Toxin

“There’s no way something like that could exist.”

“How dare you! So you refuse to give it up?!”

“I’m not refusing to give it up, I’m saying I can’t.”

“Such nonsense! If you had something like that, you would have sold it off a long time ago, you thieves!”

A woman burst through the door. Her emaciated face looked visibly frail. Wuga gave an order without needing to see more.

“Kill them!”

“No! These thieves are taking someone else’s things…!”

“Mother…!”

As the soldiers searched the house with precision, the woman rushed out and grabbed them by their collars. Despite the boy’s pleas, the woman attacked the intruders like a poorly-behaved puppy. The house quickly descended into chaos with the scuffle, and Raonhiljo sighed as he scolded their commotion.

“Stop. It really seems like there’s nothing, so let’s withdraw.”

“But…”

Wuga and the soldiers looked troubled. They were on a mission to collect taxes, and they needed to have something to show for it, even if it was just nominal. They looked around but sighed once more at the pitiful state of the household, which made collecting taxes feel almost embarrassing. Then, noticing the dried soybean blocks in his hand, Raonhiljo shook them towards the soldiers.

“Just take this as compensation. It seems to have been aged for quite some time, it smells good, and it’s hard to come by such fermented soybeans.”

“……”

Wuga, the soldiers, and even the woman and the boy stared in astonishment. The soldiers awkwardly accepted the soybeans from Raonhiljo and left through the fence. The boy, supporting his mother, was about to go back inside when Raonhiljo’s gaze met his. The boy’s eyes, large and strikingly open, had a slight upward slant at the ends, and the dark purple crystals within took up quite a bit of space. It was an appearance that clearly stood out. There was something indescribably intriguing about it—something that made it impossible to look away once noticed. The boy appeared even colder and more transparent up close.

For a moment, the crystal-like gaze that had been fixed on Raonhiljo suddenly detached. A sudden wave of thirst struck him, and he frowned. There was an inexplicable urge to hold onto those eyes longer and draw out the voice.

“Ah, didn’t we see each other yesterday?”

“I don’t know.”

“At the butcher’s. With the owner there…”

The boy left without a word, leaving only a cold glance. It wasn’t just pretending not to recognize him; the boy genuinely seemed not to remember. It was a strange sense of defeat he had never felt before. Raonhiljo walked away from the desolate fence and joined his officials.

“Why is this house so far from the others? It would be more convenient if it were inside the village.”

The villager looked disdainfully at the thatched house and shrugged.

“It’s fortunate to have a place to live at all. Although it means living a life without a name, such is our fate.”

“Without a name?”

“In the Imae Tribe, there’s a naming ceremony. Without it, you’re not considered a full member of the tribe. Anyway, it’s not something My Lord needs to worry about, so you should return.”

“Oh, I see…”

Raonhiljo turned his gaze from the shabby thatched house and left. He learned that the boy had no name, lived with a frail mother, and barely made ends meet with his painting skills. He gradually learned more about the boy, either through others or his own discovery.

As he learned more, the time occupied in his mind also increased. The biggest challenge was that meeting the boy itself was as difficult as plucking stars from the sky. Missing him during the monthly tax collection was common, and he had to wait until the next month. Even when he did see the boy, he was always on guard. If they happened to meet, he might say something trivial, offer a tax exemption, or, if that didn’t work, send money along with good medicine for the sick mother.

He did everything possible to make his presence known. But even after a month, a year, he was still just a tax collector from the Baedal Kingdom in the boy’s eyes. Of course, he never gave up trying to make an impression. His obsession with this childish endeavor was something he himself found incomprehensible. Initially, he thought it was merely curiosity or stubbornness. He mocked himself for it and vowed to stop immediately. But at some point, he found himself unable to sleep the night before going to Imae Village, and his eyes were already searching for the boy.

As time passed, the boy gradually shed his youthful appearance. Though he still had a slender frame compared to his peers, he no longer looked merely youthful. The boy had an ethereal yet somehow decadent quality, a combination of purity and a certain moral ambiguity, which only complicated Raonhiljo’s feelings. He wouldn’t deny that he was initially attracted to the boy’s appearance. But what captivated him more deeply was the boy’s chilling, transparent demeanor, which was different from the sensual aura he possessed.

