Chapter 9 #2
Claire found him later inside the western study hall beside the open garden screens while rain drifted softly beyond the courtyard.
Jiho sat nearby despite repeated orders to continue resting.
Naturally.
Taejin stood near the doorway pretending not to eavesdrop while very obviously eavesdropping.
General Hwan Ryuk placed several sealed scrolls upon the low table.
“We uncovered three informants among the translators,” he said bluntly.
“One merchant.
Two caravan guards.”
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“And Mirae?”
The general’s silence lasted just a fraction too long.
Then he exhaled slowly.
“The northerners realised within a day that she was not the priestess.”
Claire closed her eyes briefly.
That alone told her enough.
“She survived,” he continued.
Her eyes opened instantly.
Jiho straightened.
“They abandoned her near an outer trade route after the interrogation became unproductive.”
The general’s expression darkened.
“She gave them nothing useful.”
Because she had nothing to give.
Relief struck Claire so suddenly it almost hurt.
Alive.
Mirae was alive.
Terrified.
Injured.
But alive.
“She is being brought here now.”
Nari burst into tears.
Even Hanul sat down heavily as though his legs had simply given way beneath him.
Taejin muttered something that sounded suspiciously like,
“Thank every spirit in these mountains.”
Claire had not realised until that moment how tightly fear had wrapped itself around her heart.
Jiho noticed first.
Of course he did.
“You can breathe now,” he said quietly.
Somehow those simple words nearly made her cry.
But relief never arrived alone.
The general’s next sentence turned the room cold.
“The spies were not only after the relics.”
Silence settled immediately.
General Hwan Ryuk looked directly at Claire.
“They specifically wanted you alive.”
Jiho’s posture changed.
Not visibly aggressive.
Something worse.
Protective.
Claire kept her expression calm even as unease crept slowly down her spine.
“Why?”
“We do not yet know.”
The general’s jaw tightened.
“But several intercepted messages referred to something called…”
He paused.
“…the Dreaming Vessel.”
Claire went completely still.
Far too still.
Jiho noticed.
So did the general.
She lowered her gaze before either man could study her too closely.
The phrase felt wrong.
Ancient.
Familiar.
Like something buried beneath memory itself.
Rain deepened outside.
Thunder rolled faintly across the distant hills.
General Hwan Ryuk continued while servants quietly prepared tea no one intended to drink.
“The northern factions believe the priestess carries knowledge connected to royal succession, celestial mapping and sacred relics.”
Taejin frowned.
“That is absurd.”
“Yes.”
The general nodded grimly.
“Which is precisely what makes it dangerous.”
Men killed for prophecy.
They always had.
Claire suddenly understood.
This was no longer about stolen relics or trade routes.
Something older moved beneath all of it.
Something tied to the dreamscape itself.
And somehow…
She had become trapped at its centre.
Later that evening, after the meeting had ended, Claire found herself alone beneath the covered garden walkway.
Rain tapped softly against the lotus ponds while lantern light shimmered gold across the wet stone.
For the first time since arriving in this century, fear finally caught up with her.
Not fear for herself.
For everyone else.
Mirae had suffered because of her.
Jiho had nearly died because of her.
Even now spies hunted something within her they scarcely understood.
Or perhaps understood far too well.
“You’re thinking too loudly again.”
Jiho’s voice.
Claire glanced sideways as he approached slowly beneath the lanterns, one hand resting near his healing wound.
“You are supposed to be resting.”
“You say that every hour.”
“Because you ignore it every hour.”
He came to stand beside her at the railing.
For a long time they simply listened to the rain.
Then Claire asked quietly,
“What if they never stop?”
Jiho looked toward the dark mountains beyond the estate walls.
“Then we keep fighting them.”
Simple.
A soldier’s answer.
Claire smiled faintly despite herself.
“You make everything sound easy.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I simply refuse to let fear decide for me.”
She studied him carefully.
This man from another century.
The soldier she could never have met.
The soldier she should never have met.
And yet…
Somehow fate had woven him into her story.
“You almost died that night.”
“And you stitched me back together.”
“That was reckless.”
“So was diving into a river fully clothed.”
Claire laughed softly.
“There is truly no escape from that, is there?”
“Never.”
The warmth between them returned despite everything surrounding them.
Then Jiho grew serious.
“The general is right about one thing.”
“What?”
“You are not like the others.”
Claire looked away.
Dangerous ground.
But Jiho continued.
“You know things before they happen sometimes.”
Her pulse skipped.
“You move differently.
Think differently.
Speak differently.”
