Chapter 45

The pain coursing through his body had finally dulled to a faint ache. His ribs still throbbed, but the warmth wrapping his body made it bearable.

“Thank you. You saved my life,” Beomjin said, bowing his head.

“Don’t mention it.”

Horyeon smiled modestly as she accepted his gratitude.

Once he had thanked her, Beomjin finally asked what had been on his mind.

“So… where am I? And how did you find me?”

“My place,” Gyeonseok replied bluntly.

“You’re lucky we found you,” he added. “We’ve been keeping an eye on the Vermilion Bird lately.”

“The Vermilion Bird? You two?”

“No, not us—the Samjokgu,” Gyeonseok corrected.

“Oh… right.”

Beomjin chuckled, and Horyeon joined in softly.

It made sense. The Samjokgu would have reason to keep tabs on someone that dangerous. As if reading his thoughts, Gyeonseok continued.

“There were reports of the Vermilion Bird appearing again, so the Samjokgu started tracking him. A being like that moving around freely—yeah, that’s a problem. We were monitoring the area when you happened to cross paths with him. Lucky timing.”

“Lucky?” Horyeon nudged his side with her elbow.

But Gyeonseok only shrugged. “You almost died and lived. Sounds lucky to me.”

“…Fair point,” Beomjin admitted with a weak smile. If they hadn’t shown up, he wouldn’t be here to argue about it.

“Anyway, thanks to both of you.”

Horyeon smiled in return, but Gyeonseok stayed stiff and wary.

“So, who was that kid? Why did the Vermilion Bird take him? Does he have some special power, or is he just someone you know?”

Beomjin hesitated. There was no simple way to explain it.

“He’s a leopard,” he said finally.

“Yeah, we saw that much.”

“He’s unstable—dangerously so. If he can’t control himself soon, he’ll become a real threat.”

“That’s still vague,” Gyeonseok pressed. “Is he really worth risking your life over?”

The question struck deep.

Beomjin’s mind flashed back to his previous life—to Jungpyo’s final moments, the tears that had fallen just before he died.

His life had been worth saving then. And it still was now.

“At least… I have to try again,” Beomjin said quietly.

Gyeonseok muttered under his breath, “You’re insane.”

Beomjin ignored him. “That’s why I have a favor to ask.”

“Favor?”

“If you find Jungpyo—if the Samjokgu locates him—tell me where he is.”

“And then?”

“I’ll go to him.”

Beomjin’s steady tone made Horyeon frown.

“I don’t know what your connection is,” she said, “but that’s too dangerous. Even with the three of us together, I’m not sure we could win. And you still need to rest.”

She pressed him gently back down, pulling the blanket over him. The cool air brushing his skin suddenly felt sharp and cold.

Looking him straight in the eye, Horyeon said firmly,

“The gumiho’s bead isn’t something just anyone can absorb. Your body will feel different for a while. You might get dizzy, have trouble breathing, or spike a fever. If it gets too much, you must tell us, all right?”

“Yeah,” Gyeonseok added. “Don’t go wandering around and making it worse. Just listen to her for once.”

“Get some more rest,” Horyeon said softly.

As she and Gyeonseok left the room, Beomjin gave them a silent nod.

The room grew quiet again.

He stared at the faint light spilling through the window. Sleep wouldn’t come. His mind was too loud.

Nearly dying was one thing. But realizing how powerless he still was—that cut deeper.

He’d believed returning to the past was a blessing, a second chance. But changing people wasn’t as easy as fighting monsters.

He’d thought sincerity could reach anyone. He’d been naïve.

Trying to save Jungpyo—to turn him into someone better—had been arrogance.

Faces from his past flickered before him. People he’d failed to save. Allies who’d fallen one by one.

He couldn’t keep reacting after tragedy struck. He had to move first—find them before their hearts hardened, before their choices destroyed them.

Beomjin clenched his fist over the blanket. The bitter taste of regret lingered in his mouth.

If only he’d acted sooner. If only he’d taken one step faster.

He couldn’t let Jungpyo be another failure. Protecting that boy… felt like the first step toward redeeming the man he once was.

Evening came.

Warm light filled the small dining room. On the table, a modest meal waited—grilled pork belly, soybean stew, and a few simple side dishes.

The aroma of freshly cooked rice filled the air.

Beomjin still felt heavy and sluggish, but he forced himself up and walked to the dining table.

The warmth rising from the food made his empty stomach clench in protest.

“Resting well means eating well and sleeping well,” Horyeon said as she placed a bowl of rice in front of him.

“At least three bowls should do it if you want to recover fast.”

“That’s not recovery, that’s overeating,” he chuckled. “But… thank you. I’ll eat well.”

He nodded politely to her and began eating.

The first sip of warm soup slid down his throat and filled him with a comforting sense of life.