Seeing the boy grow day by day made him restless and anxious. And he finally realized that his feelings were not just stubbornness or fleeting interest. He didn’t want to let go. He needed a reason to get closer. After much thought, he offered a large sum of money to commission a portrait. Even the boy, exhausted from long-standing poverty, eventually agreed. Although it seemed a meager reward compared to the time spent, it was a moment when Raonhiljo truly felt what it was like to gain the whole world. The boy continued to provoke unfamiliar emotions in him and bewildered him.

But the hard-earned time slipped through his fingers too easily. When news came that Garon had annihilated Imae Village, he ran to the village without a second thought. The boy was nowhere to be found amidst the ruins of the village. It was both a relief and a terrible nightmare. Afterward, he scoured the village like a madman, searching and inquiring everywhere. He used every method to find him. He clung to the vague hope that the boy might still be alive somewhere, but eventually, no news came.

He lived in drunken despair, with his heart aching and torn apart. He hated himself more than Garon, the cause of all this, for not bringing the boy back sooner. He even consoled himself that it might be better to meet the boy’s cruelly mutilated corpse than to face this. He fell to the lowest depths of despair every hour, thinking that this might be the last time he searched for the boy. And when the pain in his heart began to fade, he miraculously reunited with the boy. At that moment, he thought to himself that he no longer desired anything more and that simply having the boy alive was enough.

After the clan was annihilated, the boy never mentioned where he had been, what happened to his ailing mother, or why he had lied to Garon about being the Chieftain’s adopted son. It was clear, however, that there had been some significant change in him during the period of silence. His eyes were emptier than they had been on the last day he saw him. Eyes that had been brutally deprived of childhood, denied existence, and lost everything. He wanted to fill those eyes. He wanted to be a fence and a refuge for him.

To achieve that, he needed to proceed step by step. Starting from the day he had the boy’s portrait painted. The boy was still cautious and prudent about his offer, but this time he agreed willingly. There was no trace of the previous wariness in his eyes. It had taken as long as two years to narrow that distance. Both the boy and Raonhiljo were unrelenting.

The moment the boy had first smiled was something Raonhiljo would never forget until his last breath. The red lips that had always spoken in a cold tone curved into a beautiful smile, and the eyes that had only widened when defending themselves were now crescent-shaped with a smile. It was a bewitching sight that left him dazed. Another huge emotion began to stir. Unknowingly, he had swallowed the boy’s lips. He wrapped them gently, clinging for a long time, and fell into it. It felt like a sacred ritual. Like an inexperienced boy experiencing his first kiss, he tossed and turned all night, obsessively repeating the memory. Every moment, he yearned and was unsettled by every movement of the boy. The deep, vast waves of emotion were something he had never felt before—an unfamiliar and sweet sensation. He was as absorbed as a feverish boy in his youth.

However, the plan to keep the boy by his side had to be put on hold temporarily. The boy had come here under the pretext of swearing loyalty to paint Garon’s portrait. Given Garon’s nature, it was unlikely that he would accept such a gift. Ultimately, the boy had to return to his hometown, having been practically expelled from the palace. But he could not miss him a second time. Without hesitation, he intended to bring him to his own residence. And now, he wanted to ensure that the boy could draw freely and comfortably, not for survival, but for the things he truly wanted to create in a good environment. Of course, this was assuming that the unfinished portrait would proceed without any issues. But only recently, Garon, who had rejected the portrait, had unexpectedly changed his mind overnight.

During the tedious meeting, Raonhiljo’s body twisted in discomfort. Typically, the morning at Naragaon Fortress began with the Emperor and senior ministers conducting state affairs meetings in the Sammu-gwan. Although the Emperor would normally sit on a high throne, the morning meetings were held at a round table. It was Emperor Sawara’s intention to discuss matters freely at the same eye level, regardless of rank.

