TGHD Ch 46

Ryeong rushed in and took the attack instead. Not only that, but he also lunged at the Taizigui, grabbing the child tightly. Even as he rolled on the ground and his body was slashed by the fierce ghostly energy, he never let go of the child. He held the child down with his entire body.

Blood gushed from Ryeong’s body.

“What are you doing? Get back!”

Yeohwi shouted in panic, but Ryeong didn’t retreat. He replied with a voice filled with boiling blood.

[You were going to do this yourself just a moment ago, and now you’re yelling at me…]

“That was because there was no other way…!”

[It’s the same now…]

The child had broken free from Cheon Gun’s spell and become a complete vengeful spirit. And Cheon Ryubeom couldn’t comfort this child. Not because he was exhausted, but because he was fundamentally a member of the tiger clan. No matter how much he apologized, could he truly convey his intentions to an infant? Moreover, this wasn’t just any child; it was a child who had suffered through Yanmye.

And most importantly, when Ryeong first met the child in the bamboo forest, he read the child’s ‘grudge’ in their briefly met eyes. It was something Cheon Ryubeom could never fulfill.

“Ryeong! What kind of spell are you trying to cast…!”

Yeohwi’s face turned pale as he read the spell drawn by Ryeong’s blood on the ground. He tried to forcefully separate Ryeong from the child, but Ryeong’s energy pushed him back. A solid wall was erected, preventing him from getting closer.

Originally, Ryeong couldn’t draw spells due to a lack of spiritual power, but after becoming a nine-tailed fox, he gained power derived from evil, making it possible. He had also learned various spells by observing Yeohwi’s research.

Ryeong’s spell had two parts. One was a spell to absorb resentment, commonly used by vengeful spirits to devour surrounding ghosts and become stronger. Ryeong was trying to absorb all of the child’s resentment.

The other part was a killing formation. As soon as he became a stronger vengeful spirit by absorbing all the resentment, he would immediately take his own life—a linked spell.

Yeohwi, seeing the spell being inscribed on Ryeong’s body, urgently raised his hand. He quickly drew a counter-spell in the air to break all the spells. But Ryeong’s will blocked it. Having observed Yeohwi closely for a long time, Ryeong knew how he used his energy.

“Ryeong…”

Yeohwi shouted, asking what he was doing, but Ryeong didn’t stop interfering. By now, the malice flowing from the child was continuously entering Ryeong. It was resentment that felt like it was stabbing his body.

[One vengeful spirit is enough…]

“No, what are you talking about!”

[It’s fortunate that I’m good at eating…]

Ryeong’s light-hearted voice, as if joking, made Yeohwi’s face harden. The determination to swallow all the malice and disappear was evident in that playful voice. Yeohwi shook his head, saying it was impossible, and drew the counter-spell again.

[Yeohwi, cough, remember when…]

“Don’t start talking like that.”

[When Imugi revealed your grudge…]

Yeohwi cut him off coldly, then looked at Ryeong with a puzzled expression. The unexpected topic left him bewildered, and Ryeong smiled wryly.

That day, Ryeong had quickly climbed the mountain at Yeohwi’s call. He had rushed to save him from Imugi’s curse, but when he saw Yeohwi’s grudge inside the black sphere, Ryeong was taken aback.

Ryeong had thought Yeohwi harbored a grudge to annihilate the tiger clan. He interpreted the scene inside the curse with Cheon Ryubeom as a signal to extract them before their plan was exposed. But what Ryeong saw was entirely different.

Yeohwi was in the past.

And there, Yeohwi felt endlessly strangled.

He was angry at himself for being mad at Yeomyeong, he hated himself for leaving the main house that day, and so… he wished he had died instead. Certainly, avenging the tiger clan was part of Yeohwi’s grudge, but more than that, what he desperately wanted was for himself to die at that moment in the past.

Knowing he couldn’t go back to the past, knowing he couldn’t undo that day. So he meticulously planned his revenge, acting with utmost rationality and coldness.

