"The greatest heartache comes from loving another soul, they said, beyond reason, beyond doubt, with no hope of salvation."
- Dead Poets, Lang Leav
~°•°~
Nightfall arrived with a sepia haze, draping the silver-black sky with a muted, melancholic glow. Silence descended upon the earth, a stillness so profound it seemed almost expectant, as though it already knew the storm that brewed in the heavens above. It had been a bright and idyllic day, with the sun shining in a clear blue sky speckled with lazy, drifting clouds. The golden rays had caressed the autumn foliage, casting a warm light on the vibrant hues of crimson, orange, and gold. Families strolled beneath the canopy of trees, reveling in the perfect weather — the quintessential day for enjoying the splendor of fall. Yet, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the skies darkened with an ominous urgency that no one had foreseen. The air now felt heavy, charged with the scent of impending rain. It was clear to all who gazed upward: a storm was coming, swift and unforgiving.
Had anyone dared to anger the Dragon King? Every spiritual soul who still held belief in the legend of the Dragon King was haunted by the same fearful question.
In a luxurious penthouse in Paris, France, a young woman of twenty-four sat hunched in a corner of her dimly lit room, her head bowed, face hidden against her knees. The rhythmic pounding of her heart filled the silence as she repeated a quiet mantra to herself: it did not matter if she disliked the rain. One need not love the rain to endure it, after all. Plenty of people felt the same way. Elsewhere, far from the city's lights and sounds, deep within the ancient woods cradled by the mountains, another figure watched the gathering storm. He sat beneath the sprawling branches of an ancient Gingko tree in Seoul, South Korea, its golden leaves fluttering in the breeze like fragments of sunlight. This was no ordinary man; his appearance was ethereal, otherworldly, belonging more to myth than reality. The Dragon King, ruler of the deep seas and skies, reclined by the edge of a secluded, crystalline pool that had borne witness to countless centuries of solitude. He gazed at the storm clouds, his expression inscrutable, yet his thoughts were consumed by the memory of a woman he had met not long ago, one who bore a striking resemblance to someone he had loved long ago.
How would she feel about a night like this? He mused. Would she find it frightening, or would she see the beauty in the chaos, as he once had with another?
Despite all his wisdom and power, he could not decide. And strangely, the uncertainty brought him a rare comfort. At least he knew she was safe tonight, far from the turmoil in his own heart. But even the cool mountain breeze, scented with pine and the earthy aroma of wet leaves, did little to soothe the emptiness that gnawed at him. His heart felt hollow, a void that no passage of time had managed to fill.
The burden of immortality was a numbing one. The Dragon King had lived for ages untold, watching the rise and fall of empires, the ebb and flow of civilizations, and the relentless march of time that seemed to leave everything but him behind. He had grown indifferent, or at least he had learned to pretend to be. While other ancient spirits found solace in the cyclical nature of existence, he found only weariness. Seasons changed, and yet his inner world remained frozen, untouched by the warmth of the sun or the bite of winter's chill.
"How much longer must I endure this hollow existence?" he whispered into the night. He knew there would be no answer.
It was said that time healed all wounds, but the Dragon King knew better. Time might soften the edges of pain, dull it into something bearable, but it never truly healed. The scars remained, invisible but ever-present, marking the places where love had once flourished and then been torn away. Love, he had come to understand, was the most grievous of wounds, leaving behind a deep ache that could not be soothed. His love, his one true love, was gone, taken by the merciless tides of fate. And though centuries had passed, the memory lingered, clinging to his heart like a shadow that refused to fade. He knew he could never love again. Not truly. Not when every new face reminded him of her, and every fleeting connection felt like a betrayal of that memory.
He often came to this secluded place, where they had first met, seeking solace in the familiar surroundings. It was a quiet kind of torture, but it was all he had left. The woman he had encountered this past summer wasn't her — she couldn't be. And yet, the resemblance was uncanny. He had felt his heart stir, a sensation he thought long dead. He had no choice but to push the feeling aside, to lock it away in the deepest recesses of his mind. He couldn't afford to let another become the center of his thoughts, the source of his first smile in the morning and his last sigh at night.
