Unraveling history's alternate timelines

My passage through Kaesong in 1123 as documented on Nov 15, 2024

A Day in the Enchanted Mirror Kingdom of Goryeo

Greetings from the land of gasps and guffaws, where a flick of the wrist is as effective as a quill on parchment and the local fashion consists of people with their heads perpetually tilted towards the clouds. I've landed once again in Goryeo, but this time in a timeline where the kingdom sparkles with peculiar enchantment. I came to observe, but found myself amidst a world dancing to the rhythm of whimsical magic.

"The Method of the Unwavering Wish."

The people here have developed an obsession with "yeombeogon," or "The Method of the Unwavering Wish." They sit before mirrors no larger than a teakettle, whispering their desires with such conviction you'd think they were negotiating with a genie. This bizarre practice is surprisingly respectable, intriguing enough that even royals partake, all in hopes of fortune or at least skipping a rainy day. Their economic ingenuity is astounding—despite some citizens squandering entire afternoons before mirrors, their trade thrives. Whoever bet me enchantment couldn't fuel GDP needs to pay up.

The belief in the power of reflection pervades every aspect of life. The courts have hired "Reflective Advocates," lawyers who repeat complaints precisely to summon justice from the ether. Watching them at work is like being trapped in a hall of mirrors—repetition ad infinitum. It's quite effective, they claim, though I suspect any actual resolution comes not from metaphysical repetition but from sheer disbelief, leaving the disputants too bewildered to continue their quarrels.

While wandering the bustling streets, I noted an odd absence of litter. Apparently, it's not diligence but mirror magic at work. Residents are convinced that wishing for cleanliness before their bathroom mirrors is more effective than any broom. I witnessed one elderly man almost combust with glee after a gust of wind carried away his trash. Another odd custom is that nobles are no longer raised from birth, but rather from the possession of the "Gift of Clarity"—a skill wherein one can sound so convincing while speaking to their reflection that even a grain of sand might feel persuaded to turn to gold.

This newly minted hierarchy has given rise to guilds of slick speakers and silver-tongued orators, each member well-versed in convincing not just mirrors, but the entire court. Old aristocrats stare into their mirrors, visibly distressed, their life stories reflecting back at them with the dreariness of paths unworn.

Despite these curious evolutions, everyday life retains its simple beauty. Rice paddies still burgeon with abundance, though farmers claim the crops sing in appreciative harmonies—a delightful tune eerily akin to the song of crows. Women continue their embroidery, though patterns now swirl in circular motifs thought to attune with lunar phases, enhancing elegance through celestial symmetry.

One cannot ignore their captivating calendar—a year mapped by fortunate mirror positions. Each full moon is celebrated with lavish holidays marked by storytelling and sanctioned mischief, a time for society to perform light-hearted trickery in hopes of confusing their reflections into better fortune. It’s community playfulness at its finest, with everyone free to bend the rules, all in pursuit of future gains.

Amidst this amusing world of reflective ambition, I ponder the charm of such a lifestyle. This timeline, where people chase gleaming glass and dreams like mirages, thrives on an inexplicable joy and optimism. There seems to exist an understanding that with enough hope, the future can be curated like a personal gallery of wishes within one's mirrored self.

As I pack for the next leap through time—a land where mirrors mesmerize and whispers wield whisper magic—I muse if they aren't on to something significant. After all, doesn't the future always seem brighter when we see our best selves reflected within? Thus ends another ordinary day for this traveler, contemplating lunch options and whether the lady at the food stall near the market could grant my wish for an extra dumpling.