But the fact that there was no future beyond all those plans gave Ryeong a realization.

[You are… more fragile than you think.]

“……Ryeong.”

[You know, you’re quite foolish, stupid, and naive…]

“……”

[And so… you have an excessive amount of affection.]

Ryeong finally said what he wanted to say, looking quite relieved. This was what Ryeong had been holding back while watching Yeohwi. Yeohwi seemed to misunderstand it as something else, but Ryeong didn’t bother to correct him.

Since that day, Ryeong saw Yeohwi differently. He read his actions anew and soon could intuitively understand. Perhaps it was a very strong premonition he had felt from the moment Yeohwi regained consciousness, held by Cheon Ryubeom, inside Imugi’s curse.

Every moment he quietly observed gave Ryeong confidence. The act of unleashing energy on Yuseom Mountain to save Cheon Ryubeom, and taking off his bracelet again just to remove the poison from his body.

At some point, you started taking off your bracelet for him. You couldn’t bear to see him in pain. So you… couldn’t give him that last drink.

And so, your world would be turned upside down because of that child.

[So, this is something that should be done by someone who has no regrets.]

Ryeong smiled faintly. It was the same nonchalant smile Yeohwi always wore. Watching Yeohwi’s reaction, Ryeong thought he understood why Yeohwi always smiled like that. A laugh, as if finding it amusing, followed.

[You… do what you have to do.]

“……”

[I’m just trying to keep my promise to Yeomyeong.]

By now, all of the child’s resentment was being absorbed by Ryeong. His red eyes flickered and dimmed. The pain and anger the child felt were being fully conveyed. At some point, Ryeong felt as if he were trapped in a dark, narrow place.

He barely held onto his fading consciousness and stumbled forward.

‘When my child is born, Ryeong has to play with them well, okay?’

Yeomyeong’s voice, whispering as she petted him one day, echoed in his ears like a hallucination. Ryeong, with his white fur, had been ostracized by the other foxes as strange and ominous, but Yeomyeong didn’t find it strange at all. She even said it was very pretty, her eyes shining.

Thanks to her, Ryeong gained confidence. He approached the other foxes more boldly and quickly became friends with them. Perhaps the fact that he was the fox Yeomyeong cherished the most had an influence. Whatever the reason, Ryeong deeply loved Yeomyeong, who had changed his life.

So when she held out her pinky finger, asking him to promise, Ryeong willingly touched it with his nose. Her gentle laughter still lingered deeply in his heart.

That’s why he remembered anxiously hovering around the sick child, the moments he immediately sought Yeomyeong when the child vomited, and the times he helplessly cried beside the crying child. He wished he had been stronger then. But he kept whining because Yeomyeong would come and hug them both, comforting them, and then thank Ryeong at the end, petting him. He liked that, so he kept acting spoiled.

So even when everything before him was burning, he could do nothing but crawl around.

Sticky regrets clung to Ryeong’s legs. He kept walking without stopping. His body kept trying to collapse, but he continued to fumble forward… and finally found the child, curled up and crying in the darkness.

[I’m so late, aren’t I?]

Slowly, Ryeong’s body shrank back to the size it had been when the child had reached out to pet him long ago. The way the child’s eyes lit up at the sight of the white fox was just like when he first met Yeomyeong.

Ryeong gently touched the child’s fingertips with his nose and licked their cheek to wipe away the tears.

[Let’s go back together now…]

A moment ago, in the bamboo forest, Ryeong felt the child’s wish. Beneath the anger towards the tigers who killed and exploited him, there was a faint but persistent wish the child held onto.

The child wanted to go home. To the place where his parents loved him, where the white fox was always nearby to play with him. To the time when all the clan members cherished him.

Even though that home had burned down completely…

[Maybe this is why I became a nine-tailed fox.]

Ryeong laughed softly. A nine-tailed fox, a being that shows others what they want to see, wielding the power of illusion. He had become a vengeful spirit, covered in the blood of his clan for revenge, but now it seemed like a meaningful choice.

