Toxin

“Do you not remember? Pungbaek is acting individually under a special order from Your Majesty.”

“Is that so?”

Garon absentmindedly responded, stepping onto the porch without even closing the door. At that moment, the Grand Chamberlain came running from the far end of the porch, his flesh jiggling.

“Your, Your Majesty…! W-We found her! We found Lady Yehui…!”

The name the Grand Chamberlain mentioned didn’t immediately register in his mind, so Garon stepped in the opposite direction. But the urgency in the voice stopped his steps.

“Lady Yehui! The mother of the criminal Raonhiljo is being captured and brought in as we speak!”

It was the fifteenth day of pursuing the fugitive.

***

“We barely managed to find the hired man. Just like Your Majesty commanded, we gave him three times the usual payment, and he immediately revealed the hideout. Truly! Heaven must be moved by Your Majesty’s dedication! Indeed!”

The Grand Chamberlain spoke with a face that looked like all his fatigue had washed away. In the middle of the spacious room, a woman surrounded by dark men stood with a composed expression. But her trembling body was something she couldn’t hide. Beside her, an elderly maid shook like an aspen leaf, quietly sobbing. In one corner stood a clown, dressed in absurd makeup and clothing.

. A rhythmic noise echoed through the silence. The wooden floor marred by the blade of a sword resembled the mess left by an animal’s gnawing. Garon, leaning against a cabinet, bit down on his smoking pipe, watching the frightened people with amusement. The woman, calming the crying maid, locked eyes with him with a resolute gaze.

“There’s nothing I can tell you. I was caught off guard myself, so I didn’t have the time to explain properly. While it’s true that smuggling out a spy is a crime worthy of punishment, I ask you to consider the bond of blood and release us. As a mother, I beg for mercy.”

“To think that despite your son abandoning you and fleeing with a mongrel, you still wish to protect him. What a touching display of motherly love.”

“That was his choice, and I believe in it. Even if a sword is at my throat, you won’t hear anything from me. Please, I beg of you, let my child go! If you wish, I will offer my life in exchange!”

Garon looked down at the woman with cold eyes. His sharp lips twisted.

“I see. That’s what a mother would naturally do.”

Then, with a dangerous movement, he stood up from the cabinet. His blood flowed faster, and the alcohol hit him all at once. Dragging his longsword, he walked toward the woman and stopped in front of her. The elderly maid, terrified, dropped her gaze to the floor, her teeth chattering. Garon stared lazily at the woman’s face, which resembled Raonhiljo’s.

“Unfortunately, that’s not why I called you here.”

Garon’s sword sliced through the air with a sharp gleam. Through the haze of his thoughts, he heard a scream of terror from somewhere. With precise rhythm, the frail body was torn apart bit by bit. Amidst the spraying blood, the woman’s screams sounded like a melody. A shiver of excitement ran through him. He wanted them to feel the horror of their imminent deaths, to carve their guilt deep into their bones. The sword that had moved with mechanical precision lost its direction. At that moment, someone hurriedly grabbed Garon’s hand—Unsa.

“Please stop! It’s already…!!”

Unsa, his eyes wide with shock, looked at the gruesome scene spread across the floor. Garon, searching for the woman who had disappeared, lowered his gaze to the ground. His mind reacted a beat too late. On the floor lay the shattered remains of a body so destroyed it was unrecognizable. The faces of those standing nearby were distorted beyond recognition, as if smeared. The clown, pale as a sheet, lay on the ground sobbing.

“P-Please spare me! Spare me…! Hrk… sob sob…”

Garon spoke to the clown, who had his head bowed at his feet.

“Make a song of this scene, missing not a single detail, and spread it far and wide. Let it ring in Raonhiljo’s ears.”

Let it be so tragic that he cannot resist coming.

If he insists on running, I will make him come of his own accord.

***

He wandered aimlessly through the city soaked in darkness. Rain poured down as if it would devour the world. His clothes and hair were disheveled, and his drenched garments weighed him down. His eyes, once cold and sharp, had lost focus. Smoke trailed behind him from the pipe between his fingers. Time felt stagnant, stuck in place. He couldn’t recall how many days had passed since they had disappeared, his sense of time dulled. He had even forgotten the reason why the boy had run.

