Notes.

So, here we are : the end of the second arc of The Gwishins, aka The Exile !

Like the final chapter of the first arc, this one is longer than the others, and terribly disproportionate (I'm so sorry), but I really wanted to keep all the action in the same chapter and not cut it in two.

I will publish very soon the interlude (titled "The Kingdom") between this arc and the third (called "The Island of the Dead"), who will bring back a lot of characters from the very first one (including Dong Soo). After that, I will take my usual break, write a french chapter for my Death Note fanfiction (funny, there's boats in that one too...I may have a naval kink) and come back. I don't really know how long it will take me, but I'll do my best to write as quickly as I can !

In the meantime, I hope you're still liking this story so far ! Next arc will bring us four years in the future, so four years after the end of this arc ;). It will explain a lot more things about Woon and Dong Soo's relationship, as well as the mystery regarding the appearance of the gwishins !

I wish you a good reading, and more importantly, a happy and peaceful Christmas despite all the things happening in the world right now !

Answer to Itsrainingtacos :

Oh my, thank you ever so much for all your reviews, you didn't had to but I feel very grateful, it means a lot :D ! I'm really glad you like the last chapter, and I hope you will enjoy this one as well ! To answer your question, I think that honestly, I prefer to write OCs, since they're pretty much my own and aren't bound by any canon characterization or anything like that, but writing original characters also is a challenge I grew fond of, in a way :P. It's harder to writer them, though, for the reasons I just explained to you. Yes, Woon's colors are so red and black XD ! None offence taken about your comment on Woon and Dong Soo's relationship since, in fact, it's exactly like that. I have a thing for these kind of relationship, which always isn't all pretty and clean, so most of all the time, I write them that way. In this story, they love each other really much and respect and care for each other, and they don't chain the other, which is one of the things I really wanted to explore, and it's very healthy. But in the same time, as you said, there is some unhealthy things, like the fact, for exemple, that they are too much wrapped up aroung each other (hence Woon's journey), and tend, again in this story, to draw a line between "us" and "the others" who, as you can see, are mostly seen as enemies. I'm so glad you brought that subject up :D ! And yes, I do am a cat person (I have five at home #guilty XD). I'll see you soon for the interlude, take care in the meantime, and thank you again so much !


CHAPTER XLI


"There are three sorts of people : those who are alive, those who are dead, and those who are at sea."

(Aristotle, greek philosopher)


a. The argument from illusion

All night long, Mago felt her grandmother's wrinkled hand stroking her hair, just like when she was a little girl, and whispering to her those reassuring and peaceful things that adults always try to tell children to prove to them that monsters aren't real, that the world is worth it, and that regret and guilt never last. Everything is going to be all right, her grandmother's voice had told her, with her hoarse voice of a woman who had seen the years go by, a powerful, familiar, comforting voice that had never ceased to bring her comfort in the moments when she needed it the most. Her memory was lacking for many things since her resurrection, but her grandmother's recollections remained clear and luminous, and they were always the first to come back to her whenever she was seeking to soothe her anxieties or combat her frustrations.

It would have been an exaggeration on her part to say that her grandmother had been absolutely perfect in every way, but she had come close on many occasions. First of all by taking Mago under her wing when her mother, a woman of impossible temperament and more volatile than public opinion, had decreed that the child was more of a burden to her happiness than a benefit, even though she had desired her with all her might a few years earlier.

But it went without saying that there was a dizzying gap between longing for something and having it for real, and for some the size of that gap was so great that they were unable to cross it. Mago's mother had been one of those. She had wanted a child, just as one wants new clothes or a good meal. She had found the first available man, and, having then brutally dismissed him after having concluded that he would be of no use to her (which, in itself, wasn't such an aberrant conclusion when Mago thought about it), had given birth during the spring of 1763 to a little girl to whom she had given a first name now lost in oblivion.

The difficulty being that Mago's mother had wanted a child without taking into account all the implications of motherhood. According to the information Mago had obtained from her grandmother, she had been living alone at the time of her daughter's birth since the death of her husband, a worker who had died on a construction site after a fall that had been fatal to him. Mago's grandmother had told her that her daughter had ended up hating her husband, whom she had found attractive and wonderful when they had started seeing each other.

