Chapter 118

 

At the foot of the mountain, food was abundant. Seeing fruits ripening yellow and red everywhere, Dori smacked his lips.

By now, even the berries he had eaten in the morning had long been digested.

Should I just shapeshift and pick them?

The fruits hung high above Dori’s head, far beyond the reach of a fox’s jump.

He planned to save the mushrooms he had gathered earlier as emergency rations, so if only he could get those fruits…

Hunger gnawed at him, and Dori furtively scanned the surroundings.

The slope of the mountain had eased—there might even be a village nearby.

But what if he ran into a human by chance, bouncing around stark naked? Wouldn’t they take him for a lunatic? Before he could even play the part of a poor beggar to beg for clothes, he’d probably be pelted with water and chased away.

…Tsk.

Resigned, Dori crouched low and leapt as high as he could.

“Kiiing!”

No matter how many times he tried, his claws couldn’t even graze the fruit. On the last attempt, he nearly twisted his ankle upon landing.

No! Not this! Absolutely not!

Of all things, it had to be that ankle again. It was as though the original story itself was lurking, waiting for any chance to strike him down.

Damn it! If only the original story itself were right in front of me, I’d smack it with my paw!

Ironically, once he gave up on the fruits above his head, he noticed what was around him. Perhaps this was why people said not to chase distant fortune but to seek happiness right before one’s eyes.

His mood brightened, and Dori’s snow-white tail wagged vigorously.

Among the short trees and thick bushes, flashes of red fruit peeked through the foliage.

And I went through all that trouble without noticing this?

He licked one of the ripening red fruits nestled in a bush about his own height. It wasn’t fully ripe yet, so the sourness made his eyes squint shut, but it wasn’t inedible.

I’ll just fill my stomach for now, then head to the village. If I bring some along, it’ll be easier to trade for clothes, too.

And just then—

“Ugh… The mood in the village is so grim lately, I can’t stand it.”

Flick.

A sudden human voice made Dori’s ears twitch upright.

Startled, he scurried under the bush where he had been eating.

Tail! My tail!

He had nearly forgotten it. Hastily, Dori tucked the fluffy appendage, which had been sticking out and twitching, into his embrace.

Almost at the same moment, three women appeared, each carrying a shallow basket.

“So I’m saying—what business do they even have with that abandoned house?”

“Like I’d know?”

Thunk. A pebble kicked at someone’s foot rolled noisily across the ground.

Shoo, shoo! Get that away from me!

Frightened it might roll toward him, Dori shrank even smaller.

“The village head doesn’t even think to drive them out and just tells us to endure it. What is he thinking?”

“They say they were sent by someone important. But why in such a remote place? Whatever it is, I just hope they leave soon.”

“Same. And those eerie swords and those fierce eyes of theirs! With people like that guarding the house day and night, I’ve forbidden my kids from going anywhere near it.”

Judging from their wide, shallow baskets, they were likely foraging for wild greens. The women hurried their steps deeper into the mountain.

Peek.

Flattened among the bushes, Dori poked his head out and tilted it.

Those people? Swords?

Was there someone dangerous here, too?

Strange. According to the original plot, Dori should be safe by now…

Could it be that the black-clad man who fought Wonwoo brought reinforcements?

His pupils quivered with unease.

Granted, the way they had charged straight at Wonwoo suggested Dori hadn’t been their target. But as a witness, he could easily become one.

This is bad…

As a fox, he wasn’t in immediate danger. But his plan to transform into human form to beg for clothes from the villagers now seemed impossible—surely they would recognize him. Gnawing anxiously on the tip of his tail, Dori pondered.

Better not risk it.

Deciding to abandon the idea of going to the village, he grabbed the mushrooms he had carefully hidden in a corner and bolted from the area.

Night fell. By imperial decree, the palace servants locked themselves in their quarters. Lingering even a moment could spell disaster.

Outside, armed soldiers began patrolling the palace. Tonight, an extremely important matter was set to unfold, and tension gripped the entire compound.

Those who had stolen the fox.

Those connected to them.

Those who had knowingly abetted them.

Haban had left no crack unexamined in rooting out everyone involved in Dori’s abduction.

Of course, it was Chancellor Geumhu who handled the operations directly.

