Chapter 26

“A flute as a weapon? Is that even possible?”

Jinyoung finally broke the heavy silence, voicing what Beomjin wanted to ask too. This was something he had never known before his regression. The Manual of Music Theory had always been just that—a book of old scores, nothing more, nothing less. At least, until now.

“Do you know the legend of the Flute of Ten Thousand Waves?”

“Roughly. If you play it, enemies retreat, the weather changes—stuff like that, right?”

“Correct. It’s said to drive out invaders, cure plagues, stop floods and droughts.”

“And how could that even work?”

Beomjin asked the blunt question.

“The Flute of Ten Thousand Waves alone can’t make miracles. Its one true power is this: it erases the memories of anyone who hears its melody. Invaders forget why they came. People forget there was ever a plague. History itself is erased. But the flute alone can’t do it.”

“The Manual of Music Theory acts as its ammunition, then.”

Beomjin muttered, having caught on.

“Exactly. You have to play the Dragon’s Song written in the manual for the flute to become a weapon. That’s why I hid the truth…”

“Out of responsibility, or out of fear?” Jinyoung pressed.

“Both, I think.”

Dawn. The sky was just beginning to lighten.

Beomjin headed to Seoul Station to catch a train. Destination: Gyeongju. The trip had been decided suddenly. The weather forecast promised clear skies, but the dawn air felt heavy and damp. He carried only a light bag with a few essentials.

It was a trip, but joy was far from his mind.

He met Jinyoung at the station. She showed up with a suitcase so big a person might fit inside, like she was relocating for a year, not taking a short trip.

“Why’d you pack so much? Moving to Gyeongju?”

He clicked his tongue at her massive luggage. She shot back, pointing at his flimsy backpack with her chin.

“We’ll be climbing mountains and wandering around. Could be a day, two days, maybe more. Even a stack of underwear would make a bag thicker than that.”

“This is plenty.”

“Fine, suit yourself. Anyway, here—take this. I brought the data and a map you’ll need.”

She handed him a printed map and a fat book. Topographic lines, something he had barely glanced at even back in school, swam before his eyes. The book made him snort. It was the Beast-Blooded Encyclopedia, Revised Edition. He had read it over and over already, never expecting to see it again.

“Should’ve given it to you earlier, but I forgot. You’re still new, so study it properly. You’ll need the information, especially the warnings on how to deal with different bloodlines.”

Flipping through stirred old memories. He skipped the long section on the Dangun Myth, then skimmed over entries describing how Beast-Blooded couldn’t shake off habits even after becoming human—dogs, deer, cats.

At the bear section, he paused and glanced at Jinyoung.

Traits listed: immense strength. Also patience, composure… and an unusual amount of sleep.

Yes, she fit the bill. She lugged her massive case through the crowd like it was a shopping bag.

The KTX¹ departed on schedule. Seated in the very back, the two stared out the window in silence, halfheartedly scanning the map. Seoul’s lights blurred and vanished.

Beomjin pulled out the torn scrap of the Manual of Music Theory, studying it.

“You really think this thing exists?”

Jinyoung had turned her gaze from the map to the fragment in his hands.

“I can’t say for sure.”

He answered honestly.

“It’s silly for me, a Beast-Blooded, to say this, but… can something really erase people’s memories?”

He looked out at the breaking sky. The faint stars were fading without a trace.

“Chang-su’s dead. That alone makes it real to me.”

Jinyoung said nothing more. Too much had happened already for it to be just a legend. The Dragon and Snake were moving, and people were dying. Beomjin clamped his mouth shut, firm in his resolve.

They arrived at Gyeongju Station near 8 a.m. The sky was overcast, the air still smelling of night.

A white SUV awaited them in the parking lot, spotless and nearly new. He set the navigation for Yeondaesan.

“Before King Munmu died, he said his body would rest in the sea, but his spirit would become the wind to protect the nation. That much is known. But there’s another theory—that a false tomb was built to hide the Flute of Ten Thousand Waves, keeping it from those who would abuse it.”

With that explanation, Yewon pointed to a small mountain on the map, about four kilometers from King Munmu’s tomb.

“Somewhere on this mountain lies the real Flute of Ten Thousand Waves.”

“The real one?” Jinyoung asked.

Yewon smiled faintly.

“There’s already a flute called the Flute of Ten Thousand Waves displayed in the museum.”

She gripped their hands tightly, pleading.

“Please… find it. I’ll search for more documents, but you must bring the flute back.”

Her warmth lingered in Beomjin’s hand even after she let go.

“Let’s go.”

He drove toward their destination.

Yeondaesan rose about 200 meters above sea level—more a hill than a mountain. Its shrubs and trees glowed a deep green, almost purifying in the early light.

