ETVC C39

Chapter 39

“What did you say?”
Yet the absurdity did not end there.

“He is so frail—what purpose would training serve? Better that he remain quietly beneath protection.”

Kang Gwonhoo pressed his point yet further.

“Do not mistake the curse-lifting for absolute trust. I have no intention of leaving my brother in your care.”

“Well,” Gwonhoo countered smoothly, “even so, would he not fare better if he trained beneath my hand?”

And though the words themselves were not spoken, I heard them as clearly as if they had been: You are weaker than I. Sohyeok must have discerned the same intent, yet he gave it no answer. Instead, with grim countenance, he fixed his gaze upon me.

“With whom will you train?”

“Choose whom you will.”

It was a dreadful choice, the sort of cruel question where neither answer could please.

After long deliberation, I raised Sohyeok’s hand. Gwonhoo’s sculpted features tightened; his brows rose and fell, his displeasure plain.

“Come now, must those of one guild part so coldly?”

The truth was, I imagined Sohyeok would grind me like a Spartan, yet Gwonhoo would rend my mind with ceaseless assaults. Better weary bones than a shattered spirit. Still, I was not so foolish as to utter this aloud.

“You… are ever so occupied, are you not?”

That served for my excuse. Sohyeok’s expression scarcely shifted, but satisfaction radiated from him as he grasped my shoulder.

“Very well. Then I must see for myself how well my elder learns beneath his idle younger brother.”

The smile Gwonhoo offered then was baleful, and promised no good.

I repented of my choice the very next day. Sohyeok led me to the guild’s training grounds, called the Dohwa Garden. That much I endured.

“Greetings, Guildmaster.”
“Good day, Guildmaster.”
“Ah—is this your elder brother?”
“Indeed, I’ve seen him once or twice in the news!”

Their stares, their idle curiosity—how wearying it all was. Some gazed upon me as though calculating what unflattering comparisons the press might write, weighing me against Sohyeok.

Perhaps now I begin to fathom why Baek Woojin grew twisted.

He had not been seen as himself, but only as the Guildmaster’s brother. Even I, in these few moments, felt suffocated. How much heavier must it have lain upon him?

Yet even this I endured. Once we descended into the training hall, no eyes remained to pry. What I could not endure—was Sohyeok himself.

That inflexible slave to discipline, who never wavered once he had resolved to act, now bent his Spartan will upon me.

“One hundred strokes. Slower.”

“How in God’s name could I go slower than this?”

For once, I was thankful my words passed through a filter. Yet even gratitude found no purchase, for Sohyeok’s commands gave me no respite. Since morning I had been striking the same blow again and again, and though my body was sound and I had slept at last, by the third hour I thought myself mad.

“Slower still. Tense every muscle.”

To one who had never trained, it was like being told to drink hot iced coffee. I strove, but the longer I did, the more it broke me. When I protested, Sohyeok only shook his head, insisting that without mastery of form, all else was meaningless. “You halt midway each time an enemy stands before you. That habit must be broken,” he declared.

His words struck true enough that I had no answer, and so, sweating, I laboured on. In truth, my lack of foundation was plain: I merely wielded the skills Woojin had honed, without any true grasp of the art. That Sohyeok perceived this at a glance made me want to bite him.

If only my assimilation rate would climb… then all would come easier.

But that was no secret I could reveal to the brother of the body’s true owner.

“You were wandering in thought. Begin again, from the first.”

That demon born of Sparta! Better, perhaps, had I chosen Gwonhoo, even if he likened me to a brainless mouse.

I should have known, when Sohyeok woke me at dawn.

Yet repentance ever comes too late.

“Ah, finish this set, and we shall eat.”

Like a cat teasing a mouse, he dangled food as reward. Tears of joy nearly pricked my eyes.

“Hold your form.”

Ah yes. The cat thought of the mouse, but only by a hair’s breadth. Nothing like our Meow, who loved without measure.

“I am dying.”

Collapsing after the final stroke, I lay upon the ground.

“You must not lie down after training. Wash, and then eat.”

Not only a tyrant, but a nag. Brother or younger, I scarce could tell. Today especially, he shone with that trait one hears of: the younger who outstrips the elder.

“There is the shower. There, the place for clothes.”

The guildhall was not vast, but each chamber was well wrought. For a moment, I thought, This would be a fine place to belong.

No. Do not be deceived. The Guildmaster himself grinds men to dust.

I staggered like a newborn lamb, bathed, and emerged to find Sohyeok waiting. Once, his presence thus might have struck me as handsome; today, he looked rather the Reaper. His glance seemed to say, And this is how you mean to protect yourself? I ignored it.

“Come, to the dining hall. We must not waste time going out.”

I do not mind wasting time!

But as ever, my protest remained unspoken. Surely, I thought, he meant to drive me further yet.

“Are you not busy? Is the guild so idle?”

“Oh, we have little work at present.”

Liar! I had seen the Vice-Guildmaster, restless and anxious in the training hall not hours past. Release me, monster!

Yet silent cries availed me naught.

Dragged as if to execution, I followed—until the savour of food reached me, and my head rose of itself. Simple I might be, but hunger was stronger than pride.

The guild employed three chefs, each serving their dishes.

“Come to dine, Guildmaster? It has been some time.”

One of them greeted Sohyeok with easy warmth.

“And this fine young man? A new recruit?”

A stranger, at last, who did not know me. Such ignorance was a balm.

“My elder brother.”

He spoke the truth—and my heart plunged as though from a cliff. The echo of its fall was mine alone to hear.

“Ah, how do you do.”

Forcing brightness into my tone, I returned the greeting.

“Well, no wonder he is so handsome. Your parents must feel full though they eat no rice.”

Plainly, the chef knew little of our affairs.

“Ah, so this is why you asked for something special today—because you brought your brother?”

Surely not, I thought, and yet when I glanced aside, Sohyeok’s ears bore the faintest flush.

Could it be true?

That he might harbour such gentle whims never crossed my mind. That Woojin had hated him so, it was perhaps proof of Woojin’s own ruin.

“One must eat well, to train.”

Ah, no. The tenderness was but cruelty in disguise. Before me lay dishes prepared precisely to my taste, yet they seemed a funeral offering, and I the mourner.

Still, funeral feasts are ever delicious.

So I ate it all, without leaving a grain. The food, homely and warm, brought a comfort that none of the fine fare Sohyeok had purchased outside ever had.

“The cook hails from the same province as your mother. Perhaps that is why the flavour seems familiar.”