Could it be because of the awning that was drawn?
Or was it because the nine walls curved and blocked the light?
The air in the side hall was dark and cool, settling quietly.
Sahyeon carefully lifted his gaze to look ahead.
On a high platform lit by yellow light, someone dressed in dragon robes was sitting slightly tilted, looking down at him.
He hurriedly clasped his hands together, pressed them to his forehead, and bowed.
“I am Baekga, disciple of Chae Gong. Sahyeon pays respects to the King of Pasa.”
In the side hall where even breathing could not be heard, only Sahyeon’s voice rang clearly.
There was silence, as if the respectful greeting he had just offered had been rejected.
Was the person sitting on the platform truly the King of Pasa?
Or was he hard of hearing and did not catch the greeting?
Various thoughts blossomed in Sahyeon’s mind, but he clenched his teeth and buried his forehead into the sleeve of his robe.
It had already been hard enough just to come this far.
He could not afford to lose this precious opportunity by being caught in some trivial fault — he repeated this to himself countless times.
How much time had passed?
The dry cough of an old man echoed alone.
Then came the soft footsteps toward the platform, along with the occasional creak of the floorboards.
“Ahem.”
As if serving tea, the clinking of bowls from a distance lightly tickled Sahyeon’s scalp.
He swallowed dryly and, still bowing his head, lowered his folded hands politely to around his navel.
“I once met Chae Gong and asked for his teachings.”
Finally, the King of Pasa spoke.
His cracked, dry voice pierced the ears sharply like thorn bushes dried out in winter.
“Truly, he was a person of pure character and upright will. No matter what question was posed, he answered without hesitation, and he was never afraid to distinguish right from wrong.”
Though time had not spared him, his voice remained clear and strong.
Even as he spoke kindly, each word was laced with a hidden thorn, and Sahyeon involuntarily shrank his shoulders.
He hadn’t even seen the King’s face yet, but the impression was vivid: a sensitive and also fierce person.
Sahyeon once saw a well-fed cat playing with a mouse.
Holding the tail with one paw and tapping its head lightly with the other, the cat leisurely toyed with the mouse struggling desperately for its life.
Ohgwang, who was watching with him, said,
“They say a well-fed tiger plays with people that way deep in the mountains.”
But even without going into the mountains, there were many who toyed with people like that.
Like the person looking down at Sahyeon from the high platform, poking his scalp with well-groomed claws.
“What is your name?”
“Baekga, Sahyeon.”
“Alright. Come here and show me your head.”
Sahyeon approached the platform.
“Come up higher.”
He cautiously lifted his head.
A wrinkled hand beckoning him caught his eye.
He climbed the stairs carefully, one step at a time, wondering when he would be told to stop.
But the King did not say to stop until Sahyeon reached the tea table.
“Hmm.”
Instead, he reached out and fiddled with Sahyeon’s hair.
Startled by the unexpected touch, Sahyeon swallowed hard.
“I heard your hair turned gray at a young age, but it’s not as brittle as mine.”
A hand lightly tapped his cheek and passed by — wrinkled and cold, yet somehow softer than anyone Sahyeon had ever met, sending a chill through him.
“Apologies for being rude to a scholar. Perhaps because of my age, when I see a young talent like you, I can’t help but think of you as my child… my grandchild.”
With a small chuckle that seemed to mock himself, the King paused.
“How old are you?”
Sahyeon squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them.
He did not know why the King was acting so kindly, but if he suddenly beheaded him, that would be the act of a madman.
This mood was not bad for Sahyeon — after all, persuasion was about appealing to the ruler’s favor to achieve one’s goal.
“I am twenty-five years old this year.”
“Twenty-five, huh? The same age as Lee Jae.”
He had expected a similar age but not the exact same.
While Sahyeon briefly recalled the teasing, grinning Lee Jae, the King tapped the cushion next to the tea table.
“Sit.”
“How can I sit beside Your Majesty?”
“I considered Chae Gong a friend, so the scholar who is his disciple is like my child. So, sit.”
Coming from someone who had displeased Chae Gong and driven him out of the capital, such words were surprising.