Ryeong thought distantly. She changes everything for me. She embraced my past, where I was bullied for my white fur, and made the time I spent as a vengeful spirit meaningful by becoming a nine-tailed fox.

Once again, pitch-black darkness covered his vision. Ryeong no longer resisted.

Finally, when Ryeong absorbed all the resentment and became a complete vengeful spirit, the killing formation inscribed on his body activated. A terrible pain, like being slashed all over, came over him. He heard someone calling his name from afar.

Ryeong didn’t respond, fearing that making a sound might wake the child.

He sank into a dreamlike illusion.

“……”

The ghostly energy that had filled the space subsided. The black mist disappeared, and Yeohwi’s gaze, looking at the white fox in a deep sleep beyond it, was calm.

Just moments ago, he had been desperately trying to break through the wall, but now he was incredibly calm. He stood still, not moving at all. There was no sadness or anger on his face. The expressionless face, as if all emotions were blocked, made Ryubeom feel his heart even more deeply.

“……Yeohwi.”

Ryubeom, freed from the Taizigui’s restraints, called him cautiously, but there was no response. Ryubeom lowered his gaze, unable to say anything.

Ryeong’s red blood had pooled along the comforting formation. Strangely, the blood had flowed to complete the parts of the formation that Ryubeom hadn’t finished. Perhaps Ryeong had performed another kind of comforting.

After a few seconds of silence, Yeohwi turned his body. Then he walked somewhere with determined steps, as if heading to a place he was meant to go.

* * *

At some point, the Gwimun that had opened in the Cheon family estate closed, and the flames subsided. Everything had burned down and died out, and the clan members lay scattered everywhere.

Yeohwi pushed through the chaos and eventually grabbed ‘him.’

“Kr, Krugh…!”

Cheon Gun, whose feet were bound by red energy, rolled on the ground. Having severed his connection with the Taizigui, he intended to leave the mansion. With the mansion entirely burned and devoid of spiritual energy, and having extracted the source of its prosperity with his own hands, he could no longer recover his body there.

So, he had released the Taizigui entirely. He thought it would grow even more ferocious after killing Cheon Ryubeom and covering itself in tiger blood, enabling it to deal with the fox cubs as well. Those fools wouldn’t even be able to touch the Taizigui.

Cheon Gun intended to rest and wait for another opportunity. But the Taizigui disappeared disappointingly, and as he was hastily leaving, Yeohwi caught him.

“Don’t act so pathetically.”

Yeohwi spoke in a chilling voice. His eyes grew colder, showing he wouldn’t tolerate such an attempt to escape. His gaze held a hint of disdain.

“What?! Do you think I’m running away because I’m afraid of you? Ha! Nonsense!”

“I never said that, but you seem eager to confess.”

“You…!”

Cheon Gun’s shoulders trembled with rage. Yeohwi looked at him quietly, then tilted his head slightly. His jet-black hair swayed gently. An unreadable light flickered coldly in his eyes.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Nonsense!”

Cheon Gun snapped, charging at Yeohwi. Golden energy quickly gathered in his hand, and he struck the space violently. Yeohwi dodged lightly, but Cheon Gun’s movements were incredibly swift, despite the blood he had lost.

Boom! Crash! The sounds of breaking ground and falling trees mixed chaotically. Yeohwi subtly altered Cheon Gun’s direction with spells, but mostly, he dodged. Cheon Gun burst into laughter.

“Hahaha! Aren’t you the one who’s afraid of me? You’re just running away. Yes, you must be scared. I’m the leader of the tigers, after all!”

“…”

“You can’t do anything in front of me. Just like when the mansion burned in the past, it’s the same this time. If you confront me, you’ll lose something precious again. Or do you even have anything left now?”

Cheon Gun deliberately mocked Yeohwi. He had seen the guilt on Yeohwi’s face when he first brought out the Taizigui. Back then, Yeohwi had been trapped in the black mist, unable to do anything, so Cheon Gun aimed to exploit that again, hoping to discourage him.