The meeting was being conducted under the supervision of Oga, the highest-ranking official of the Baedal Kingdom, but Raonhiljo wasn’t paying attention at all. He glanced sideways at Garon, who was sitting in the most prominent seat. Garon was doodling on a piece of paper, looking bored with his chin resting on his hand. He often made things awkward for the officials by distracting himself during meetings. Raonhiljo listened half-heartedly to Oga’s report and spoke up quietly.

“By the way, about the portrait. Why did you suddenly change your mind?”

Garon stopped his hand and merely shifted his gaze.

“I’m thinking about that too. Why do you ask?”

“Are you asking because you don’t know? You hate even making eye contact with Imae.”

Garon raised an eyebrow.

“Not at all. I actually like them. Their red eyes and unique smell stimulate my senses. As for the mongrels, I plan to observe them a bit longer and deal with them when the time comes. I’ve never excised purple eyes before.”

Raonhiljo’s nerves were immediately on edge.

“What do you mean?”

“Just as it sounds. I’m thinking about it.”

Garon spoke in a dry tone and resumed doodling. He wouldn’t tolerate even a single finger touching him. No matter who it was. Raonhiljo suppressed his burning anger and forced a relaxed smile. Suddenly, Garon’s gaze slid across the room like it was skimming the surface of water.

“But you seem excessively interested in the mongrel. Almost suspiciously so.”

“Of course. I still owe him a debt. I paid a fortune for a portrait, and thanks to you, I’m stuck waiting for my turn. It seems Garon himself is the one who’s being strange for changing his mind so suddenly.”

“Well, well…”

At that moment, Maga cautiously intervened. Looking up, Raonhiljo saw that all eyes were now focused on Oga.

“Your Excellency, please focus on the meeting and discuss personal matters later…”

“Oh, sorry.”

Raonhiljo felt like a problem child being scolded in class and forced a stiff smile. Garon, undeterred, immediately went back to his distraction. Raonhiljo squinted his eyes slightly. The boy, who had never clung to anything before, was an exception only when it came to painting the portrait. It seemed excessive for a vassal to swear loyalty. Although he didn’t like the boy’s attitude, he had no right to stop him from fulfilling his role as a painter. The problem was Garon’s attitude.

Soon after, Garon’s period of hesitation came to a short end, and he revealed his true nature once more. Last night, the victims of his hunt included seven soldiers and three court ladies. All of them were shot on the spot. Raonhiljo searched the vast palace all night long, looking for the boy. Eventually, by dawn, he learned that the boy had been taken to Garon.

He was not killed on the spot but was clearly ‘taken away.’ At least, Garon had no intention of killing him. It was better to wait and see, as further provocation might lead to unknown actions. His mind was tangled with thousands of thoughts. He hoped only to avoid the worst-case scenario and waited for the boy at Byeolwon through the night. His ominous premonition soon turned into reality.

That morning. He was relieved to confirm the boy’s safety upon entering Byeolwon. But the moment he saw the boy, who had brought traces of sexual activity on his body, he felt murderous intent towards Garon for the first time. The sight of the boy’s body covered in dozens of bullet holes and found as a corpse was as shocking as a thunderbolt. It was another means of massacre, like spraying bullets from Jincheonroe. The boy’s body, once again receiving brutal wounds, looked exhausted and as if it might collapse. His lifeless face was filled with venom, making it even more sorrowful. The only thought that crossed Raonhiljo’s mind was the desire to kill Garon.

“Stop working on the portrait. I’ll handle Garon, so get out of here immediately.”

“I must stay here until the portrait is completed. So, My Lord…”

“Follow me.”

“My lord, please…!”

The boy’s expression, unwavering and resolute, was incredibly firm. A faint suspicion suddenly emerged. Perhaps the boy’s approach to Garon was not solely for the portrait. There was a feeling that there might be something more, something involving feelings.

“Were you forced, by any chance?”

“……”

“I’ll ask again. Was it forced? Or not?”

“Whether it was forced or not, it’s not for My lord to concern yourself with the portrait. So please don’t interfere.”

Bang—!

A fist slammed into the wall, creating a faint ripple.

“I’m sick of hearing that.”

The boy, who didn’t even meet his gaze, was icy cold. The face, mistreated in someone else’s arms, was tainted with lust. It was a despair akin to having a carefully nurtured flower stolen by the roots. The patience that had been barely maintained shattered in an instant, and falling into the abyss was a mere moment.

