after death."
She folded one finger.
"End them through illness, through accidents, through betrayal—not by the blade."
The man's eyes flickered for a moment.
This was not war.
It was the careful recording of deaths.
Division — words seep in first
A second finger folded.
Her gaze shifted to the old man.
"Goryeo's court will not fracture by the sword.
It fractures through suspicion.
The political ground is already unstable—use it."
The old man replied in a low voice,
"Who is the first target?"
Her answer was short and exact.
"Those who trust one another.
Begin by separating those who have shared blood.
Yi In-jung—he stands behind Park Seong-jin."
She continued calmly.
"Whisper to the king that his generals are growing too powerful.
Whisper to the generals that the king will one day turn his back on them."
The old man nodded.
This was the moment when documents written with the mouth, not the brush, began.
"How much truth shall we mix in?"
"None."
She cut him off cleanly.
"The purer the lie, the longer it lives."
Commerce — money flows before blood
At last, she looked to the merchant.
"Set the Silver Cloak Guild, the Black Water traders, and the Liaodong brokers in motion."
The merchant asked, as if balancing accounts,
"And the objective?"
"To unsettle."
Her words were precise.
"Raise grain prices. Hide weapons. Buy rumors.
Seal off every supply line bound for Hwaju."
She lifted her cup and poured it over the incense.
The flame flared briefly.
"Make the people believe the war is not over.
Make the officials feel that, when it ends, responsibility will fall on them."
A thin smile traced the merchant's lips.
This was not battle.
It was the collapse of a market.
The final order
Empress Gi rose slowly.
All three pressed their foreheads to the floor.
Her voice rang low.
"None of this is done in my name.
Never.
No one must know they saw me tonight, or that they were ever here."
Silence followed.
"Yet when the results appear," she added,
"make certain that everyone thinks of me."
She pushed aside the curtain and left one last sentence behind her.
"If it can be ended with little blood, then it is not war—
it is judgment."
The door of the secret chamber closed.
That night, the wind over Dadu was unusually cold.
And far away, beneath the sky of Hwaju,
a single nangjang, still unaware of what was being set in motion,
sat quietly, polishing his sword