She forced herself to remain calm.
“Does that frighten you?”
He considered the question honestly.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly to be false.
“It makes me curious.”
Somehow…
That frightened her more.
General Hwan Ryuk remained at House Yeon for two nights.
By the second evening the tension hanging over the estate eased enough for laughter to return.
The dining hall glowed warmly beneath hanging lanterns while rain drifted beyond the open garden screens.
Low tables overflowed with dishes prepared in honour of the general’s arrival.
Grilled silverfish brushed with pine glaze.
Venison stew with mountain herbs.
Delicate rice cakes filled with sweet chestnut paste.
Pickled roots.
Honey pears.
And warmed plum wine poured endlessly into polished cups.
Even Taejin looked emotional.
“This,” he declared solemnly between mouthfuls, “is the greatest noble house in Silla.”
“You said that yesterday,” Jiho muttered.
“Yes.
But tonight there is more meat.”
Claire sat among them as an honoured priestess rather than a noble hostess.
She neither poured wine nor served the meal.
She simply accepted the tiny cups offered to her.
Apparently…
No one noticed how many she emptied.
Or perhaps they simply chose not to.
The conversation grew louder.
The cups grew emptier.
And Lord Minseok grew increasingly fascinated by Nari, who politely pretended not to notice while noticing absolutely everything.
Meanwhile, General Hwan Ryuk slowly realised something deeply alarming.
The priestess could outdrink military officers.
Jiho discovered this first.
“You finished that already?”
Claire blinked innocently over the rim of another cup.
“Finished what?”
Taejin stared in horror as she calmly emptied another serving of plum wine while maintaining perfect posture and perfectly clear speech.
“This feels unnatural.”
“You said that after she stitched Jiho back together,” Nari pointed out.
“Yes,” Taejin replied gravely. “And I remain correct.”
General Hwan Ryuk watched the entire exchange with increasing suspicion.
Not because she drank.
Because she behaved unlike any priestess he had ever encountered.
She laughed too easily.
Asked strange questions.
Used odd expressions no one quite understood.
Then matters became even worse when Claire discovered folded parchment games among the scholars.
Within minutes she was teaching strategy games no one else had seen before.
“This is clearly some form of warfare,” Taejin muttered after losing badly for the fourth time.
“You are terrible at deception,” Claire informed him.
“I am a soldier.”
“That explains it.”
Jiho nearly choked with laughter.
Even General Hwan Ryuk eventually surrendered to reluctant amusement, though he continued studying Claire with the same careful expression scholars reserved for unsolved texts.
“You continually say impossible things,” he observed at last.
“Where did you learn all this?”
Claire froze for only a heartbeat before smiling over the rim of her cup.
“Long winters.”
It was not technically a lie.
The answer seemed to satisfy no one.
Still, beneath the warmth and laughter one shadow remained over her heart.
Mirae.
Every now and then Claire would drift into silence without warning.
The others noticed less than Jiho did.
He always noticed.
She kept imagining what Mirae had endured among the northerners.
The questions.
The fear.
The humiliation left unspoken in an age where women were expected to survive quietly.
Claire already knew what she would do once Mirae returned.
She would never force questions.
Never demand details.
She would simply sit beside her.
Feed her.
Protect her dignity.
And remind her that survival itself could be sacred.
By the end of the evening, Lord Minseok had become entirely enchanted with Nari.
Unfortunately for him, noble etiquette and simple caution kept women carefully guarded, especially women travelling beneath hidden identities.
Nari remained graceful and distant despite blushing every time Minseok addressed her directly.
Jiho leaned quietly toward Claire.
“He has no chance.”
Claire smirked.
“You sound very confident.”
“I have watched him attempt conversation for three days.”
“And?”
“He speaks like a man approaching a tiger shrine.”
Claire burst into laughter loud enough that General Hwan Ryuk looked mildly offended at having missed the joke.
Perhaps it was the wine.
Perhaps the rare feeling of safety.
Whatever the reason, by the end of the evening someone suggested a hunting expedition.
Apparently Nari had mentioned that women raised near Cradle Lake learned mountain archery and wilderness skills alongside spiritual studies.
The revelation fascinated everyone.
General Hwan Ryuk looked openly sceptical.
“The priestess hunts?”
Claire lifted one eyebrow.
“The mountains feed those who survive them.”
Jiho looked entirely too pleased with the answer.
And so, through a remarkable display of collective poor judgement, a hunting party was arranged for dawn.
It terrified Claire.
She had never hunted in her life.
She had never loosed an arrow at any living creature.