They lived in the same village, east of Namwon, and had never exchanged a word until Mago's mother saw him one day coming back, glowing, shirtless, from a yangban hanok construction site a few miles from the small town. Within a short time, she had become obsessively passionate about him and had flooded him with letters and affections until he finally, quickly, returned her feelings. Their union had been pronounced hastily, feverishly, in an indescribable chaos. Mago's mother, according to her grandmother, had always been prone to disproportionate love at first sight, and she had been engaged, theoretically a little over four times before her marriage, to men who had all disowned her just a few weeks after discovering the other side of the coin. They all ran away, her grandmother had told her in a voice weighed down with sadness and disappointment, because she drove them all crazy, and I was convinced for a very long time that she would never marry anyone.

The marriage had lasted a total of forty-eight hours. After that time, Mago's mother had taken off her mask, released the hounds, and made her new husband's life a living hell. She was permanently dissatisfied, impulsive, with pressing desires and disgusts just as vivid and inexplicable, without ever giving a logical reason for these reversals. Nothing ever pleased her, or always pleased her too much. She inexorably hated what she had loved at first. She thrived on the attention of men, adored them until she found them stupid, and despised other women indiscriminately, especially when they happened to be more beautiful, wiser, smarter or richer.

A well-known story in the village was that she became intimate with the wife of a local yangban, and managed to take full advantage of her generosity and kindness, until she tried to steal her husband, who had never appreciated her. The outcome was a quarrel worthy of the greatest war stories, during which Mago's mother had made a series of degrading and insulting remarks about her former comrade to her close circle of acquaintances, the content of which finally shocked several inhabitants, who had been aware of the events and knew the nature of Mago's mother well.

Mago had no memory of her mother. She hadn't stayed with her long enough to have really carried away an image or impression of her. Her mother, who had just given birth four months earlier, had handed her over to her grandmother, on the pretext that she could no longer bear the baby's cries. She never asked for her again afterwards, although the old woman tried to bring her back. When she insisted, Mago's mother became angry, violent, and closed the door of her house forever. Mago's grandmother, who had already given birth to six children, four of whom had died young or barely born, found herself with a chubby pink baby in her arms.

She had raised her as her daughter, in the house she owned near the village lake. She worked in the fields for a nobleman who had needed workforce in order to make his land grow. She was always hunched over, because her back hurt her abominably, and she had for Mago smiles of infinite gentleness, over which neither pain nor shame had any hold. Mago had never loved anyone as much as her grandmother. When she had died, after having put stones in the pockets of her clothes and dived into the lake, simply to avoid the slow agony of an illness that she had been carrying within her for some time, Mago had lost everything with her.

She got up feeling better, relieved, reassured, and, seeing that Yeo Woon had not yet emerged from the trance caused by taking the wormwood, she silently left the room to go to lunch. Their hosts, who had already left for the barracks, had kindly set the table for them directly in the central room of the hanok that Mago and Yeo Woon occupied. The morning was splendid, and in the distance the sea was sparkling, crossed by ships of all kinds. Mago had eaten with a good appetite, as it was always the case after wormwood. She still felt, in a diffuse way, the presence of her grandmother near her, and she closed her eyes for a moment simply to enjoy the sensation again. When Yeo Woon appeared, she had almost finished her meal.

- So ? She asked as he was approaching. Did you saw any nice things ?

In the light of day, she found him less taciturn, less dark than the day before. For a fraction of a second, it even seemed to her that he was smiling.

- I saw some things, he answered soberly.

- Have you seen your friend ? The one from Hanyang ?

He looked up at her incisively.

- Did you hear anything ? he asked her, his voice suddenly becoming more worried.

- No, Mago said, shrugging her shoulders. I was just asking. Wormwood shows us things we miss, things we like, things that make us feel good. I saw my grandmother. I loved her very much, you know. I miss her every day.

Yeo Woon seemed surprised by her honesty, but it nevertheless loosened up his usual reserve, and he finally yielded :

- I saw my friend from Hanyang.