“My lord…! Please, stop…! Ah…”

“Ha… ha… ah…”

The red lips parted, enticing with difficulty. He shoved his tongue inside and sucked it as if to pull it out by its root. The sensation that felt like it would melt, the saliva intertwining with each other’s tongues, and the soft nipples being coated with saliva were intense pleasures he had never felt from any courtesan.

He experienced a drop so shocking that it wouldn’t have been surprising if he had begged. If he hadn’t seen the boy’s pale face, he might have gone further. The pale face and the lips that seemed on the verge of bursting were clear rejections and fears. His head, which felt like it was about to explode, suddenly went cold. Ultimately, the final measure he chose was no different from violence. He had tried to heal the injured boy. But now he was on the verge of breaking that vow himself.

***

“That boy… will ruin my lord…I keep worrying about him being near my lord.”

Narsha had once said seriously while drinking together.

“A boy who ruins me…”

Raonhiljo chuckled softly.

“Well, maybe. But speak plainly. I’m the one beside him. He has never held me back.”

Narsha’s eyes sank heavily. Her finely drawn face had become increasingly melancholic lately.

“But he… has something that corrupts people. What scares me more is that he is completely unaware of it.”

Raonhiljo brought the cup to his lips and smiled bitterly. Despite having spent years together, she didn’t know. She pretended to be a gentleman who valued reason and restraint, but was no different from a beast hiding primal instincts. Or perhaps, he knew how Narsha had observed him all this time but pretended not to know. Things like that.

The aftermath of the incident was more severe than he had expected. Nights had increasingly been spent relying on alcohol to fall asleep. When he finally managed to sleep, he inevitably fell into nightmarish ecstasy. In dreams, the boy would bind him torturously with pleasure-filled eyes and manipulate him like a seductive creature.

The boy’s expressions, gestures, and even his soft skin and body scent were all consuming, intoxicating pleasures. Even in dreams, he incessantly pressured the boy. What kind of expression did he have when with Garon? Did he make moans and move his hips like this? Squirming in a lewd hole? Did he spew vulgar words while endlessly craving and probing? And the next day, when facing the boy, he always wore a contemptible mask. Forcing himself to suppress rising lust was increasingly reaching its limits.

***

That day was quite rainy. On his way back to his residence after finishing his duties, an unexpected shower came. Thanks to Narsha wisely informing him that her back was sore that morning, he had prepared rain gear in advance. As he leisurely spread the rain gear and admired the wet world, he saw the boy from afar. The boy was also running with a rain cover tightly held to his chest. His black hair and white clothes were drenched and clinging to his body. Although he wanted to see more of the boy’s oddly curved back, it would be troublesome if he caught a cold from the rain. Raonhiljo hurriedly ran over.

“Hey! Wait a minute…!”

Perhaps due to the loud sound of the rain mixing with his voice, the boy didn’t look back. It was quite a distance, and since the boy was running at full speed, it wasn’t easy to catch up. He had to make the boy look this way before he got any further. Reluctantly opening his mouth to call out to him, he realized one thing.

The boy had no name. Sadness and happiness are often clearer when viewed from a distance. Blinded by his desire to possess, he had never stopped to consider what the boy truly wanted. Above all, he must have wanted a name, but why hadn’t he realized that? Someone to call him by name when he was alone in the rain and to offer him an umbrella. Raonhiljo stared at the boy’s back as he ran through the rain.

Is it possible that even this view could be seen as a waste? Could such a thing happen? Someone, please answer me. Suddenly, a feeling different from pain began to throb in his chest. He had acted out drunk, tried to remain cold, and had been violently pushy, but all of it was pointless waste. He didn’t care what form the boy took when he came to him in the future. He wanted to erase all the hardships of his life from his mind and make him happier than anyone else.

And if by any chance, the boy would allow it… He wanted to give him a name. To find a name that suits him perfectly, to engrave a pretty name on those perpetually moist purple eyes, and to call him endlessly whenever their eyes met. He wanted to call him…

It would probably be then. When he began preparing slowly to completely possess the boy.

