Tap the text to show or hide reading controls.
“I know who you are.”
Beomjin’s voice was steady. The Vermilion Bird only smiled, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes as if this were nothing more than a game.
“Oh? And what difference does that make right now?”
He rested his arm lazily around Jungpyo’s shoulder.
“The only thing that matters,” he said lightly, “is who’s better suited to spend time with Jungpyo. Right?”
Jungpyo didn’t answer. He just looked away and gave a small nod.
The Vermilion Bird waved his delicate hand at Beomjin, flicking his wrist as if brushing away dust.
You can go now.
That casual motion snapped something inside Beomjin. He forgot the fear, the helplessness he’d felt before. All he saw now was the smirk on the Vermilion Bird’s face—and the boy he was trying to protect.
“Don’t you dare toy with people like they’re yours to break!”
Beomjin lunged, every muscle straining. Rage flared through him, white-hot and pure, as his fist shot toward the Vermilion Bird’s jaw.
“Whoa, faster than I expected,” the Vermilion Bird laughed, leaning back just in time.
The punch grazed air. The Vermilion Bird’s own hand snapped forward, flicking Beomjin’s wrist aside, then spun on one foot and kicked Beomjin’s ankle out from under him.
Thud!
Beomjin stumbled, nearly fell, caught himself on the ground, and rose again—only to find the Vermilion Bird already two steps back, grinning.
“I love moments like this,” the Vermilion Bird said, voice dripping with delight. “When I can really feel the other person’s sincerity. Ah… exhilarating.”
He giggled, covering his mouth with one hand, and sauntered forward. His movements looked playful—almost childish—but every motion carried precision, sharp as a blade’s edge.
“Why go this far? Jungpyo’s going to play with me. So why don’t you just leave?”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
Unfazed, Beomjin closed the distance with tight, fast jabs. Each punch came clean, disciplined—boxing technique honed through years of fights and scars.
“Oh! Oh!”
The Vermilion Bird dodged each blow with mocking ease, weaving between punches like a dancer. A quick jab brushed his cheek, but he didn’t even flinch.
Then came a hook—one, two, three—and Beomjin pressed harder.
“Ah, that one almost—”
Thwack!
Beomjin’s kick landed squarely against the Vermilion Bird’s ribs. The sound echoed through the narrow street. The Vermilion Bird staggered, only for his body to spring back upright like a rubber ball. He caught Beomjin’s leg mid-swing, twisted, and spun him effortlessly.
Beomjin’s body slammed against the apartment wall.
“This one was fun,” the Vermilion Bird said, voice bright. “A little faster and stronger, and it might’ve worked.”
“Shut up, you damn chicken.”
Beomjin spat blood onto the ground. The Vermilion Bird only grinned wider.
He wasn’t just strong—he was untouchable. Even Beomjin’s trained instincts told him there was no winning this fight.
Behind him, Jungpyo stood still, expression unreadable. Not mocking, not impressed—just watching.
Beomjin exhaled through his nose, scanning for a chance. The Vermilion Bird swayed side to side, bouncing lightly on his feet, his movements loose and taunting. If I can just stop his rhythm…
Beomjin steadied his breathing, lowered his stance. From his fingertips to his shoulders, every muscle coiled with tension.
He stepped in—slow, careful, throwing light jabs to measure the distance. A feint left. A shift right. Then, a sudden uppercut from below.
The Vermilion Bird twisted his torso to dodge, just as Beomjin planned. Beomjin followed, pressing from both sides, forcing him back step by step.
Almost there. Just a bit closer—
His final swing tore through the air, whoosh! missing by inches. The Vermilion Bird leapt back—
—and hit something solid.
“Huh?”
An SUV parked along the roadside stopped him cold.
Beomjin seized the opening and lunged.
“Got you, bastard.”
He hooked one arm around the Vermilion Bird’s neck, the other under his legs, ready to slam him into the ground—
Crack!
“Gah—!”
The world flipped. Pain exploded through his back and shoulders as he crashed to the pavement. He didn’t even see what hit him. His lungs seized, ribs screaming, vision spinning out of control.
He tried to move—nothing. His limbs wouldn’t respond.
Clap, clap, clap, clap.
Upside down in his blurred vision, the Vermilion Bird appeared, smiling as he applauded.
“A very creative attempt,” he said softly. “Truly. If it weren’t me, it might’ve worked.”
He crouched beside Beomjin, eyes gleaming with boyish cruelty.
“But I do have my pride, you know? And with my new friend watching…”
The Vermilion Bird turned toward Jungpyo and lifted a thumb, flashing a playful grin.
A few steps away, Jungpyo stood frozen—his fists clenched tight as he stared at the scene before him. He knew the fight was because of him. He wasn’t stupid. But still—
“Why… why would you go that far…?”
Beomjin’s broken, battered figure stirred something inside him—a discomfort he couldn’t name, wedged deep in his chest.
When the Vermilion Bird turned back, his smile had faded.
“I’ll admit,” he said, “you surprised me. I didn’t think you’d charge in without fear. Guess you’re braver than I gave you credit for.”
His tongue flicked against his teeth. He leaned down, tugged Beomjin closer by the ear, and whispered softly—
“But after dying once, I thought you’d have grown a little more.”
It was a short, almost gentle line—but it hit harder than any blow.
Beomjin’s half-closed eyes snapped open.
“…What did you just say?”
The Vermilion Bird didn’t answer. His gaze drifted for a moment, then settled back down, calm and cold.