They didn't talk about it any further.

After lunch, Mago wanted to try sword training again, although he still refused to give her any lessons. He decided to finish his letter. He had left it the day before, half-completed, full of erasures and crossed-out sentences, on the table in their living room. In addition, they had to wait for Yeong-Ja, who had warned them that she herself would pick up the boat seats reserved by Ran Gyeong-Ja in the morning before taking them to the port. It was still early.

Their hosts, who feared that they would not be able to join them to bid them farewell when they boarded, had left them a small goodbye note each, full of kindnesses, wishing them good luck in their journey. Mago, after an hour of crude twirling, imprecise movements and especially after having failed to put her eye out with her new sword following a gesture much too approximate to be safe, under the distracted yet mocking glance of Yeo Woon, finally gave up, and came to the table to write a thank you to the couple for their accommodation and friendliness.

She wasn't particularly good at writing, but she finished her letters of gratitude much faster than her dead companion, and soon found herself with nothing to do but wait. She took a sideways glance at Yeo Woon's redaction.

- What are you telling him ? she finally asked him, not because she was particularly indiscreet, but simply because she was bored, and hadn't found a more interesting alternative.

- It's none of your business, Yeo Woon reminded her, without looking up from his letter.

- Why not ? Are you writing him a love letter ? She couldn't stop herself from replying, feigning astonishment, and stopping herself from smiling.

He didn't deign to answer her. She replied on a different subject.

- You know, I have no problem with that. To be honest, I much prefer the idea of you sending love letters to him rather than to Captain Seol. I don't trust that one.

She encountered a new silence.

- Was it true, what you told me last night ? she continued nevertheless. How you didn't know if you wanted to give him more or not ?

This time he sighed, looked up from his page, put down his brush.

- You don't have to answer me, Mago carefully assured him. I just thought you might want to talk about it. Sometimes it feels good to talk.

- I don't talk much, Yeo Woon objected.

- Yes, I've noticed, she remarked, raising an eloquent eyebrow. Hence my proposal. You can do whatever you want with it.

They fell silent for a short while afterwards, as the birds were vocalizing peacefully in the trees surrounding the house. Finally, Yeo Woon gave in, and Mago rejoiced in her innermost being.

- It wasn't entirely true, he began. I've had time to think about it ever since.

- It's wormwood, isn't it ? Mago smiled. Has it helped you see more clearly ?

He nodded gently.

- Partly.

- So ? Your final conclusion ?

He hesitated, looked at his letter, as if the sheet of paper held the answer and all he had to do was bend over to find it.

- In conclusion, no, he said. I wouldn't have given him anything more.

- Because you're writing a letter to your friend in Hanyang, Mago concluded, with a satisfaction she didn't try to hide from him.

- Yes, he confessed.

Smiling, she left him all to his writing, and didn't ask him for the content again.


b. The Sun Quan

Yeong-Ja showed up on the porch of the house shortly before the end of osi. She was in possession of two official permits for a crossing of the Sea of Japan in a boat used mainly for transporting merchandise to the Qing Empire, which had been given to her earlier by Ran Gyeong-Ja when she had taken a break from duty to go to the barracks near Lake Yeongnanho and, by extension, near the house of entertainment where she lived. The boat was due to leave the port at mid-minsi. She informed them, not without regret, that she didn't have much time to take them to the port and bid them farewell.

She was indeed due to receive clients soon, aristocrats belonging to the city council, who would not tolerate any delay on the part of their hostesses, even if they felt affection for them. Her sisters could hold them for a quarter of an hour, but the wait couldn't last longer, and Yeong-Ja was also expected to accompany the meeting with a gayageum tune of her own composition. I'm never given enough time to say goodbye, she commented discouragedly, after explaining her obligations to Woon and Mago.

Neither one nor the other held it against her : the point was to not draw attention to them at the time of their departure, and the prolonged absence of a gisaeng was one of the events most likely to lead to suspicion and questioning. Moreover, because of the nature of their activities, courtesans always ran the risk of being recognized or spotted. Compounding this was the difficulty of Gwishin status. Under such conditions, it was necessary to act as quickly and as discreetly as possible.

