Our Blooming Youth: Episodes 13-14

by alathe

Once again, our prince must decide how far to trust his unlikely ally. But how can she convince him her memories are reliable when they contradict the established facts? And how far is he willing to protect her. Perhaps the only answer is to arm herself — and fast!

EPISODES 13-14

Hwan finds himself between a rock and a hard place — wherein both “rock” and “hard place” translate to “my dear friend brandishing a sword at my other friend’s throat.” But he’s grown up a lot in the past few weeks: this time, he finds the middle ground between blind trust and banishment. Gently, he tells Jae-yi that her memories must be muddled. Tae-gang isn’t the Gaeseong murderer: he was with Hwan on the day the Min family died. The same is true of when red letters rained from the sky. Hwan urges Jae-yi to take the day off and rest.

Of course, this is Jae-yi we’re talking about. Beauty sleep is less of a priority than weapons acquisition. She can’t discount her own memories — not when they’re so vivid. Time for dagger shopping with Ga-ram! Alas, this backfires: Hwan, having cottoned on, cuts in before she can snag a decent stabbing implement.

Granted, he goes in for the classic wrist-grab, but the truth is, he’s not mad. He’s got something to show her. They approach a cliff overlooking the city: his brother’s favorite haunt. Here, he’d observe the smoke trailing from the chimneys of each dwelling — a sign of dinner being prepared. As famine hit, he watched these signs dwindle. Now, Jae-yi has given Hwan the strength to return to this place. To protect his people the way his brother would have wanted — and to protect her too. But, by now, he knows that’s not enough. Not when she yearns to protect herself. Back at the palace, he slides her dagger towards her. It’s hers — to wield only in self-defense.

Jae-yi stays true to her word: later, encountering Tae-gang in the library, her hand strays to the hilt, but she doesn’t attack. He’s allegedly looking for some books. And hey, if Jae-yi points them out with her foot — and if that foot kicks close to where she once kneed him very hard? Well, no one said she was a saint! Still, Tae-gang’s parting words are much like a knife to the gut. He now knows the truth of Jae-yi’s identity. If she really is innocent, then she must know what it’s like to be falsely accused, and powerless to prove it. Can’t she see that’s how he feels now?

Back in the city, Ga-ram sheds one disguise and dons another: a noblewoman’s silks. Her target? One especially haughty woodpecker — otherwise known as the daughter of the Minister for General Affairs. Swathed in finery, she approaches Myung-jin’s fiancee… and begs her, fervently, to give up on the man that she, Ga-ram, reveres. Myung-jin deserves a partner who appreciates his brilliance! No ordinary family will suffice! Affronted, Lady Woodpecker reels back, and promptly trips. Ga-ram’s breath catches: she’s wearing Jae-yi’s old bracelet.

Elsewhere, at the inn, last week’s starving children come toddling over for a much-needed meal. Man-deok and Bok-soon are happy to oblige. But the atmosphere takes a turn when the kids give their names: MEO-RU (Yoon Ga-on) and DAL-RAE (Kim Sun-yool). Bok-soon drops a tray. At Man-deok’s quelling look, she fights to school her expression.

Meanwhile, Hwan and Jae-yi receive word from Sung-on: he’s finally found OH MAN-SHIK (Jung Han-bin), the runaway saboteur from the Department of Taoism. Our intrepid trio speed off in his direction. Unfortunately, they’re not the only ones. Councilor Jo is uneasy: he had no idea his old accomplice was from Byeokcheon, and suspects he’s been played for a fool. Still, it’s nothing a spot of good, old-fashioned murder won’t fix. And if Sung-on happens to step in the path of an arrow or ten? So much the better. Bwahahaha!

Man-shik skedaddles the second our heroes approach. A heart-pounding chase through the market ends with him cornered in a sprawling field. Fine, he says to Hwan. Kill me here — just like your father butchered my family. His next words die in his throat as an arrow slams into his chest. As half a dozen masked assassins converge, chaos ensues.