***

As he stepped into the courtyard, the clear sound of musical instruments resonated. Through the translucent paper doors, a graceful figure came into view. His mother had recently taken a great interest in the haegeum, taught to her by the court ladies. In this desolate palace life, the only things she could rely on were her one and only son and such small comforts. Recently, a proposal for a marriage with favorable conditions had come from the vassal states, but he had been able to do nothing but refuse. It was only natural that his mother would become upset with him for constantly rejecting such opportunities. Nevertheless, she always followed his decisions.

Raonhiljo stared at the shadow for a moment before making his presence known. Since there was no response, likely due to the sound of the instruments, he entered without hesitation. Only then did his mother notice his arrival and dismissed the court lady. Despite having an adult son, his mother possessed an innocent and beautiful face that made it hard to believe. As she looked at her son standing there vacantly, her eyes widened in surprise.

“Why are you here at this hour? Please, sit down. You look especially tired lately. I told you not to overwork yourself…”

Raonhiljo approached the beautiful woman, quietly knelt, and gazed at her with a serious expression.

“Mother…”

Perhaps from the moment he first met that person, he felt it. Because of that person who couldn’t belong anywhere, that person without even a name, he would become an unworthy son.

“From now on, I… I am going to be unfilial to you.”

***

His desire to leave Baedal Kingdom with that person grew stronger each day. As soon as dawn broke, he began preparations in earnest. He only told his mother that they needed to leave the castle, without explaining further. His mother, overwhelmed by vague fear, still blindly trusted and followed him as always. The top priority was to get his mother and relatives out of this land. If Garon, that madman, were to find them, he would undoubtedly use any means to find and exterminate them. While pondering a place to hide for the time being, the first place that came to mind was a hermitage he had discovered by chance deep in the mountains during his past travels.

Next was the matter of funds. He liquidated all his lands and assets through Narsha. The preparations were smooth and conducted in utmost secrecy. However, the most uncertain issue was the person who was the root of all this planning. Whether that person would follow him or refuse was anyone’s guess. Of course, if necessary, he was prepared to take them by force. But an unexpected incident hastened the plans.

“My Lord…! The Imae child…! They tried to steal Jincheonroe. Now, those involved in this incident are being bound in the courtyard. His Majesty is personally interrogating them!”

The feeling was like being struck with a blunt weapon. Hearing that Garon was interrogating them, he rushed without thinking. The person who was usually indifferent and nonchalant was an exception when it came to Garon. There was clearly something more than just wanting to paint a portrait. The only thing he could think of was that there was a heart involved. But a spy…? Had the real reason for approaching Garon all this time been not for the portrait or feelings but for Jincheonroe? If so, is it okay… Can he now take it with peace of mind?

Crash—-!!

The fierce flash shattered Jincheonroe. The cut-off barrel lay on the ground like a severed head. Raonhiljo, without hesitation, drove his sword into Garon’s shoulder. Garon’s eyes were enveloped in a chilling murderous intent. Striking the string, eungryong soared through the sky with a powerful flap of its wings. The explosive sounds from behind immediately created holes in his arms and waist. The mingling scent of gunpowder and blood made the person uneasy.

“My lord…!”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to worry. I’m here.”

He embraced the trembling body to prevent it from turning around. Now that they were in his arms, such injuries were nothing. All the anguish had already been neatly sorted out, and there was no reason to hesitate further. But what about you? Was it only a desire to escape from this hellish existence? Well, it doesn’t matter which. He embraced the person as if he would never let go. In the massive storm created by eungryong, he stood.

“Bring it.”

Raonhiljo calmly faced Garon. Veronjubille, who had become a back-room figure overnight, had said that Garon’s obsession with this person was similar to his fixation on war and murder weapons, just a temporary phenomenon. However, Garon did not view Jincheonroe with such eyes. He did not become aroused by Jincheonroe. He could not be unaware of the intense desire and the emotional state he could not take his eyes off. Those eyes were just like his own. He responded to Garon’s blood-scented gaze with the same eyes.

