Honbul: Flame of the Soul

Mesan had lived beside Jaegyeom for so many long years that there was very little he did not know about him.

That was why the moment Jaegyeom brought out the bow became the thing Mesan hated most in this world.

The greatest reason was simple: his lord would have to suffer terrible pain.

And the other was that every time he drew out that bow, he lost an enormous amount of blood.

Jaegyeom did not so much as glance at him.

He looked as though he could not hear anything at all.

But the grip pulling the string loosened, just slightly, then tightened again.

“O-or else... then at least let me stop the bleeding. Please. At least the bleeding. Please? Let me heal you first...”

The more his lord bled, the stronger he became.

Because his ghostly force would start running wild beyond his control.

The more blood he lost, the more violently it rampaged.

And if he bled any more here, then this time the ghostly force would surely go berserk.

Mesan wanted to stop that more than anything.

Whenever the ghostly force went berserk, Jaegyeom always collapsed afterward.

He would lie unconscious for days, hovering at death’s edge.

The problem was that when he ended up in that state, Mesan’s power would no longer work on him.

Neither Jaegyeom nor Mesan knew why.

It did not matter how completely Mesan healed every wound or washed his body clean.

It was useless.

All they could do was wait until Jaegyeom woke on his own.

By now, the blood at Jaegyeom’s feet had pooled like a dark puddle.

And despite Mesan’s desperate pleas, he did not budge.

There was no time to stand there calmly accepting treatment.

Darkness was already settling deep into the mountain.

Once night came, he would have to make good on his bargain with Bima.

The moment the moon rose, sleep would come crashing over him whether he wanted it or not.

So no matter what, he had to finish off the rats before then.

Before it got any darker...

“It’s almost over.”

Jaegyeom muttered it in a low, sunken voice.

In truth, the only one left now was Yoon Taehee.

The rats the arrows had only grazed would not need any further handling.

It would not be long before their strength failed and they dropped on their own.

The darkening mountain around them was a ruin, as if a war had passed through it.

The Naja who had fallen bleeding lay scattered here and there like routed soldiers, while the stripped, mangled undergrowth had been torn out by the roots and driven into the dirt.

Jaegyeom drew the string tight to his chin and aimed at Yoon Taehee.

Taehee flicked his hand again, just as before. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

Again the arrow broke under the force of the wind and lodged in a tree.

Taehee stared at the arrow embedded in the trunk as though measuring something.

There was ghostly force riding the arrow now, faint but unmistakable.

At a glance it looked as though he had deflected it cleanly.

But compared to before, the angle at which the arrow had been knocked aside was visibly smaller.

He had struck it away with the same force as before, yet this time it had come much closer.

His ghostly force should have been sealed by the rope.

Then why...?

His gaze drifted, naturally, to the boy’s ankles.

For a brief instant, admiration flashed in Yoon Taehee’s eyes.

The rope cinched around Jaegyeom’s ankles was writhing violently, bucking and twisting as though in agony.

Unable to withstand the rampaging ghostly force, the spell was unraveling on its own.

At this rate, it would not be long before it broke completely.

Perhaps because his ghostly force had been sealed off, the boy’s presence—even from a distance—felt dangerously unstable.

And ever since the moment he had drawn out that bow, something in him had subtly changed.

He was clearly the same person, and yet compared to before he felt far darker now, far more sinister.

“This is going to get ugly if this keeps up.”

The biggest problem was that bow.

Taehee did not know how the boy had gotten hold of it, but no matter how he looked at it, it was not something meant to exist in human hands.

And once the spell broke and the rope snapped, the boy would be free to move again.

The same would go for his ghostly force.

And if real ghostly force started riding those arrows in earnest, then there would be no stopping them.

“Originally, I was going to stay out of it. Even if they’re from the Ritual Implements Department, there were still five Naja here. And with a chief on top of that, I didn’t think anything this bad could possibly happen. Besides, like I said earlier, this wasn’t my doing, so I wasn’t especially interested.”

If he stood on the Naja’s side now, there would really be no excuse left.

That was why he had planned, if possible, not to interfere.

But the situation had turned far more dangerous than he had expected.

And if this dragged on any longer, then...

“Really, one last time. I’ll ask you just once more.”

Yoon Taehee’s voice was low.

“You really won’t stand on my side?”

The blood-soaked boy looked at him with bright, feverish eyes.

“I won’t.”

“All right.”

At the answer that came without a second’s hesitation, Taehee gave a neat little nod.

He raised a hand and settled the mask firmly back over his face.

Another arrow flew at him.

This time Taehee swept his hand out for show, and a savage gust erupted around him, nothing like the earlier ones.

“Youngshin. What do we do now?”

Lee Youngshin said nothing.

Had he finally passed out?

Clicking his tongue, Taehee threw himself into the gust and vanished in the blink of an eye.