Yeohwi responded with silence. But when he suddenly stopped and just stared, Cheon Gun thought his tactic had worked.

However, a dry murmur reached Cheon Gun’s triumphant ears.

“I noticed while fighting a moment ago…”

Yeohwi’s voice was calm, not a breath out of place.

“Your attack patterns are always the same. Whether it’s your movement path or how you use your energy. It’s exactly the same as it was a hundred years ago. I thought you did it deliberately to set a trap earlier, but seeing it again… It seems the years of peace have dulled your edge.”

“What…!”

“Or perhaps, the arrogance that no one could ever threaten you has made you complacent.”

Yeohwi muttered coldly.

“Some of us have spent a long time reliving that day, planning our revenge.”

After the great fire, Yeohwi lost his sanity and immediately attacked Cheon Gun. Fortunately, Cheon Gun was outside the mansion, allowing Yeohwi to strike. Yeohwi relived that battle every day. He never forgot the moment Cheon Gun tore his back.

He analyzed Cheon Gun’s movements, how he fought, and how he used his spiritual power. He studied all of Cheon Gun’s attack patterns, anticipating the moment they would clash again, and even considered how they might change over time.

But Cheon Gun hadn’t changed at all from the past. It was exactly the same, almost insultingly so.

“But isn’t this a basic rule even in the animal world you obsess over?”

Yeohwi tilted his head.

“To avoid being hunted, don’t move in the same path.”

Whoosh! At that moment, Yeohwi grabbed Cheon Gun’s outstretched fist. He had predicted the path and caught his wrist precisely. Cheon Gun tried to pull his hand away roughly, but it didn’t work. Red energy spread from his wrist, and finally, crack! The sound of skin tearing and bones breaking echoed chillingly.

Cheon Gun’s left arm was torn off.

“You… you wretch…!”

Cheon Gun hurriedly retreated, clutching the wound. His right hand trembled as he tried to stop the gushing blood. He had once lost this right hand to Yeohwi and barely reattached it.

“Now you’ve lost both arms equally.”

Yeohwi muttered calmly, dropping the arm to the ground. There was no sense of triumph in accomplishing a difficult task. Only a look of disdain, as if he couldn’t believe how lazily Cheon Gun had deteriorated.

Cheon Gun bit his lip.

“Ha, haha. The young one has grown a lot.”

He wiped the blood trickling down his chin with his right hand and straightened his posture. Though he appeared calm and relaxed, cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Cheon Gun’s eyes wavered.

His body felt increasingly heavy. It was as if something terrible was weighing him down. Cheon Gun dismissed the feeling, thinking he was just tired. It didn’t suit him at all. He couldn’t possibly feel such a sensation.

He couldn’t possibly see the figure standing calmly before him as a disaster.

Cheon Gun barely managed to lift the corners of his mouth into a smile.

“But you still don’t understand. Do you truly not realize why no one blocks the path of a tiger, even if it always walks the same path, and what that means?”

“It seemed like your path was blocked just now…”

“It was only a brief pause, not a blockage. How can you block the sky? Let me show you why the Cheon family has the name of the sky.”

Cheon Gun unleashed all his power. Golden energy swirled around him like a tornado. The ground shook, and the air crackled. The arrogant confidence of the top predator in the ecosystem, crushing and subduing all earthly creatures, spread tangibly.

Just by wielding his energy, the ground overturned, and trees fell. The already destroyed Cheon family mansion scattered like dust.

Yeohwi’s robe flapped violently, its edges tearing slightly. Standing still without a single movement, he seemed frozen in fear. Cheon Gun laughed heartily. No matter how tired he was or how his left hand had been torn off, he wouldn’t collapse so easily.

Cheon Gun charged at Yeohwi.

“The sky is something you look up to. The Cheon family is the same. How dare you insult the sky and…”

Thud!

