IRNH C62

#62

As soon as Taewoon vanished, Si-hyeon slowly stretched his heavy limbs, glancing around the ruined chamber. Sunlight spilled in, warm and bright, almost out of place against the wreckage.

“Haah… that was rough.”

The sun had been shining when they first entered, which meant at least a day had passed. He picked up his phone, now entirely out of battery, then shoved it back into his pocket.

He rose to his feet and carefully laid Lee Kyumin and Kim Seongbin side by side on the floor before tending to them.

‘Seal the flow of energy in Kim Seongbin first, and stabilize Kyumin’s qi circulation…’

It wasn’t too serious—nowhere near qi deviation—but with simple flow adjustment, both would wake soon enough. Once satisfied, Si-hyeon withdrew his hand and turned around.

The chamber was nothing but debris. Light streamed faintly through cracks in the ceiling, catching on swirling dust like tiny sparks. Gazing around helplessly, he finally let out a long sigh. There hadn’t been much in this place to begin with—but even what little had existed was now completely destroyed.

The only lingering possibility was Lee Gyuhwan, whom Taewoon had gone after—but even that was far from certain.

‘Still, Taewoon should return soon. I should meet him halfway.’

His weakened legs trembled slightly. He glanced down at his own shaky body, swore under his breath, and shoved himself forward with careful steps.

“Master.”

The voice rang out just beyond the shattered barrier.

“Taewoon!”

He immediately turned his head with a grin—only for relief to sour when his eyes landed on Gyuhwan’s limp body dangling from Taewoon’s grip like baggage.

“At least… he’s not dead.”

Even as an enemy, he was still Kyumin’s older brother. Si-hyeon rushed over, checked his breath, and exhaled a small sigh of relief when he found life clinging barely within.

‘As reckless as I can be, I’d prefer not to kill without cause.’

Of course, if his hand had been forced, if Gyuhwan had struck lethally, there would’ve been no hesitation. His priority had always been Taewoon.

“Master. He began to speak of something, but then suffered a seizure as if under restriction.”

“…What?”

Taewoon’s words came as a shock. Pausing mid-examination of Gyuhwan’s eyes, Si-hyeon froze.

Impossible. The Information Window might be frustrating at times by concealing details, but it had never once provided false data. Even trivial conditions like brainwashing had always appeared.

So how could something severe enough to nearly kill him not appear at all?

‘What went wrong here?’

Everything was maddeningly unclear. Every clue they pursued unearthed not answers but stranger puzzles, layering on one another endlessly—as though warning him that delving further would only breed anguish.

‘And I should just submit to this? Me?’

If that had been the case, he should never have begun.

But motivation without answers only tangled his mind further. Roughly dragging his hand through his hair, he sighed.

Before he could sink into deeper confusion, Taewoon offered something, extending his hand quietly.

“Hmm?”

His cheeks were faintly flushed, his gaze fixed and almost expectant.

“And… I found this while pursuing him. It’s nearly broken, but perhaps if you apply psychometry, you might glean something.”

Si-hyeon’s eyes widened. His gaze flicked between Taewoon and the shard of glass, then his lips parted.

“Wow! Taewoon!”

Just when his hopes for answers had sunk cold, this felt like a perfectly timed gift. His face brightened.

“You brilliant kid! My boy, just perfect—so good!”

“Then hug me.”

“Huh? Sure, sure! Come here.”

With a grin, Si-hyeon pulled the bigger man into a tight embrace.

“You did well. You did so well.”

His hand ruffled roughly at Taewoon’s tied hair until it became a mess. Yet Taewoon only smiled, resting his chin gently on Si-hyeon’s shoulder.

But then, as often lately, Si-hyeon suddenly froze. His hands, once patting, gripped Taewoon’s body and abruptly pushed him back, dropping the contact.

Taewoon frowned faintly, as if expecting this hesitation. He didn’t hate the attention—he liked that Si-hyeon fussed over him nervously—but it was beginning to feel lacking, insufficient. He did not want distance.

“…Why are you so skinny?”

“…Excuse me?”

The unexpected question popped his thoughts like a bubble.

“I said, why are you so thin? You’re practically skin and bones.”

Si-hyeon’s face was deadly serious. And in his mind, the weight of that struck even heavier.

‘Now that I think about it… I never properly fed him.’

Sure, three meals a day—but nothing beyond survival. He hadn’t once seen him properly stuffed. True, circumstances had forced them constantly into battles—but Taewoon was still young, still growing.

A growing boy—whom he had treated to nothing more than scraps.

When Si-hyeon was twenty, he’d eaten a full meal, then still devoured an entire large pizza by himself. Yet Taewoon hadn’t been given the same.

