How To Kill A King:

Episode 10

The throne had never been home for him, and every time he took his place there the image of his father dying there, slumped over and delirious, returned to him. Cheol didn’t believe in spirits, but even he could feel the vestiges of his father’s broken soul here. A dead man couldn’t speak, though, and so Cheol continued to wear the mask of the King. This country belonged to him as long as he claimed it. 

“The investigation surrounding the attack is still pending,” he said. “We have taken several men into custody, and the interrogations are already underway. You can be certain that this threat will be swiftly dealt with.” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” Tension always found a way into the Throne Hall, as the ministers battled for Cheol’s attention. Now, they tried their best to stay out of it, hoping that he wouldn’t suspect them. Fools. 

“With that out of the way.” He gestured for the servants to bring him the daily pile of scrolls. No matter how much work he put in, the pile never seemed to get smaller but he supposed that was the consequence of trying to take everything on at once. “I hear some of the towns in Byeol Province have been experiencing heavy flooding. Minister Ji Myeong, can you explain why the information is only being received by us weeks later?”

The Minister stepped forward, his hands clasped together. “Yes, well, I thought it best not to worry you with such matters. It is best for the local governments to deal with it.”

 “So, you decided to withhold the information entirely.” Cheol placed the scroll down. “For several weeks, at that. Tell me, Minister Ji Myeong, do you take me for such a fool that I wouldn’t notice my people’s suffering? Or perhaps, you think of me as a tyrant who doesn’t busy himself with the lives of his subjects?”

“Your Majesty already has so much on your plate–”

“Do you imply I do not know my own limits? Minister Ji Myeong, hundreds of my citizens have been left with no housing because of your actions. Not only have you withheld the information from me, you haven’t even been able to take control of the situation in the weeks. Seeing as you have so much time to spend on deceiving me, perhaps you should direct that energy to facilitating the recovery of my people.” 

“We are in the process, your Majesty, but the resources are scarce.”

“They certainly are when you haven’t done anything to procure them.” He sighed. As usual, he’d have to do it himself. Most of these men had no concerns for his people. “We cannot change the past, and so we cannot change your folly. I will take care of this matter personally. Minister Ji Myeong, you will be given an assistant to advise you on such matters in the future, since your judgment seems to have led you astray. Do you think that wise?”

The Minister bowed his head, but Cheol could see the humiliation in the tightness of his jaw, the sinking of his shoulders. Good. His humiliation was nothing in comparison to the shame Cheol had experienced when he’d learned of the flooding. He needed a better surveillance system. A Gifted with expertise in that field would be ideal, since the reality of Gifteds hadn’t reached the public sphere yet, and their powers were often easily rendered invisible to the untrained eye. As much as Cheol loved his mother, it was rather unfortunate that the gift she passed down to him was of no use in matters of politics. 

Still, he couldn’t be too open with his opinions in court. Not when the Ministers continue to wield considerable power over parts of his country. He’d get rid of them in time. Their little stunt with his consort was just the beginning.

“I apologize if I was too harsh,” he said. “It appears I’m still recovering from the attack as well. I hope you’ll understand the anger of a husband whose spouse’s life has just been threatened.” 

A few of them rolled their eyes, thinking he wouldn’t notice, but the rest nodded, praising his devotion to his new consort. 

“Let us continue to the rest of the appeals then.”

He disappeared for a day and a half and the workload had doubled. At least he could get away in the end. Hopefully, his lovely consort hadn’t fallen asleep just yet. 

Tonight, he’d picked carnations, their red frills reminding him of the ribbon his consort wore when they’d met at the cottage. They smelled sweet. His powers only produced the healthiest vegetation. He supposed his gift was good for one thing: romantic gestures. That, and increasingly fruitful crops. 

The steps of the Villa were at his feet now, and memories of when his mother had taken him here to meet Lady Hye-rin. That woman had always looked at them with such envy. Her friendship with his mother had never faltered. What had happened to her, he often wondered? What about the other consorts? Were they sent away, or had the previous King, his damned father, killed them as well? 

What was he doing, thinking about such things now? He inhaled, letting the world go dark and breathing in the cool summer air. Opening his eyes, the villa seemed less nostalgic now. Just another palace building, with slate tiles and walls built from grey stone and wood, painted red. 

He ascended the stairs and entered the building. The guards bowed to him, as he passed candle-lit hallways and screen doors and windows that opened up to vast gardens, dotted with pagodas. His steps were soft on the pinewood floor, and Cheol was certain that his consort had yet to be alerted to it, even as he drew closer to his door. Any attempts at stealth were proven futile when the servants at the doors to his consort’s suite gasped at his arrival. Ah, he’d almost forgotten about them. 

“Yo-your majesty,” the court lady stuttered, bowing to him. “W-we are so grateful to be in your presence.” 

He mustered a charming smile, readjusting his grip on the flowers. “I would’ve thought you’d gone to sleep.” 

“We cannot, when his Highness is still awake. We will stay up with him all night if we must, we swear it.” 

The doors to the rooms opened, and his consort appeared in the doorway, his hair let down from its red ribbon. Dressed in only his white undergarments, the consort looked as beautiful as he had the night before, though he was surrounded by grandeur. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture of his. “And I told you I was alright on my own. Please, I can tend to myself perfectly well.” 

“But, your Highness.” 

He gestured for Cheol to enter, bowing his head as he passed him. “The rest of you: Go to sleep. I’ll call if I need you.” With that, he shut the door on any further complaints. 

“You rule with an iron fist, I see,” Cheol said. He meant it as a joke, but his consort didn’t seem to find it all that amusing, only giving him a cursory glance before continuing on with what he was doing. Books. Tens of them. “Here I thought you would want to rest.” 

“I’m a detective,” his consort answered, flipping through another page. “I’m used to burning the midnight oil. You must’ve had a long day. I was beginning to think you would never arrive.”

“And neglect you, my love? What sort of husband would I be?” Cheol asked, offering him the bouquet of carnations. 

That coy smile returned, as manufactured as before. “My dear King, do you intend to turn my quarters into a garden by the end of this?” 

“Perhaps.” His intentions were a bit more complicated. Seeing him now, in the candlelight, with that slightly irritated expression on his face and the undeniable warmth of his brown eyes, Cheol was more than certain. Indeed, his consort looked eerily familiar to him.