Honbul: Flame of the Soul

“A pool of blue blood.”

At Shin Jihye’s words, Yoon Taehee’s eyes widened.

“Blue blood...”

As he repeated the words under his breath, his expression slowly hardened.

According to the mermaid they had met on the island, the so-called immortality pill did not truly grant immortality.

Because even after taking it, one could not become immortal.

Mermaids were not immortal creatures to begin with. They were simply long-lived beings with average lifespans of two to three hundred years.

Mermaids ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) possessed regenerative abilities and healing powers far beyond those of humans. Once they reached adulthood, their growth stopped, and from a certain point onward, they no longer aged.

Humans who consumed mermaid flesh and blood would gain similar traits: extended lifespans, wounds that healed naturally, and bodies untouched by aging.

But not everyone who ate mermaid flesh and blood could receive that blessing.

It was only possible if a mermaid willingly offered its flesh and blood directly to someone it genuinely loved.

To bypass that condition, humans had created what came to be known as the immortality pill.

By refining and extracting the essence of a mermaid’s qualities into a pill, a human could obtain a body of longevity as though they had consumed mermaid flesh and blood directly.

However, the duration of the pill’s effects depended entirely on the lifespan of the mermaid used to create it.

If the mermaid used as the source had a lifespan of two hundred years, then for those two hundred years the person who took the pill would not age, and their wounds would regenerate naturally.

But once the original lifespan of the source mermaid came to an end, the effects of the pill would end as well.

And when that happened, the person would return to the state they had originally been in before taking the pill.

The regenerative abilities would disappear. The healing powers would vanish.

Time, which had once stopped flowing, would begin moving again.

The body would once more become mortal — vulnerable to injury, sickness, and aging.

Yoon Taehee remained silent for a long moment before finally speaking.

“Are you sure you saw it correctly?”

He could not logically accept Shin Jihye’s story.

“Do you think I imagined it?”

“But it doesn’t make sense.”

Mermaids were said to detect a unique scent from humans who had consumed the flesh and blood of their kind.

But back then, the mermaid had sensed nothing unusual from Jaegyeom.

That alone proved Jaegyeom had never directly consumed mermaid flesh.

And they had already tested whether he had taken the immortality pill by mixing blood.

The result had been brown.

Which conclusively proved Jaegyeom’s immortality had nothing to do with mermaids.

The fact that his wounds did not regenerate had also supported that conclusion.

And yet now Shin Jihye was saying she had seen blue blood.

The story felt completely absurd.

That day, they had confirmed with certainty that Jaegyeom’s condition was unrelated to mermaids. Taehee had already concluded that Jaegyeom’s immortality originated from the evil ghost dwelling inside him.

“At first I thought I must’ve seen it wrong too.”

Shin Jihye furrowed her brow slightly as she continued.

“But no matter how many times I thought about it, it was definitely blue.”

After another brief silence, Taehee asked calmly,

“So you’re saying Jaegyeom is connected to mermaids after all?”

“I’m just telling you exactly what I saw.”

Taehee found the entire subject deeply unpleasant.

As far as he was concerned, the matter had already been settled.

Of course, if they truly wanted absolute certainty, they could investigate it again from the beginning.

But that would mean finding another mermaid.

And now, Taehee had neither the time nor the desire for that.

What happened on Geoyeo Island had been too devastating a failure for both him and Jaegyeom.

The reason Taehee had wanted to break Jaegyeom’s curse was simple.

He believed Jaegyeom wanted to die because he was exhausted by immortality.

Taehee thought that if Jaegyeom could live an ordinary, finite life instead of an endless one, perhaps he might eventually want to keep living.

That was why Taehee believed that breaking the curse could change Jaegyeom’s desire for death.

But all of his efforts had failed.

As a result, Jaegyeom’s hopes and expectations had been completely shattered.

Now he longed for death even more desperately than before, rejecting life with far greater stubbornness.

“But we already know the reason Jaegyeom can’t die has nothing to do with mermaids.”

“What? Then what is it? Did you find another explanation?”

“Yes.”

Taehee lowered his eyes slightly.

“I have a theory. And I’m probably right.”

He had no desire to reopen a matter he had already investigated and concluded.

Besides, it was unlikely Jaegyeom would ever cooperate with anything involving mermaids again.

The determination to break the curse had already collapsed completely.

And above all, Taehee trusted what he had seen with his own eyes.

