The Almost Stormy Days at Daeho Fortress

The first night after Master Lee's revelation, the group did not linger in Park Jin’s sitting room. His words lingered in the air like smoke that could not be waved away. No one wanted to speak rashly. Even Go Won, who was rarely short on opinions, excused himself without argument.

Dal Mi slept on, unaware of the storm raging. Cho Yeong insisted on staying the night at Park Jin’s home, she could not bear the thought of being far from her daughter.

Seo Yul lingered last. His cup of tea had gone cold in his hand. If she loses, he thought, will it be my fault for giving her what the curse needed from the beginning? He placed the untouched tea on the table and quietly excused himself, his voice clipped.

Dawn came cold and brittle, the air already biting with the edge of early winter and everyone occupied with their thoughts. Yi Na wrapped herself in her thickest cloak and went to the temple gardens in Daeho, where the first frost clung to the grass like a thin layer of glass.

She sat among the frozen chrysanthemums, staring at her breath clouding the air. She was no stranger to making hard choices — she had delivered children who survived only because of her quick decisions — but this was different.

The idea of severing the Eumdongi was, in her healer’s mind, like amputating a limb to stop rot. It was nothing like what had happened in Wolho Fortress because this child was alive and out of the womb. Yet the idea of letting Dal Mi fight it out with the spirit felt like locking a child in a room with a tiger and hoping she learned to tame it.

Elsewhere, Go Won spent his morning in the royal library at Cheonbugwan, buried in texts on spiritual possession and rare birth anomalies. Scrolls and bound volumes lay scattered across a long table, a few opened to grim accounts of children born with a spirit already tethered to them.

Jang Uk sat opposite him, his own pile of reading noticeably taller but less organized. His brows were furrowed, his finger trailing slowly down a page written in old script.

Neither spoke, the scratching of a quill somewhere in the back of the library was the only sound between them, each man quietly wrestling with what those pages implied.

By midday, Park Jin sat in his study, replaying the conversation with the Jang couple over and over. He remembered when Uk was younger and the whole of Daeho whispered that he was dangerous, cursed. If the wrong person had stepped in then and “fixed” him… would he even be Uk anymore?

The whole day, Cho Yeong never left Dal Mi’s side. After a fun day playing in the herb garden, the little girl curled on her lap, deep in a child’s peaceful slumber, while her mother watched the rise and fall of her chest, fingers gently combing her hair. Her mind drifted to every strange moment during Dal Mi’s infancy — the odd stillness at birth, the way she sometimes stared at a corner of the room as if she could see something no one else could.

When Seo Yul visited late that night, Cho Yeong looked up but didn’t speak. He lowered himself beside her and gazed at Dal Mi too.

“Do you think we should do it?” she asked in a whisper.

“I think,” he replied slowly, “that I’ve never been so afraid of being wrong.”

The next morning brought a thin layer of snow on Songrim’s tiled roofs. Winter had come early.

Yi Na sought out Seo Yul in the training yard where he often sparred with apprentices. He was not sparring today — instead, he stood at the edge of the yard, watching the frost melt from the grass.

“You carried her the most,” Yi Na began without preamble.

His eyes flicked to hers. “You think I’m the reason the spirit is so strong in her.”

“I think,” she said carefully, “you gave her what she needed to survive. I also think you gave the spirit the same.”

Seo Yul’s jaw tightened. He had never been able to resist Dal Mi’s habit of clinging to him when she was tired or frightened. She had been so small, so warm, her tiny hands gripping his robe as if the world outside of his arms was unsafe.

“I would not take it back,” he said at last. “Even knowing this.”

“Then you have your answer,” Yi Na said softly, “or at least part of it.”

Elsewhere, Go Won cornered Cho Yeong in Park Jin’s courtyard. He had a book under his arm, a page marked by a silk ribbon.

“This case,” he said, flipping it open, “the host survived. But the spirit weakened and withered when the host’s own will grew stronger. She wasn’t freed by force — she won on her own.”

Cho Yeong glanced at the page. “And how old was this host?”

“Sixteen,” Go Won admitted.

