Chapter 33

The moment Beomjin revealed his identity, Geonjung’s brow twitched slightly. But he quickly regained his smile and patted Beomjin’s hand twice.

“You’ve come a long way. Haha, though nothing serious has happened in our village, I can’t imagine why you’d come all the way here yourself.”

Something serious?

Beomjin glanced wordlessly at what was left of the pavilion—now just a pile of broken scrap wood. The pillars that had rolled down the hill lay scattered across someone’s field.

Really? That’s what you call nothing serious?

His look said everything.

Catching on fast, Geonjung gave a sheepish chuckle.

“Our Doyun’s just a little too strong for his own good, that’s all. Still… no one got hurt, right?”

Beomjin inhaled through his nose. Exactly the kind of response he expected.

Even when Doyun and his gang were acting out earlier, they hadn’t shown an ounce of fear or hesitation when Geonjung appeared. That alone told him enough—Doyun was under the village chief’s protection.

“He destroyed the pavilion, and you’re calling it a prank? If adults don’t draw the line, what are kids supposed to learn from that?”

Beomjin’s firm tone made Doyun click his tongue and step in.

“Hey, come on. Don’t stir up trouble when you’re not even from here. It’s not like anyone but Shin Seoyul uses that old shack anyway. If it broke, we can just rebuild it. Geez.”

Before Beomjin could reply, Geonjung stepped in, laughing loudly to smooth things over.

“His tone might be rough, but he’s really not a bad kid. In fact, he’s quite special. Doyun’s the pride of our village—though you probably don’t know yet…”

“He’s from the Dragon bloodline, isn’t he?”

At Beomjin’s words, Geonjung’s cheek twitched. For a brief moment, his eyes flashed toward Doyun—and Doyun immediately looked away.

“Ahem! Then may I ask… what business does the Special Beast Investigation Unit have here?”

“Nothing official. I’m just here on a personal—”

A shout cut him off.

“Grandma!”

Down the slope, someone was hurrying uphill. Panting and calling Seoyul’s name, a white-haired old woman climbed up with a cane in hand. When she finally reached them, she pulled Seoyul into her arms without hesitation.

“Oh, my poor girl! You’re not hurt, are you? You don’t know how scared I was when I saw that thing collapse!”

Still out of breath, her eyes red, she ran trembling hands over Seoyul’s arms and face.

“I’m fine, Grandma. Just my bag…”

“I’ll get you another one if I have to, as long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters.”

Wiping her eyes, the old woman finally turned to Beomjin.

“Oh my goodness, and who might this gentleman be?”

“This is—”

“He’s a visitor from Seoul,” Geonjung cut in quickly. “But more importantly, it seems Seoyul caused trouble again. I don’t know why she keeps picking fights with Doyun.”

Even though he knew Beomjin had witnessed everything, the chief boldly twisted the story, scolding Seoyul as if she were at fault. Beomjin let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.

“If the child caused you any trouble, I truly apologize,” the grandmother said with a bow. “Seoyul’s not that kind of girl. I’ll talk to her properly.”

“But this isn’t the first time, is it?” Geonjung pressed on. “She keeps causing trouble with Doyun—that’s not good for the peace and safety of the village.”

The old woman bowed repeatedly, her shoulders trembling. Amid the skewed scene, Beomjin realized something: Geonjung wasn’t just a chief—he was the one holding real control over this entire village.

“Allow me to take you both home,” Beomjin said, stepping in protectively between them and Geonjung.

The villagers who stood behind the chief made no attempt to hide their disapproval, their faces openly sour—but none dared speak.

“…If you insist, we’d be grateful,” Geonjung replied through clenched teeth.

“Then I’ll see you again soon,” Beomjin said, his tone sharp enough to sound like a warning.

He turned on his heel. Voices murmured behind him, but he ignored them and guided the two women down the hill.

“Did you really save our Seoyul?”

Once they were out of sight from the villagers, the old woman grabbed Beomjin’s hand tightly.

“It’s nothing. I didn’t really do much,” Beomjin said, glancing down at the flattened bag he had picked up—squashed like a pressed pancake.