A voice mixed with rain echoed in his mind.

“Don’t move…”

“You moved. Just tilt your head a bit to the right…”

Since the boy fled, every time he drifted into a shallow sleep, he appeared in his dreams without fail. His vision was dominated by the boy’s body and laughter. That alone awakened his dulled senses. Ever since he tasted the boy for the first time, without fail, he had experienced the highest pleasure, constantly craving more. He was helplessly at the boy’s mercy, like a defeated soldier.

“I’m used to going hungry and being treated like livestock…”

The boy’s eyes, which had always met his mockery, reflected all the futility of the world. What did the tears he showed in the end mean? What was that expression trying to convey? The boy always looked haggard and uneasy in his dreams. And cold. He looked cold, just like the day he walked naked through the fortress.

In his dreams, there was no hesitation. The boy’s terrified violet eyes were engraved in his mind, and without pause, he tore him apart. He ripped the boy’s legs and shoved his manhood into the damp hole, skinning him alive. He would kill them both side by side. He would chew every last piece of the flesh and bones. He trampled the body mercilessly, defiling it cruelly. Finally, he released himself onto the face stained with pain and fear.

When he regained his senses, his body was invariably stained with blood. He often couldn’t tell if it was a dream, a hallucination, or reality. No matter how much alcohol he poured into himself, he couldn’t get drunk on this cursed night.

He bit into his pipe, as if chewing on someone’s bones. His temples throbbed. His staggering steps felt like they were sinking into a quagmire. His eyes scanned the tavern as they slid left and right. Then, something flickered in the rain, and he froze.

A pale face, hair falling down to the waist, a wet body. It was clearly him. A sharp pain seemed to pierce his lungs. He instinctively lunged forward. Brushing past the crowd, his gaze was fixed solely on one point. The figure was disappearing into the crowd. He had to stop him before he vanished completely, had to make him turn around. But there was no name he could call out. As he steadily closed the distance, he gripped the boy’s wrist tightly, almost to the point of breaking it. The boy spun around suddenly, bewildered.

“W-What…?”

Garon’s eyes twitched faintly. The savage sound of bones being crunched seeped through his clenched teeth. He drew his sword in an instant. Just as he was about to stab it into the boy’s eyes, a hand stopped his murderous intent.

“Your Majesty…! What are you doing?!”

Smack—! Garon swung his hand fiercely without even checking who had intervened, landing a harsh slap. As he raised his sword to strike again, this time Unsa rushed in from the other side to block the blow.

“Please, calm down! This boy is not Imae!”

Garon stared at the trembling, terrified boy as if ready to tear him apart. The boy’s black eyes shook with fear.

“P-Please, spare me…”

The voice was different. The purple eyes were absent, as was the white horned dagger. That one would never say such things in the face of death. The fevered storm of thoughts suddenly cooled. A heart he didn’t even know he had was now being gouged out by a burning piece of iron. A gust of wind swept through the gaping hole left behind. That figure was constantly reminding him that even he had a heart.

He chuckled quietly, his shoulders twitching. A hollow laugh shattered like the rain. The downpour showed no sign of letting up, and he needed something to pass this dreary night. When his eyes once again settled on the boy, they were filled with a murderous gleam.

“Prepare the feast.”

It was time for the emperor’s festival.

***

The heavy rain drenched the plaza, which consisted of only a few trees and rocks. The official wearing a rain hat had a tense expression as he lined up the boys. All of them, standing in a row like a well-set banquet, sniffled in terror. Similar builds, similar hair, similar faces. This would do. On rainy days, the Jincheonroe didn’t work properly. He planned to get it over with quickly and enjoy a good night’s sleep. Garon tossed his pipe aside and rested the Jincheonroe on his shoulder. His alcohol-sodden steps were unsteady.

“What are you waiting for? Run.”

The Grand Chamberlain, who had been sheltering him with an umbrella, shouted at the top of his lungs.

“What are you doing, hurry! Run, now!”

Despite the Grand Chamberlain’s orders, the boys just glanced at one another nervously. One of them asked hesitantly.

