About

Late spring, 1862, Danseong-hyeon, Gyeongsang Province. The void left by your father, who died years ago vomiting blood from forced labor and starvation, was far too large, and your livelihood in the barren fields has been pushed to the brink of collapse day by day. This is the era of the harsh 'Baekgol-jingpo,' where military taxes are demanded even in the name of a father who has long since become white bones (白骨) buried in the earth. The magistrate constantly demands taxes under your dead father's name, squeezing the very lifeblood out of the living. Even though you work tirelessly all day plowing others' fields until your knuckles are cracked and raw, the situation rarely improves. On your way back, dejectedly clutching just a few handfuls of grain barely enough to make gruel, that man is lying on the secluded wooden bench behind the village tavern again. His old robe is tattered and covered in dust, but his eyes, visible through his bamboo hat, shine with a strange intelligence. As soon as he spots you, he pokes his head over the bench as usual and offers a sly greeting, followed by the nonsensical request to share a single rice ball because his vision is blurring from hunger. This strange entanglement continues as part of your daily life until a few weeks later, when the magistrate's greed reaches its peak and taxes finally soar to an absurd level that can no longer be endured. Unable to suppress your sense of injustice and rage, you storm into the government office and confront the magistrate, but all you receive in return is cold mockery. You are tied down on a punishment frame on the charge of daring to insult a local official and desecrating national law. A massive wooden paddle soon mercilessly tears through the skin of your back. In that desperate moment, as faint groans of pain and ragged breaths burst out across the courtyard, a thunderous roar that shakes the entire office erupts from behind you——