The king received them without delay, right in his bedchamber. They were not even offered suitable robes, and that truly alarmed Mu-in. Was Father really so bad?

  Lately he had appeared in public less and less, and Mu-in had only occasionally been able to watch his silhouette in the golden palanquin gliding through the streets. It was obvious the king’s health was poor, and Councilor Choi’s actions only confirmed it. Nor had Yi Hyun returned from the Great Qing for nothing. Mu-in understood that the king was ill. But even in his worst dreams he had never allowed for the thought that Father might have only days, if not hours, left.

  So many years spent looking at the sun from afar, not daring to approach, hopelessly longing to feel its loving warmth again — and now that he had finally reached it, he was to learn he would lose it once more, this time forever. It was too cruel. Mu-in bit his lip and clenched his fists with all his strength. Neither his anger nor his despair could help his father. All that was left to him was to show his filial piety, perhaps for the last time.

  He walked through the palace behind a stooped eunuch in green and could hardly keep up with how everything seemed at once new and familiar. He recognised the corridors and galleries, the bright uniforms of the maids, the soft light falling across polished floors through the white paper of the walls. Around that corner began the path to the bridge over the pond. Here, on the second step, there was a chip he had not remembered until he saw it again. There ought to have been the library pavilion there — yet in its place stood a new structure, with an unfamiliar name over the doors.

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  “What is that?” Mu-in called their guide. “Wasn’t there supposed to be a library here?”

  “Library?” The young eunuch was surprised and slowed for a moment. “No, this is where the ministers gather between sessions, the ‘Refuge of the Five Virtues’. It was built when I had just arrived here, ten years ago or so. Old news now.”

  “I see,” Mu-in nodded thoughtfully. His childhood had dissolved, leaving only a hazy memory of blooming gardens and painted toys. The looming meeting with his father filled him in equal measure with dread and anticipation.

  Hwan, obediently following behind, turned his head in all directions, staring wide-eyed at the sumptuous surroundings.

  At the Paks’ estate he had never seen carved roof eaves, nor massive stone lanterns, nor guards with two tall feathers in their scarlet hats. He was even afraid to step on the painted floorboards for fear of scratching them. Everyone around was dressed in coloured silks, and he had to bow to every person he met, not knowing who was master and who was servant.