ETVC C41

Chapter 41

“First, let us speak of what awaits on the morrow.”

“But did you truly draw these two into it? I had not intended for Jun to be involved.”

I voiced the words with care. In truth, I had hoped for Lady Jisoo’s company in this quest. Indeed, I had sought to recruit her with that very purpose in mind, and for her future, too, it would not be ill. Yet the matter of young Jun was another tale altogether.

“They are both possessed of talent,” replied Kang Gwonhoo. “In particular, Lady Jisoo is already quite accomplished.”

No doubt—she bore the strength of the giants. Even in the tale itself, it was Gwonhoo who awakened her power, so it seemed he had followed the same course once more.

“I have something to say.”

Lady Jisoo, who had claimed the sofa before all others, raised her hand, formally declaring her intent to speak. So great her seriousness that I began to fear her words.

“Do not speak of drawing us in or leaving us out. You two ever whisper your plans together, while we are cast aside until our use is needed. That shall no longer be endured.”

When had I ever ostracized them? Yet indignation surged to the very base of my throat.

“Therefore, I deemed it right, before this great trial, that we should take time to know one another’s hearts. And for that, nothing serves better than…”

Jisoo nudged Jun with her elbow, as though they had rehearsed a scene from a play.

“…a feast and recreation.”

Jun delivered the line with solemn earnestness. I could only remain silent.

“Not a poor thought at all,” mused Gwonhoo, nodding as if he had heard some profound lecture. What, pray, was not poor about it?

“Let us fetch a fine wine.”

The man least likely to care for such trifles flung open the cabinet with enthusiasm. Jisoo’s eyes lit with delight.

“Truly?”

“There is a child present. No liquor.”

That was the strongest objection I could muster. After much insistence, with Jisoo licking her lips in regret, we settled instead upon meat and juice for our first guild feast.

“Am I to be invited into the guild, only to be treated like some rice-sack in a corner? I joined with resolve, not to be left idle.”

“My sister speaks true,” Jun agreed, nodding like a doll. “I wished for many things to do with you, Brother, but scarce have I seen your face.”

Their points differed, yet together they pressed me into a corner.

“Still—is it not better than sending you to risk your lives?”

I sought to shield myself with safety as a defence.

“I have no wish to live on charity. I train, I earn good coin. I entered to lend aid, not to receive it. How stifling must you think it is for me to be kept thus!”

Her words—half reproach, half compliment—pierced my flimsy shield. I shrank beneath her vehemence.

Why do I feel as though I am being scolded?

“Indeed!”

Jun’s constant nodding grew wearisome.

“I beg your pardon.”

For the tenth time, I offered apology, even as I peered at Jisoo’s glass to confirm it truly held juice. Its hue was no different from mine, but her behaviour was all too like that of the inebriated.

“This time, I shall join of my own will, come what may.”

“And I, too. Without fail.”

“I have said I understand.”

“I have trained them myself,” added Gwonhoo. “They shall not perish so easily. Trust them.”

Then I knew why their frames had grown lean. The very word “training” drew a look to their faces as though they had swallowed gall.

So they have been worked near as hard as I.

Thereafter, we spoke of our training, and of the second guild war that loomed on the morrow. By midnight, Jun was nodding, muttering half-dreaming words.

“Brother, if you knew how grateful I am, you would be astonished.”

Beside him, Jisoo too lay sprawled as though drunk, though she had not touched a drop. Between their sleeping forms, Gwonhoo’s presence was ill-fitted. I rose to rouse them, but his gaze clung fast to me.

“And so,” he asked softly, “may I know the reason you seek to join the second war?”

A faint smile lingered upon his lips.

“I should think you have already guessed.”

Gwonhoo knew I bore quests beyond the ordinary, and no doubt he had formed his own convenient conclusions. In truth, I sought to avert disaster, but I chose instead to let him misinterpret as he pleased.

“Even when one guesses, the heart craves confirmation.”

How ironic—that he who read men’s thoughts so deftly now spouted empty sentiment. His fingers tapped lightly upon a book I had left behind, its cover familiar to me.

“If there were a door through which I might behold your heart, I should loiter before it all my life. Though I dared not open it, still I could not hide my yearning gaze. Such is the depth of my love for you.”

I blinked in astonishment. That he had read the book never once occurred to me. His eyes ensnared mine like a serpent’s coil—hard to flee, harder still to break free.

“And I—were it mine to choose—would break the door down to know. A fool’s way, is it not?”

“Was that a warning? That, should means exist to read my heart, you would seize them without scruple?”

“How you interpret it is yours alone.”

We gave no answers, only questions, circling one another like wary predators. Yet unlike me, Gwonhoo could fashion truths from the smallest clues.

“Rest now, Woojin. Tomorrow is weighty.”

Whether he had gained aught or nothing, I could not tell.

“Good heavens, what a crowd.”

“There were far fewer in the first war.”

The first skirmish had been scattered across Seoul—each district its own battleground, each with limited numbers. This time, the surviving guilds of every quarter gathered in one place. Though fewer in total, their mass within a single space was daunting.

“Time draws near. How shall they commence it?”

Jun’s eager question needed no answer.

[Greetings! We are your hosts for the second guild war—Shiri and Kay!]

As in the tale, from a twisted space emerged a bear and a rabbit doll.

“What in the world?”

“Is there a puppeteer behind them?”

The crowd broke into chatter.

[We are fragments of the great System! Granted life in exchange for our endless toil!]

The rabbit, Shiri, twirled gaily in midair.

[Do not think to shatter us in anger! These bodies are but vessels!]

The bear, Kay, pressed its plump paws to its cheeks like petals. Cute, yet insufferable. Someone else must have thought so, for a throwing knife came spinning toward it. Kay dodged easily, then mimed a sob.

[How cruel! To wound such a darling bear!]

It curled upon itself until it seemed almost pitiable, as though tears truly brimmed. I recalled dimly that Kay had indeed become something of a mascot.

So it was, I think…

But the hunter who had thrown first showed no mercy, and flung another blade.

“How can we trust what we do not know?”

[Warning: Attacks upon fragments of the System are forbidden.]

A red warning blazed above every head. Thus their claim was proven true.

[Now Kay is angry!]

The bear sprang upright, unleashing a hail of blades from its belly—identical to those flung by its attacker.

Boom!

A massive shield met the storm, sparing the offender so much as a scratch.

“Ahh!”

But though unwounded, the man collapsed, drenched in sweat, overwhelmed by the force.

“Did I not warn you, Lee Hong, to curb your recklessness?”

The shield-bearer—surely a guildmaster—stood in grave dignity.

And I… I too am a guildmaster. So why…