“W-Where to…?”

Garon aimed his gun, placing his finger on the trigger. His voice, sweet like honey, melted into the heavy rain.

“Anywhere. I’ll hunt you all down.”

A hole pierced the boy’s forehead.

“Agh…!!”

“Ahhh…!”

Only then did the remaining boys scatter, running for their lives. Garon was about to pull the trigger on another boy when the barrel was forced upward. Unsa had thrown himself into his line of sight.

“Your Majesty, stop! How far do you plan to descend into madness?!”

Garon immediately aimed the barrel at Unsa, who nimbly dodged the bullet. Without hesitation, Garon turned back to find his target.

The torrential rain blurred his vision. He sharpened his senses to follow the sound. Off in the distance, he caught the end of a head of hair disappearing behind a large tree. Without hesitation, he fired the Jincheonroe.

The boy’s brains exploded like a brilliant firework. One boy, crawling away from his friend’s corpse, tried to escape. But his frail body was also shattered beyond recognition. Garon began searching for his next prey.

***

Suddenly, something darted between the trees. A demon peeked out from behind a pillar, casting him a seductive glance. Crimson lips that had once swallowed his seed curled up into a smile. He had to tear out that tongue and destroy everything that once brought him such ecstasy.

***

The bullet he fired missed its mark and lodged in a tree trunk. The demon moved just out of reach, flitting in and out of his range. It scattered bewitching smiles, endlessly provoking him. The target danced on the line between boldness and secrecy, and the occasional glimpses of its eyes were an irresistible forbidden fruit. Chasing after the tempting apparition, Garon relentlessly closed the distance, only for the demon to evade his bullets time and again, mocking him as he pursued blindly.

The sound was like something collapsing, a sharp explosion echoing through the air. His lust, resembling both madness and bloodlust, had spiraled completely out of control. The cries of bloodshed further fueled the killer’s frenzy. With a mind trapped in a limbo between good and evil, life and death, his gaze was clouded by a haze of delirium. The deafening gunshots, the visceral destruction, and the chaos were the only release for his insatiable thirst. Yet, even the sweetest screams failed to quench it. Ever since “they” had escaped, no thrill had ever truly sated him. It was no longer a game but a slippery descent into ruin.

Suddenly, a burning pain seized his insides. As the rain-soaked world blurred, dark red blood gushed from his mouth. It flowed like a waterfall, staining his collar and shattering as it hit the ground. He stood there, staring emotionlessly at the blood-soaked ground for a moment, then wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. That’s when he noticed a trembling figure hiding behind a rock.

A boy clutched his chest and collapsed to the ground. Garon approached immediately. He stripped the boy of his clothes and forcibly shoved the muzzle of his gun into the boy’s rear. A piercing cry erupted, but after one final twitch, the boy no longer needed to fear anything. As he turned his head to search for the next prey, the entire scene had transformed into a sea of blood. Not yet. He hadn’t found the real one yet. His unfocused eyes were adrift in a sea of emptiness.

Just then, something flashed between the trees—a glimpse of a white hem. Pale skin reflecting the moonlight, long hair cascading down to the waist, and a faintly visible white horn. A wet body… It was finally here, the prey he had longed for. His lips curled into a vicious grin. The dark clouds swallowed the sky, the rain continued its relentless downpour—perfect weather for execution. Slowly, he closed the distance, savoring every step. The trapped creature, trembling in fear, grew paler with every second. His finger curled around the trigger.

“Are you afraid? You shouldn’t have run from me in the first place.”

He aimed Jincheonroe at the center of the creature’s forehead. Trembling lips let out ragged breaths. The rain pounded down like a funeral dirge. The creature, resigned to its fate, shivered weakly under the torrent, just as it had done that day when it had pressed the gun to its own head and pulled the trigger. It looked utterly exhausted, tragically so.

Why that face? Didn’t you want to escape from me?

Clear tears slid silently down the creature’s cheeks. Wet hair clung to its sinuous body, swaying with the wind like a delicate shroud. Its hand reached for his, fingers tangling gently with the one curled around the trigger. For a moment, the touch lingered, as if testing his reaction, then slowly pulled his hand close, wrapping it softly in its own. The creature’s tongue emerged, tenderly licking the blood from his fingers.

