Chương 1: Dissolution

A silver phoenix pierced the twilight, wings spread wide to catch the final glimmers of the setting sun. Wrapping its body tightly, the bird plunged into a spiraling dive, racing towards the ground like a falling star. Right before it hit the treetops it pulled up and burst out into a sweeping arc, trailing shimmering ribbons of light across the evening sky. In reality, the mythical bird was only a few fingers wide – a die-pressed figure perched on the end of a silver hairpin.

But in Chae-ha's imagination it soared across the heavens, beautiful, cold, and serene, as it returned to its roost on the peak of Mt. Tai.

"Can we buy it, Father? Please?"

"Girls usually wear those to show they've come of age, Chae-ha," came the gentle response from behind her.

"And you know money is tight. Come on, we need to go." Turning and seeing his warm smile, she couldn't help but smile back. Her father's uniform was faded, his boots were worn, and whispers of grey tinged his hair. But he stood with a quiet, reassuring strength that seemed to ward off the night. He took her hand and led her away from the jewelry merchant's stall, bearing a small package of barley, millet, and tallow candles back to their threadbare estate.

"When's the next time you're leaving? Are there any new escort missions coming in from the sect?" A worried flicker briefly crossed her father's face.

"I'll be gone in a few days. I'm sorry, but I'll miss your tenth birthday. I wish it were otherwise, but for a vassal family like us…well, I just don't have many options left." Chae-ha wasn't sad about the missed birthday. In fact, her small smile grew brighter upon hearing the news. A new mission meant payment, and her family could really use the money. The young girl lowered her eyes.

"Make sure you come back safely."

"You know you don't have to worry. If anything happens to me –""I know, I know," she interrupted, rolling her eyes.

"The sect will take care of us. You've told us a thousand times. But still…please be safe." Their walk took them to the outskirts of Jinan, where the two were greeted by her mother as they formally entered the Han estate. The last of their servants had left months ago, so there was no one else to do it.

"Welcome back, Sa-ryang," her mother said, the worry visibly draining from her eyes.

"I missed you, So-hee," he replied, as he gently caught her hands in his own. Chae-ha grinned broadly at the reunion. The family settled down to enjoy their meager dinner. The table was set with bowls of coarse barley and a steaming pot of stew. In the center sat a small dish of seasoned acorn jelly, a favorite of Chae-ha's that her mother had spent all afternoon preparing. It was the meal of a house in ruins. Her parents smiled, but their banter was hollow, and their eyes were haunted.

Chae-ha ate her jelly happily, choosing to believe that everything would be okay. She was still innocent enough to ignore the cold drafts slipping through the empty halls, whispering that the end was already on its way. A few days passed, and the morning of her father's departure arrived. Chae-ha awoke to find the house strangely quiet. Hopefully, he hadn't already left; she would like to be able to say goodbye. The young girl glanced out the window.

Three men in yellow uniforms were standing in the courtyard, marking tallies on an oversized scroll. They were unusual guests, who had probably come to see her parents. Chae-ha continued to look around the room with sleepy eyes, only to bolt awake when she spied a small bundle on her dresser that hadn't been there the night before. Excitedly, she crawled out of bed to examine it. It was a Bojagi – a gift bundle made from a square wrapping cloth, tied in an intricate knot.

This particular one was shaped like a plum blossom. Her fingers traced the subtle, woven patterns of the fabric with wonder. A silk ribbon was tied around it, on which the characters for "Blessings on your Tenth Spring" were painstakingly inked, in her father's hand. With bated breath, Chae-ha removed the ribbon and tugged at the center of the blossom. The knot gave way with a soft, silken rustle, and the four corners of the cloth fell open like the petals of a flower.

The young girl gasped slightly when she spied the silver hairpin from the market nestled in the center. Roughly the length of her hand, it shimmered softly in the morning light. Chae-ha dressed quickly and stood in front of her small bronze mirror, carefully gathering her hair. She slid the hairpin into place, braided the loose strands beneath it, finished it off with a small, dark ribbon, and marveled at her reflection.

With a bounce in her step, she opened the door and headed towards the kitchen to find breakfast. Her peace was immediately shattered by the sound of a crashing vase. Raised voices echoed down the hall; an argument was unfolding in the entryway. The young girl rushed forward, hiding behind a pillar, trying to draw close enough to make out what was being said.

"Please, I beg you," she heard her mother sob.

"I know how much we owe. You can take the rug! In fact, take the tea sets, the plates, and the bamboo mats too! Just don't touch my daughter…" If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Chae-ha's blood ran cold. Debt collectors. The men weren't guests, they were debt collectors, sent to repossess the assets of their estate. Her mind began to race. There was only one person who could stop this: her father. She prayed he hadn't left yet.

Stumbling over herself in sudden panic, the young girl dashed across the estate. She passed through a long hallway, stopping in front of the familiar door that led to her father's office. Breathing heavily, she reached out to turn the handle, already preparing a plea for help. Chae-ha opened the door and froze, the words dying stillborn on her tongue. The room smelled faintly of barley tea. A melted candle, smoky and lightless, sat extinguished on one side of her father's desk.

A cold draft blew from some unknown defect in the wall. But none of these details registered. Her focus narrowed entirely to a single point – one object, the sight of which consumed her entire being. Her father's corpse, staring back at her. Chae-ha tried, but she could not tear her eyes away. Her father's body sat upright behind his desk, his once handsome features sunken and hollow. Dried rivulets of black blood extended from his ears, nose, and mouth.

