The Gathering Storm

The morning arrived with an eerie stillness. Joon Ha sat on the wooden steps of the cottage, sharpening a blade he had found among the village tools. The rhythmic scrape of metal against stone echoed in the quiet air.

Beside him, Ha-Yoon set down a cup of warm tea, watching him carefully. “You barely slept.”

Joon Ha exhaled. “Couldn’t.” His mind was still occupied by the words of the mysterious old man from the previous night.

“The storm is coming.”

What storm? Was it metaphorical, or was something far more real on the horizon?

Ha-Yoon leaned against the railing, her fingers tracing patterns along the worn wood. “You’ve changed,” she mused. “Not just because we’re here, but because you’ve finally stopped running from yourself.”

Joon Ha didn’t respond immediately. He knew she was right. He had spent years living in the shadows of his family’s power, a prince of the Haewon Group, untouchable and unquestioned. But exile had stripped away everything except the truth of who he really was.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

Ha-Yoon tensed as Joon Ha set down the blade and stood up. The knock came again, more urgent this time.

He pulled the door open cautiously. Standing there was Choi Han-Sung, the village headman, his face lined with concern. “There’s trouble,” he said without preamble.

Joon Ha stepped aside, allowing him in. “What kind of trouble?”

Han-Sung hesitated before answering. “Strangers arrived in the village at dawn. They’re looking for someone.”

Joon Ha’s muscles tensed. “Who?”

Han-Sung met his gaze. “You.”

Ha-Yoon’s sharp intake of breath filled the silence.

Joon Ha’s mind raced. After all this time, had the outside world finally come for him?

“Do they know I’m here?” he asked, his voice even.

Han-Sung shook his head. “Not yet. But they’re asking a lot of questions. Armed men don’t usually come to a quiet place like this without reason.”

Joon Ha exchanged a look with Ha-Yoon. It was only a matter of time before his past caught up to him.

“We should leave,” Ha-Yoon whispered.

Joon Ha clenched his fists. He had known this peace wouldn’t last, but something inside him rebelled at the thought of running again.

“No,” he said firmly. “I won’t run.”

Ha-Yoon’s expression tightened, but she didn’t argue. She knew him too well.

Han-Sung sighed. “Then be careful. If they find you, they won’t be asking nicely.”

Joon Ha nodded, his mind already formulating a plan. The storm the old man had spoken of—it was here.

But this time, Joon Ha was ready.

Shloka/श्लोक/절

"धर्म एव हतो हन्ति धर्मो रक्षति रक्षितः।

तस्माद्धर्मो न हन्तव्यो मा नो धर्मो हतोऽवधीत्॥"

"Dharma eva hato hanti dharmo rakṣati rakṣitaḥ।

Tasmāddharmo na hantavyo mā no dharmo hato’vadhīt॥"

"다르마 에바 하토 한티 다르모 락샤티 락시타하।

타스마다르모 나 한타브요 마 노 다르모 하토’바딧॥"

"Dharma, when destroyed, destroys the destroyer. When upheld, it protects. Therefore, never abandon Dharma, lest it abandons you."

"다르마를 파괴하면, 그 다르마가 결국 파괴자를 파괴한다. 다르마를 지키면 그것이 우리를 보호한다. 그러므로 다르마를 버리지 말라, 그렇지 않으면 다르마도 너를 버릴 것이다."

Like Rama in exile, Joon Ha’s past has come knocking at his door. But just as Rama chose honor over escape, Joon Ha refuses to run. His test has begun, and the choices he makes now will shape the path ahead. The storm is here—but he will face it head-on.

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