“Well,” he murmured, “I suppose I should finish what I started.”
He gripped Beomjin’s head, raising his fist. His eyes were empty—no hesitation, no mercy.
Even then, through the blur of blood and rain, Beomjin’s gaze found Jungpyo. A faint smile cracked through his swollen lips.
Don’t give up, kid.
It was a look meant to soothe the frightened leopard cub. For a heartbeat, something flickered across Jungpyo’s shadowed face.
The Vermilion Bird’s knuckles tightened. Veins surfaced along his wrist as his fist came down—
Crack!
The sound split the air—but it wasn’t Beomjin’s skull.
The Vermilion Bird’s punch missed entirely. His head jerked back as his body staggered from a sudden blow.
What the—?
Beomjin, barely conscious, blinked through the haze.
Who—?
A silhouette blocked the streetlight overhead. Broad shoulders, a weapon like an iron spike glinting between the folds of his sleeve.
It was Kim Gyeonseok of the Samjokgu.
“You all right?”
The hand that caught him was warm and steady. Beomjin turned his head and saw Yoon Horyeon, the gumiho, kneeling beside him.
“Your ribs are broken,” she said softly. “You need to stay still.”
She glanced toward Gyeonseok, giving a brief nod.
The Vermilion Bird whistled low, clearly amused.
“Well, well. A fox and a Samjokgu? Now that’s a strange pair.”
He wrinkled his nose. So did Gyeonseok, his eyes narrowing with open hostility.
Seeing Beomjin on the ground, the Vermilion Bird sighed, scratching his head in mock frustration.
“Ugh, and it was just getting fun. Fine. Guess I’ll go. Jungpyo—come on.”
He slung an arm around Jungpyo’s shoulder and started walking away.
Jungpyo hesitated only once. He looked back.
Beomjin lay in the dirt, covered in mud and blood, still looking at him. Even with lips too torn to move, it was like he was trying to say something.
Then Jungpyo turned away. And left with the Vermilion Bird.
“They’re gone,” Horyeon murmured.
“…Good for us,” Gyeonseok replied.
He relaxed his shoulders and walked over to Beomjin.
“Still breathing, huh? Damn, you’re hard to kill.”
“Did you come to save me,” Beomjin muttered, grimacing, “or pray for my funeral?”
He tried to move—pain shot through his side.
“Think he’ll live?” Gyeonseok asked.
Beomjin didn’t answer. His body was cold, stiffening fast. He could taste blood. His eyes grew heavy.
Horyeon’s voice came faintly through the fog.
“That’s why we’re here,” she said. “To make sure he does.”
Horyeon shot Gyeonseok a sharp glare before turning back to Beomjin. She laid him flat and sat by his head.
With careful hands, she wiped the blood from his forehead, then reached into her robes and pulled out something wrapped in white cloth.
Through his blurry vision, Beomjin soon recognized it—a small, blue-glowing bead.
The orb pulsed faintly, as though breathing. It expanded and contracted in slow rhythm, a clear, resonant hum echoing from within, like the beat of a distant heart.
“This might hurt a little,” Horyeon whispered.
She brought the bead to his chest and pressed it down gently—but firmly.
Silver and azure light burst forth, swirling together. The bead softened like melting ice, seeping into Beomjin’s chest.
“Urgh—!”
Cold pierced his flesh like a blade. His body convulsed.
“Hold him still!”
At her command, Gyeonseok pinned Beomjin’s arms and legs. The skin where the bead touched reddened and shimmered as if burning from within.
“AAAHHH!”
Beomjin screamed until his throat tore. The bead sank halfway into his chest; Horyeon and Gyeonseok pressed harder.
The dark sky above him flushed red. Then—everything went black.
Warmth surrounded him.
When Beomjin stirred and opened his eyes, the scent of blood was gone. In its place lingered a clean, soothing fragrance.
A white ceiling. Soft murmurs nearby. The faint sound of something boiling.
“Uh… hello?”
He wasn’t sure where he was, so he called out softly. Footsteps approached.
“He’s awake. Guess your method really works.”
“‘Guess’? You doubted me?”
“Hey, I never said that.”
Horyeon rolled her eyes as Gyeonseok scratched his cheek awkwardly. When Beomjin tried to sit up, she gently pushed him back down.
“You’ll still feel dizzy,” she said. “But your body’s almost healed. The bones just need a little more time to set completely.”
Beomjin blinked, staring up at the ceiling. Memories trickled back—the Vermilion Bird, the fight, the pain, the blur of light before everything went dark.
“What… happened to me?”
“You almost died,” Gyeonseok replied bluntly. “You should thank Horyeon. If it weren’t for her, you’d be halfway into a coffin right now.”
“What do you mean…?”
Before he could finish, Horyeon smiled faintly and tapped her fingers against his chest—the very spot she’d pressed the bead into.
The pain came rushing back. He unbuttoned his shirt and froze. A faint white ring marked his skin.
“She gave you her gumiho’s bead,” Gyeonseok said flatly. “Your ribs’ll heal in a day now, so be grateful for life, yeah?”
Beomjin turned to her. Horyeon simply smiled, sunlight in her expression.
“I told you I’d come find you when I was ready,” she said.
Beomjin touched the mark on his chest again. It was smooth, almost polished—like a full moon resting against his heart.
Reading Settings
Special Beast Investigation Unit: War of Half-Humans and Half-Beasts
Chapter 44 / 75