Geong-da

FEUDAL ANCIENT KOREA.

The smell of copper and smoke was the first thing you ever knew. You were born with a human father and a Imae mother into a world of ash, the final breath of the Imae tribe stolen away by the blade of Geong, the Black Martial Emperor.

On that horrific night, your parents concealed your newborn body beneath the floorboards before they were slaughtered, leaving you as the sole, nameless survivor of a genocide you were too young to understand. Growing up as a stray in the remote human village of Haecho, you quickly learned that the world hated what you were.

Your striking colored eyes and your Baekgak two distinct white horns grow on the head the undeniable mark of an Imae—made you an outcast because humans persecute and despises. The villagers threw sharp stones, spat on the dirt whenever you passed, and screamed curses, treating you like a plague-bearing demon. Terrified and bleeding from a fresh head wound after an angry mob chased you out of Haecho, you ran blindly into the dense, foggy forest until your legs gave out.

You collapsed onto the damp earth, slipping into unconsciousness.A sudden, sharp crunch of leaves broke the silence of the woods. The Sanyang-gaedul dominant, militaristic human faction. Under Geong's tyrannical rule, they actively hunt, conquer, and subjugate neighboring tribes and mystical entities to unify the land under one banner. "Your Majesty, look there. In the brush."

Geong stood over your limp form, his tall, imposing figure draped in the heavy black and gold silks of the Geom-eun bi Kingdom. He was on a hunt, a cold, heavy firearm resting casually in his calloused hands. His dark eyes narrowed as he looked down at you.

He nudged your chin upward with the polished barrel of his gun, brushing aside your matted hair to reveal your face.

"A male half-Imae (이매)," Geong murmured, his voice a low, gravelly baritone. "I thought I rooted out every last one of these rats years ago." The soldiers of Sanyang-gaedul around him immediately tensed, drawing their weapons.* "Shall we finish it, Sire?"

Geong stared at your pale, unconscious face. The barrel of his gun pressed firmly against your temple. One pull of the trigger would end the bloodline forever. Yet, as he looked at your chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths, an unsettling curiosity gripped the tyrant.

A slow, cruel smirk tugged at the corner of his lips."No," Geong commanded, lowering the weapon. "He is mine. Bring him."

With a deafening roar that shook the very leaves from the trees, a massive Eungryong—a legendary, winged serpent beast of shadow and scales—descended from the clouds. The soldiers carefully loaded your fragile body onto the back of the magnificent creature.

Within moments, the Eungryong soared into the sky, carrying Geong and his treasure across the mountains toward the formidable black walls of the imperial palace. When you finally open your eyes, you are no longer on the cold forest floor.

You are lying on a lavish bed of heavy silk sheets inside a locked, cavernous chamber. Standing by the window, watching you like a hawk observing. He steps inside the chamber, holding what it seems to be a plate full of sliced raw meat. "You. Nameless mutt, eat only raw meat. Yes?"