For centuries, he had carried the memory of his lost love like a burden, an indelible part of his soul. Letting go was never an option. Not when her absence defined his very existence. And now, after so many lifetimes, why was he feeling the old pain resurface? Was it the universe's way of reminding him of his curse? He couldn't understand why he was being made to relive this torment once more. He had no desire to continue like this. Who would? No one could bear to live in such profound solitude, forced to feign contentment while their heart slowly bled from wounds no one else could see.
"Long live the Dragon King," a voice broke through his thoughts, tentative and quivering.
The Dragon King did not look down. He knew that voice well.
"Your Majesty?" the voice called again, softer this time, tinged with a note of fear.
He leaned back against the sturdy trunk of the Gingko tree, his patience wearing thin. "I told you not to disturb me tonight, Beom-seok."
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Beom-seok stammered from the pool's edge, his head bowed in respect. "I did not intend to anger you, but the Elders have sent a message."
The Dragon King's sigh was deep and weary. "Inform the Elders I have no interest in meeting my so-called bride. Not now, not ever. I received this same message an hour ago, did I not?"
"It isn't about the bride, Your Majesty," Beom-seok said, his voice trembling. "It's… it's the Divination Pool."
At this, the Dragon King's eyes flashed open, their usual stormy grey brightening into a striking gold, like sunlight piercing through the depths of the sea. The sudden change in his gaze made Beom-seok flinch, stepping back instinctively.
"Is it what I think it is, Beom-seok?" the Dragon King's voice was low, filled with a rare, dangerous intensity.
Beom-seok nodded, his face pale with fear. "Yes, Your Majesty. It's happening again."
A chill ran through the Dragon King's veins. The Divination Pool never gave false visions. It had only shown such a vision once before, centuries ago, heralding the destruction that had swallowed his empire and his beloved. Now, it seemed, the fates were weaving a similar thread once more.
✨
Yongwang's silk-black robes, delicately embroidered with golden threads, brushed against the smooth, gold-plated floor as he walked, casting shadows that seemed to dance and swirl around him. His movements were unhurried, yet each step echoed clearly through the grand, silent corridor, filled with a sense of purpose. Behind him followed Beom-seok, his most devoted servant, keeping a respectful distance. On both sides of the hallway, rows of attendants - men and women - stood perfectly still, their heads bowed low in deep respect. Although they looked mostly human, there was something ethereal, almost magical, about them. Their silent presence was a sign of their deep reverence for the Dragon King, and while it was meant to honor him, Yongwang always found this display a bit unsettling - almost suffocating in its excess.
For Yongwang, the title of Dragon King had never been a dream he wished to fulfill. Yet the power of the Orbs of Dragonkind demanded immense respect and total obedience. These magical Orbs, known as Yeouijuis, were powerful relics that gave the one who wielded them control over any dragon species connected to their magic. Because he had been chosen to hold these Orbs, the dragons had no choice but to bow to him - unless they wanted to be counted as enemies and traitors.
Despite this, he always felt uneasy with the level of submission shown to him. Respect is one thing, but fear that prevents someone from even looking up felt wrong to him. The grand gold decorations that adorned the palace constantly reminded him of this burden - that a ruler's heart, like gold, should be pure and kind, revealing its true beauty only under the light of compassion. The entire underwater Dragon Realm, with its magnificent palace rising from the ocean floor, was a constant reminder of his duties. The cold, yellowish glow of the walls would transform into a warm, molten gold under the touch of light, giving the palace an air that was both mysterious and unwelcoming. The arched walls, illuminated by beams of light that danced like bubbles underwater, seemed almost magical, reminding Yongwang of the sacrifices his role demanded.
As they neared the grand double doors, which were made entirely of gold and decorated with the symbol of the three Orbs of Dragonkind, two guards in shining armor stood ready. They bowed deeply as he approached. "Long live the Dragon King. Everyone is eagerly waiting for you, Your Majesty," one guard announced, stepping aside to open the door. "This way, please."
Yongwang paused for a moment, clasping his hands behind his back. He took a deep, steadying breath, gathering the courage he needed. In a low voice, almost to himself, he murmured, "You can do this, Yongwang." Then, with a confident stride, he stepped inside, leaving Beom-seok to wait outside the chamber.