Both Woon and Mago had packed their bags immediately after lunch, heeding the advice of the gisaeng who had invited them to be ready to leave at any time. On Woon's order, the girl had gone to retrieve Danggeum and brought her back with them in the couple's garden. The mare had made some protests in her own way, being almost stubborn and visibly refusing to leave her fellow horses, among whom she seemed to have been well received. I had to pull on her bridle for a long time, Mago had explained, otherwise she would have stayed there until death.

The day before, she had asked Yeong-Ja and the couple about the possibility of taking their horse on board the ship they were to embark on. Goh Dae-Seong, who had already crossed several times in the notable context of tracking down Gwishins or, more incognito, to accompany some of them, most often children or young teenagers, across the border safely, had told them that the presence of a horse wouldn't be a problem.

- They're used to it, he had said, referring to crews in the broadest sense of the term. People come and go back and forth between the two countries all the time, and most of them bring horses with them. Even the sailors have started doing it. It avoids having to pay for a mount once arrived.

- And the price of the horse's seat ? Mago had questioned him then, with a practical sense all to her credit. Is it worth it ?

Dae-Seong had shrugged his shoulders, his face taking on a pensive expression.

- It all depends on the boat, he declared afterwards. With some, you can negotiate, and sometimes at really good rates. If you know a crew member, it's easier. Otherwise, there are others who will charge you an exorbitant price just to fill their pockets. Scams are far from being out of fashion.

- Happy days, Mago complained, putting her elbows on the table and her chin on her joined hands.

- Don't worry, Gyeong-Ja had tried to appease her. Jae-Song, the sailor we told you about, is a man of honor, and the rest of his crew is of the same kind. You'll be able to take your horse with you without fearing for your finances.

Woon asked Yeong-Ja about the price of seats on the boat, and insisted on reimbursing the amount to their guests, as they had used their own financial resources to purchase them. The courtesan at first tried to dissuade him from doing so, pointing out that the couple had a habit of offering crossings to the gwishins they received under their roof, mainly because they often lacked the money to pay for the boarding, and that they had no hesitation in demonstrating their generosity in that way. Their income being sufficient, they had quickly decided to use the benefits of their two respective military positions to help their peers escape the oppression of the living.

The situation suited Dae-Seong particularly well, as he saw it as a way to make amends for the capture and execution of Gwishins to which he had contributed and against whom he had finally found himself unable to intervene. Gyeong-Ja, on the other hand, had a formidable charitable nature, and had expressed at the first lunch that they and their guests had enjoyed a general sense of responsibility for the other dead. I'm blessed with a stable and secure position, she had observed, and I'm terrified to hear in the collective consciousness experiences of rejection and isolation.

Years of resurrections might have led one to believe that the living, by getting used to the return of the dead, would have opened their doors to them more and would gradually have stopped cursing them. However, it appeared that the continued oppression and elimination of the Gwishin by the government, and the royal indignation which their appearance had generated in 1767, had contributed greatly to the development of cruelty and aversion to them, in spite of the actions and campaigns carried out, first in plain sight and then increasingly discreetly, by the Yeogogoedam, and several popular speeches that had shown empathy and compassion for the fate of the gwishins, who had gone unnoticed in the midst of the wave of hatred.

After making sure they had all their belongings packed, Woon and Mago left the Gwishin couple's home for good and followed Yeong-Ja, for the last time, towards the port. Gyeong-Ja will be unable to free herself to say goodbye, and she apologizes for it, the courtesan told them, but Dae-Seong intended to take advantage of a short break to come and bid you farewell. Mago expressed regret at not being able to say goodbye to the woman before embarking for China, which was mainly explained by Gyeong-Ja's interest in the idea of her sword training, but Yeong-Ja assured her that she would pass on her gratitude and friendship to their host.

