Cruel pain came as the price for breaking the taboo.
It was hard even to stand upright on his own two legs. Yoon Taehee braced himself against the wall and took one heavy step, like a beast taking its first. Even if he met the director like this, there was nothing he could do. He had no plan. No means of opposing the director.
And yet he could not stop walking.
He had to go.
Even if death was waiting at the end of this path.
The director has your wooden tag.
Where the wooden tag was, there the director of the Office of Narye would be.
First, he had to take the elevator.
The distance was so close it was almost within reach, and yet it felt like an endless journey. After walking a few steps and collapsing, then walking a few steps and collapsing again, he finally managed to reach the elevator.
Yoon Taehee stepped inside, pressed the close button, and slumped down at the same time. Because his hands were soaked in blood, a long red trail smeared downward from the button where his hand had slipped.
“Ha. Ugh...”
Yoon Taehee groaned, his fingertips scraping across the elevator floor. His consciousness kept flickering in and out. The pain was truly immense, truly agonizing. He had to press the buttons the way Seok Juryeon had told him, but even twitching a finger was difficult. The elevator doors had closed, yet the elevator remained stationary on the same floor.
Yoon Taehee sat half-collapsed, his back against the elevator wall.
Inside the sealed space, it was deathly quiet.
Sitting there in the elevator, Yoon Taehee lost consciousness several times.
Although he only blacked out for brief moments, he sometimes dreamed. The water ghost. His grandfather. The stray cats tangled together in the yard. The sweetness of the first candy he had ever tasted. Such things flashed past like a revolving lantern.
He wanted to fall asleep forever like this.
Only a few minutes had passed, but because his mind was hazy, it felt as though a very long time had gone by. Yoon Taehee sat there powerlessly, blinking blankly.
In a state where even lifting an arm was a burden, the sight of himself struggling to meet the director without any plan suddenly seemed so ridiculous that laughter slipped out.
Was this what it felt like to go to one’s death?
Where did this heart come from?
This heart that felt infinitely powerless, and yet still insisted on seeing things through to the end.
As his thoughts reached that point, a face suddenly came to mind.
Why would you do something so foolish when you knew it would fail?
It felt strange to call her Mother. After all, he had only ever caught a glimpse of a face that seemed about his own age.
But in that moment, Yoon Taehee recalled the face of the mother he had never actually met.
Was her name Hwirim?
Yoon Taehee thought of the short-haired woman who shared his blood. He thought of Hwirim, small in stature and skilled with a sword, and of her father, who had lived his entire life hidden in the mountains.
That man would be Yoon Taehee’s maternal grandfather.
Even though he had guessed that the civil uprising would fail, he had willingly thrown himself into it. And his daughter had followed the same path.
From beyond the hazy past, a young Hwirim had asked her father why he would do something so foolish when he knew it would fail.
And he had answered:
I suppose it’s because I was born that way.
Thinking about it, it truly was so.
There are people in this world who can only be explained by saying, They were born that way.
There are people who step into a world even when they know it will collapse.
And it was only when he realized that he, too, was that kind of person that Yoon Taehee, who had always calculated meticulously and built his plans move by move, was finally able to stop playing chess.
He abandoned his ten-year plan.
There was no longer a board he could design.
Whether he could keep his beloved by his side was uncertain. Everything was uncertain: destroying the Office of Narye, taking the director’s head, becoming a true Bangsangsi, reclaiming his name.
Even so, Yoon Taehee had to open the door.
Just like when he had left the house where his grandfather and the water ghost lived, during the coldest spell of his life.
Just like when he had first stepped out into the world.
Yoon Taehee managed to pull himself up by using the wall. His arm shook uncontrollably as he reached out to press the button. When he pressed the floor number Seok Juryeon had told him, unknown characters appeared on the display, and the elevator began to move.
After ascending for a long while, the elevator finally came to a stop.
Ding.
The doors opened.
Yoon Taehee, standing precariously while leaning against the wall, let out a sigh at the sight before him.
In the dark, wide corridor, dozens of people wearing white masks stood lined up in a row.
The featureless white masks looked incredibly eerie.
They were the director’s personal guard.
The straw men stood guarding the door like mannequins. Although they must have noticed him standing inside the elevator, the crowd of white masks did not budge. They would likely attack the moment he came within a certain distance.
It was obvious at a glance that they were not human.
Realizing this, Yoon Taehee let out a deep, indifferent breath and immediately pressed the close button.
“Fucking hell, this is bullshit...”
At this point, nothing that happened would surprise him.
This time, however, he needed resolve. Because of the aftermath of the backlash, he was in a state where even moving was difficult. Yoon Taehee steadied his breathing like someone barely taking cover on a battlefield with bullets flying overhead.
