Episode 2:

Pass The Consort's Exam: Part Two

The interviewers had been laughing before he’d entered, playing a round of yut nori as they waited for the consort applicants to file in. The most cheerful one looked up at him, his jeering grin turning polite. The others turned toward him in kind. To the cheerful one’s right was a young woman with dark hair and brown skin, her hanbok colored a dusky pink and purple to contrast the stoicism of her expression. To the left of them was another man, much more muscular than his scrawny companion, eyes the color of raw honey. He wore a striped hanbok of indigo and turquoise. It didn’t look particularly good on him, but he was handsome enough to not look appalling in it.  

“Looks like our first victim is here,” said the man in blue, one arm propped up on his knee as he pointed one of the wooden sticks to a spot across from the interviewers. “Sit down. You must be tired after the written exam.”

“The exam writers were very thorough,” Min-jun said. Even if some of the questions were ridiculous. His complaints could wait until he was certain of his own standing. 

“Say,” the cheerful one spoke, walking until they were only a few inches apart, vibrating with enthusiasm, “are you any good at yut?” 

“Pardon?”

The cheerful one smiled even wider, turning rather impish as he leaned in too close. “Our teams are uneven right now. I need another person to play on my team.” 

Min-jun furrowed his brow, still maintaining his polite facade. “I can’t imagine how that could be relevant to the exam.” Quite unprofessional, if you asked him.

The cheerful one scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’d rather be bored out of your mind for the next thirty minutes. Come, loosen that tension in you. The King likes a man who doesn’t think himself above a game of yut. Unless, of course, you’re scared of losing.”

What a tasteless tactic. 

It worked, of course. Under all the pleasantries he laid on top of himself, Min-jun couldn’t keep his competitiveness concealed. 

So, he sat down beside the cheerful one, who introduced himself as Jang Ji-won, the King’s advisor. They reset the board and had Min-jun be the first to throw the four wooden yut sticks. Only one of the sticks fell with its flat side up. One step forward for their tokens. 

“You’re from Dal province?” 

“Yes. My mother was an investigator. My father owned a bookstore.” His mother had never been fond of the books, preferring to rely on her own reason than that of others. Thankfully, Min-jun took after his father, studious to a fault. 

“Past tense?”

“They died a few years ago,” he told them. “It’s why I’m here now. They were avid supporters of the King.” The King’s death, that is. 

“Ah,” Ji-won said, “two orphaned hearts brought together by lingering devotion. Sun, write that down.”

“Write it down yourself,” Sun said, throwing the sticks back up into the air. His gold eyes glimmered with victory when all four sticks landed with their flat sides facing up. Four steps and an extra turn. Min-jun grimaced. The game was rigged for the lucky ones. 

“Fine,” Ji-won grumbled, fishing out a scroll from a satchel that was far too small to have contained it. “I have to do everything myself.” 

The woman tossed the sticks up into the air. Three steps. Their tokens moved into the corner of the board. Min-jun followed suit. One step. 

Sun met Min-jun’s eyes. “How did they die?”

“Sun!” Ji-won scolded from where he was still messily scribbling down his thoughts, ink staining the floor. “A little bit of tact. Find it.”

“It’s quite alright,” Min-jun replied. “People naturally get curious about such things.” He raised his head to look Sun in the eyes again. “They passed away due to health complications. Time’s plague.” 

That shut them up. The rash of time’s plague had left the Kingdom of Saro with a fear of a ticking sound behind them, the sight of numbers dropping. It was like magic, they said. A curse that found its place in a person’s veins and could never be drawn out. Everyone who caught it died within days. 

No one ever asked for details about the plague, which made it the perfect cover story for Min-jun.

Ji-won hit Sun over the back of the head, scolding his insensitivity. Sun winced, rubbing at the place of impact. “Sorry.”

“It’s not a problem.” It’s a lie, after all. It was better this way. They wouldn’t speculate upon a question they already had the answer to. 

“What do you do for a living?” the woman asked, giving Sun a pointed look. 

“I follow in my mother’s footsteps.” He moved his token across the board. “Serving justice.”

A young maid walked in. 

“You work in the justice department?” 

He shook his head. “No, I’m part of a private agency. The official department wouldn’t hire me due to my background as the son of a merchant.” Plus, they were wholly incompetent at their jobs. He had no interest in working for a boss who only knew how to spin a good cover story. 

“What are you planning on doing if you’re selected?” the woman asked.

Min-jun smiled. Planning on doing? We’re nothing but companions for the King, glorified courtesans. “To serve his Majesty.” 

“How?”

Based on Mother’s teachings, he should go on a long tangent proclaiming all the ways he could entertain the King. But he was his mother’s son, and her training told him otherwise. That is not the answer you’re seeking, is it? The exam itself was already unconventional. It wasn’t so strange that the King would seek different qualities in their consorts. Something other than grace and modesty and subservience. Min-jun remembered the exam questions, all a touch more opinionated than what he’d expected, profiling the applicants’ knowledge of the political atmosphere. 

“I plan to do as I have always done,” he replied. “Serve justice. I will assist the King in doing so by pushing forward reforms that strengthen our justice system, digging out the roots of corruption. I’ve been working in this department long enough to recognize a bad apple.” He’d start with killing the King, of course. Perhaps if he managed to get away with it, he’d manage to keep the Kingdom from crumbling under the pressure of a monarch’s death.

“You’re a commoner. How will you gain enough followers to support the King in such an endeavor?”

Right, how was a commoner supposed to convince the nobility of anything, when they thought of them as lesser beings? “I can be very persuasive.”

“Elaborate,” Sun said. So suspicious, that one. Min-jun hoped their paths would stay far apart.

“I would prefer not to.”

“Why?”

“What sort of magician reveals all his tricks before the show?”

“You sound more like a conman to me.”

He wasn’t letting it go. Min-jun sighed, flipping the yut sticks up into the air. One step forward. “I suppose I do. My methods differ depending on who I am trying to convince. Not everyone can be drawn in with pretty words.” And a pretty face. Though most didn’t last long before they fell for him.

“Say,” Ji-won said, looking down at the board on the table. “You’re not very good at this game.” 

Min-jun looked down. His token had barely moved. “I suppose I don’t have the best luck.” 

The woman cleared her throat. “Those are all our questions. If you’re selected, you will be sent to the Palace, and the King will interview you personally.” 

Impressive. They made it sound even more like a business transaction than before. 

Min-jun bowed his head, thanking them. Their eyes followed him as he left the room. 

He walked through the halls, the white walls spotted with wooden, square windows that gave a view of the courtyard. Most of the applicants were still leaning over their exam papers, their brushes gliding over the surface, bleeding ink. How many of them even wanted to be here today? How many of them were here serving some higher purpose?