Still suspicious, Sahyeon knelt down carefully and sat in the place offered.
“What was your name again?”
“Baekga, Sahyeon.”
“Good. Is your name Baekga because your hair is white?”
“Originally… it’s my mother’s surname.”
“So you had a family line. Where are you from?”
“During the war, everyone was scattered. I don’t really know my family line. The place where I lived as a child is… Hahyeon.”
“Hahyeon, huh.”
The King stroked his white beard and seemed to ponder deeply.
Whether truly thoughtful or just to unsettle Sahyeon, it didn’t matter — he had not yet said anything that could be faulted.
“Chief Pan-gam recommended you and said that a direct disciple of Chae Gong in this country is precious and must be employed. So I became curious about what teachings you received from your master. What do you think of Chae Gong?”
Now was the time to say things that might be faulted.
Persuasion is not about showing off one’s scholarship or persuading others with knowledge.
Persuasion is understanding the ruler’s inner thoughts and aligning one’s argument with that mind.
(Reference: Records of the Grand Historian, Vol. 63, “Biography of Laozi and Han Fei”)
If you argue for fame to a ruler who desires profit, he will think you a commoner.
If you argue for profit to a ruler who desires fame, he will think you a naive scholar.
If you speak about someone favored by the ruler, you will be thought a flatterer; if about someone hated, a spy testing waters.
Speak simply and you are ignorant; speak at length and you are all talk.
Give careful evidence and you seem cowardly; speak boldly and you are arrogant.
Thus, persuasion is like walking a tightrope before a capricious ruler.
Even the great Chae Gong wandered all his life because he did not understand the nature of persuasion.
How could this young scholar Sahyeon, just a mere scholar, hope to persuade this cunning old king with mere words?
Sahyeon must discern the King’s intention.
The King, who pretended friendliness and set a sweet trap by asking such questions, wanted to hear something.
The King of Pasa was not a merciful ruler but a cold and cruel one.
He would never let a favored talent go easily.
If he could not have him, he would cut off limbs and imprison him.
That he let Chae Gong go peacefully meant not only disagreement but disdain for his ideology.
Perhaps the King foresaw Chae Gong would never be employed in another country or even wished he would spread vain ideas elsewhere.
But since Sahyeon had come here leveraging Chae Gong’s fame, if he recklessly disparaged his master, it would be considered unfilial.
So the answer the King sought was probably…
“He was an idealist.”
A declaration that the paths of scholar and king differ.
And that, from the mouth of Chae Gong’s direct disciple.
“The person’s character is pure and untainted by worldly matters, but if you look at it another way, it means they are ignorant of the ways of the world. Being able to answer any question without hesitation means they think according to a rigid, self-centered ego.”
“Not fearing to judge right and wrong means they are arrogant, believing their reputation will protect them. The master moves only for himself and would not bow his body even before his lord for anyone else.”
“Therefore, no matter how grand his dreams, without someone to carry them out, he can only be called an idealist.”
The king snorted lowly.
Whether he liked Sahyun’s answer or found the obvious intention behind it amusing, it was unclear.
“Then why should I favor a scholar who studied under that idealist?”
Seeing that the question was exactly what he wanted, Sahyun seemed to have pleased the king.
“Scholarship is like clouds that deliver the principles of heaven to earth. When the time is right, they bring rain to make the ground sprout; but clouds that fail to find the time just float in the sky and block the sunlight.”
“The master was riding atop those clouds, but I carried the clouds on my head with my feet firmly planted on the ground. Having studied the same cloud, how can I also be called an idealist?”
“How amusing. You slander your master to elevate yourself.”
“That’s a misunderstanding. Riding the clouds means having mastered scholarship. Since the master was walking the scholar’s path, reaching such a level is his greatest glory.”
“But I never wished to be a scholar from the start, so I kept my feet on this land.”
“Good. Then what is it you want to become?”
Sahyun hesitated for a moment before raising his head.
At that moment, the king leaned in and their eyes met.
Though Sahyun dared to look up at the royal face without permission, the king did not scold him.