As Cheon Gun leaped high, he felt his entire body shake violently. He looked down, fumbling. Red spells rising from the ground had pierced his neck like bars. They were the same bars he had used to kill the baby long ago. Cheon Gun struggled in mid-air. Blood gushed from his mouth as he coughed.

Yeohwi muttered.

“Well, the sky changes every day, but you never change.”

“Cough, cough…”

“At this point, aren’t you the one insulting the sky the most?”

Yeohwi’s spell was the same trap that had ensnared Cheon Gun in their previous battle. Spell formations were falling in every place Yeohwi stepped. But Cheon Gun didn’t look down, and that ultimately led to his downfall.

As Cheon Gun’s body, suspended in the air, descended, the spears drove deeper into him. He tried to break the spears, but the long-standing, deeply-rooted resentment built from below was not overcome by the arrogance of one who falsely claimed the sky.

Gradually, the spearheads widened, and with a chilling sound, Cheon Gun’s neck fell to the ground. Thud. The face that landed among the mud could no longer look up at the sky.

“……”

Yeohwi watched the scene in silence.

Though he had accomplished something he had long desired, his face showed no emotion. There was no joy, no relief. He simply stood there, as if nothing had happened, then turned away. Though his steps were steady, they somehow seemed on the verge of collapse.

“……Ryeong.”

Yeohwi knelt beside the white fox and called his name. He gently petted the white fur, whispering in a voice so faint it was almost extinguished.

“Raise your head. Open your eyes, okay? I’ve finished everything I promised. So please, wake up…”

He called Ryeong’s name again and again, hoping he would wake up after killing the tiger leader, believing that completing his task might bring Ryeong back. He repeated that he had done everything he needed to do, begging him to open his eyes.

Ryubeom couldn’t say a word. He felt like a criminal, silenced by the reality that the sins of the Cheon family had taken another precious person from Yeohwi.

Ryubeom’s gaze shifted to where Cheon Hoyeon lay. Having finally achieved revenge, the reality that nothing seemed to be left painfully pierced his heart.

Why did fulfilling dreams always require someone’s sacrifice? Could they really grow from the deaths of others? Was merely surviving enough? No, could such a life even be called truly living? They would be stuck in this moment for the rest of their lives.

Ryubeom, who had been hidden in a cave by his parents, would now be trapped in Cheon Hoyeon’s barrier, and Yeohwi, who had been tied to the burned mansion long ago, would once again be shackled by this moment.

* * *

Ryubeom couldn’t help but feel sorrowful.

This process was meant to correct the evil, but perhaps that evil was too firmly entrenched. Was the tiger’s power so immense that breaking the evil sustained by that power required such sacrifices? It all seemed too much.

Cheon Ryubeom had long known that survival alone could not bring happiness. And Yeohwi was no different.

The path Cheon Ryubeom had walked was one of setting things right. Though it seemed he was stuck reliving the day he lost his parents, it was truly a desperate struggle to move forward.

Having fought so hard to get here, why must he be stuck again at this moment? With a feeling of impending tears, Ryubeom looked up. He resented the dark sky.

Sigh…

At that moment, a gentle breeze brushed past Ryubeom. The area was eerily still—no leaves rustled, no dust stirred—yet Ryubeom’s hair moved. Instinctively, he was wary, then he touched his forehead, confused but somehow feeling a slight relief.

It felt like a familiar hand was gently patting his head…

In that instant, Ryubeom had a realization that felt like an intuition. The wind was pointing him in a specific direction, almost pushing him to go there, urging him to move.

And that direction led to Daehogwan.

Daehogwan was also in ruins. It had been intact until Gwimun opened, but it collapsed and burned after the Taizigui appeared. The sacred hall of the tiger clan, the most holy place in the Cheon family. But now it lay in such ruin that its original form could hardly be recognized.

Ryubeom didn’t hesitate and walked toward it. He cleared the debris and ash from the broken building. His hands were scratched by rough, sharp remnants and burned by the heat within the ashes. But Ryubeom kept searching. Although he had never properly entered the place, Ryubeom seemed to know where he needed to go. The wind kept guiding him.