The red tongue flicked between his fingers, tracing the line up slowly, tenderly. The cold, wet face beyond his fingertips radiated an intoxicating fragrance, as if begging him for something. Its violet eyes, deep and hollow as death, gazed at him, filled with an unspeakable desire.

“Is it because… I’m disgusting like vermin…?”

“Is that why you want to kill me so badly…? Am I that revolting to you…?”

His eyes darkened as he sank deeper. No, you… The agonizing sensation in his chest was suffocating. The soft licks of the tongue and the inexplicable tears stirred something deep within, sending ripples through his heart. The tremor seized his core. His gaze dimmed into darkness. He grabbed the creature’s hair roughly and devoured its lips, biting down as he sucked its saliva.

“Hah…”

A deep breath escaped as the thirst began to ease. The intense heat at his center twitched violently. He savored the soft flesh between his teeth, smearing and crushing the creature’s lips with fervor. The creature pulled away slightly, cradling his face with trembling hands. He gazed deep into the creature’s hollow violet eyes, which seemed to long for something to fill them. The wet eyelashes on its pale cheeks glistened like sharp cuts. The tear clinging to the corner of its eye was a clear crystal against its snow-white skin.

Come to me first before I find you. If you return on your own…

Maybe I’ll forgive you, just once…

Instead of answering, the creature licked the blood from his lips with its tongue. He groaned, breathing deeply, as his desire flared even hotter. Pressing against the tree, he explored the creature’s body, now clinging to him. He wrapped his arms around its waist, embracing it fully as if trying to soothe a restless soul. Burying his nose in its nape, he inhaled the intoxicating scent of its skin, feeling as if his twisted soul was momentarily healed. In the silence that followed, with the world’s noises shut out, he gave himself entirely to the creature.

“Where are you?! I’m asking you, where are you?!”

The voice shattered the illusion. His eyelids slowly lifted. His arms held nothing but rainwater. Everything had vanished without a trace. Only the pounding rain and the metallic taste of blood remained to anchor him to reality. Veronjubille, scolding the Grand Chamberlain, froze when she saw him.

“Your Majesty… the blood…”

Veronjubille pointed at something, but his blank expression didn’t change. Her gaze shifted downward, and she paled at the sight of the corpses scattered across the ground. Gripping her parasol tightly, she steadied her breath and approached him cautiously.

“I did as you commanded, Your Majesty.”

She took a careful step closer.

“Just as you instructed… I met Narsha. I followed your orders precisely. By now, I’m sure Pungbaek is tracking them as they rush to Raonhiljo, unaware of being pursued…”

His eyes slowly shifted toward Veronjubille. From beneath his wet hair, his gaze flashed.

“You came all this way just to deliver that message?”

“Yes, Your Majesty… I wanted to tell you as soon as possible.”

Finally, Garon wrapped his arm around Veronjubille’s waist.

“How sweet.”

At the sound of the gentle voice, Veronjubille’s eyes welled up with tears. She lifted her face and pressed her cheek against the firm chest, gazing up at the emperor’s cold yet mesmerizing appearance. Even the cruelty hidden beneath that beautiful exterior was intoxicating to her. Her lips parted slightly, then closed again as if waiting for something. Garon glanced down at her voluptuous body with indifferent eyes before lowering his head. Finally, he granted her what she had longed for. He engulfed her full lips in one motion and pushed his tongue inside. The way her tongue coiled around his was repulsive, and the overwhelming incense made his stomach turn. Veronjubille shivered with a heated breath, her shoulders trembling. He half-heartedly moved his tongue around before pulling back his lips. As he withdrew, he noticed the corpses scattered beyond her shoulder.

Come back to me before I find you.

If not, I’ll make you regret that choice bitterly, in the most brutal way I can imagine.

