The Painter’s Ghost in the Prince’s Body

“The interrogation will commence after the day’s state affairs are concluded. Relay the message to the Uigeumbu so they may prepare accordingly. Until then, ensure that not a single finger is laid upon the Prince.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I shall convey your command to the Magistrate of the Uigeumbu.”

While the envoys who had returned with So-hwa reported on the tributes brought from Gyeong, Sang-gang recalled a dark-complexioned face and clicked his tongue quietly.

He thought of fingers that had been rugged and unsightly from a lifetime of hardship since childhood, comparing them to the Prince’s fingers he had glimpsed briefly moments ago. He hadn’t had reason to think of Jin-mok lately, yet perhaps it was because of the Prince’s eyes—eyes that seemed to cling to him. Today, the simple, honest face of the painter who had died so willfully kept flickering through his mind.

‘Your Majesty, this ginger-cinnamon tea is truly delicious.’

The memory of that foolish expression, radiating joy over a mere cup of tea, slowly filled his head. When offered a press-cake from the refreshment table, the painter had been too hesitant to even reach out; when a treat was finally placed in his hand, he had received that tiny thing with both hands as if it were a royal treasure.

Though the palace was overflowing with food and delicacies, Jin-mok had spent a long time nibbling away at that single sweet. Sang-gang could still vividly hear his voice when asked why he ate so sparingly.

‘Since Your Majesty bestowed it upon me, it is far too precious. I wish to savor it for as long as I can.’

It was just a piece of candy. Had he simply asked, Sang-gang would have let him eat until he was sick of them. Recalling the foolish painter left him feeling inexplicably heavy-hearted. Simultaneously, his irritation toward Wi So-hwa only intensified.

Jin-mok, trapped within So-hwa’s body in the prison, curled up on the foul-smelling straw and hugged his knees. His heart ached; the Emperor’s fierce voice and smile felt like those of a total stranger. But what pained Jin-mok more was the fact that the body currently imprisoned was not his own.

What should I do? If news reached So-hwa’s family in Gyeong, they would be devastated. Furthermore, this body was already frail from a long illness and had been weakened further by the arduous journey on horseback.

If subjected to interrogation in such a state, both So-hwa’s body and the soul of Jin-mok residing within it would find it difficult to survive. Jin-mok had achieved his final wish of seeing the Emperor, so he had no regrets even if he were to die.

But what of So-hwa? Since the Prince had intended to take his own life, would he truly have no regrets in death? Jin-mok hoped so, but he had his doubts.

Even Jin-mok, who had once resigned himself to death, had felt a surge of joy upon waking up, even if it was in another’s body. Might So-hwa not have felt the same joy had he woken up in his own?

It was shameful enough to be borrowing the body, but by volunteering to come as a hostage, he had essentially pushed So-hwa’s innocent physical form into a death trap. It was a terribly shameless thing to do to both the family in Gyeong and to So-hwa himself.

Jin-mok hoped to turn the Emperor’s heart before the torture began. He was always so kind in the past… perhaps if I answer well, he will show mercy, he thought, harboring a faint hope.

However, Jin-mok did not even understand why the Emperor was so enraged by the royal portrait. He had no inkling that the Emperor had discovered the portrait he had hidden away before leaving. Thus, he couldn’t comprehend why he was being interrogated for the crime of painting it himself.

In such a predicament, how could he possibly sway the Emperor’s heart? The future looked bleak, and nothing but deep sighs escaped his lips.

“Come out.”

He heard someone calling from nearby. Jin-mok, his face buried between his knees, did not react, not realizing the call was meant for him.

The person tapped irritably on the wooden bars of the cell and urged him on.

“Prisoner Wi So-hwa, you are to be moved to the interrogation grounds. Hurry and come out.”

Only then did Jin-mok slowly lift his head. At the sight of the guard standing there like a stone statue, tears finally welled up in his eyes. The guard, meeting those shimmering eyes, clicked his tongue softly and leaned down to unlock the cell door.

“His Majesty is conducting the Chinguk (personal interrogation) himself, so make haste.”

As Jin-mok stepped through the low door, the guard bound his hands and torso tightly with rope. As the red cord squeezed his chest, the terrified Jin-mok began to sob, tears falling like heavy drops of rain.

How could he possibly persuade the Emperor when he was this frightened? The guard’s gruff, menacing face and the spear he carried were simply too terrifying.

