Honbul: Flame of the Soul

It took only half a day for word to spread that Saero had read the entire history contained within the blood. It was incomparably faster than when he had read the past from the nosebleed Jaegyeom had shed before.

Back then, the blood recovered from the library trash can had been such a tiny amount that the depth of what he could see was limited, and the contents had been blurry. Even though it had only been a brief fragment of the past, he had struggled to make sense of it and spent several sleepless days clinging to it.

This time, however, the blood soaked into the durumagi had been enough to fill several basins. Thanks to that, he had managed to read through it in a relatively short period of time.

After waking up, Jaegyeom followed Heukje’s guidance.

As he walked along the wooden corridor and glanced out through the open window, he saw the dark night sky. It was deep into the night, the hour when everything fell silent.

Heukje led him into a room.

Yoon Taehee, sitting against the wall atop a half-closet chest, turned his head toward Jaegyeom. It seemed he had arrived ahead of time to wait for him.

“Did you sleep well?”

Jaegyeom silently nodded.

A strange silence settled between them, like the stillness before a storm. Yoon Taehee carefully studied Jaegyeom’s face.

Just a few hours earlier, Jaegyeom had panicked, lost his senses, and rampaged wildly. Fortunately, he seemed to have regained some composure now.

But fear still lingered like an aftershock, trembling faintly in his eyes.

Not long after, Saero entered the room.

Having read an overwhelming amount of history in only half a day, he looked utterly drained.

It was obvious at a glance that he had exhausted himself by forcing so much power in such a short time. But his pale complexion did not seem to come from fatigue alone. There was a strange despair hanging over his expression, like someone who had witnessed something deeply tragic and regrettable.

Yoon Taehee asked whether the owners of the blood had truly been Jaegyeom and Myojeong.

“Yes. It was both of their blood.”

At Saero’s answer, Yoon Taehee and Jaegyeom briefly looked at each other.

Yoon Taehee immediately turned back toward Saero. The look in his eyes clearly urged him to continue and explain what he had seen inside the blood.

But Saero hesitated.

“There’s a problem.”

“What is it?”

“The amount of history inside it is enormous. It’ll be difficult to explain it all with words alone.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

At Yoon Taehee’s question, Saero fell into thought for a moment.

“What if we borrow Heukje’s power?”

Theoretically, it was possible.

Heukje could implant dreams into sleeping people. Saero’s idea was to relay the history he had read directly to Heukje, who would then show it to Jaegyeom and Yoon Taehee in the form of a dream.

“Can you do it?”

At Saero’s words, Yoon Taehee looked toward Heukje.

“I will try.”

Yoon Taehee and Jaegyeom lay down side by side, their heads facing opposite directions.

Since they would be witnessing the past through a dream, their bodies would remain asleep the entire time.

Jaegyeom clenched his fists and slowly drew in a breath.

He felt as tense as if he were lying on an execution block.

Still, he forced himself not to show it and quietly closed his eyes.

It happened after some time had passed in silence.

An old man’s voice began to echo from somewhere far away.

...The harmony of heaven and earth is, by nature, a wondrous thing. It is made of things the human mind cannot comprehend and the human eye cannot perceive. Yet human desire is capable of creating even that which did not originally exist.

Ghosts are beings formed from energy, and thus they cannot be seen by the eyes of ordinary people.

Because of this, ghosts possess neither flesh nor physical substance. They exist only as energy. Unable to act directly upon the world, they long to borrow the power of those who can serve as their proxies.

The influence of ghosts affects some people but not others, for such things are determined by one’s inborn fate and constitution. If a ghost were to stroke the heads of several living people in exactly the same way, some would remain unaffected while others would feel a chill crawl down their spine. Such people are born with greater sensitivity than others. To possess a ghost gate, or to be a vessel for a god, refers to this kind of constitution.

And so ghosts constantly seek to speak, to prove their existence, and to exert influence over the living. Through that process, countless strange things have come to pass...

...

...

...

On a warm spring day, a lecture was underway at Jaseonwon.

Children of similar age sat neatly behind low desks, listening to the lesson. In the wide-open pavilion, the old man’s voice spread softly through the air with a gentle echo.

