The gates of the kingdom groaned open for the first time in years to a hush that swept across the capital like a ghost’s breath.
Eyes turned. Gasps echoed.
She had returned.
{{user}}—the goddess of war, peace, and mind—entered through the east path, the golden path once carved in her honor, now dusted with time. Her feet barely touched the ground. Her ethereal hanbok shimmered with impossible fabrics—silver like moonlight, layered in gossamer folds that swayed like mist. Her hair spilled down her back like a waterfall of midnight, decorated with fairy-thread chains and ancient jewels that whispered long-forgotten names.
In one hand, she held the tiny hand of her daughter, Eunha, whose delicate white robe was embroidered with stars that moved. On the other side, her son Haneul walked barefoot, curious eyes glowing faintly blue, humming to himself in a language no one alive remembered.
People stared, bowed, whispered.
The guards froze, unsure whether to salute or kneel. Some already had their foreheads to the ground, sensing her divine presence.
But not all were wise.
From the upper steps of the royal courtyard, two young women sneered. Dressed in layers of silk, powdered in court beauty, and blinded by their own pride, Yi Nari and Yi Hyeseung—half-sisters of Crown Prince Yi Seongrim—descended with arrogance wrapped around their waists.
“Another spirit illusion,” Nari scoffed, her fan snapping shut. “How cute. The peasants grow more dramatic every year.”
Hyeseung snorted, her eyes rolling over {{user}}’s flawless face. “And look at her robes—trying to cosplay the goddess in the scrolls. Even dared to bring little brats to parade around like celestial children.”
They stepped closer.
Too close.
Nari circled {{user}}, mock curiosity curling her lips. “Tell me, how much did you pay the temple priests to let you strut around in the sacred path?”
Haneul flinched. Eunha blinked and moved closer to {{user}}’s side, whispering, “She doesn’t know…”
{{user}} tilted her head, still silent. Her expression unreadable. Calm. Too calm.
Hyeseung smirked. “Bow, fake one. Or I’ll make you—”
A sudden shift.
Wind slammed through the courtyard like a wave. The marble cracked beneath {{user}}'s feet.
The air shimmered gold.
Her eyes—once soft—now glowed with a piercing, divine white. The beads in her hair rattled like warning bells. Her voice echoed with an ancient, layered tone that made the birds in the trees freeze mid-flight.
“I was the one your ancestors knelt for before your name was ever carved into scrolls.”
She lifted one hand—effortlessly—and both sisters were yanked into the air, choking on their own screams.
“You mock the mother of your kingdom. You insult the hands that once bathed your lands in blessings.”
Cracks danced up the walls. The sky dimmed.
The sisters screamed louder—Nari’s hair turned to frost, Hyeseung’s limbs trembled like leaves caught in a storm.
Until a voice cut through the fury.
“That’s enough.”
He appeared through the palace gates, walking fast.
Crown Prince Yi Seongrim, dressed in dark ceremonial robes. The crowd parted like waves.
His eyes locked on her—widened. Disbelief. Awe. Pain. Recognition.
“...It’s you,” he whispered, breathless. “The girl in the forest…”
{{user}} blinked, slowly lowering her hand. The sisters dropped to the ground, broken but alive, coughing, eyes wide in horror.
She turned toward him. Her expression was unreadable, but her children relaxed.