Honbul: Flame of the Soul

“What do I have to do?”

Those clear eyes hit Yoon Taehee dead on. For an instant, a strange thrill stabbed deep into his chest.

“......”

Without a word, Yoon Taehee lowered his head and looked at his own palm. He slowly curled his fingers, then opened them again, but it still felt as though the throbbing sensation transferred from the boy’s nape remained inside his hand. Like phantom pain.

“I’m asking you. What do I have to do?”

After Yoon Taehee stayed silent for a long while, Jaegyeom asked again.

“First, steal ‘Yoon Taehee’ for me.”

It was an incomprehensible answer. Before Jaegyeom could ask what he meant, Yoon Taehee lifted an index finger and pointed at his own chest.

“My name.”

To take his name back.

That would be the first step in the rebellion.

“Remember what Bima said back then?”

Not long ago, Yoon Taehee had sent Black Oblivion Birds at fellow Naja on his own side, and had suffered pain like death as the price. Bima had pinpointed the cause of that agony, and the diagnosis had been exactly right.

“All Naja belonging to the Office of Narye have to enter a blood contract. They’re forbidden to use ghostly force against another Naja without warning, or to do them harm. If they violate the contract and break the taboo, the backlash puts them through excruciating pain.”

Jaegyeom remembered the sight of Yoon Taehee vomiting blood and groaning. It felt as though he could still recall that heavy weight, the way Taehee had leaned into his shoulder in pain so severe he could barely stay conscious. And yet Taehee, even after suffering through it himself, explained it all with calm indifference, as though it had happened to someone else.

“The principle of the contract is simple. It says you can’t attack fellow Naja. Officially, it’s for safety, but in truth it’s the bare minimum line of defense against enemies within. It’s a leash, meant to stop people like me from turning traitor.”

Taehee’s face was cold as he went on.

Even without that kind of restraint, Naja were loyal by nature. But there were aberrations everywhere. And the Office of Narye was the ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) sort of place meticulous enough not to permit even the faintest possibility. That was what the Office was.

A massive iron gate that sealed off schism and rebellion. Unless that iron gate was breached, rebellion was impossible. And the final destination of this rebellion was the director of the Office of Narye. To reach the director, they would naturally have to face the many enemies guarding the way there. To stand against the Office of Narye while still bound by that contract was nearly the same as suicide.

“When you become a full Naja, you have to carve your name into a wooden tag with your blood and submit it. That’s the medium the contract is formed through. And those tags are kept in the Office of Narye’s registry room. What you’re going to do is return ‘Yoon Taehee’ to Yoon Taehee.”

This was the final touch that would bring Yoon Taehee’s design to life. The signal that would begin everything he had planned for so long. Once he reclaimed the name that had been bound, the contract would break. Once the shackles disappeared, he would be free. And then, at last, the dragon that had gained its eyes would wake from its long sleep, shake the foundations of the earth, and soar into the sky.

“You’re going to steal the wooden tag with my name on it. That’s what you have to do.”

The gatekeeper who would open that tightly barred door was the boy.

“And then?”

At Jaegyeom’s question, Yoon Taehee added softly,

“Then we start a war.”

War. He said those two syllables with perfect composure.

“We’re going to storm the Office of Narye.”

At that, Jaegyeom looked at Yoon Taehee with quiet eyes. Silence hung between them for a moment. Taehee held that gaze, then suddenly broke into a smile and snapped his thumb and middle finger together, as if to clear away the heavy seriousness that had settled over the room.

“There. Think of that as the rough outline.”

Perching halfway on the edge of the table, Yoon Taehee spoke in a looser tone.

“I’ll explain the details little by little. First, you’ll have to enter the Office of Narye.”

There was no need to rush everything through overnight. Luck and timing had to be aligned carefully so that the board he had spent so long setting up would not collapse. For now, what mattered was understanding how the Office of Narye worked and getting a feel for the place. The first month or two would be an adjustment period. During that time, Yoon Taehee had things of his own he would need to do as well.

“All right.”

Jaegyeom, who had listened in silence, finally nodded. At that, the line of Yoon Taehee’s eyes softened.

“Good. Then...”

With a bright, easy lilt, Taehee headed behind the desk. He picked up the cell phone he had shoved off to one side and tapped the screen.

“Does the new place need to be similar to the one you’re living in now?”

At the abrupt question, Jaegyeom lifted his eyes slightly.

“What?”

Still staring at the phone, Taehee murmured back.