The trees were thick with greenery, and birds chirped endlessly overhead.

It was the season of fresh green leaves.

When the lecture ended, the children tidied their places and rose to leave.

One boy came out last.

He was the newest arrival among them, and he was so small for his age that it was difficult to believe he was the same age as the others.

Not only that, but the frail-looking boy was slow at everything.

His steps were sluggish, and his movements always lagged strangely behind everyone else’s, so he was invariably the last one to leave his place.

Because of that, even after several months, he still had not managed to blend in with the others and lived apart from them like an outcast. He always lingered at the edge of the group, without a single real friend.

As the slow-moving boy walked forward, a stone suddenly flew at him from somewhere.

“Hey, simpleton.”

The boy turned his head toward the source of the voice.

A group of children holding wooden swords stood there snickering at him.

The boy parted his lips slightly, then smiled.

There was another thing that stood out about him besides his slowness.

“......”

He could not speak.

For some reason, the boy had been mute since birth. It was as though his throat had been tightly bound shut with straw rope. No matter how hard he tried, no sound would come out.

Even so, the boy had an exceptionally gentle temperament.

No matter how much the other children mocked him or played cruel pranks on him, he merely smiled and never became angry.

“How’s someone like that supposed to recite scriptures in front of a ghost?”

“Seriously.”

“I don’t get why they haven’t thrown him out yet.”

The children openly mocked him, loud enough for him to hear every word.

“But is he really mute?”

“I heard someone say they heard him talking once.”

“No way.”

The children muttered among themselves as they approached him.

“Hey, simpleton.”

One of them poked the boy in the chest with the blunt tip of a wooden sword.

“Say ‘Ah—.’”

“......”

“Huh? I said do it.”

“......”

The boy stood there blankly for a moment before slowly parting his lips.

But all that escaped his mouth was an empty stream of breath, like someone warming frozen hands in winter.

The children exchanged disappointed glances.

“So he really is mute?”

“This is boring.”

“He just stands there smiling all the time.”

Eventually, one of them spoke up.

“Then let’s hit him with a wooden sword.”

“Yeah! If it hurts enough, he’ll have to scream.”

The children exchanged conspiratorial looks after finishing their little discussion.

Then, at a certain moment, one of them dramatically raised his wooden sword high into the air.

Just as he was about to bring it down—

Swish—

A tree branch suddenly cut through the air and instantly sliced the wooden sword clean in half.

Everyone flinched and stumbled backward.

Even though someone had abruptly appeared and interfered, none of the children dared say a word.

The intruder, despite being only a young novice, was already famous for her skill in handling spiritual force.

The boy’s eyes widened as he stared at the newcomer’s back.

It was a face he had not expected to see again after coming here.

Standing protectively in front of him, the intruder glared coldly at the children.

The tree branch in her hand was imbued with spiritual force.

Most of the children there still could not properly draw out their own spiritual force, yet she had effortlessly cut through a wooden sword using nothing but a branch.

The frightened children shuffled awkwardly and avoided her gaze.

The intruder spoke.

“You. Why are you just standing there?”

“......”

“If you don’t want to get hit, then dodge. Or fight back.”

“......”

The words were directed at the boy, but they were also clearly aimed at the children standing in front of them.

If they wanted to fight, then they should come at her properly.

One of the children, after hesitating for a moment, snapped back resentfully.

“Aren’t you curious too?”

“Curious about what?”

“About whether he can actually talk!”

The fact that the boy never spoke was already famous throughout Jaseonwon.

“......”

The intruder tilted her head slightly and glanced back at the boy.

“I think I know why he refuses to talk to you.”

“What? Why?”

A crooked smile spread across one side of the intruder’s mouth.

“Because none of you are worth talking to.”

With that, the intruder turned and walked away.

The boy, who had been standing there blankly, hurried after her like a puppy.

The sluggish steps he usually showed were nowhere to be seen. He walked perfectly normally now.

If anything, he was even a little faster than the others.

From that day onward, the boy gained a new nickname.

Aegu.

Hwirim’s little dog.

It was the nickname Myojeong carried throughout his childhood.