Chapter 29

“I never would’ve guessed there was a stele beneath our feet.”

Jinyoung clicked her tongue in disbelief. Beomjin, still staring steadily at the slab, murmured:

“Almost like it was just waiting for someone to find it.”

He brushed his hand across the surface, as if handling something sacred.

Beneath the wind, beneath the sea—only one who reaches the Dragon King’s throne may face the flute.

Senior Ahn wiped the sweat from her brow, scanning their surroundings. The sun was already dipping, and thick clouds were crawling across the sky.

The words carved at the base of the stele were maddeningly cryptic. Reading them aloud only made the riddle more frustrating. The three of them wracked their brains for an answer.

“Beneath the wind, beneath the sea… what do you think it means?”

Jinyoung crouched, peering again at the inscription.

“This Dragon King’s throne… it has to mean King Munmu’s underwater tomb, right?”

“His tomb in the East Sea. That’s the most logical interpretation,” Beomjin agreed.

Senior Ahn nodded, and at once all three let out the same long sigh. The more certain the answer, the heavier the road ahead felt.

“Then it means we have to go underwater? We don’t even have diving gear. Even if we did, you can’t just dive in and find a tomb like it’s nothing. Wait—are we even sure there really is a tomb under the sea?”

No one could answer. King Munmu’s underwater tomb was legendary, but whether a burial chamber truly lay beneath the waves was still disputed. Some said it was hidden between the rocks. Others claimed it once existed but vanished. Some believed the sea tomb itself was a decoy. There was no consensus, only rumors.

“…Still. The stele says it’s there,” Senior Ahn said at last, though her voice lacked conviction.

“I think so too,” Beomjin admitted. “Right now, following the clue means heading for the underwater tomb.”

Jinyoung let out a deep sigh.

“Fine. This case just keeps getting bigger.”

With all three in agreement, Beomjin said, “Then let’s go. We head for the sea tomb now.”

The salty wind lashed against them. Waves pounded the shore at Bonggil Beach, where King Munmu’s underwater tomb was said to lie. The sky was smothered in dark clouds, ready to split open at any moment, as if the heavens themselves were trying to drive intruders away. Below, the ocean roared like a caged beast.

The massive rock known as the Great King Rock jutted out of the East Sea horizon. Even from a distance it looked commanding, like a throne rising from the waters.

“Squint a little and it really does look like a king seated there, doesn’t it?” Senior Ahn said with a faint smile.

Beomjin stood silently at the shore, watching the relentless waves. Depending on the angle, the rock shifted between a barren formation and a majestic royal tomb.

“If the stele’s words are true, then somewhere beneath those rocks lies the flute.”

Jinyoung’s voice trembled with unease. The idea of diving into those brutal waves made her stomach twist. Beomjin gave a slow nod, his expression heavier than ever.

“That’s what we have to hope. But not tonight. We’ve got no gear, the weather’s a mess, and too many eyes are watching.”

He was right. The beach was crowded with tourists snapping selfies and splashing in the shallows.

As the sun dipped, the visitors slowly trickled away. Darkness thickened, swallowing even the outline of the Great King Rock .

While Jinyoung called the Special Beast Investigation Unit to request diving equipment, Beomjin stood at the shore, replaying the inscription in his head over and over. Just gazing at the waves made him feel as if the sea itself might pull him under.

“We should turn back. Nothing more to see tonight. Once the sun’s down, the tide will only grow rougher. It’ll be calmer before dawn—we should head out then.”

Senior Ahn’s voice came from just behind him, calm but firm. The sea seemed to confirm her words, growing harsher by the minute.

“She’s right. Let’s go,” Beomjin agreed, turning away at last.

The skies broke open on the walk back. Rain lashed down, cold and merciless, carried by the coastal winds.

“Good thing we didn’t dive in,” Jinyoung muttered, shielding her head with both arms. Raindrops streamed down her cheeks, soaking into her collar.

Beomjin froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing.

“This isn’t the real problem.”

Amid the salt of the sea breeze and the stench of wet asphalt, his nose twitched. Three shadows slipped out from between the parked cars.

Boar. Frog. Dog. Rat.

The same Beast-Blooded he had beaten back at the false tomb. Their weapons gleamed under the flickering streetlight, eyes burning with rage.

“Back again, huh.”

Jinyoung’s voice was curt, more irritated than afraid.

“Rain’s bad enough. Let’s end this fast,” Beomjin replied, surging forward.

The Rat slashed low with a dagger. The Dog lunged from the side. The Boar barreled at Jinyoung, swinging a heavy stave.

Beomjin knocked the Rat’s blade aside and hammered a fist into the Dog’s jaw. Jinyoung twisted the stave aside and wrenched the Boar’s elbow until it snapped. Screams and the clang of steel against pavement filled the air.

But the Boar didn’t quit. Groaning, he turned his glare past Jinyoung—toward Senior Ahn.

“Haigo!”

Sensing killing intent, Senior Ahn stumbled back. The Boar gave chase, and Jinyoung chased him in turn.

Having floored the Dog and Rat, Beomjin looked past the streetlamp into the shadows. Another presence lingered there.

The Snake. The one who had strangled his throat before.

He stepped out into the light at last—tall, wiry limbs, joints moving unnaturally, dagger flashing silver in his grip.

Without a word, the Snake struck. Beomjin shifted to intercept, but the man slipped into the dark again. A flick of his wrist, and blades sang through the air—one missed, one grazed his shoulder, the third cut deep into his side.

Pain flared, but there was no time to cry out. The Snake reappeared, blade slashing upward. Beomjin narrowly twisted away, counterkicking—but again the man vanished into shadow.

In and out. Slash and vanish. Each exchange dragged Beomjin a little further behind. His head spun. Breath came ragged. Sweat slicked his body, limbs growing heavier.