“Hey, my dear brother. Maybe we’re making a huge mistake. We’re obsessed with this person, but perhaps it was impossible from the beginning. This lecherous person who belongs to no one might be leading us to our doom. Whether to stop or not is no longer up to you or me. It’s up to this person who holds the key to all our fate.”

Thus, he declared.

As long as that master does not permit it, no one can stop the fight…

When the massive creature landed, the whole mountain trembled. It was hard to guess how far or how long it had been. It simply flew with the wind and arrived in a dark mountain. When the sound signaling the end of the long journey was heard, Raonhiljo’s body tilted to one side. Without having a chance to hold on, he fell to the ground.

“My lord…!”

Jumping down from eungryong, he helped Raonhiljo to his feet. Raonhiljo struggled to lift his hand and struck eungryong’s body to send it flying. Looking around, he was relieved to see the hermitage. Without further thought, he supported him and took him inside. As he laid him on the floor, Raonhiljo was in great pain from deep wounds. Lava-like blood flowed down from wounds whose origin was unknown, and the skin torn by bullets was unbearably hot. He pressed down hard on the heavily bleeding areas, but blood seeped through the gaps in his fingers. What… what should be done…? At that moment, Raonhiljo took out a dagger and handed it to him. Despite appearing in intense pain, he was more composed and resolute than ever.

“I don’t want to make you do this… but given my condition, it’s necessary. If we don’t finish it in one go, it will be painful for both of us… Please.”

Breath was caught in his throat. He had to cut through the flesh and dig out the bullets buried deep inside. Just imagining it made his spine chill, but there was no time to hesitate. He took the dagger and placed the blade on his thigh. The flesh was covered in blood, making it impossible to distinguish between the bullet and the flesh. He wanted to pull him out of the pain quickly, but his hands wouldn’t move as he wished.

“Hurry.”

He urged. It had to be done in one go. If not in one go! The metal pierced deeply into the flesh, and the bullet caught on the end of the dagger was cut out in one stroke. The sensation of scraping away living flesh was vividly transmitted. At the same time, a suppressed moan of pain erupted.

“Ugh…!”

“Just a little longer… Hang in there…!”

As he once again peeled away the flesh, a bullet as small as a pinky nail emerged, and he carefully extracted it without disturbing the surrounding muscles. Moving the dagger to a different spot, he hesitated not at all as he dug out the bullet once more. From his lips came a groan that was more intense than the blood itself. The dagger, covered in blood, trembled violently. It felt as though the whole world was shivering. Suddenly, a large hand enveloped his head.

“You did well. Just one more to go…”

The hoarse voice was suppressing the hellish pain. A hot surge rose in his throat. He gritted his teeth and plunged the tip of the dagger into the crimson muscle.

***

“Hah…”

After tearing Raonhiljo’s clothes to bind the wounds, he wiped his sweat and sighed in relief. Raonhiljo seemed to have exhausted all his strength, breathing heavily and lying limp. The wounds on his arms, legs, waist, and back were so severe that it was miraculous he was still alive. He looked at Raonhiljo’s sleeping face with a heavy heart. What had made him escape like this? Even knowing he was a spy, he had acted so recklessly without a plan… The thought of how to begin a conversation when he woke up was daunting, and how he would react was uncertain.

The dawn’s light streamed in through the window. After confirming Raonhiljo’s breathing, he quietly went outside. The hermitage, which he had never seen before, was shrouded in mist, obstructing the view, and covered with dense trees, resembling a hidden fortress. Although they had become stranded in the rugged mountains due to Eungryong, such a large creature would be easily noticeable. He thought Raonhiljo’s foresight in planning even this was impressive. Since treating the wounds with herbs was urgent, he walked into the bushes and began to search through the leaves. This wild mountain was like a field of gold.

Having once gathered herbs for his mother, he had some skill in identifying them. Although it was not ideal to distinguish between herbs and poisons in the dark, there was no option to bring a physician, nor the luxury to wait until dawn. With only the moonlight to guide him, he searched every nook and cranny, and something stuck to his face. It was a spider’s web. He had heard that spider webs were good for stopping bleeding. He searched every visible web and gathered it.