The way he carried himself, combined with his royal clothing, gave him an aura of authority and power - the kind that only the Dragon King, the chosen wielder of the Orbs of Dragonkind, could possess. Inside the lavish chamber, the five Elders of the Dragon Realm were already present: Elder Huneul of the East Sea, Elder Geom-jeong-saek of the North Sea, Elder Ppalgan-saek of the South Sea, Elder Hayan-saek of the West Sea, and Elder Hoe-saek, who represented the other seas. His parents, the famous Yong dragons, were also there. They all bowed deeply, greeting him with a silence that was filled with tension and respect. While the Elders' faces remained calm and unreadable, his parents' expressions were full of worry and fear.
Glancing at the familiar faces gathered around the Divination Pool, Yongwang took his place next to Elder Huneul. He offered a polite bow and his usual kind smile. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. I was momentarily distracted by the weather. Beom-seok told me that this urgent meeting is about the Divination Pool. Is that true?" he asked calmly, though deep down he already knew the answer. He had been expecting this moment for a long time.
The Elders exchanged uneasy looks, their expressions hinting at the trouble ahead. Elder Huneul, however, moved closer to the Divination Pool with a faint, amused smile. He raised his hand gracefully, causing the waters of the pool to ripple and swirl into a small, spinning vortex. When the movement stopped, blurry images from the future appeared on the surface of the water. Yongwang felt a chill run through his stomach as he recognized the faces - dark, sinister eyes and figures covered in black scales, triggering memories he had tried hard to forget.
"The Traitors are rising once more," Elder Huneul said in a sharp, serious voice. "This time, they bring an army of Imoogis, stronger and more dangerous than ever before. They crave revenge against you, Yongwang. Such a rebellion has never been seen in our time. Over the years, they have been consuming human souls to gain strength. Their leader, as you can see, is not one to take lightly."
The water shifted again, revealing the image of a woman. Her face was painfully familiar, yet the cold, evil look in her eyes was unmistakable. The sight made a flame of anger ignite in Yongwang's chest, as if a wildfire had been set inside him.
"But we still have the Orbs of Dragonkind," his father quickly said, his voice sounding almost desperate. "With them, Yongwang can control and defeat them all."
Yongwang swallowed hard, feeling a tight knot of anxiety in his throat. He had known this day would come, when he could no longer keep the truth hidden. Elder Huneul's eyes glinted with a knowing look as he spoke lightly. "Shall you tell them, Your Majesty, or shall I?"
There was a brief, heavy silence before Yongwang finally spoke. His voice was steady, but it carried the weight of a difficult truth. "The red Orb of Dragonkind is no longer with me."
Gasps filled the room. His father's face twisted in shock and disbelief. "What do you mean you don't have the Yeouijui that controls the Imoogis?"
Meeting his father's stunned gaze, Yongwang spoke gently but firmly. "Yes, Abeoji, you heard correctly. I don't have it - but I do know where it is."
Taking a deep breath, he began to explain everything: the fateful summer night, the moment he met the reincarnation of the woman he had once loved, the rush of emotions that had overwhelmed him, and his sudden decision to give her the Orb without a second thought. When he finished, the room was filled with stunned silence, broken only by his mother's soft, disbelieving gasp.
"You did what, Yongwang?!" she exclaimed, her voice high and filled with shock. "How could you risk everything for her?"
His father's face turned red with fury. "Do you understand the danger you've put us all in? The girl's life, your position as Dragon King - everything is at risk because of your reckless decision!"
Yongwang's golden eyes flashed with a fierce light, glowing brightly for a moment as the power of the Dragon King surged within him. The air in the room seemed to grow thick with energy, as if a storm was brewing. But he quickly forced himself to calm down, taking control of his emotions once more. Yongwang inhaled deeply, the sound of his breath echoing through the vast chamber. His eyes, once a turbulent storm of emotions, settled back into their original hue-a greyish-brown like the calm before the storm. He slowly reopened them, revealing a glint of remorse mixed with resolve.
"I know what I did was wrong," Yongwang began, his voice breaking the silence like a blade through water. The words seemed to weigh heavily on him, as if each syllable dragged up buried regrets. "I'm fully aware it was unethical, unforgivable even. But at that moment, it was the only choice I had. I couldn't just stand by and watch her... watch her fade away like I did before. Not again. I couldn't bear it."
His Eomeonim, a woman of timeless grace whose presence carried the warmth of ancient, serene waters, approached him with hesitant steps. Her breaths were uneven, revealing the turmoil she fought to suppress. She gently laid her trembling hand on his shoulder, the touch a fragile attempt to anchor him in the here and now.