But the task weighed heavy. Even a small mountain was no joke when searching blindly for an empty tomb. It brought back nightmares of his military days, digging for spent casings in endless dirt. That had almost been child’s play compared to this.

“Didn’t you say someone was supposed to help us?”

“Yeah. They said they’d be here waiting. Ah—there they are.”

Jinyoung pointed at a rattling one-ton truck climbing the slope toward them. It stopped with a jolt right in front.

Out stepped a gray-haired woman in her sixties, wearing loose pants and rubber shoes. She waved them over with noisy enthusiasm.

“Well now, you beat me here. I left early, but it’s been so long since I came up here I kept losing the way. Haven’t seen this face before. A tiger, eh? Handsome lad, slick too.”

“Ah, hello,” Beomjin greeted politely.

But she was already patting Jinyoung on the hip like an old aunt fussing over a child.

“Our little cutie’s grown even prettier. Looks like you’re still getting taller.”

“I’ve been well. But no, I’ve stopped growing. It’s been far too long since I last visited, hasn’t it?”

“Busy life, I know. But it’s mighty good to see you now.”

Her scent carried soil and herbs, earthy yet sharp.

She was called Senior Ahn, a retired senior from the Special Beast Investigation Unit who occasionally lent her experience. Beomjin had heard her name before.

“Thank you for coming all this way to help,” he said with a bow. But inwardly, he worried. She looked frail—what use could she be on a mountain climb?

“So, remind me what I’m here for? Couldn’t hear too well over the phone.”

“We’re looking for a tomb. It’s complicated… there’s a snake involved.”

“A snake, huh?”

She didn’t flinch, just nodded as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

“We need to find a royal tomb. Have you heard any rumors about a false one?”

“Royal tombs? Gyeongju’s crawling with ’em. But don’t worry. You can tell the real ones from the fakes. Now, grab the stuff from the back.”

In the truck bed were shovels and a few empty sacks.

Without waiting, she strode off up the path like a tour guide.

“Come on. We’ve got to be down before dark!”

Contrary to Beomjin’s worries, Senior Ahn climbed like a mountain goat. Her small frame darted up the trail, light-footed as if gravity didn’t apply. It was so uncanny he almost wondered if she were a snake herself.

Suddenly she stopped, sniffing the air.

“What is it?”

Had she already found something? Beomjin and Jinyoung rushed over hopefully.

Instead, she darted off the path, plucked a fist-sized white lump from an oak tree, and held it up proudly.

“This here’s a lion’s mane mushroom. Delicious.”

Her wrinkled face glowed with glee. She shoved it into Beomjin’s hands.

“Keep it safe. Toss this into soybean paste stew, it’s to die for.”

“We’re supposed to be finding a tomb, not mushrooms…”

“Patience. If it’s there, it’s not going anywhere. Tombs don’t run off just because we take our time.”

Unlike the tense young agents, she radiated calm. It almost felt like she’d come out just for a stroll.

She stopped again and again to pluck mushrooms or give mini lectures on herbs. Each time, Beomjin and Jinyoung had no choice but to wait it out.

At last the trail opened into a grove of tall red pines. Their fragrance cut through the drowsiness clouding his mind.

Were they just going to walk all the way to the peak like this? They hadn’t probed the ground or searched with any method—just followed her blindly. Even the ownerless tombs they passed, she ignored. Beomjin jabbed the soil with his shovel a few times but couldn’t tell a thing.

“Don’t fret. I can tell what’s inside a tomb just by stepping on the ground. Whether it’s hollow or filled—I can feel it.”

Her casual words sent a chill down his spine. Then, like a ghost, she leapt forward, landing with eerie lightness. She turned right without a glance downward and beckoned them off the trail.

They scrambled after her, but the gap widened. Branches clawed at their faces, roots and stones snagging their legs. Beomjin pushed through, but Jinyoung lagged behind, sweating and gasping.

Finally he spotted her crouched by a tree, pointing ahead.

Please don’t be another mushroom, he thought. But no—her finger indicated a mound about ten meters away.

“There’s the tomb.”

It rose smoothly from the ground, twice the size of the graves they’d passed before. A low circular stone base supported it, with broken statues marking the four corners. Yet for a royal tomb, it was small and plain.

“That’s it?” Jinyoung asked, close behind her.

“Of course. Even a king’s tomb should be at least this size.”

Beomjin moved closer, inspecting. Fallen leaves blanketed the site, far removed from the trail. He descended first, the others fanning out to encircle the mound.

“Are you sure this is the one?”

Senior Ahn didn’t answer at once. She circled, stopping, starting again, her brow furrowing.

Tsk. She clicked her tongue, muttering:

“This tomb’s already been dug into.”