Dark, purple veins ran along his skin, tracing the paths where his meridians had ruptured. His fingernails were splintered, with dried blood crusted around the cuticles. But the most shocking features were his dead, bloodshot eyes – wide open, and stained brilliant crimson from within by ruptured capillaries. A scream ripped itself from her throat, as her gaze fell down to finally take in the surface of his desk.

A silk-backed mandate was lying there, with the characters for "ORDER OF DISSOLUTION" written across the top. Beneath them, the words "my debt is paid" were scrawled across the body of the notice, penned in blood. Their parent sect's seal was proudly emblazoned on the bottom. Chae-ha scrambled backwards out of the room, desperate to get away from the gruesome scene. In the distance, she could still hear her mother begging for mercy.

The young girl turned and tried to flee down the hall, but as she did, two of the debt collectors rounded the corner. Her heart hammering in her chest, she backed away from them slowly, eventually finding herself trapped between them and her father's office.

"You must be Han Chae-ha," the taller one said.

"You're coming with us." He reached out a hand to grab her arm; Chae-ha shrank away from it instinctively. She retreated in the only direction she could – back into the room that housed her father's body. Her movement stopped abruptly when her back collided with the front edge of his desk, her hands flying behind her to instinctively grab onto the obstacle. The debt collectors entered the room, closed the door to lock her in, and dispassionately took stock of the scene.

One of them sneered at the writing on the paper.

"Your debt is very much not paid, Master Han Sa-ryang. You took the coward's way out." His eyes turned to Chae-ha as if coldly assessing her value, finally landing with interest on her silver hairpin. The man stepped forward and ripped it callously out of her hair, causing her to wince in pain as he tossed it into the collection basket held by his colleague.

"Make sure you catalog that." Inside the young girl, something snapped. Her mind felt like it was fracturing from horror; her thoughts were filled with panic, grief, and desperation. But amidst the chaos, one realization – cold, clear, and absolutely certain – cut sharply through the terror. She couldn't let them take it. Her fingers, still grasping at the edge of the desk behind her, encountered the cold metal cap on the end of her father's calligraphy brush. Unbidden, a plan leapt into her mind.

It was far from certain to work – but it was also the only way she might be able to get her treasure back. Chae-ha forced herself to look to the side. The young girl fixed her gaze on a tall wooden cabinet tucked into the far corner of the office.

"Mother's dowry box," she whispered, her voice shaking. She took a stumbling half-step sideways, as if trying to block their line of sight to it. The two men looked at each other knowingly before snapping their heads towards the cabinet. The taller one shoved past her without a second thought, his eyes lighting up with predatory interest. His colleague eagerly turned to follow. As they went past, Chae-ha's trembling hand moved with panicked speed.

She darted her fingers into the wicker basket to retrieve her hairpin, while simultaneously dropping in the calligraphy brush to take its place. The weighty bristled head fell down and to one side, causing the polished steel cap on the other end to rise. It looked for all the world like part of a silver hairpin, poking up from where it had fallen. She immediately shrank back into the corner, praying the men wouldn't notice her deception, and tucked the real accessory into her sleeve.

The taller debt collector ripped open the cabinet doors, only to find a handful of yellowed papers and a few bottles of ink inside. He looked at the barren shelves in disbelief for a moment before slamming his fist on one of them in frustration.

"There's nothing in here, you little rat," he growled, turning around to glare at her. The man's eyes passed straight over the basket without giving it a second glance.

"I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing, but it's all pointless. Just give up and come with me." He reached out a hand towards her arm again. Chae-ha tried to drive herself deeper into the corner, seeking to become as small as possible, but there was nowhere left to go.

"You said the sect would protect us," the young girl whispered, speaking meaninglessly to a man who could no longer hear. Knowing there was no escape, she closed her eyes and counted her thundering heartbeats as she waited for the debt collector to drag her away. But the feeling of his hand on her arm never came. Instead, the door handle clicked open, and a commanding presence suddenly filled the room.

Chae-ha opened her eyes to see calloused, leathery fingers digging into the debt collector's shoulder, restraining him. The newcomer was older, with weathered skin and high, sharp cheekbones. His wispy white beard was bound by a single silver ring, precise and orderly. The old man wore the silk robes of a High Elder of the Tai-shan sect. They were oxblood red, accented around the edges by an obsidian black trim.

Gold-thread embroidery – resembling jagged, sundering cracks – ran out from the black hems and down his shoulders. Every line of his clothing was sharp, rigid, and perfectly pressed.

"So…you chose Ki reversal, Sa-ryang?" the elder murmured, as he looked over the body. The old man reached out a hand and respectfully closed her father's eyes, before turning once more to address the debt collectors.

"Han Sa-ryang is dead, and Im So-hee is being sent back to her family's estate," he intoned.

"The Han line is defunct, and the Han family is no more. As per our vassalage contract, in the event the family disbands, any remaining children are to be absorbed by the sect."

"You can't just –""This girl is now a ward of the Tai-shan. Your debt lies with a dead man; if you like, you are free to raise your concerns with him." The debt collector tried to speak once more but was silenced by the High Elder's fingers curling painfully into his shoulder. The old man extended his free hand towards Chae-ha – not to grab her, but to invite her to take it. Tears welling in her eyes, and with no other options remaining – she did.

As the elder led her down to the courtyard and helped her into the carriage that would bear her away, she locked eyes one final time with her mother, whose tear-streaked face bore an expression of both terror and relief. Chae-ha's voice no longer seemed to work, but she managed to mouth the word "goodbye" moments before the wooden door slammed shut, severing the connection between them.