Finally, Cheon Ryubeom found the ‘door.’

The door was also charred black. It maintained its shape, but it seemed it could collapse at any moment. Ryubeom carefully grasped the door handle.

“You’ll earn the right to enter Daehogwan and take an honorable test.”

Cheon Hoyeon’s words echoed in his mind. Daehogwan was a place to take a very special test. The right to enter was granted by the family head, but the outcome of the test wasn’t decided by the family head or the elders. The sanctity within Daehogwan chose the clan member most fitting to the myth of this land.

“If you successfully complete the test, you’ll gain divine power.”

Whoosh…

As soon as Ryubeom opened the door, brilliant golden light poured over him as if it had been waiting. There was no test. Or rather, being there was proof enough. The golden light poured continuously, as if to commend and thank him for being there.

Then, golden light began to emerge from other places as well. Not just from Daehogwan. It came from beneath the blackened ash covering the mansion, between fallen trees, and from the darkness of areas soaked in blood that seemed forever stained.

From the shattered space, gold dust spread and moved toward Ryubeom. It wasn’t what Cheon Gun had achieved; it was the myth of the land moving towards him. The reverence earned by the tigers who had cared for this land for centuries finally flowed in the right direction.

The myth was being inherited.

Cheon Ryubeom looked down at his hands in a daze. He felt a grand flow for the first time. The wounds on his hands disappeared, and the pain that had been simmering inside since using the poison subsided. His mind, clouded by the black mist, cleared.

Ryubeom intuitively knew what this was. He clenched and unclenched his hands repeatedly, then ran outside. In his golden eyes was not joy but determination.

Finally, there was something he could do.

“The head of a family based on myth possesses divine power.”

The power Cheon Eunhwa had used as a successor. The ability to bind the soul of the departing spirit and eventually revive Lee Han. Although Cheon Eunhwa had been severely injured at the time and couldn’t fully revive Lee Han, he still existed on this land ten years later. Such was the nature of divine power.

Cheon Eunhwa had used that much power even without becoming the family head. So now…

Arriving at a place where he could see ‘them’ all, Ryubeom knelt down. He placed his hands on the ground and began pouring out his energy. Finding their energy amidst the chaotic ground was not difficult. Those who had shed blood to truly correct the wrongs stood out from the other impurities.

Light began to spread along the blood they had shed. The pool of blood where Cheon Hoyeon had fallen, kneeling, started to glow, and the comforting formation drawn with Ryeong’s blood lit up. Looking at the comforting formation, Ryubeom came up with a clearer plan.

Comforting is about consoling the souls of the deceased. Ultimately, this comforting aimed for ‘Cheondo,’ the aspiration for the soul to reach the Pure Land or Heaven. If Ryubeom’s actions had been about soothing those who became vengeful spirits, Cheondo was a prayer for what comes after. It was something Ryubeom had never dared to attempt.

What Ryubeom intended now was slightly different from Cheondo. He couldn’t be certain it would succeed, but he wanted to grasp even a slim chance.

Cheon Ryubeom began to wield his energy. The power was unfamiliar, but he had no time to waste in confusion. He poured his energy recklessly.

Thanks to the massive burst of silver light, Yeohwi turned his head in confusion. The grand energy was pouring into Ryeong, seeming to console him and send him to the Pure Land. Yeohwi was left in a daze, feeling distant even from this Cheondo, blinking slowly. Gradually, his expression changed.

“What on earth…?”

Something gradually formed in the air, as scattered souls found a faint shape through comforting, becoming more distinct through the pull towards Cheondo. Cheondo is something all souls fundamentally desire.

Slowly, the image became clear to Yeohwi. The form was identical to the fox that once slept on Yeomyeong’s lap long ago. Confirming that he had successfully called forth Cheon Hoyeon’s soul, Ryubeom changed his energy.