He sighed in dismay. There was much to resolve—but no matter how dire, even Mount Geumgang must come after a meal.* He had to feed Taewoon—really feed him—at the very next chance.

*Footnote: Korean proverb 금강산도 식후경 (Geumgangsan-do sikhugyeong) = “Even the most beautiful scenery of Mount Geumgang comes after eating.” Meaning: food comes before all else.

“Mmm, Master, I’m fine…”

“No! You are not fine! Do you know how much delicious food there is here? Just wait.”

Though startled by his sudden outburst, Taewoon could only watch fondly as Si-hyeon fussed, hands running over his arms and waist, muttering about how lean he was.

“…Yes, I’ll wait.”

“Good. First thing when we’re out—chicken.”

“Pfft… yes, that sounds good.”

He couldn’t suppress the laugh that slipped free. Letting Gyuhwan float beside him, he opened his arms and wrapped them around Si-hyeon.

“…You really wanted chicken that badly?”

“Heh. Yes. Didn’t you once sing for weeks about wanting ‘chicken,’ back in Murim?”

Si-hyeon groaned inwardly. Of all things, Taewoon remembered the foolish chants he’d made for chicken during their martial world days. He regretted never actually ordering some sooner.

Smoothing a hand across Taewoon’s back, he scowled gently, resigned at the memory.

What was truly happening?

Si-hyeon replayed Taewoon’s words, fingers checking Kyumin’s pulse.

‘It seems neither they nor Master are meant to come into contact with “them.”’

Them.

So—were they separate from the villain alliance Gyuhwan belonged to? A rival in the same circle? Or truly a third faction?

The nuance suggested an independent group—but certainty was impossible.

‘At least one thing is clear.’

He had started this, planning only to wring ransom money from their gang. But now he knew—events centered around him. Things that harmed his companions were already unfolding, whether big or small.

‘Fine. If that’s what you want—then I’ll dig into every last piece of it.’

“Urghh…”

“Kyumin? Are you waking?”

“…Brother… cough.”

“Don’t get up. Your ribs are broken.”

Stimulating his meridians, he coaxed Kyumin awake. The younger man blinked, disoriented.

“My… my brother…”

Si-hyeon paused, then explained everything that had happened while Kyumin was unconscious.

“In the end… that’s what… he… became.”

Kyumin bit back a sob, but tears still spilled, unstoppable. The brother he had known felt like a mirage—yet betrayal mingled with stubborn faith, whispering there must still be some mistake.

Seeing this, Si-hyeon sighed deeply and ruffled his hair. He wasn’t good at comfort, but leaving him to cry alone felt worse.

“Kyumin… I was wrong. Your brother was under some kind of restriction, probably brainwashing. So don’t cry.”

“R-really…?”

“Yes. Truly.”

The attempt to calm him only broke the dam. Kyumin crumbled, wailing like a child.

“Thank God… thank God…”

Si-hyeon clicked his tongue. Yet this seemed better than the pitiful smile he tried to force earlier, lips trembling.

“…Thank you, Hyung-nim.”*

*Footnote: 형님 (Hyungnim) = respectful formal way of addressing an older brother or senior male, carrying connotations of loyalty/respect.

“Don’t thank me. I’ve done nothing.”

And it was true. He hadn’t stopped, hadn’t learned, hadn’t saved anything in time. Bitterness soured his mouth.

“Master. Five ability users rushing this way, fast.”

“…Ah.”

The warning came quietly from Taewoon. Si-hyeon’s drained core felt emptier still as he nodded.

After all that destruction, it was strange they only now arrived.

At least the barrier and illusions were gone now, leaving only these shattered chambers to explain. But even this scene of broken furniture, unconscious dozens, and a near-comatose Gyuhwan was incriminating enough.

‘Just as long as they don’t attack on sight.’

“Hyung-nim… go back first. I’ll handle things.”

“…What could you possibly do alone?”

“Don’t worry. They’re probably the private contractors hired by my family. I’ll just say I mishandled a Gate item and it exploded… huh, hahh.”

“And they’ll believe that?”

Kyumin, though pale and still hurting, spoke in calm tones. Si-hyeon wanted to protest more, but found himself stuck.

“Really. Go on. I’ll contact you later.”

He knew full well he was no help in fighting—but still, leaving like this pained him.

Yet the approaching auras drew ever closer, near enough to be felt through his burnt-out senses.

“…If anything happens, call me instantly.”

“…I will.”

With a bite of his lip, Si-hyeon cast Kyumin one more glance, leaning against the stone, before turning to go.