ETVC C29

Chapter 29

Kang Gwonhoo’s voice was soft, yet within it lay a blade. The look in Baek Soohyuk’s eyes grew ever darker, and I could see plainly the tightening of his grip upon his swords. It seemed they might truly come to blows, and I had no means to prevent it.

Should I attempt to invoke the guild war as a pretext to halt them? Yet no—the allotted time for battle has already passed.

“Speak plainly,” said Soohyuk, his voice hoarse and rough. He had been weighed with fatigue, torn between tending me and being summoned to his duties. Though his condition was far from whole, retreat was foreign to him. He would face an unwinnable fight rather than step back.

Is such indomitable will the very marrow of a hero?

He was no hot-blooded man by nature, but before Kang Gwonhoo he never managed restraint. Perhaps it was because Gwonhoo stood as the very embodiment of what defied his ideals. Later—when choices of allegiance were demanded, when allies fell and quests grew bloodied—this loathing only deepened. That their enmity should burn so fiercely even now, in these preliminary days, I had not foreseen.

“A month—three weeks at the very earliest.”

Soohyuk flinched, his hand upon the sword slackening for an instant. Any keen eye would have marked the wavering in him.

“How could you possibly…?”

The words slipped forth, stripped of their former certainty.

“The curse-breakers you may call upon are few, bound by your righteous dealings. Once one examines their schedules, the calculations are hardly complex. No doubt you just returned from an attempt at negotiation—and failed.”

Indeed, no one could match the breadth of information held by the man who ruled the underworld.

“And so you come here, armed with that knowledge.”

“I came because there is something I wish to say to Woojin—and you are in the way.”

He laid stress upon the words just the two of us as he reached to stroke my hair. His touch was unexpectedly delicate, and though not unpleasant, I felt myself a pawn between them, longing to sink through the floor and escape.

“If you dare place Woojin in danger, I shall not stand idle,” said Soohyuk.

Strange though it was, I felt a flicker of warmth at his words. He feigned indifference, yet this was proof that he harboured some measure of gratitude.

Perhaps the quest may yet be cleared. This hospital stay may not be in vain.

“And pray, who was it that endangered him this time?” Gwonhoo countered.

“It shall not happen again.”

“What happens once may happen twice, thrice, and oft thereafter.”

Soohyuk had not yet the practiced tongue to match Gwonhoo’s seasoned guile. Though he bore no weapon in hand, Gwonhoo’s presence alone pressed Soohyuk back; his words cut sharper than steel.

“The aid Woojin needs shall come from me. The curse-breaker I have secured shall arrive long before yours.”

“What…?”

The strength fled from Soohyuk’s shoulders. I saw mingled relief and futility in that slight motion.

“Since you are too dense to grasp it, I shall put it plainly: I am no danger to Woojin. You are. Before you accuse me, look first to yourself.”

Gwonhoo pressed heavily upon his shoulder. Their animosity rose to its peak, yet strangely, Soohyuk could not muster a single rebuttal.

Could it be… has he fallen prey to such a crude provocation?

Pondering, I arrived at a more likely truth—that his guilt over my curse weighed upon him, shackling his tongue. He was ever a man bound by duty.

“You see it so yourself, do you not?”

Gwonhoo’s hand still gripped his shoulder, crumpling his clothes, holding him fast as though he were a specimen pinned for display.

“N-no!”

Pity stirred in me, and my lips moved before thought could restrain them.

Both men turned at once, startled by my voice. I had spoken to ease the suffocating tension, yet the words burst forth unbidden, supporting Soohyuk despite my intent. And strangely, they were not twisted by the cursed state that so often warped my tongue.

Why did the filter fail?

Speculation churned within me. Perhaps the curse only warped speech when it was lengthy—or perhaps only when it was addressed directly to Soohyuk. There was one way to test it.

“Do not condemn another for a choice that was mine alone,” I said.

The words left me as I wished, clear and unaltered. Their astonished faces confirmed I was not alone in hearing them so.

This… this is a discovery of worth.

The curse, it seemed, bound only speech directly addressed to him. When words passed through another, or when the object was indirect, it left them be.

Still—I must tread with care until I know the limits.

“Hyung…”

At last, Soohyuk’s stern mask crumbled. It was not enough to erase the guilt shadowing him, yet it softened the distance between us.

“Baek Woojin, you are a mystery,” murmured Gwonhoo, smiling broadly. Yet his was no smile of mirth; it chilled me, sharp with disquiet.

Is it because I move not according to his will?

He slipped a hand into his pocket and drew forth a packet of cigarettes. Deranged though he was, he did not light one—perhaps out of some shred of sense, or the pretense of it.

“I must depart. Work awaits me. Truth be told, I find your company more diverting, Woojin—but the incessant meddling at your side has grown tiresome.”

Perhaps his “work” was nothing more than the cigarette he toyed with. Still, I had no cause to refuse the quiet his departure promised.

“I shall be in touch regarding what comes next. But if you plan to leave this place, do not do so before six tomorrow evening. Best remain in your chamber until the event concludes.”

It was sound advice. I nodded assent—and suddenly his hand seized my chin.

“Wha—?”

Startled as I was, Soohyuk’s reaction was greater still. He raised his blades in fury, poised to strike, when Gwonhoo leaned close and whispered in my ear:

“Do not forget—you owe me an answer.”

Then, with the ease of a serpent slipping its coil, he retreated. While Soohyuk hesitated, fearing his blades might touch me, Gwonhoo escaped unscathed.

“Be sure to water the roses, lest they wither.”

With that absurd farewell, he vanished. Only the faint fragrance of roses and the scattered bottles of plum drink bore witness that he had truly been there. Silence fell over the chamber. Soohyuk slowly put away his swords, his hands empty once more.

“Perhaps… perhaps he was right.”

The words, heavy with emptiness, drifted through the air. His bowed head concealed his expression, yet I knew it must mirror the one he had worn moments earlier, pierced by Gwonhoo’s barbs. I could not fail to know his heart.

Ah… guilt stings like this. This is why one should not deceive.

I longed to tell him not to heed Gwonhoo—that such words were but the venom he wielded best. Yet now was not the time. Silence was my shield, though I still yearned to offer him solace.