“Then… you came to see our Seoyul, didn’t you?”

Seoyul looked up at him, her face pale and listless. When their eyes met, Beomjin found himself speaking before he could stop.

“…Yes. I came looking for a Dragon.”

“Oh heavens! I knew it! I kept telling everyone our Seoyul has real Dragon blood, but no one would believe me!”

The old woman clapped Seoyul on the shoulder, beaming with pride. Seoyul, however, remained expressionless, answering flatly,

“…That’s not possible.”

“Don’t mind her tone,” the grandmother said, undeterred. “She really is from the Dragon line. Folks around here keep fussing about Suyeon’s boy, but I know—the real one is this child.”

Her conviction was fierce, a stark contrast to Seoyul’s quiet gloom.

As they walked toward Seoyul’s home, the village grew strangely lifeless. They passed small rice fields and walled houses. Somewhere behind them, the sound of barking dogs suddenly stopped. When they walked past, the barking started again.

“What the…?”

Beomjin turned in confusion, and Seoyul murmured,

“…They do that when I pass by. Don’t mind it.”

“They stop barking when you walk by?”

“I used to get bitten a lot when I was little. But one day, they just… stopped.”

She spoke as if it were nothing. The old woman said nothing either, though her hand gripped her cane tighter.

Then, ahead in the alley, familiar silhouettes appeared.

Doyun.

This time he wasn’t with kids—but with two adults. One was a well-dressed woman in her mid-forties, the other a man Beomjin recognized as one of Geonjung’s followers.

“Is that the man?” the woman asked Doyun, pointing toward Beomjin. Her sharp eyes darted between him and Seoyul, then she raised her chin arrogantly and approached.

“You’re from the Special Beast Investigation Unit, correct?”

Without waiting for a reply, she handed him a boxed set of drinks.

“I’m Eunjung—Doyun’s mother. Please take care of my son.”

“Ah, that’s really not necessary—”

“It’s hot out. Think of it as a little gift from the village.”

Despite his refusal, she pressed the drinks into his hands with a sweet smile. Then, after throwing a brief glance at Seoyul, she turned and walked off with Doyun.

“…What was that about?” Beomjin muttered.

The grandmother sighed.

“That Doyun’s mother… she looks polite on the outside, but you can’t read that woman. Be careful around her.”

They followed a sloping path lined with old houses until Seoyul’s home came into view—a half-collapsed structure of patched metal roofing and stained concrete walls.

The roof was uneven, and the windowpanes were so dirty it was hard to tell if they’d ever been replaced.

“Come in,” the old woman said, opening the door.

Beomjin stepped inside, removing his shoes. A faint draft swept through the dusty air.
There was an old television, a noisy-looking fan, and a faded family photo hanging on the wall.

“It’s just me and Grandma,” Seoyul said before he could ask.

Understanding the unspoken request not to dig further into their family, Beomjin changed the subject.

“The boy from earlier—Doyun. What’s your relationship with him?”

At the mention of the name, Seoyul’s brow furrowed. Her grandmother emerged with drinks and snacks, answering instead.

“Doyun’s her cousin. That fancy woman you met just now—that’s Seoyul’s father’s younger sister-in-law.”

“They’re relatives? Then why are they…”

“Not on good terms,” the old woman finished curtly.

She glanced toward Seoyul, who stood up, picked up a book, and disappeared into the next room—clearly uninterested in the topic.

The grandmother sighed deeply before continuing.

“So tell me the truth. You came here to take Seoyul—the Dragon-blooded girl—with you, didn’t you?”

The grandmother’s intuition was sharp, but Beomjin hadn’t decided on anything yet.
Before he could act, he needed to understand the truth behind this small village—and the two dragons it seemed to hold.

“It’s not like that,” he said. “I just heard there might be a dragon here. But…”

“I’m tellin’ you plain as day,” the old woman interrupted. “Our Seoyul’s the real dragon blood.”

“That boy, Doyun—he claimed he was from the dragon line.”