“Would it need to be somewhere remote, against a mountain?”

As he pressed his lips together, Yoon Taehee scrolled with one hand.

“The mountain closest to the Office of Narye is Mount Bugak, but that area’s been developed too much. Mount Inwang would be better. It’s much quieter. Though it’s a bit lower...”

*****

Jaegyeom had left for school early that morning, and it was only by the dim edge of evening that he finally returned home. The moment he crossed the yard and stepped through the front door, light footsteps pattered rapidly across the floor.

Mesan came hurrying over with a beaming smile.

“My lord! You’ve returned?”

Jaegyeom slipped off his Converse as if dusting them loose and went inside. Mesan immediately plastered himself to his waist.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yes!”

“What’d you do?”

“Um, with the raccoon!”

“The raccoon again?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll miss it, then, now that you won’t be seeing it anymore.”

“Yes...”

Trading trivial chatter, the two of them went into the living room.

“Jaegyeom, you’re back?”

Jeongju, who had been sitting on the sofa with a laptop, turned toward him with a pleased expression.

“Yeah. What’re you doing?”

Jaegyeom asked carelessly as he slid the bag off his shoulder.

“Oh, just looking at something...”

Bold headlines filled the internet window.

Jeongju recovering his health,

Will the rumors of Jeongju’s disappearance end with a return?,

What has Jeongju been up to lately...

Apparently embarrassed at being caught reading articles about himself, Jeongju gave a dry cough and shut the laptop.

“Did dinner with your friend go well?”

he asked, moving the laptop off his knees.

“Ah, well. Uh...”

Jaegyeom scratched his cheek and gave an evasive answer. Jeongju, naturally, assumed he had eaten dinner with Jo Youngwoo.

“What did you eat?”

“Just... whatever they sell nearby.”

He was trying to answer with his usual indifference, when—

“Jaegyeom, did something happen at school?”

Just as expected, Jeongju asked immediately. Jaegyeom’s whole air was visibly more sunken than it had been that morning.

“Huh? No... nothing really happened.”

Startled, Jaegyeom fiddled pointlessly with his tie and looked away.

“Oh, come on. Something happened, didn’t it?”

Was he upset because it had been his last day going to school?

The fox, with senses that sharp, looked at him suspiciously. Just as Jeongju had noticed the subtle change, Jaegyeom’s mind really was muddled and gloomy now.

And seeing their faces like this only made him more unsettled.

Up to now, Jaegyeom had done nothing but push Jeongju and Mesan away. He had been too afraid of being left alone to truly let them close. He had lied to himself, and lied again, because he kept imagining and fearing the shadow of the farewell that would one day come.

And only a few days ago, he had finally made up his mind to stop grieving a sorrow that had not yet arrived.

Then, today, a new path had opened before him.

At the start of that path stood Yoon Taehee.

And at its end was the death he had dreamed of for so long.

Only now did it feel as though he could hold warmth a little more easily. He had thought he could finally let himself rest inside the shelter of the three of them, inside the fence of a family of three. But the moment he heard those two syllables from Yoon Taehee—death—Jaegyeom felt a force so vast it could not be described.

Because it was rest itself, a peace beyond comparison with the calm he had now.

He had always thought that even if the moment came when this world ended, he alone would still remain. And yet it felt impossible to believe there was a way to end this exhausting life. It was what he had long wished for.

So why couldn’t he rejoice freely?

Jaegyeom dimly grasped the nature of this restless feeling.

It was guilt.

If I’m happy, would you be happy too?

You would. You’re kind, so you’d be happy for me as if it were your own good fortune.

If something is good for me, is it good for you too? Of course it is. You’d celebrate it more fervently than anyone.

But what if that thing is death?

If I die...

Will you welcome my death?

“I... I want you to be happy for me.”

The words slipped out of Jaegyeom like a murmur.

“Hm? What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

Jeongju pricked up his ears and asked again. Jaegyeom only shook his head quietly, as if it were nothing.

He kept sinking into thought.

After a moment of silence, Jaegyeom dropped heavily onto the sofa.

Right. I should have died long ago.

So I should do it now, at least.

Jeongju and Mesan will disappear someday anyway. The order will just be different. This is how it’s supposed to be.

Trying to scatter the guilt, Jaegyeom steeled himself.

“There’s something I want to do.”

“Huh?”

At those unexpected words, Jeongju’s eyes widened.

“I’m going up to Seoul. I’m going to become a Naja.”

Sometimes a decision only takes root once it has been spoken aloud.