He reinvestigated the servants’ family backgrounds and histories prior to entering palace service, and any suspicious individuals were thrown into prison. Seoheon then extracted their confessions.

What they uncovered went back far longer than expected.

The conquest wars led by the great-grandfather emperor, who had drawn the current map of the empire, had been unspeakably brutal. Nations that refused to surrender were crushed mercilessly, rivers running red with blood; those who did surrender were ruthlessly exploited.

The successor emperor indulged solely in pleasure, and the plight of the dispossessed grew even more wretched. Thus, those who dreamed of vengeance infiltrated the palace, though reaching the emperor himself remained nearly impossible.

Then, at last, a woman rose to the position of imperial consort. With a focal point established, even those with disparate goals began to unite.

When the peonies bloom, so will our vengeance.

Like tangled vines, all these threads converged on the current rebellion.

This is my fault.

With every revelation, Haban was steeped in regret.

Had he come to his senses in his previous life, or even reconsidered carefully when he first met Dori in this one, things would never have escalated so far.

Seoheon, who now shadowed him, stepped closer. Jipyeong had been sent to widen the search radius from the house where Haban had once met Dori, leaving Seoheon in his stead.

It’s time.

Haban held a small slip of paper to the flame. Black soot curled upward, fire licking at the edge until it was reduced to ash.

Yungak was due to arrive at the palace within days. The allies Haban had turned a blind eye to thus far would be severed, bound hand and foot—forced to witness their downfall upon return.

As Haban rose, Eunuch Kim approached, offering an outer robe with a worried expression.

“The night air is cold, Your Majesty.”

Haban walked past him without a glance.

Was his little fox sleeping soundly somewhere unknown? Was he starving? Was he cold? He could not know—and so he refused himself any comfort.

Stepping outside, he found the palace courtyard lit bright as day. He glanced skyward without thought.

The moon hung high.

A full moon, golden-eyed like the white fox.

In front of the main hall, men bound in ropes knelt upon polished stone. Dragged from their beds, most wore only hastily thrown-on clothing, their hair in disarray.

You?

You, too?

At first, confusion and outrage burned in their eyes. But as they met familiar faces among the captives, realization dawned—grim and silent.

We’ve been exposed.

How did they find out?

Where did the leak come from?

No one spoke; they merely exchanged glances, reading each other’s panic.

Then the youngest minister, forcing bravado, shouted:

“What is the meaning of this! Do you know who I am?!”

“……”

Despite the uproar, the armed soldiers encircling them stood impassive, eyes fixed straight ahead.

“There must be some mistake! I must see His Majesty at once!”

“Is that so?”

The minister’s beard trembled as he fell silent at the sudden voice.

The surroundings quieted instantly. Many had already spotted Haban; their faces were pale as death.

“You claimed to have something to say to me.”

“Y-Your Majesty…”

The minister’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. There was something chilling about Haban’s calm tone. He strode forward, gaze expectant, as if to say, Speak, if you dare.

This was the final chance.

Instinctively realizing it, the minister crawled forward on his knees, heedless of pain.

“Y-Your Majesty! Why are you doing this to us?”

“That is all you have to say?”

“N-no! Please, Your Majesty, hear me out!”

Geumhu rubbed his face tiredly and signaled to the soldiers to drag the man away.

But it was too late.

“Enough noise.”

“Urgh!”

Haban’s sword flashed, and the minister fell like a rotted log.

As life fled him, limbs twitching, the kneeling captives behind him screamed in terror and scrambled back.

Summary execution. No room for excuses.

Only now did the other ministers, faces white with dread, begin crying out in desperation.

“S-spare us, Your Majesty!”

“I know nothing of this!”

If they were truly innocent, they would have had nothing to fear—nothing to beg for. Realizing there was no escape, they now struggled only to protect their families.

But at some unseen signal, the silent soldiers drew their blades as one. Pleas turned to curses.

“Heaven will punish you! Are you not afraid of divine wrath?!”

“No matter if you are the emperor, you cannot treat us like this!”

Traditionally, even grave crimes were judged through due process; the higher one’s status, the more formal the procedure.

“Why not?”

“Wh-what?”

But Haban was the emperor.