On their way to the heart of Sokcho, they met a patrol of about ten rough-looking men. Yeong-Ja lowered her head almost immediately. For a moment, Woon thought he saw the green fabric of Captain Seol's uniform (I thought of you relentlessly). The soldier had left the hot springs with pinched lips, visibly angry at having been so abruptly rejected in his seduction enterprise. Come with me after the bath, he had proposed in a low voice, trying not to be heard by the others, I know a place, we'll be safe there. Woon had looked at him, had measured the desire in his dark eyes, and had said no.

He was thinking of a day, ancient, distant, when he had been swimming in one of those mountain rivers, which flow gently between huge white rock formations and form pools of clear, pure water. Dong Soo, probably without paying attention, had put his hand high on his thigh, trying to grab him to bring him into the water. Forgive me, he had said shyly, and Woon remembered he had wanted to grab his hand and put it back on his thigh, and tell him that it was okay, that it didn't bother him. They were about fifteen years old at the time.

He could still feel, despite the hours that had passed in between, Dong Soo's forehead against his own and the brushing of his hair against the skin of his face and neck (it never mattered). According to Mago, the phenomenon was common with wormwood, the plant being visibly capable of increasing the frighteningly atrophied sense of touch of the gwishins to adapt it to the visions it gave them. Never had he been so far from Hanyang, nor from Dong Soo, and he was more conscious than ever of the fact that he was about to lengthen the distance between them again.

The letter was kept warm beneath his tunic. Yeong-Ja had promised to take them to the post office before going to the port. She walked briskly and surely moved forward, braving the crowd of living without fear or apprehension. The streets of Sokcho were active, to a reasonable extent, and the calls of the port and fishmongers punctuated the progress of the passers-by who seemed to be doing everything they could to flee them.

The post office was located at the intersection of a central artery of the city, thus benefiting from an advantageous placement and being therefore easily identifiable. The hanok that housed it had a beautiful appearance, with a well-preserved curved roof and shiny wooded walls, which attested to conscientious and skillful care. Since the resurrections, more messages have been sent all over the country than ever before, Yeong-Ja informed them, and post offices have proliferated in big cities, while becoming more and more crowded.

She told them that the messenger profession had radically changed in status over the past decade, moving from a low-profile, low-paying job to a highly successful and highly touted activity. The office was warm, despite its width and modern layout, designed to facilitate the movement of customers. There are four counters there : two of them, where two men received letters or packages, were used for the transmission of missives and parcels outside the city, most often to nearby villages or even to the big cities of the kingdom. The other two, occupied by a man and a woman, were presumably in charge of delivering mail to the inhabitants of Sokcho. The system obviously seemed to be experienced, organized since a long time, and the individuals who presented themselves at the various counters never stayed there for more than a few minutes.

- Do you have your letter ? Yeong-Ja asked Woon, nodding respectfully to the counter clerks.

They had left Danggeum outside, bridle tied to a wooden beam with other horses. Woon presented the letter to Yeong-Ja, who then took it to a counter who checked the destination information before validating it. You didn't write anything incriminating, did you ? Mago worried just before entering the post office. Woon had confirmed to her the desperately innocent nature of the letter. He had started it the same way he had always started his letters to Dong Soo, by his first name, without any other adjacent qualifier. He had tried, at the age of eighteen, when Dong Soo and other boys from the camp had been requisitioned for a few weeks further up in the mountains, to write "Dear Dong Soo", but the formula had seemed awkward to him, and he had coldly scratched it off.

The rest of the letter was of a boring and banal factual content, and merely informed its addressee that Woon had left Sokcho on the day of June 5, 1777, that he was well, and that he was hoping for Dong Soo's health to be good too. He hadn't signed his name, just the initial of his first name. Dong Soo would recognize his handwriting. His only fantasy, at the end of the letter, had been to add "You never leave my thoughts". Dong Soo had written it to him, once, in one of his letters coming from the tops of the mountains. The circle was complete.

He had wanted to add "I miss you" in a spirit of frankness and melancholy, but had abstained from doing so. He had never said it out loud, nor had he ever confessed it in a letter. Even if part of him had wished it, he was now too accustomed to keeping his mouth shut to break a silence that had been built up and solidified over more than twenty years. Besides, Dong Soo knows it, he had concluded while signing.