The grandmother looked toward the room Seoyul had gone into. The sorrow in her gaze deepened the wrinkles around her eyes.

“There’s a reason for that,” she murmured, lowering her voice.

In Okgye-ri, those with dragon blood were treated like divine messengers. Only one was recognized each generation—and in the last, that person had been Seoyul’s father. But he’d fallen ill and died suddenly, leaving the village without a messenger for years.

Then, around the same time, both Seoyul and her cousin Doyun began to show signs of dragon power. The villagers split over who the next messenger should be, and the tension grew ever since.

“Doyun’s mother—she’s always been jealous,” the grandmother said bitterly. “She envied her brother, and never got along with my daughter, Seoyul’s mom.”

“Then who decides who becomes this… divine messenger?” Beomjin asked.

“They hold a vote at the village hall,” the grandmother replied, her tone laced with scorn. “But that chief, Geonjung—he’s thick as thieves with Doyun’s mother. So they all call Seoyul a fraud and pretend the truth doesn’t exist.”

Beomjin began to see how the pieces fit together. But one thing still mattered most.

“…So you’re certain Seoyul really carries dragon blood?”

He had felt something strange, something powerful around her—but no proof yet. Whatever conflict brewed in this place, his goal was the same: to find the true Dragon bloodline.

“You think I’d lie about that?” the grandmother snapped. “That boy Doyun’s no real dragon. He’s loud and reckless—just like his mother.”

Her confidence was unshaken, but to Beomjin, she sounded no different from the chief or Doyun’s mother, each blinded by their own loyalty.

The next morning, mist still clung to the narrow alleys as Beomjin walked quietly through the village. He’d left Seoyul’s home and made his way deeper inside. The atmosphere felt different from yesterday.

Adults gathered in front of small stores, elders worked in their gardens, and a few swept their yards—but every pair of eyes followed him. People greeted him politely, but their forced smiles made the air heavier.

Then, from down the street, Doyun appeared with his group of friends. When he spotted Beomjin, he grinned brightly.

“Good morning.”

The friendliness was new—and unsettling.

“What brings you out here? You haven’t left yet?” Doyun asked.

Beomjin stopped walking. The boy’s tone was casual, but his confidence carried an edge.

“Did you stay at Seoyul’s place last night?”

“Why are you asking?”

“No reason. Just wondering. Must’ve been tough sleeping in that run-down house.”

Doyun laughed, and his friends snickered behind him. The arrogance in their voices made Beomjin’s hands itch. Whether or not Doyun truly had dragon blood, he was the kind of person Beomjin couldn’t stand.

“You don’t get weird vibes around her?” Doyun asked suddenly. “She’s always quiet, gloomy, doesn’t talk to anyone. Just reads her books. Doesn’t it feel off?”

He kept sneaking glances at Beomjin, something nervous flickering behind his cocky expression. Beomjin caught it easily—that desperate need for recognition.

“You’re here looking for the dragon blood, right?” Doyun said. “I already know. Don’t worry. I’ll prove it to you.”

“Prove it?”

“Yeah. I’ll show you who the real dragon blood is!”

He raised his arms dramatically, his friends cheering and hollering around him.
Their noise drew in villagers from nearby houses, who crowded around as if watching a performance.

Doyun strutted toward a pile of cement blocks stacked by a stone wall. His pudgy arms tensed, veins bulging unnaturally. His breath quickened as excitement took over.

“Hold on,” Beomjin warned. “Smashing rocks doesn’t prove anything about being dragon-blooded.”

But Doyun ignored him.

“That’s not what they think,” he said, his eyes sharpening.

“To them, what they see is everything.”

His voice dropped low as he clenched his fist. Then he looked down the road. There—Seoyul was walking toward them, shoulders small and tense.

Doyun locked eyes with her. And then, with a shout, he slammed his fist down.

Kwaaang!

Cement dust exploded into the air. The villagers erupted in cheers, chanting Doyun’s name.

He stood tall, breathing hard, basking in their praise.

But to Beomjin, the sound of shattering stone wasn’t triumph—it was the sound of balance breaking.