Come to think of it, it had rained that day.

Perhaps Shin Jihye had mistaken what she saw. Or perhaps the blood had mixed with rainwater and changed color over time.

That explanation felt far more plausible than the idea that Jaegyeom had somehow taken an immortality pill.

“Still, thank you for worrying about it until the end.”

Taehee wrapped up the conversation politely.

Everything related to that matter belonged to the past now.

In the end, he had failed to change Jaegyeom’s mind.

And because of that, Taehee had already changed direction.

His new objective was to secure the Bangsangsi mask first, before anyone else could use it to kill Jaegyeom.

So now he no longer had the energy to concern himself with mermaid-related questions.

“I’ll keep the promise I made you at the beginning. Like I said, I guided you to the island and helped you meet a mermaid. I’ll connect you with a suitable broker soon, so for now just rest and recover.”

Shin Jihye stared blankly at Taehee.

“But why do you look so miserable?”

Compared to when she had last seen him on the island, Taehee’s face looked noticeably worse.

She did not know exactly what had happened during their time apart, but it was obvious he had gone through severe emotional turmoil.

“You said you figured out why Jaegyeom can’t die. Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

Their trip to the island had ultimately accomplished nothing, and both sides had suffered tremendously because of it.

But regardless of the process, Taehee had originally wanted only one thing:

To learn why Jaegyeom could not die.

And now he supposedly had that answer.

So why did he look this miserable?

“Sweetheart... did you get dumped?”

As expected, Shin Jihye noticed quickly.

Taehee let out a quiet laugh.

“Is it that obvious?”

He casually touched his cheek as he answered.

“So it ended up like that after all.”

Shin Jihye muttered softly to herself.

She remembered the conversation she had with Jaegyeom out on the sea.

It had been obvious that Jaegyeom also had feelings for Taehee.

But in the end, it seemed Jaegyeom had chosen to leave him behind.

The boy who had always been stingy even with his own emotions had ultimately failed to be honest.

These days, the atmosphere inside the Office of Narye felt like walking across thin ice.

Especially inside Team 1’s office.

The mood there was practically funeral-like.

One disaster had followed another in rapid succession.

Not long ago, the youngest member of the team and Chief Yoon had gone on vacation together and returned severely injured. Then Byeoksadan launched a surprise attack on the Gyeongju branch of the Office of Narye, leaving it in ruins.

And as if that were not enough, news spread that Seok Juryeon had collapsed from shock.

As a result, the atmosphere in Team 1 had grown unbearably heavy.

The office that once overflowed with chatter and gossip about everyday nonsense had become silent and desolate. An indescribable tension lingered constantly in the air.

Into that suffocating atmosphere, Jaegyeom returned to work after being absent for over two weeks.

Amid the silence, Kang Ibin suddenly spoke.

“Who has last week’s log?”

“I do.”

Jaegyeom answered while absentmindedly fiddling with the mouse.

“Okay. Can you get the Chief’s signature on it and bring it back?”

“Yes.”

Jaegyeom picked up the log and headed toward the Chief’s office.

He walked over to the desk and handed it over. Taehee, who had been staring at the monitor, accepted it silently.

The atmosphere between them was painfully cold.

Taehee uncapped his fountain pen and casually signed the approval line at the top of the document.

While waiting for him to finish, Jaegyeom stood there awkwardly with lowered eyes.

Then, while signing his name, Taehee suddenly spoke casually.

“What are you doing this evening?”

Only then did Jaegyeom lift his head to look at him.

“I was hoping you could spare me some time.”

The moment their eyes met, Jaegyeom instinctively glanced behind him.

The office door was open.

Lowering his voice so nobody outside could overhear, Jaegyeom asked quietly,

“Why?”

“I need to talk to you.”

As he said that, Taehee lightly tapped the nameplate sitting on his desk.

Jaegyeom instinctively lowered his gaze.

The engraved white letters stood out starkly against the matte black surface.

[Chief Yoon Taehee]

Taehee watched Jaegyeom intently, resting his chin against one hand as he spoke in a low voice.

“The last Saturday of the month.”

Jaegyeom, who had been staring down at the nameplate, hesitated before slowly raising his head.

There was no trace of a smile in Taehee’s eyes.

Only sharpness.

And at that moment, Jaegyeom understood exactly what Taehee meant.

The last Saturday of the month.

That was when he would steal the wooden tag.