It had already been a month of living on the run. The soldiers of Baedal Kingdom had taken control of every waterway and mountain pass, leaving us with nowhere to hide. The relentless pursuit of Yongpa tracked us wherever we went. Raonhiljo had his share of troubles too, but the biggest problem was my appearance. It drew too much attention, so I always had to resort to disguises. By tonight, we would finally cross the borders of Baedal Kingdom and enter the continent’s frontier. I’d heard the crossing required strict procedures, and while I was anxious about how we would manage or what life in a strange land would hold for us, I didn’t ask. I was certain Raonhiljo had already prepared everything up to that point. The reality of it finally began to sink in—we didn’t have much time left.

Even with the tightening dragnet and the oppressive heat, Raonhiljo never stopped his “games.” One day he would be my master, and I his servant. Another day he was a merchant from Sumil Kingdom, and I his slave. Sometimes we were a butler and a young lord. The scenarios pouring from his mind were endless, but there was always one constant: he was the master. And not once had I called him “master” or “lord.” Not that I ever refused to play along. We both understood that our squabbles over who played which role or which clothes we wore were just another form of struggle.

“Ma’am, you should watch your step.”

“We’ll find somewhere to rest soon. Just hang in there, ma’am.”

This time, it was “mistress and servant.” Apparently, I had been chosen as the mistress solely because the outfit didn’t suit him. I shot a sharp glance at Raonhiljo.

“Keep this up, and I really won’t hold back this time.”

“Come on, bear with it. It’s not like I could wear it.”

Raonhiljo chuckled. He was draped in a simple linen cloth, the kind worn by commoners, but even in rags, his striking looks stood out. As for me… the thin veil draped over my head perfectly concealed my face and horns. The vibrant red silk, adorned with flower-petal patterns, was an exquisite piece that would make any woman envious.

We each led a white horse as we approached the borderlands of the continent. I had become somewhat accustomed to riding after so much traveling. As we entered a forest path, we came upon a wide river. After watering and feeding the horses, Raonhiljo sat me in the shade of a large rock.

“Eat this for now.”

He handed me something wrapped in oiled cloth. When I opened it, I found raw meat. The fresh, bloodied flesh looked appetizing, but I hesitated. Still, I knew I had to eat, even if it was forced. As I turned slightly to take a bite, I could feel his gaze lingering. Raonhiljo watched the bloody raw meat for a moment before taking a piece for himself. No sooner had he put it in his mouth than he spat it out, grimacing in disgust. I couldn’t help but laugh at his impulsiveness.

“Why do something so foolish?”

“You. You were eating it so deliciously that I got confused. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you eat like that, though.”

Raonhiljo’s wounds had been healing steadily, thanks to the treatments he received at every village we visited. Despite the long journey, he seemed only slightly fatigued. The real problem was me. Extreme insomnia had left me unable to sleep, which affected my appetite, and I had visibly lost weight. Raonhiljo had done his best to help, keeping me company until I fell asleep or bringing me candles and teas to soothe my restlessness, but none of it worked.

“When did the insomnia start?”

“It must have been from the day my mother… passed.”

“Oh…” he murmured quietly.

“You said you buried her remains on Hanaru Mountain, right? We should visit her there someday.”

I hadn’t expected him to say that. I looked up at him.

“You don’t want to?”

He asked. How could I? The thought of my mother’s soul waiting for me on that mountain filled my heart with sorrow. Even though it was an uncertain promise, I felt grateful for his words. I gave him a faint smile. He brushed the corner of my lips with his finger.

“You smile a lot. I always thought you were cold.”

“I smile often. I just haven’t had much reason to lately.”

“Oh, so you’re saying there’s plenty of reason to smile now? That’s what it sounds like, being with me.”

His gaze was as light as the breeze. I lifted my head from where it had fallen.

“Think whatever you want. I won’t stop you.”

Raonhiljo narrowed his eyes and perched on the rock. His features, shadowed by the tree, took on a wistful expression.

“Yeah, keep smiling. Or, better yet… don’t.”

His low voice resonated. His eyes, usually so full of energy and wit, looked as though they were caught in a downpour. Whenever he made that expression, I never knew how to respond. I took another bite of the meat resting on my lap, and his cool voice fell from above me.

“I’m still thinking about your name, but nothing seems quite right.”