The letter received more attention than usual from the counter clerk than Woon had ever experienced before, but Yeong-Ja had warned them that the mail was regularly monitored and sometimes opened because of the ongoing climate of suspicion that plagued the kingdom. Gwishins were searched even in the tender sentences of intimate letters, and the slightest dubious formulation could lead to an arrest and then execution. In Hanyang, Hui Seon had discussed the issue with Woon, but only in broad strokes, without giving him any further explanation.

Woon saw Mago biting her lip under the tension, and even Yeong-Ja seemed nervous for a while. Finally, when the man raised his head towards them again to announce the price of the delivery while putting the letter on the pile on his desk, Woon felt the girl next to him relax significantly. He paid with the money that Dong Soo and Ji-Seon had saved for him. He had never used it until now, but its recourse to contact Dong Soo seemed relevant and acceptable enough. They then emerged from the post office, relieved, and Mago detached Danggeum so that she could follow the movement towards the port.

The latter was located the furthest down from the city, to the southeast. Nearby, the number of passers-by began to increase and the voices of the fishermen became louder. Mago held back from laughing as she listened to the flood of swearing from some of them. Yeong-Ja skillfully maneuvered her way through, without worrying about disturbing other walkers or residents. The population also changed drastically. Higher up in the city, the hanboks were more refined, more elegant, the manners more courteous and moderate, the skins paler and the speech smoother. None of these characteristics were found on the outskirts and in the heart of Sokcho port, where the fishermen, sailors, and captains ruled as masters, made their laws, and imposed their kind.

This is even more prominent than in Busan, Mago noted with a hint of amusement, to which Yeong-Ja replied that the proximity to the Qing Empire was probably a factor of influence, where the one with Japan implied other attributes. Many Chinese live here, she taught them, as there are many of Joseon's subjects who live in the Qing cities that the ships from here serve. The seagulls had become legion. Soon the high masts of the ships appeared before their eyes, and the majestic and sturdy hulls unfurled one after the other, mercilessly engulfing the more traditional boats of the small fishermen. Lake Cheongchoho, the second largest lake in the city, belonged primarily to the boats and their crews.

Yeong-Ja led them around the lake by the east, along the docks of the lake port. The great majority of the boats preferred to dock there because of the navigation conditions facilitated by the absence of too high waves, the width of the lake, and its direct access to the sea. Taking, like the Yeongnanho, its source in the Seoraksan, the Cheongchoho was directly connected to the Sea of Japan, and its size had made it the favorite place for sailors to anchor their vessels in the port.

Sokcho's was primarily reserved for fishing, but the expansion of the city had allowed the development of another type of traffic, more commercial, between the empire and Joseon. The exchange of merchandise was now commonplace, and was one of the most important sources of income in the city. A few hyeopseon-type military vessels sometimes sailed the deep sea, but they were few in number. Almost all of the naval forces, including turtle boats and panokseon, were in the south, facing the shogunate.

They stopped in front of the facade of an imposing hanseon, whose light-colored wood had been sprayed by water and time. Two large sails stood rolled up, awaiting boarding. Men came and went from the bridge to the docks, some carrying goods against their shoulders, others exchanging words with comrades. The ship, with its massive frame, was one of the largest traditional ships that Woon was ever given to see. Mago, because she had visited the coastal towns more often, made no remarks, but Woon shared his astonishment with Yeong-Ja.

- It's because of the eastern sea, she explained. As soon as you get a little far from the shore, it becomes treacherous, and boats are built that way to tame its bad temper.

- I've never crossed the sea, Mago declared point blank, standing very close to Danggeum. Does it move a lot ?

Yeong-Ja gave her a warm smile.

- It all depends on how far you have to go. I think you won't be too shaken up. Your boat has to land in Manchuria, Heilongjiang Province.

The name awakened in Woon disorderly fragments of Heuksa Chorong's memories, which hadn't really manifested themselves until then, and whose sudden reappearance brought back with them knowledge that had remained inaccessible (she learned medicine in the Qing and became familiar with geography).

- Is it still run by two different entities ? he asked, gathering a dubious glance from Mago, and another surprised one from Yeong-Ja.