Only then did he realize what was wrong.

“So it finally hits you. Stronger than I expected,” the Snake sneered. He flicked another dagger. Beomjin dodged, but the blade ripped across his thigh.

“…What did you do to me?”

Heat seared his wound. His gut twisted.

Poison.

And suddenly he remembered. That face—familiar not from the Rat or the Boar, but from standing beside the Dragon. That icy gaze that looked down on all beneath it. The weight in his presence.

He wasn’t a snake.

He was the Dragon’s half-brother.

“…Imugi.”¹

At the word, the man’s eyes widened—not in anger, but in delight.

“So you know me?”

Beomjin didn’t answer. He shut his eyes, forcing his ragged breath under control. The searing in his leg spread through his veins, making every heartbeat a hammer.

“Ghkk….”

Something writhed inside him, forcing its way against his chest.

Wham!

Imugi’s kick slammed him down. His stomach churned, bile threatening to rise.

“No one survives my venom. Not one.”

“Hhh…!”

Beomjin clawed at the earth, nails tearing. Another kick came—he rolled, barely escaping. Imugi laughed, savoring the sight of him writhing.

“To see you squirm like this… after all your posturing. Hilarious.”

His boot ground into Beomjin’s skull, pressing down mercilessly.

Even as pain ripped through him, Beomjin clenched his teeth. His body might be breaking, but his will would not.

As the world blurred and his consciousness began to slip, he prayed with all he had left.

‘I can’t go down like this. I have to endure. I can endure.’

His blood felt like it was boiling backward through his veins, stealing his breath. Pain gnawed at his very bones—but within it, a spark pushed him onward, refusing to die out.

“Hhh… haah… huuh…”

Beomjin steadied his breath. The tide of pain ebbed. His heart, once hammering out of control, calmed. The poison that had crushed his body lightened as if it had never been there.

When he opened his eyes, the dizziness was gone. His blood no longer surged out of control.

Everything was clear.

“What… what the hell?”

Imugi stumbled back, shaken. Beomjin’s eyes gleamed gold in the dark—predator’s eyes, glowing like a beast beneath the moon.

“You… what are you? This….”

The wounds still throbbed, but there was no pain. His vision cut through the night, tracing every movement, every tremor of air. Even the twitch of Imugi’s fingertips stood out to him.

“Why doesn’t the venom work? You should be down—shouldn’t even be able to stand…”

Beomjin didn’t have the answer. But now wasn’t the time for questions.

“Ekh!”

Imugi threw another knife. Beomjin batted it aside, his eyes following the arc clearly. When the half-dragon tried to vanish into shadow again, Beomjin seized him and slammed him to the ground.

“Ghhk!”

The crash echoed. Imugi flailed wildly, refusing to accept it.

“This can’t be! Me, losing to a mere tiger—?!”

Beomjin locked down his arms, pinning him. At last, Jinyoung staggered over, bruised but standing. She froze when she saw Beomjin’s eyes glowing like molten gold.

“Your eyes… what is that? Are you wearing lenses or something?”

Beomjin ignored the question and held out a hand.

“Forget that. Help me bind him.”

Still thrashing like a fish out of water, Imugi fought even harder. Jinyoung pulled out her standard-issue cuffs—crafted from a special alloy for restraining Beast-Blooded.

“Here.”

Beomjin snapped them shut, chaining Imugi to a parking sign.

“…I’m getting tired of this,” Beomjin muttered, checking his wounds. The cuts still oozed, but the dizziness was gone.

While he caught his breath, Jinyoung crouched to interrogate the captive.

“Where’s the stolen Manual of Music Theory?”

“…”

“Hey, I asked you! The book—where is it?”

“What’s the point? You don’t even know how to use it.”

“That’s a lie. We know it’s the score to the Flute of Ten Thousand Waves.”

At that, Imugi smirked.

“Pathetic. Give treasure to fools, and it’s no better than garbage. Only I can wield the Flute of Ten Thousand Waves!”

Beomjin remembered. The way Imugi had always stood at his brother’s side—while the Dragon gave orders, Imugi did the dirty work, always with that bitter expression. Even then, he had wanted recognition.

“So what? You’re still nothing more than your brother’s errand boy.”

Imugi’s glare snapped to him, filled with murderous fury.

“Shut your twisted mouth. Everything—I did it. I took the Manual. I proved the flute wasn’t under King Munmu’s Tomb. It was me!!!!!”

He froze, eyes wide. His own words had slipped free before he realized.

Beomjin and Jinyoung exchanged a sharp glance.

“…Did we misinterpret it?” Beomjin muttered. “‘Beneath the wind, beneath the sea, only one who reaches the Dragon King’s throne shall face the flute.’”

“We assumed ‘beneath the sea’ meant King Munmu’s Tomb,” Jinyoung said.

“Yeah. But look—‘beneath the wind’ comes first. It might not mean the sea at all. Wind, sky, beneath… maybe the earth. The Dragon King’s throne—not a grave, but the place where a king once sat.”

“King Munmu? But he’s long gone.”

“He swore he would return as a dragon. That’s why he had his tomb placed in the sea…”

Lost in deduction, they forgot Imugi was still listening.

Then Beomjin’s eyes lit up.

“Gamunsa Temple Site! The place where they prayed for the dragon’s return!”

A sharp snap cut through the rain. They spun around—only to see Imugi gone. At the base of the sign lay a severed hand, the cuffs still locked around it.

Blood drops trailed away, leading toward Gamunsa.

“Was that really necessary?” Jinyoung muttered, disbelief in her voice.

Beomjin clenched his fist, staring after the trail.

“…That’s the will of one who wants to be a dragon.”