Gungbong, who used to do things that left people speechless, was now crossing over into full-blown bizarre.
Watching her run on all fours, I was so dumbfounded I turned to Yeondu—who, by the look on her face, was just as stunned. It was probably her first time seeing a human sprint like that too.
Her confused voice echoed in my mind, tinged with disbelief.
—Shaaa? 『So-ryong, do humans... run on all fours? I don't think I've ever seen that before... What is that?』
“Normally, no. But... I mean, I can't say never either...”
What kind of normal person runs on all fours?
Whatever Gungbong was doing, it was certainly a kind of eccentric performance—no regular person would be doing that.
And yet... here we were, witnessing it with our own eyes. So it felt weird to flat-out deny Yeondu's question.
After all, someone—right now—was running on all fours.
Who knows, maybe there were others like her out there.
No... surely not, right?
As I considered whether to walk back my earlier response so Yeondu wouldn’t have her worldview distorted too badly, a thought popped into my head.
Sister Seol was training in a martial art that involved using her hands like feet—almost beastlike.
Right, Sister Seol has that style where she moves like an animal, too.
Beast Palace techniques, like Houquan—the Monkey Fist—often required using hands like feet.
Their martial arts imitated animals, so using one’s hands as legs wasn’t rare.
That in mind, maybe Gungbong’s behavior wasn’t just some freakish stunt. Maybe it was martial training?
Running on all fours without using lightfoot technique?
That had to be for training—there was no other reason to move that way otherwise.
So... she’s honing a new technique? After just recovering from a fever? Maybe she really is a martial artist through and through.
Just as I was starting to convince myself that Gungbong’s antics might be martial practice, Yeondu pointed something out.
—Shaaa. 『Oh? She stopped. That woman stopped running.』
“She stopped?”
I looked down and saw Gungbong sitting against a large rock, one hand over her chest, gasping for breath.
The yellow and black ribbon in her hair caught my eye.
She must’ve exhausted herself running like that. I asked Yeondu to bring us down closer.
“Yeondu, let’s go check it out.”
—Sha. 『Yes, So-ryong.』
Just as we started to descend above Gungbong—
—I heard her voice drifting up from below.
They say people with a childish mind talk to themselves often. Sure enough, there she was, murmuring to herself against the rock.
“Phew... I need to catch my breath. At least I made it this far... just need to rest a bit...”
I shouted down to surprise her.
“Gungbong!”
“Eeeek!”
She flinched so hard it looked like she’d seen a ghost, then whipped her head around in all directions, panicking.
Laughing, I called out again.
“Kekeke. Gungbong, up here. Look up!”
She froze, staring at me with a stunned expression like I had just materialized out of nowhere.
“Let’s go down, Yeondu.”
—Shaaa. 『Yes, So-ryong.』
As we descended, Gungbong stammered, still shocked.
“H-How did you... how did you get here?”
She meant, “How did you suddenly appear out of nowhere?” But the moment I landed near her, something caught my nose.
A faint, unpleasant smell.
Yeondu spoke up with a wince in her voice.
—Shaaa. 『So-ryong, do you smell that too?』
“Now that you mention it... yeah.”
—Sha... 『Ugh...』
Back when we were in northeastern India, we all used to wash up at night in the river. But ever since we started traveling again, there hadn’t been any bathing at all.
The water here was freezing—glacial melt from the Himalayas—so just washing our faces was a challenge.
Bathing? Forget it.
Most of us just dabbed our faces like cats.
And Gungbong, who’d been sick for several days, hadn’t been able to wash properly at all. She’d been sweating buckets, too.
So that smell?
Yeah, it was probably coming from her.
—Sha. 『She smells kind of like Yeolbi...』
Yeolbi? That little stink bug? No matter how long it had been since Gungbong bathed, comparing her to Yeolbi was a bit harsh.
Sure, Yeondu was a venomous snake and all—but wow, that venom came with some serious sass.
If Gungbong had heard that, she would’ve cried.
Telling a woman she smells? That’s not something you say unless you're ready for war. Or worse—divorce court.
“U-Um?”
The smell faded with the breeze, and Gungbong awkwardly spoke up again.
Still wearing that “how did you get here” face.
I gave her a smile.
“Oh, Yeondu just had a question earlier. And honestly, I felt bad letting you go out alone when you’re clearly not 100% yet. But I guess I was worrying for nothing. You’re running around on all fours, so you must be well enough to train.”
“N-Four...!? Ah, uh, right! Martial training! Of course! Haha...”
She scratched her head and let out a laugh so ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ forced, it sounded like a guilty thief caught red-handed.
I chuckled and added:
“Still, don’t overdo it. If you push yourself too hard and collapse, that’s even more trouble.”
“R-Right. Got it.”
She looked a little grateful for the reminder.
I extended a hand toward the trees ahead and offered a suggestion.
“Well then, shall we?”
“W-Where?”
She blinked at me, glancing between me and the woods.
Her reaction made me wonder if she thought I was suggesting something... inappropriate?
I mean, come on. I was practically engaged. What did she think we were doing out here?
We came out to hunt. That’s it.
If anything, I was more interested in catching insects or reptiles.
Besides, we weren’t alone—Yeondu was here too.
“Where else? Hunting. Let’s catch something decent while we’re out here. You’ve recovered enough to run like that, so let’s make it count. That monkey from a few days ago smelled awful and tasted worse.”
“M-Monkey...? Oh... Y-Yeah... That one...”
Her jaw clenched slightly as she answered.
Maybe because she’d worked hard to catch it?
But truthfully, it had been a male, and it stank. The meat was tough and nasty.