Our protagonists hack and slash their way to stalemate, and look exceptionally cool doing it — but soon, Jae-yi and Sung-on are forced to the edge of a cliff. For the second time in as many months, Jae-yi goes toppling towards the river below. Sung-on leaps after. It’s a smart move: dizzying plunges into bodies of water carry a 90% survival rate in the Joseon period; arrow wounds have nastier odds. This is bad news for Hwan: after fending off several fighters at once, an arrow to his side sends him sprawling.

Sung-on pulls Jae-yi from the water. As soon as she opens her eyes, she screams for her prince. Hoisting herself forward on an injured leg, she searches relentlessly, while Sung-on begs her to retreat to safety. But she won’t. Hwan mustn’t be dead. She has something important to tell him. Across the forest, Hwan stumbles painfully to his feet, unable to think of anything but the letter’s curse. Please, he thinks, let my friends be alive. Let my destiny be proved wrong.

Inspiration strikes Jae-yi. The sun is setting in the west, meaning the opposite direction must be east. The eastern palace, where the sun rises… it’s here that she’ll find her prince. Sure enough, Hwan comes staggering into sight. Heedless of her leg, Jae-yi sprints to him, throwing herself into his arms. Hwan meets Sung-on’s eyes and smiles. His hand slackens, dropping his sword. Then, he slumps to the ground.

Back at the palace, Councilor Jo is sent into further paroxysms of maniacal laughter. Man-shik, Sung-on, Eunuch Go, and Crown Prince Hwan, all felled by one humble murder plot? Success beyond his wildest dreams! He approaches morning assembly with a spring in his step, eager to gloat. Hwan is allegedly confined to quarters with a cold. One word from him about the prince’s extracurricular excursions, and the king is storming towards the eastern palace. He and the councilors burst in — only to find Hwan sat meekly at his desk, standing to greet them.

However, the second the king dismisses his ministers, Hwan drops like a stone. The king is livid with fear — didn’t he warn Hwan against antagonizing the Jo family? Hwan can’t afford to act rashly. Still, Councilor Jo is berating himself for the same thing: it seems, reports of everyone’s deaths were greatly exaggerated. With informants like his, who needs enemies?

Later, Hwan drifts in and out of fever. When he blinks back to consciousness, he realizes Jae-yi has been tending to him the whole night through. He calls her name. She turns, astounded. How, he asks, did you know that I’d wait for you in the east? I think, she replies, half-wonderingly, I can find you wherever you are. He nods: now he’ll always know where to wait. Half startled by his own admission, he makes a heroic attempt at a subject change. Is Jae-yi hurt? No, she lies blithely. After all, tending to her leg wound in secret is hardly a hassle. For one thing, it gives her time to squeak happily to herself over the fact that he said “Jae-yi” to her!

And it’s true. He did say “Jae-yi” to her. But he’s about to axe that progress entirely. Soon, Jae-yi is roped into a time-honored eastern palace tradition: getting bagged over the head, locked up, and mock-blackmailed into betraying the prince. Needless to say, Jae-yi exits this “loyalty test” unharmed, followed by two very sheepish and beaten-up colleagues. But Hwan is too furious to see the funny side, whisking her away to tend to her scrapes. (It’s nothing, she demurs, dodging the topic of her totally irrelevant leg wound.) Throughout, she struggles to hide her smile. Maybe, she admits, I’m glad you were worried.

But Hwan’s not in the mood. Instead, he steels himself to say the unforgivable: I should send you away. Go back to your fiancé. Jae-yi’s face falls. Does he truly want her to leave? Hwan dodges the question. Deliberately, she rephrases: does he truly want her to marry Sung-on? I can’t keep putting you in danger, Hwan insists. With subtext yielding no results, Jae-yi forced to resort to desperate measures: the truth. She can’t marry Sung-on. She… she isn’t in a condition to do so. She’s in love with someone else.