The silence that followed was calm—until Beomjin broke it.

“Do you know where the Vermilion Bird is now?”

Gyeonseok didn’t answer. He chewed his food quietly, his expression unreadable.

“Then what about Jungpyo? Have you found where he is?”

After swallowing a spoonful of soup, Gyeonseok finally responded.

“Why are you asking? You planning for round two in that condition?”

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then why?”

“I need to see him. You know where he is, don’t you?”

Gyeonseok shook his head.

But the motion felt slow—almost deliberate. And in that stillness, Beomjin suddenly heard it.

A heartbeat.

Loud, rhythmic, echoing like a drum inside his skull.

What…?

Startled, he blinked hard. It wasn’t a hallucination. He could hear Gyeonseok’s pulse pounding.

“What is this…?”

“Is something wrong?” Horyeon asked gently.

Beomjin forced a faint smile. “No, it’s nothing.”

Whether it was a side effect of the gumiho’s bead or something else entirely, he couldn’t tell. But one thing was certain—Gyeonseok was lying.

“You know, don’t you? Tell me. I promise I won’t do anything reckless.”

He pressed again, and after several moments of silence—and a glance toward Horyeon—Gyeonseok finally set his spoon down.

“…And what are you planning to do if I tell you?”

“I’ll just talk to him. That’s all. I’m not in any shape for another fight.”

Gyeonseok sighed deeply. “Fine. I’ll tell you. But only if I’m coming with you.”

Late that night, Jungpyo stood in front of his apartment building, pacing aimlessly.

After several minutes, he took a deep breath and stepped into the elevator.

He stood before the door for a long time, hand hovering over the bell before finally lowering it again.

When he gathered enough courage to press it—

No one answered.

Not his mother. Not his father. Just silence.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The apartment was dark, silent, and cold.

He hadn’t been home for just a day, but it already felt like no one lived there. For a moment, his heart raced—maybe his parents had gone out to look for him. He wandered through each room, sat for a while on the couch, then on a chair, before quietly packing a few clothes and valuables into a bag.

“I wanted to see you…”

He murmured to himself, voice small and heavy.

As he walked out through the apartment gates, head lowered, a familiar scent drifted through the air.

Under a streetlight stood Beomjin, waiting motionlessly like a statue.

Jungpyo didn’t seem surprised to see him. As if he’d already expected this, he greeted him calmly.

“Hello.”

Seeing Beomjin standing upright, walking toward him without any sign of injury, Jungpyo’s eyes widened.

“I thought you were seriously hurt. You look fine.”

His curious gaze scanned Beomjin up and down.

“I was waiting for you,” Beomjin said.

“What for? You know if you come closer, you’ll just get hurt again.”

“I know you came here without telling him. And I’m not here to hurt you.”

Jungpyo’s breath hitched. His eyes darted around restlessly, a flicker of unease crossing them.

“So what then?”

That defiance—it wasn’t arrogance. It was instinct, the kind that came from a cornered animal trying to survive.

“I can help you. Come back with me. The confusion you’re feeling—the violent urges, the fear of losing control—I can explain all of it. I can teach you how to live with it. But you can’t keep letting it control you like this.”

“So it’s that speech again. Don’t do this, don’t do that. I’m done listening. You talk like you’ve changed, but you haven’t. I’m leaving. I like who I am now.”

Jungpyo brushed past him.

“No, you don’t,” Beomjin said. “You came home tonight because you still care. You still have something soft inside you.”

“Then how am I supposed to live?” Jungpyo snapped, stopping in his tracks. “Keep getting yelled at? Beaten? Treated like trash? And just… endure it?”

He hesitated—then asked without turning around,

“I’m not weak. I’ll get stronger. Like him.”

“But if you keep going down this road, you’ll…”

Beomjin stopped himself from saying it. You’ll kill someone.

“So just being strong makes everything okay?”

Jungpyo turned. His eyes, tight and furious, glimmered under the streetlight.

“At least then… I can do what I want.”

As Beomjin took a cautious step toward him, Jungpyo turned away. His footsteps echoed, then faded into silence.

Beomjin stood there for a long time—unable to move, unable to follow. The night air pressed coldly against his skin as he stared at the empty gate.

From a distance, Gyeonseok approached quietly.

“You’ve done enough. Let it go.”

“Not yet.”

“What are you planning now? You know this isn’t the time to fight the Vermilion Bird.”

“I know,” Beomjin said. “And I also know exactly what I have to do next.”

There was something resolute in his eyes—something that made Gyeonseok both anxious and curious.

“…What are you going to do?”

“I need to get stronger too.”

Beomjin turned to him with a faint nod, then started walking home.

His mind was already racing—filled with thoughts of training, or perhaps something beyond that entirely.