I briefly considered apologizing—but then I remembered the person who’d complained the loudest about the smell and taste was none other than Gungbong herself.
“You said it was inedible too, remember?”
She flinched.
Apparently, she’d forgotten her own words.
“R-Right... I did, didn’t I?”
“So this time, let’s get something actually tasty. Dinner’s probably already being prepared. Let’s find something for tomorrow.”
“Y-Yeah. Hunting. Let’s do that. Ha... hahaha...”
Still stammering, her laugh was a little less shaky now, though she still hadn’t fully calmed down.
Once she steadied herself, I looked to Yeondu.
“Yeondu, fly up and scout for any animals nearby.”
—Shaaa. 『Got it, So-ryong.』
As Yeondu soared into the sky, I turned to Gungbong.
“Lead the way.”
“O-Okay.”
Her yellow and black hair ribbon fluttered behind her as she stepped ahead of me.
“Heh...”
She passed by with a weird little laugh, like someone forcing themselves to take steps they didn’t really want to take.
Each footfall seemed reluctant, strained.
...Am I just imagining things?
***
—Ppudeudeudeuk.
The bowstring, drawn tight, made its signature creaking sound.
The arrow nocked in Gungbong’s bow was aimed at a yak—a wild ox-like creature native to the Himalayas. Yeondu had spotted a herd along the ridgeline, and now Gungbong had her shot lined up.
She aimed for a long while, holding her breath. Then finally, she loosened her grip.
And then—
—Thunk. Tick.
—Dududududu.
The arrow fell limply at her feet, barely even leaving the bowstring.
The empty twang of the string rang out, and the startled yaks took off, disappearing over the ridge.
The arrow hadn’t even flown—it simply dropped to the ground in front of her.
I stared at Gungbong, utterly baffled, and she scratched her head with an awkward grin.
“Huh? Wh-What’s going on?”
Like she couldn’t fathom what had just happened, as if she’d done everything right and the universe had glitched on her.
But that was the kind of mistake you’d only expect from a total beginner.
Back in my past life, I’d practiced Korean traditional archery, and this kind of failure only happened when the arrow wasn’t properly set on the string—a rookie mistake.
“Gungbong, what was that? You’re shooting like it’s your first time holding a bow.”
“I-I know, right? I don’t know what’s wrong with me today...”
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“N-No, really! I’m fine. Totally recovered! Hahaha... Haah... I’ll... I’ll get it right next time.”
She picked up the fallen arrow and promised to do better “next time.”
But that “next time” never came.
The sun was already setting. It was time to head back.
“No, let’s just go. The sun’s going down, and people will start to worry.”
“R-Right. Okay...”
We’d come hunting with Gungbong, who was known for never missing a shot—and ended up empty-handed.
It was almost hard to believe.
Is she really still sick?
Earlier she’d been sprinting around on all fours like a wild animal. She seemed fine. But now she couldn’t even shoot properly.
Today, Gungbong was more unreadable than ever.
I quietly turned and started heading back to the campsite with Yeondu and Gungbong walking beside me in no particular order.
Then I noticed something.
When Gungbong stepped ahead, the black-and-yellow ribbon tied in her hair swung into view again.
Wait, did she always wear a ribbon like that?
Black, with a yellow-dyed knot. A strange gradient color that didn’t match this era at all.
***
Later, we all sat around the campfire, roasting jerky, and someone asked the obvious question—why we came back empty-handed.
Because when Gungbong went hunting, she never came back empty-handed.
So I explained.
Everyone wore expressions of disbelief.
“Gungbong missed a shot?”
“Yes.”
“Come on. There are limits to what one can mess up.”
“Even monkeys fall from trees sometimes, right?”
“Well, it is Gungbong, after all...”
“She must not be fully recovered yet.”
No matter how sick she’d been, the fact that Gungbong—reputed as the deadliest archer in the Central Plains—had failed to hit a simple beast? It was hard to wrap their heads around. But since it was Gungbong, they somehow accepted it.
While people buzzed about how even Gungbong had missed a shot, I heard her voice—she was sitting just to my left, next to Hwa-eun, speaking to Tenzin.
“Um, Tenzin?”
“Yes? You mean me?”
“Yes. I was wondering... how many days do we have left before we reach Podarlap Palace?”
“Hm... Originally, crossing the mountains was expected to take about a month. But since we were delayed four days because of your illness, and we’ve been traveling for six days already...”
Tenzin began counting on his fingers, clearly doing the math in his head.
It wasn’t a hard calculation—just twenty days left. But as I was about to jump in and help him answer, Gungbong beat me to it.
“So we’ve got about twenty days left, then?”
And at that moment—
—the lively chatter around the campfire froze.
—Tadak. Tak. Tadadak.
Only the crackling of burning logs remained.
I looked around, confused by the sudden silence.
Then, without a word, my brother, Ji-ryong, Eunbong, Hu-gae, and Monk Jaheo slowly stood and surrounded Gungbong.
What... what is happening right now?
Ji-ryong spoke up, voice icy.
“Who are you, really? What have you done with Gungbong...? Gungbong doing math—accurately? That’s impossible!”
Wait, seriously? They’re suspicious because she did basic math? Just who the hell is Gungbong supposed to be...?
It was such a ridiculous accusation, I just stared in disbelief.
Then, suddenly—Gungbong sprang up with a bizarre motion, leaping onto a tree branch above us, and shouted:
“Damn it. I’ve been found out! Of all the bodies I could’ve ended up in—why did it have to be this idiotic woman?!”
The fact that arithmetic involving tens was the definitive proof she wasn’t the real Gungbong... was just another reminder of how absurd our reality had become.
And yet—Five Dragons’s suspicion was dead on.