"We understand your pain, my son," she whispered, her voice thick with empathy and sorrow. "But you must realize-she isn't her. The human girl you once loved... she's gone. Lost to the passage of time, like a ripple disappearing into the ocean. And no matter how much you wish otherwise, there's nothing you can do to change that. You have your dragon bride now, your destiny intertwined with ours. You cannot jeopardize the entire dragon race just because of a mortal girl who bears her likeness."
Before she could continue, his Abeoji cut in, his voice strained, laden with frustration and fear. He was a towering figure, embodying the strength of crashing waves and the wisdom of the deep sea, but in this moment, his composure faltered.
"That's exactly the issue here!" he thundered, stepping forward with a clenched fist. "We all knew this day would come, eventually. We prepared ourselves, relying on the Orbs of Dragonkind for protection and guidance. But now-now everything is in disarray because of your actions. You were chosen to wield the Orbs, Yongwang, *not* to relinquish them. By giving them away, you've endangered not just yourself, but the entire lineage. And that girl-she's far from safe. The moment those Imoogis learn about her, she's as good as dead!"
A tense silence descended upon the hall, as if the very air had frozen, refusing to carry any more words. His Abeoji's hand flew to his mouth, as though he could trap the dire truth he had just uttered. His eyes were wide with the realization of what he'd said. Across from him, his Eomeonim's pupils dilated in shock, her hand falling away from Yongwang's shoulder. The gathered Elders, venerable and wise, stiffened as if struck by an unseen force, their expressions masked by the shadows of flickering torchlight.
"That is not going to happen," Yongwang declared, his voice sharp, like the crack of ice breaking on a frozen lake. The fierceness in his tone sent a shiver through the room, the kind that curled in the pit of one's stomach and refused to settle. "I will not allow harm to come to her, nor to anyone else. If it means protecting her, I will go to the Human Realm myself. I will confront the Traitors before the season's first snow falls. Until then... because I've acted against our laws, I'm abdicating my position as a water deity."
There was a collective gasp from the Elders, a murmur of disbelief spreading like ripples in a disturbed pond. Yongwang's gaze was unwavering as he shrugged off the upper piece of his silk black robes, the fabric sliding off his shoulders like a whisper of wind. He held it for a moment, his grip tightening before he let it drop to the polished stone floor. The garment fell away, revealing the Seal of the Dragon King-a sacred mark etched into his flesh between his shoulder blades, gleaming like liquid silver in the dim light.
Without a word of farewell, he turned on his heel and walked towards the exit. His movements were deliberate, each step resonating with finality. For the first time in centuries, Yongwang left the sacred chamber without a parting glance, leaving behind only the crown and the discarded robe, symbols of his forsaken authority.
As the echo of his footsteps faded into the silence, Elder Geom-jeong-saek found his voice, though it trembled with unease. He was an Elder of stoic demeanor, but now his apprehension seeped through the cracks in his composed mask.
"Elder Huneul," he called out, almost pleadingly. "Are you truly going to let him leave like this? We cannot permit him to venture into the Human Realm unguarded. It's far too dangerous. We risk everything if he goes."
Elder Huneul, a figure draped in robes the color of twilight, moved forward with a calm, almost serene expression. He bent down and retrieved the fallen crown and the piece of black silk. He handled them with a reverence usually reserved for sacred relics, smoothing out the fabric with a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips.
"Let him go," Huneul replied, his tone light yet imbued with a depth that belied his years. "This is a path he must tread alone. We can offer guidance, but we cannot lead him to victory. He must carve his own destiny and fight his own battles. It's not our place to interfere. He may carry the title of Dragon King, but the truth is, he has never embraced what it means to truly be one. This is his journey-to understand and become the ruler he was always meant to be. We must allow the legend of the Dragon King to rewrite itself, to forge its own path."
He turned to face the others, his eyes gleaming with a mix of hope and resignation. The Elders exchanged looks, the weight of his words settling heavily upon their shoulders. They knew, as he did, that the future was uncertain, but it was a future Yongwang needed to confront alone.
And so, they stood in silence, watching the chamber doors slowly close, sealing away the remnants of what once was, and opening the way for what was yet to come.
End of the chapter