[Memory Archive System

  Balance: 223 Yang

  Cognitive Bandwidth: 2.0↑]

  “It took an entire month for the Cognitive Bandwidth to increase by a mere 0.1 this time around,” Mi-Reu remarked, her eyes fixed on the translucent panel. She and Gi-Reu were strolling through the palace courtyard, the air cooling as they made their way back from the day’s lessons.

  “It seems the threshold for growth is becoming significantly steeper the higher the number climbs,” Gi-Reu commented, kicking a loose pebble along the stone path.

  “Exactly,” Mi-Reu replied, squinting as the afternoon sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, dappling her face in shifting patterns of gold and shadow.

  “But what is the point of obsessing over it now, anyway?” Gi-Reu asked, lacing his fingers behind his head as he walked. “When the bandwidth was below 1.0, reaching that milestone was essential to unlocking the Store. Now, it just feels like a representative number without a clear purpose.”

  “That’s a fair point,” Mi-Reu conceded, though her gaze remained contemplative. “I just can't help but wonder if it serves some deeper function we haven't encountered yet.”

  Their conversation trailed off as they reached a peripheral wing of the palace complex. The air here was thick with the scent of fresh sawdust and the rhythmic sounds of hammering and sweeping. Laborers were busily cleaning and renovating the structure to transform it into a functional workspace.

  “It took us a whole month of debating just to settle on this specific wing for the Advisory Office,” Gi-Reu noted, watching the workers haul away debris.

  “At least we finally reached a consensus,” Mi-Reu replied, casting him a pointed, accusing look.

  “Oh, come on! Your first suggestion was to operate out of a drafty, secluded corner wing that was practically in the servants quarters!” Gi-Reu countered, justifying his refusal of her initial pick.

  “As if your suggestion was any better! You wanted to set up shop right by the Main Gate!” Mi-Reu retorted, her voice rising in frustration. “The noise and the foot traffic would have made any real work impossible. It was a terrible decision!”

  “But we didn't go through with it, did we?” Gi-Reu snapped back. “You’re acting as though the sign is already hanging by the gate! I was just brainstorming!”

  “Ha... will you two truly never stop bickering?” a melodic, familiar voice interrupted their dispute from behind.

  The twins spun around in unison, their defensive postures melting away instantly. “Sister Seo-Yeon!” they exclaimed together.

  Princess Seo-Yeon walked toward them, her expression one of mock exasperation as she smoothed the front of her elegant silk dress. “If you continue to squabble like street merchants, how do you expect to run a formal royal bureau?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes despite her stern words. “You must maintain at least a shred of royal dignity if you want the ministers to take your 'Practical Affairs' seriously.”

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  “I’ll have you know, Sister, we are a rather serious bunch when it comes to actual work!” Gi-Reu huffed, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest.

  “Oh, a very serious bunch,” Seo-Yeon echoed, her voice dripping with mock sincerity as she struggled to suppress a laugh.

  “What brings you to this dusty corner of the palace, Sister?” Mi-Reu asked, curious as to why their usually busy elder sister had sought them out.

  “What else? I wanted to see what you brats were up to,” she replied with a warm smile. She gestured to the scaffolding and the busy workers. “Since I had to step in and finalize this office location on your behalf because you two wouldn't stop arguing over it, I felt responsible for checking if the renovations were running smoothly.”

  “Everything is proceeding as planned,” Mi-Reu replied, her mind already shifting to the administrative timeline. “The Minister of Rites says the formal paperwork for the bureau's charter will take another month. After that, we expect another month to hire the necessary clerks and officials to staff the place.”

  “A month?” Seo-Yeon chuckled, shaking her head. “Mi-Reu, you are brilliant, but you are still naive about the speed of the bureaucracy. It is nearly impossible to vet and fill official positions in a single month.”

  “We have a plan!” Gi-Reu and Mi-Reu replied in perfect, confident sync.

  “I admire that confidence,” Seo-Yeon said, reaching out to give Mi-Reu’s head a gentle, affectionate pat. “But I must warn you not to get overconfident. The palace has a way of slowing down even the most ambitious souls.”

  “Yes, Sister!” they replied in unison once more.

  Princess Seo-Yeon chuckled again and began to turn away. “Well, then, I shall return to help Mother with her duties. Try to be civil and stop the fighting.” She started walking back toward the inner court but stopped abruptly after a few paces. She looked back over her shoulder, a knowing look on her face.

  “Ah... so you won’t be able to begin working before the Memorial Rites of the Ancestors next month? That will only delay your opening further, wouldn’t it?”

  With that parting thought, she resumed her graceful walk, leaving the twins standing in stunned silence as the reality of her words sank in.

  “AH! How could we forget about the Memorial Rites!” Mi-Reu cried out, clutching her head. During the rites, all official business in the kingdom ground to a halt for nearly two weeks of prayer and ceremony.

  Gi-Reu’s face fell as he realized the trap. “That was why she was so certain we wouldn't fill the positions in time! Between the rites and the preparations, nobody will be focusing on our little bureau!”

  The horizon of the capital’s eastern port was soon dominated by a majestic sight: the arrival of the Joseon delegation for the ancestral rites. Leading the flotilla were several massive Panokseon, the iconic multi-decked warships of the Joseon navy, their high, sturdy hulls painted in deep lacquered tones and adorned with the vibrant flags of the royal house. These weren't merely ships; they were floating fortresses of wood and silk, their curved prow-heads cutting through the morning mist with an air of ancient authority.

  As they drew closer to the docks, the rhythmic beat of ceremonial drums echoed across the water, announcing the arrival of the noble envoys. Behind the heavy warships sailed more elegant, slender vessels carrying the commemorative gifts and the diplomatic retinue. Among them was the personal ship of the Shin clan, its banners fluttering violently in the coastal breeze.

  On the main deck, shielded by a silk canopy and surrounded by a phalanx of stern-faced guards in traditional beonggeoji hats, stood a figure of quiet elegance. Lady Shin Soo-In looked toward the approaching shoreline of Haebang, her expression was of unbridled excitement behind her fine veil.