He gripped the sword he had dropped to one side.
I have to open the path.
After catching his breath, Yoon Taehee pressed the open button.
The doors slid open again.
It was then.
Someone shot out like an arrow and blocked Yoon Taehee’s front, parrying the sword flying toward him.
The straw man in the white mask was pushed back. The parrying sword carried quite a powerful amount of spiritual force. The person standing with their back to Yoon Taehee had their long hair tied back tightly.
“Chief, are you all right?”
Yoon Taehee’s eyes slowly widened.
“...Lead Naja Kang?”
The person standing with her back to him was none other than Kang Ibin.
Two hours earlier.
—Yoon Taehee is suspected of being the leader of Byeoksadan. He has abandoned his duties as a Naja, secretly colluded with ghosts, and led a rebellion in secret. Therefore, on charges of inciting the collapse of the Office of Narye, and in accordance with Article 3, Paragraph 2 of the Code of Conduct, Yoon Taehee, Chief Naja of Team 1 of the Exorcism Unit, is hereby relieved of his position as of this moment.
“Defend the Office of Narye from the leader of Byeoksadan.”
After leaving that message over the radio, Seok Juryeon headed toward the door wearing the Scholar mask. The moment her hand touched the doorknob, her fingertips suddenly faltered.
Seok Juryeon stood lost in thought for a moment.
The director had not stopped Yoon Taehee, even though his wooden tag was in her possession. Since a wooden tag was connected to the body, she could have stopped Yoon Taehee at any time through it.
What did that mean?
The director had chosen not to prevent Byeoksadan’s raid, even though she could have.
It was not because she wanted to give Yoon Taehee a chance, nor because she was waiting for Seok Juryeon to stop him.
Because once, when Yoon Taehee had been in danger of being sacrificed as a living offering, the director had known.
And had not stopped it.
Seok Juryeon became curious about the director of the Office of Narye’s intentions in telling her that she had Yoon Taehee’s wooden tag.
At first, she had thought it was a test to see whether she knew that Yoon Taehee was the master of Byeoksadan.
But suddenly, she had a feeling that was not the only reason.
Perhaps the director was waiting for that boy to come.
If so, why?
The reason she did not stop the signals that kept coming from Byeoksadan.
What exactly did the director want?
—Juryeon. Do you know why I was able to come this far? It was because I acted for the sake of people, yet never trusted them....
Seok Juryeon, who had been standing still at the door, turned around.
She picked up the radio again.
“Team 1 of the Exorcism Unit, where are you now?”
After ordering Team 1 of the Exorcism Unit to be brought to her, Seok Juryeon sat in her chair and waited for them to arrive.
“Did all of you know that Yoon Taehee was the master of Byeoksadan?”
“That can’t be true.”
Pyo Jiho’s expression hardened.
The suspicion that Yoon Taehee was the leader of Byeoksadan and the fact that he had been relieved of his position had already spread widely. Even so, the members of Team 1 looked as though they could not believe it.
Only Kang Ibin knew that the person she had seen wearing the Fool mask and the red robe had not been an illusion.
“‘He’s not that kind of person,’ is that it...?”
Seok Juryeon seemed to chew over Pyo Jiho’s words, then added with a slight smile.
“Do you know what the most miserable emotion in the world is?”
“...”
“It’s betrayal. The feeling of being betrayed by someone you trusted changes a person completely.”
“...”
“Yoon Taehee committed treason. What if that is true? What will you do then?”
“...”
“If this rebellion ends and everything is settled, the Office of Narye will hold you accountable. Since you were on the same team as Yoon Taehee, it’s only natural that you would be placed under suspicion. Which means you will be in danger as well.”
If Yoon Taehee had plotted treason and led a rebellion, the people closest to him would also become targets.
Even just two hundred years ago, treason was a capital offense that wiped out three generations, including close relatives.
“Do you think he didn’t know that?”
“...”
“Well then, what is the Chief Yoon you know like? He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would fail to consider the harm that would come to you if he became a traitor, does he?”
The team members’ faces turned pale and stiff.
“B-but...”
“Whether you collaborated or merely stood by, even if your innocence is proven, you won’t be able to go back to the way things were.”
“...”
“That’s the kind of man he is. If he had thought of you even a little, he wouldn’t have done this.”
A heavy silence followed.
It was an accurate and piercing point.
Every one of the team members had a grim look on their face. Yet no one could easily open their mouth.
Then Seok Juryeon, who had stopped speaking, looked at each of the team members one by one.
“There is only one thing I want to ask.”
Seok Juryeon ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) adjusted the Scholar mask on her face and added,
“Despite all that, can you still take that boy’s side?”