Jaegyeom, his feet still bound, sharpened his senses and swept them across the presences around him.

“First, I’m confiscating this.”

A hand shot out from behind him.

The arrow had not fully formed yet, and the distance was too close to fire anyway.

In that short span of time, Yoon Taehee had pinpointed the bow’s weakness exactly and driven straight for the opening.

Jaegyeom twisted sideways while he was still drawing the string, but with his ankles bound there was no way for him to turn all the way around.

Taehee seized the wrist holding the string and twisted it in one brutal movement.

The grip was monstrous.

He seemed to mean to force Jaegyeom to lose the string before he could fire.

Under the wrenching twist, the taut string slipped from Jaegyeom’s hand and snapped loose without effect.

Jaegyeom drove his elbow toward Taehee’s solar plexus with the arm that had lost the string.

No—

he only pretended to.

Taehee, expecting the strike, shifted his body back and dodged the elbow.

And in that sliver of an instant, Jaegyeom missed nothing.

Gripping the bow stave long in his other hand, he swung it with everything he had.

Crack!

The bow stave smashed into Taehee’s head.

It was a merciless swing, like a bat coming down.

Taehee slid backward a long way, skidding across the ground.

The mask on his face dropped and went rolling.

Still staggering, unable to catch his balance, Taehee clutched at his head with a contorted expression.

Blood ran from the split skin of his forehead.

With his feet tied, it would be over the moment the bow stave broke.

He should have been handling it carefully if anything.

And yet he had swung it like that without the slightest concern...

The blow had been hard enough to make the whole inside of Taehee’s skull ring.

A shrill peal flooded his ears.

He reeled, unable to gather himself.

And in that instant, Jaegyeom seized the chance and drew the string back with all his strength.

Click.

A camera shutter went off out of nowhere.

At the same time, confusion flashed across Jaegyeom’s eyes.

The string, with the arrow half-formed upon it, was drawn so tight it looked ready to spring loose at any moment.

No—it should already have flown.

All he had to do was let go in the state he was in, aiming straight at Taehee.

Then why...

“......”

His hand would not move.

“M-my lord...?”

Mesan called to him carefully, his voice trembling.

But Jaegyeom could not turn his head toward him.

He could not move a single finger.

All he could do was open his mouth and blink.

He had frozen exactly as he was, with the bowstring drawn.

Everything else remained the same.

Hot blood still poured down his arm.

The pain was still there, vivid and raw.

Only movement had been taken from him.

Then Taehee, who had been swaying, finally straightened up.

His head was still ringing, his vision spinning, and he shook it once in irritation.

He had just scrubbed at the blood running down from his brow with a rough hand when—

“C-Chief Yoon...!”

Lee Youngshin’s lips moved weakly from behind a tree, where he lay sprawled flat on the dirt with only one arm stuck out.

The left hand clutching the implement shook like a leaf, trembling with the last of his strength.

It was a disposable film camera.

With a low mechanical whir, a warm Polaroid slid out of the camera after the shutter click.

The blank white surface slowly began filling with color.

Caught in the photograph was Jaegyeom’s blurred figure, frozen in the act of drawing the bow.

And in reality as well, Jaegyeom had stopped in exactly that same posture.

The camera Youngshin had used was a ritual implement that bound its subject into the exact state captured in the photograph.

But because of the backlash, it carried a risk.

The person taking the picture also froze in the exact moment they pressed the shutter.

Which was why Lee Youngshin too had stiffened in place, lying flat against the dirt with only one arm outstretched.

He had meant to save it as a final measure, but it had been a mistake in judgment.

He should have used it from the start.

“You...”

Still frowning, Taehee looked from Jaegyeom to the camera clenched in Youngshin’s hand.

Then he let out a short little sound.

“Ah.”

He had grasped at once what Youngshin had done.

Taehee pushed back his disheveled hair, gave a quiet snort of laughter, and bent to pick up the fallen mask.

“That’s our Chief Lee.”

Youngshin ground his teeth and groaned.

“Quit laughing and hurry up. Do something.”

He was holding on to ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ consciousness through sheer desperation.

Every time he opened and closed his eyes, his vision dimmed.

And after pouring all his ghostly force into pressing that shutter, he did not have much time left to keep Jaegyeom pinned like this.

They had to finish quickly.

“Fine. So what do I do now?”

“F-first, take the bow—no, no. Wait. Before that, the little master—no. No, that’s not it.”

His thoughts were a mess.

He had to end this with the best judgment available.

How could he wrap this up in the cleanest, most perfect way possible?

“Ah!”

Still groaning in thought, Lee Youngshin suddenly opened his eyes wide.

“Chief Yoon! Do you have that on you right now?”

As he pulled the mask back over his face, Taehee asked, “That?”

Youngshin dragged in a rough breath and forced the words out.

“That, I mean. Do you have the Black Oblivion Birds?”