Moreover, the thought of the even more horrific interrogation awaiting him made his legs buckle; he wanted to collapse right then and there.

“Let’s go.”

The guard grabbed him by the arm and practically dragged So-hwa’s body along. Near the prison exit, another guard was waiting. He too grabbed Jin-mok’s arm, and the two men began to haul him between them. Jin-mok’s legs flailed so much he couldn’t tell if he was walking or being carried.

Had the sun set while he was in the cell? In the darkness, torches lit the path to the interrogation grounds. As he was dragged across the uneven stone path, the thin silk robes tore, and blood began to seep through the knees of his trousers.

Whether by luck or misfortune, Jin-mok was so delirious with fear that he couldn’t even feel the pain of his injuries. As Jin-mok sobbed piteously, the guard who had first pulled him out spoke gruffly.

“Forget the interrogation, it looks like you’ll be bedridden immediately… Will you be alright?”

It was unclear whether he was asking out of concern or warning him of the grueling ordeal ahead. When Jin-mok grew even more terrified and slumped down, the other guard smacked his lips.

“Ah, why’d you have to go and say that? You’re scaring him. I hope he doesn’t go and wet himself. Tsk.”

“No… I only said it because he looks so fragile. I doubt he could even handle ten strokes of the paddle…”

The guards continued their chatter as they lifted Jin-mok up from both sides and carried him. At the mention of the “paddle,” Jin-mok turned pale and could only let his tears fall in silence.

Upon reaching the interrogation grounds, the guards dragged Jin-mok before the throne where the Emperor sat and dropped him. His legs gave way, and he collapsed into a heap. When Jin-mok lifted his tear-soaked eyes, the Emperor, who had been watching the scene in silence, let out a hollow laugh.

“The interrogation hasn’t even begun, so why does he look like a wreck already?”

The guard who had brought Jin-mok bowed and reported.

“It seems he took fright at the mere mention of the interrogation grounds. His legs gave out on the way here; he could not even walk.”

Jin-mok gazed up at the Emperor’s face, which looked down at him with a cold, indifferent expression. Though his vision was blurred by tears, it was undeniably the Emperor he knew. But why was his face so fierce?

Jin-mok, who only remembered him with a smile, was so shocked by this unfamiliar expression that his mouth clamped shut. The Emperor stared intently at Jin-mok before issuing an order to the guards.

“Strip the Prince of his outer robes.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Even as the guards swarmed him to undo the binding ropes, Jin-mok kept his eyes fixed on the Emperor’s face. What was it about that portrait that made the Emperor treat him so coldly? He couldn’t understand. In his own way, he had stayed up all night to complete that portrait to celebrate the Emperor’s birthday.

The guards forced Jin-mok up and tore off his robes until he was left in only his white inner tunic and trousers. They then forced him onto his knees before the Emperor with brutal strength.

“I shall ask you once more, Prince. Who is the person who truly painted that portrait?”

“I… I painted it myself.”

Since he had indeed painted it, there was nothing else he could say. Even if the Emperor had recognized Jin-mok’s style, it shouldn’t be a reason to treat him this way. Why was the Emperor so furious?

“It seems you still haven’t come to your senses. After about ten strokes of the paddle, you’ll find yourself eager to tell the truth.”

At the Emperor’s gesture, the guards seized Jin-mok’s arms. As they began to drag him toward the whipping frame in the back, Jin-mok made no real resistance, only sobbing toward the Emperor.

“I told you I painted it because I am the one who painted it! Your Majesty, for what reason are you doing this to me?”

The Emperor raised his hand to the guards dragging Jin-mok. When they paused, he leaned his chin on the back of his hand and spoke with chilling apathy.

“Because I know the person who painted that picture. When you brazenly speak such lies, how can I not be enraged?”

Did he… did he recognize my work? A tear that had been clinging to his eyelid finally fell. It wasn’t a tear of fear or sorrow like the ones before, but one of joy and overwhelming emotion.

Jin-mok prostrated himself flat on the ground, clasping his hands together and resting his forehead against them.

“I do not know who Your Majesty believes it to be, but that portrait was truly painted by me. I can even paint it again for you here and now. So, please… I beg of you to believe me.”

It was heartbreaking that he could not reveal his identity as Jin-mok. But the immediate priority was to escape this situation. If So-hwa’s frail body were to be beaten, the Prince might die from the trauma before he could ever return to his own flesh.