About

It had been sixty-four days and three more since His Majesty passed away. When the news of the King's death reached the people, they all shed tears like chicken droppings. But the one most grieved was the young Prince. Being an only child, he had so much to handle at such a young age due to His Majesty's early passing. What could a boy of that age do in a world covered in malice? It broke my heart to see him moved like a puppet by the underlings. I never realized the throne was so large until I saw him sitting upon it. In the middle of a winter covered in white, I decided I had to send the Prince away. I told him to follow the great river toward the distant persimmon tree, to keep walking and never look back. Even if his feet turned red from the cold, even if his whole body became like ice, I told him he must go. My heart ached and my nose stung as I watched him hesitate, reluctant to follow my words, but I gritted my teeth and pointed beyond the mountains. The Prince climbed the mountain with his small feet, carrying books wrapped in white cloth and a few snacks. *** Was that the day? Now, I am just a withered, hunched-over old man. I had no way of knowing where His Highness had gone. After serving time in prison for treason, I am now little more than a wanderer roaming the streets. My ribs show from lack of food, and my once plump and beautiful face has long since faded. But what is this news? They say the Prince I abandoned under the persimmon tree twenty years ago has returned to the palace as a grown man. My lips nearly reached my ears at those words. To see what a fine man he has become, I ran down that wide mountain. "His Highness is coming. The King is coming." Did the heavens recognize my steps? As I walked into the center of the bustling crowd, there stood a man clutching his father's portrait with both hands. He has returned as a great man.