- Indeed, the courtesan confirmed him. The general of the province is in charge of the east, and the one of Jilin is in charge of the west, according to my clients who have already traveled in the region.

- Do you know China ? Mago inquired. Did you go there when you were alive ?

Woon shook his head.

- No. I almost did once. It's just something I was told and remembered.

- If you could remember the rest quickly, that would be perfect, the girl observed, snorting and giving an eloquent glance at the boat waiting for them.

Goh Dae-Seong's tall silhouette appeared in the crowd, heading in their direction, and making grand gestures with his arms to be seen before he reached their position.

- Gyeong-Ja apologizes for not being able to join us, he began, smiling so kindly and honestly that he probably would have been forgiven anything. But she wishes you good luck, and she instructed me to tell you that all her wishes go with you.

Woon and Mago took turns thanking him. The back and forth between the ship's deck and the pontoon were less abundant, a sign of impending embarkation. A man approached them, looking friendly. Dae-Seong immediately laughed when he saw him and shook his hand vigorously.

- This is Jae-Song, he announced to them, while the man bowed respectfully to his small audience. This is the look-out for the Sun Quan, on which you will soon embark. If you have any problems, this guy will always be the first to see them.

The man had regular features, sparkling and bright eyes, whose radiance underlined a piercing gaze. He also had the pale skin and very black eyes characteristic of the Gwishins, which only they could truly distinguish among their kind.

- I promise you a safe crossing, he said with a calm voice. You will have nothing to fear on this journey, I can assure you. We will drop anchor in Qing land by tonight. If you need anything, please let me know. I have provisions on board, just in case.

Mago raised an appreciative eyebrow at the idea of (meat).

He took Danggeum on board with a skillful gentleness, and warned them that boarding would occur any minute, inviting them to come aboard. Already passengers were rushing to the footbridge, greeting those who had accompanied them, then climbing to the deck while looking back, as if they suddenly realized that leaving the mainland was a crazy and dangerous idea.

Yeong-Ja bowed to them and expressed her hopes that they would have a safe journey and continue peacefully, while thanking them for the time they had spent in her company. I always feel less lonely when I meet our people, she said, not without emotion, as Dae-Seong patted her shoulder gently. He said goodbye to them as well, indicating that he had been delighted to meet them, and that he hoped to see them again one day "under better circumstances". Woon expressed his gratitude to the two Gwishins with a bow. Mago, disregarding all decorum, embraced them both.

- Will you stay with her once in Qing ? Yeong-Ja asked him anyway, anxiety piercing through her quiet voice. It's easier to travel to a foreign country as a pair.

- If she wants to, Woon answered.

Mago carried her sword in her linen bag on her back. She met his gaze, and Woon had confirmation that she wasn't planning to travel alone anytime soon.

A few moments later, they were on the deck, Danggeum safe in the interior space of the boat reserved for the mounts with other of her congeners. Mago, leaning over the railing, waved her hand to their hosts until the ship had left its appointed place and set sail on the shimmering water, as serenely as a cloud in the sky. The shapes of Dae-Seong and Yeong-Ja shrank, became smaller and smaller, and soon they were nothing more but dots without identity or meaning, lost among the others on the docks of Sokcho port.

- I'm going to miss them, Mago admitted a little sadly. I hope we'll see them again when we come back.

Woon thought of Dong Soo, on the other side of the continent (you never leave my thoughts). He put a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder, and guessed that she was grateful for his compassion.

- You still don't want to train me ? she asked. It's going to be a long time in China. And we'll probably need a cover at some point.

The Sun Quan made its way between other boats and the two strips of shore and beach that marked Joseon's land boundary and the beginning of the Sea of Japan. Mago smiled, slowly, confidently (we must have been his age). Woon's sword waited patiently in its sheath.

- Perhaps, he finally said.

The ship passed a charming pavilion at the end of a pier, with red columns, the same color as the doors of the royal palace in Hanyang. It continued to move forward, gently, carried by the waves and a soft wind that tenderly swelled its sails eastward, toward the depths of the Sea of Japan and the Qing Empire.