Golden divinity poured out. The purpose was to imbue the soul drawn by Cheondo with life.

Already scattered souls could not accept the life force. Energy kept leaking out, like pouring water into a broken jar. But Ryubeom didn’t give up. He kept pouring energy, creating a vast sea of life force, enough to submerge the entire broken jar. He poured out all the divinity given to him at this moment.

Yeohwi watched the light in amazement. The dazzling light was blinding. The light sweeping through the area was like a violent tidal wave, yet the act of touching the souls was exceedingly careful and earnest, whispering not to linger here but to flow together.

Eventually, Ryeong’s body twitched.

“…!”

Yeohwi, startled, immediately reached out to Ryeong. He felt a faint breath at his lips. It was so light and faint, yet undeniably warm. Yeohwi’s face twisted. Finally, emotions he had blocked for so long poured out.

Ryubeom confirmed that Cheon Hoyeon was breathing again, then approached Ryeong and felt his breath. Knowing his plan had succeeded, relief spread across his face.

“Thank goodness…”

Ryubeom collapsed as if crumbling, and Yeohwi hurriedly caught him. Ryubeom, collapsing into Yeohwi’s arms, faintly murmured.

“Will this be… accepted as atonement?”

Yeohwi didn’t understand what Ryubeom meant. He was about to ask what atonement he was talking about when he met Ryubeom’s eyes and sighed. He realized the situation. Cheon Ryubeom had used his power as the head of the tiger clan to revive the nine-tailed fox of the fox clan.

He had likely used all the divinity he received. But Ryubeom didn’t seem to regret it at all.

“Now, can we… be no longer enemies? Is peace truly not just a vain hope?”

Ryubeom cautiously asked. He repeated the words Yeohwi had once uttered, asking if they could now approach that impossible, seemingly absurd idea.

“So that our existence no longer harms each other…”

Yeohwi didn’t know what to say. Did he still feel a sense of rejection at the sound? Was he overwhelmed by Ryubeom’s earnest gaze? Or was it that Cheon Ryubeom’s presence overwhelmed his heart, making him unable to speak?

Cheon Ryubeom always left Yeohwi feeling helpless.

With actions that painted an unimaginable world, pulling him out of the darkness he tried to sink into, Cheon Ryubeom repeatedly left Yeohwi astonished, sometimes flustered, and ultimately unable to resist, just listening. In front of him, Yeohwi was at a loss, only able to look at him.

Yeohwi felt as if he kept losing his choices in front of Cheon Ryubeom.

But now Yeohwi knew that the hand Cheon Ryubeom extended, painting that absurd world, was also a mess. He gathered the broken and shattered pieces, not caring at all about his own injuries, and pieced them together again. As if everything would be fine as long as the other person accepted it.

As if that alone would allow him to have the whole world.

“…I won’t let you lose anything anymore.”

Yeohwi’s trembling hand gently cupped Ryubeom’s cheek. The touch was very careful, treating something incredibly precious. He seemed to be submerged in the endless flow of Cheon Ryubeom, unable to resist his emotions any longer.

“How could I… ever push you away?”

Yeohwi slowly pressed his forehead against Ryubeom’s, whispering softly like a breath. He couldn’t possibly push away the one who had shattered all his choices and paradoxically created another world. He didn’t have the ability, nor the right, to do so.

Ryubeom held his breath for a moment. He looked at Yeohwi with slightly surprised eyes, then saw the deep emotion he had longed for reflected in Yeohwi’s dark red eyes. Slowly, but brightly, a smile spread across Ryubeom’s face.

As if the tension from finally achieving his goal had been released, Ryubeom’s body relaxed. Yeohwi held him tightly as he began to collapse again. He no longer pushed away the warmth that came into his embrace, nor did he awkwardly accept it with hesitation.

Even in his faint consciousness, Ryubeom clearly felt Yeohwi’s warmth and smiled.

Sunlight began to pour over the ridge.

The darkness receded, and a new sky unfolded.