Dal Mi was four years old.

Later in the day, Park Jin met Jang Uk by the Songrim wall, where the wind was sharp and the air smelled faintly of pine resin.

“When you were younger,” Park Jin began, “they said you were a danger to all of us. If I had listened to them…” He shook his head. “Sometimes trust is the greatest risk. Sometimes it’s the only thing that works.”

Uk listened in silence, his eyes fixed on the snow falling over the courtyard.

Three days after the conversation in Park Jin’s sitting room, they gathered again — this time in the main hall of Jeongjingak.

The fire burned low in the brazier, shadows curling along the walls. Outside, the wind howled down from the mountains, rattling the paper screens.

Go Won leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If she loses the fight, we lose her entirely. If we take the fight away from her now, we may lose her in another way. Either path is a risk.”

Silence fell again, heavy and absolute.

Yi Na’s eyes went to Seo Yul. “It comes down to you three. You, Cho Yeong, and Uk. You’ve been her guardians in more ways than one. The choice must be yours.”

Seo Yul looked at Cho Yeong, then at Uk. The three of them were bound together by this child in ways no one else could understand.

Cho Yeong’s fingers tightened in her lap. “If we let her fight, and she wins, she will be stronger for it. If she loses…” She didn’t finish.

Seo Yul’s gaze went to the brazier, watching the last of the embers sink into ash. He could feel the weight of every moment he had held Dal Mi in his arms, every time she had rested her head on his shoulder and sighed as if she had found safety.

When he finally looked up, his voice was steady. “Then we decide here. No more days. No more waiting.”

Uk finally spoke, his voice low. “If we cut it out, she may live. So let's act. But I think we need Jin Ho Gyeong's help.”

Quickly, a message was sent to Jinyowon and Yong Pil went to escort Jin Ho Gyeong over. When the doors opened again after some time, Jin Ho Gyeong stepped inside. Her presence shifted the room instantly; all eyes were fixed on her and the air felt sharper. She didn’t waste time.

“I’ve heard everything from my daughter,” she said, glancing at Cho Yeong before looking at the rest. “Dal Mi’s case… the same ritual you performed at Wolho Fortress can be attempted again. But—” she paused, her voice tightening—“there is a missing element.”

The group exchanged quick, uneasy looks.

“In Jinyowon’s records, there is only one documented case of an Eumdongi who survived because a shaman forced the spirit to yield, rather than letting it be consumed or exorcised entirely. That shaman was from the Choi family.” Jin Ho Gyeong’s tone dropped, as if the air itself might carry her words away. “I did not know this until after my husband died. The record was hidden—perhaps out of shame, perhaps to protect the knowledge from abuse.”

Seo Yul leaned forward slightly. “And this missing element… you believe it’s something the Choi shaman did?”

Jin Ho Gyeong nodded. “If we can find the last living shaman in the Choi lineage, she may have inherited the knowledge. Without it, the ritual may fail—or worse, harm Dal Mi.”

Jang Uk’s gaze hardened. “Do we know where she is?”

“No,” Jin Ho Gyeong admitted. “The Choi family splintered decades ago, as far back as Master Seo Gyeong's time. Some went north, others vanished into the villages along the western coast. She could be anywhere. The closest thing I know is that she is the same generation as you and she cannot be married. The Choi women cannot marry, they bring misfortune to the husband's family.”

Yi Na exhaled slowly, already thinking through the network of informants she could reach. “Then we need to find her before we even think of starting.”

“Find who?” Dang Gu said, bursting in with his wife, their demeanor tired but worried. “Who needs to be found?”

Seo Yul met his friend's eyes, “A female shaman about our age, either unmarried and practicing or widowed.” He hesitated, meeting Cho Yeon's eyes, “Should be a Choi or share ancestry with the Choi.”

Cho Yeon paled and Dang Gu's hold on her hand tightened, his gaze determined. “Leave it to me.”

A/N: I bring the drama-mama-ma 😌Hehehe, couldn't resist. What do we think? Let me know in the comments. Live and Love 💕💕💕