A whole day later, and Hwan hasn’t forgiven her. In fact, he still has the flummoxed look of a man doing complex calculus. In what world does this make sense? (Her face falls.) Who is it? (She peers at him, disbelievingly.) Is it — a eunuch? Someone outside the palace? Who else is there?? Jae-yi gives him a withering look. Flatly, she informs him that the person she’s in love with… is deeply stupid.

To add insult to injury, when they reach the lab, Myung-jin’s mooning over another girl he’s never met: the beautiful (probably) stranger who defended him before his ghastly woodpecker fiancée! Ga-ram is doing her best to look disdainful rather than pleased, and failing rather miserably at it. Luckily, everyone is too wrapped up in their personal drama to notice.

Still, the one thing I love about our four protagonists is that they genuinely enjoy each other’s company. Drama notwithstanding, it’s not long before they’re merrily sharing a meal at their favorite inn, with Meo-ru and Dal-rae ordering all they desire, and Hwan gamely footing the bill. For our sheltered royal prince, it’s a revelation. Meo-ru introduces him to food-throwing folk customs, Myung-jin trounces him at jegi, and before long, Ga-ram has the entire table singing to chopstick percussion. It’s delightful!

Back at the palace, the plot thickens. Ever since Episode 1, we’ve seen an intricate spy network in operation: court ladies passing information across the palace. Turns out, the owner of this network is not, in fact, Councilor Jo. It’s the queen. The latest message reveals that Eunuch Go is suspicious of Tae-gang. COURT LADY KWON (Yoon Ye-hee) regards her mistress, worried. She asks: shall I tell him to be careful?

Meanwhile, Councilor Jo has ample reason for cackling. His own spy has returned from Myung-jin’s lab with a poster of Jae-yi. The slave hunters tracking Ga-ram have finally cashed in on their knowledge: now, the identity of Myung-jin’s apprentice is clear. All the evidence slots into place. Of the four friends, only one is unknown to him. Grinning, he folds the poster until only Jae-yi’s face is visible — similar to how it might appear under, say, a eunuch’s cap. He’s finally unraveled the mystery of Go Soon-dol.

As a villager yells for help, our heroes are interrupted mid-song. Someone has died! They rush into the street, where a noble lady lies motionless in the arms of her maid. Ga-ram nudges Jae-yi: she’s wearing the bracelet Young once gave her. Jae-yi bends down to retrieve it, then subtly passes it to Hwan. Myung-jin begins to comment, but breaks off as Ga-ram shakes her head. The four stare aghast at the corpse. It’s the daughter of the Minister of General Affairs: Myung-jin’s fiancee.

Protection appears to be this week’s theme, whether it’s self-defense or shielding a loved one. Hwan’s been trying to strike a balance between respecting Jae-yi’s competence, and steering her from harm’s way. Crucially, “trying” does not mean “succeeding.” At his best, he recognizes it’s a mutual thing: she’ll let him protect her, provided she protects him too. At his worst, he swoops in to shield her from the world — which she justifiably hates.

Still, Jae-yi isn’t exactly the picture of healthy boundaries in this regard. She blames herself entirely for Hwan’s recklessness, whilst ignoring the consequences of her own. I half hope neglecting that leg wound will come back to haunt her! Tae-gang pointing out that his position is similar to Jae-yi’s — that neither of them can defend themselves as much as they’d like — was really compelling. There are plenty of parallels between the two: both are fighters; both are young and stubborn; both are in a unique social position, as favored subordinate to the prince.

I’m also super fascinated by the range of roles Ga-ram plays: female slave, male apprentice, scholar, noblewoman… She’s the most in her element in that last role, which is a very different gender expression to what she’s used to. Unlike Jae-yi, she never got to explore the opportunities afforded by being a minister’s daughter: there’s plenty of freedoms Jae-yi took for granted. The great thing about this series is that it puts our protagonists in a range of unexpected social positions — there’s an anarchic element to it that I love. Here’s to future role-swapping shenanigans!

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Our Blooming Youth: Episodes 13-14