At that moment, a long stalk caught on his thigh, and he focused intently to examine it. The thin, long stalk was segmented like an insect’s leg, and at the end of the stalk was a cone-shaped spore, clearly horsetail. Horsetail was a good herb for wound recovery, and during the time when Imae Tribe’s stone-throwing made every day a struggle, he had rarely left home.

Entering the room, the smell of blood flooded in, and Raonhiljo was still deeply asleep. Approaching him, he wrapped the collected spider webs around the wound in several layers. The unexpectedly strong spider webs tightly covered the blood-soaked skin. He crushed the horsetail with a stone and applied it to the wound. As time passed, the bleeding stopped as if by magic, and he sighed in relief. Raonhiljo stirred and moved his lips. He brought his ear close to Raonhiljo’s mouth.

“…Yes? What did you say?”

Raonhiljo seemed to be unconsciously moving his dry lips in a quest for moisture. He quickly went outside and surveyed the area. He heard the sound of running water from somewhere. Behind the hermitage, on a slightly sloped pile of earth, water was collecting in a small puddle below. He hurried over, cupped his hands to scoop the water, but before he could take more than a few steps, the water slipped through his fingers. He tried a few more times but had the same result. Seeing no container nearby, he awkwardly bit his lips and took water into his mouth.

Returning inside, he let a little water drop from his hands to Raonhiljo’s lips and carefully lifted his head to press his lips to his. Ensuring the water did not spill, he let it flow into Raonhiljo’s mouth, who instinctively opened his mouth and drank. The water went down his throat, but not satisfied, Raonhiljo licked the remaining moisture from his lips and sucked every drop of water left in his mouth. The sensation of his tongue on his own was almost overwhelming, but he had no choice but to endure until Raonhiljo had taken enough. Raonhiljo’s tongue rubbed against his, taking away the last bit of moisture. As he felt the rhythm of Raonhiljo’s tongue becoming increasingly slow, his eyelids slowly lifted. He pulled away from Raonhiljo, wiping the saliva-soaked lips.

“…Are you coming to?”

The unfocused eyes drifted through the air before settling on him. It seemed that Raonhiljo was not fully clear-headed yet, as he stared blankly. When his eyes started to become a bit clearer, a dry voice was heard.

“Was it… because of Jincheonroe that you came into the castle?”

He could not respond. Raonhiljo struggled to lift his hand and cradle his chin, looking deeply into his eyes. There was no trace of interrogation or reproach, only a clear intention to verify the truth. Perhaps it would be accepted if he said that he had been used without knowing anything and was forced by threats. But everything had been his own choice. He did not avoid Raonhiljo’s gaze.

“Yes. I came to retrieve Jincheonroe.”

A bitter curve formed at Raonhiljo’s lips. He would be disappointed. He must feel wronged for having shown kindness without knowing such a fact.

“Then the reason you approached Garon was also because of Jincheonroe. If there’s anything else you’re hiding, tell me.”

He felt that it was no longer possible to hide or spin the truth. It was the minimum courtesy to the person who had endured so long and had rescued him recklessly. If it were this person… he felt he could reveal something he had not shared with anyone else.

“When Imae Village was attacked… my mother passed away.”

Raonhiljo’s eyes widened. But it was likely because he was hearing this story for the first time, not due to the news of his mother’s death. Raonhiljo must have suspected the death of his mother.

“I know Garon attacked Imae Village on his birthday. Then the real reason for coming to the castle is… to deal with Garon…”

The death of his mother and the Black Martial Emperor. Raonhiljo immediately seemed to arrive at the conclusion of revenge. He nodded slowly.

“It was to poison the Black Martial Emperor.”

He had wept every day over the unhealable and unforgettable pain. He had wondered why his mother had brought him into the world to live like this, why he was far more familiar with scorn and mockery than kindness, and thought he should have never been born. He had blamed his mother. No, that was just a petty excuse. If he had been stronger, he wouldn’t have sent his mother away in such a pitiful state.

“I buried my mother on Hanaru Mountain and continued… to live like a corpse. She was the reason I lived and the one who supported me, and after her disappearance, I could do nothing. I couldn’t breathe, let alone live, until I had personally dealt with the murderer who caused her such misery. If I was to live… I needed a reason to live.”