Chapter 46

It was a gloomy morning—unsettled, much like Beomjin’s own heart. He arrived at Seongwondang a little later than its opening hour, pushing the door open carefully as if visiting for the first time. In his hands were a fruit basket and a gift set of drinks.

The shop was quiet, almost lifeless. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of medicine, and bundles of dried herbs hung from the beams like flower bouquets—evidence enough of what kind of place this was.

After a short moment of wandering, Sun-ae peeked her head out from the back room.

“Oh my, the tiger’s back again? What’s the matter this time?”

“Hello. Is the owner in?”

Placing the fruit and drinks on the table, Beomjin asked politely. Sun-ae bustled over, patting his waist fondly.

“He’s in the back. But really, why’d you bring all this? You rascal!”

At her loud exclamation, footsteps followed, and Sun-woong appeared—dark circles hanging deep under his eyes as he yawned until his jaw cracked.

“Why are you shouting so early in the morning—huh?”

His face scrunched up even tighter when he saw Beomjin and the gifts on the table.

“This looks bad already. I’m telling you, I don’t have any more medicine for you.”

“Ah… it’s just that—”

“Sit first. Let’s at least hear what’s going on.”

Sun-woong tapped a chair, and Sun-ae went back inside.

Beomjin sat down quietly, like a small cat unsure of its place, wondering how to begin. The usually warm and friendly Sun-woong now felt more like a strict grandfather.

“The third one’s a no. Absolutely not.”

Beomjin hadn’t even opened his mouth yet, but Sun-woong spoke first. The sharpness in his tone made Beomjin exhale softly, the breath he’d been holding finally slipping out.

“Something dangerous happened recently. I realized I’m still not strong enough… and at this rate, I won’t make it. To fix that, I need—”

“No.”

Sun-woong shut his eyes completely. When Sun-ae came out carrying barley tea, she felt the frozen tension in the air, set the cups down silently, and hurried away.

“Seomdan awakens the instincts hidden deep in your body. It’s not a tonic. You’ve already drawn out the Tiger’s power in full. If you take another one now, it’ll only strain your body with nothing to gain. If you want to get stronger, go train instead.”

His words were calm but firm—enough that Beomjin couldn’t argue further. But he couldn’t give up, either. If the pheasant was gone, he’d take the chicken. If he had no teeth, he’d bite with his gums.

Fiddling with his fingers, Beomjin finally asked,

“Then… I’ll have to turn it backward, won’t I?”

“Turn it backward? I told you before, that’s not something you just decide to do. It’s not for anyone to attempt. You either lose your mind completely—or…”

“Or what? There’s another way, isn’t there?”

“No. Best not to even think about it.”

Beomjin could feel it—the faint tremor of Sun-woong’s heartbeat. Subtle, but more honest than any lie. He was hiding something. Something he absolutely didn’t want to reveal.

Beomjin pressed his lips together, standing in silence. His throat bobbed once.

“Any method is fine. Please… tell me.”

His voice trembled slightly. Hands clenched loosely, Beomjin slowly lowered one knee to the ground—then the other.

It wasn’t calculated. It wasn’t pride, but desperation that broke him.

Though Sun-woong sat rigidly upright, in that moment, it was Beomjin who looked stronger.

“You can see how serious I am. Please, old man. If you don’t tell me now, I’ll find out somewhere else anyway. It’s better I learn the right way.”

Sun-ae approached gently, laying a hand on his shoulder and back to lift him up.

“Just look at his eyes. Stubborn as they come. A tiger really is a tiger.”

“Good grief… I knew the weather felt heavy today.”

Clicking his tongue, Sun-woong stood up and gestured for Beomjin to follow. He walked out of the shop without another word.

As Beomjin hesitated, Sun-ae gave him a playful smack on the backside.

“What are you waiting for? Go on, follow him! And don’t you dare die, you hear me?!”

“Y-yes, ma’am!”

He gave a quick bow and hurried after Sun-woong.

Insadong’s morning was as quiet as Sun-woong himself. The tea houses and workshops that had stayed open late the night before were still closed, and only a few office workers passed briskly through the narrow alleys.

Without a word of explanation, Sun-woong kept walking. They passed the start of a familiar street lined with tiled roofs. After a short while, a gray stone pagoda rose ahead, cutting through the city’s stillness.

The Ten-Story Pagoda of Wongaksa Temple Site.

It felt strange—this ancient relic standing so proudly in the middle of a modern city.

Beomjin glanced around. Perhaps because it was still early, the area around the pagoda was unexpectedly quiet.

As the pagoda came into full view, Sun-woong finally spoke.

“The ten stories represent the Ten Directions—the entire universe, encompassing every realm from east to west, north to south, above and below.”

When they stepped into Tapgol Park, the pagoda stood fully revealed before them. Sun-woong looked up at it and continued his explanation.

“There’s no precise record, but around the time Wongaksa was built, ten Beast-Blooded turned back time—and caused a catastrophe. To seal their souls away from this world, this pagoda was raised.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“That’s why beneath this pagoda lies those violent souls, still asleep.”

Sun-woong mumbled to himself, voice low and uncertain, as if speaking half to the air. Then he moved past the pagoda and into the northern woods. He walked for some time before stopping between two enormous birch trees. The place didn’t seem special at first—until Beomjin noticed faint letters carved into the trunks.

On the left trunk, the word mysterious was carved faintly into the bark; on the right was enter.

Entering a mysterious world, perhaps?

“Here.”

When Sun-woong brushed away the fallen leaves and dirt, a stone slab appeared beneath. It looked like a kind of platform—or a door.

“Once you step inside, you’ll face the beast within yourself. Defeat it, and turning backward will no longer be backward at all. But if you can’t overcome it… you won’t come back out.”

His breath fogged briefly in the air as he finished. Staring at the slab, Beomjin asked quietly,

“I’m not the only one who’s been in there, am I?”

“…No. Power, after all, is sweeter than anything.”

“And those who came out…?”

Sun-woong gave a vague smile and raised two fingers.

“Two?”

“One. In ten years.”

With that, he took a small safety pin from his pocket and handed it over.

“A drop of your blood will open the door. My part’s done—what happens next is up to you. If you make it out alive, come by the shop. I’ll have medicine ready for your wounds.”

Without waiting for a reply, Sun-woong turned and trudged back toward Tapgol Park.

The farther his figure receded, the heavier the stone slab felt under Beomjin’s feet.
It wasn’t just a door—it was a boundary, dividing life from death, or perhaps past from future.

Will I be able to return?

The question rose to his throat, but he swallowed it down.

Alone now, Beomjin stopped thinking altogether. He pricked his finger with the pin.
A droplet of blood fell into the groove on the stone’s surface and was instantly absorbed.

With a grinding sound, the slab slid open, revealing a staircase descending into the chill below. He took a deep breath—then stepped down.

Sunlight reached him only for a moment. Then came total darkness, his pupils glowing faintly like an animal’s. He must have descended two floors when the corridor began stretching endlessly ahead. From the way the secret door had opened and the design of the underground space, it resembled the kind of structure used to seal the Flute of Ten Thousand Waves.

Before long, the corridor ended at an arched doorway. There was no barrier or wall, yet it somehow felt firmly shut.

“Ah… ah.”

Even when he spoke, the sound didn’t echo. Standing before the arch, he rolled his shoulders and stretched lightly.

Then he stepped through. It felt like walking against a headwind—every step resisted him. As he grew accustomed to the strange pressure, he advanced toward what felt like the center of the room.

From the far end of the darkness, someone began to walk toward him. No footsteps. Just a familiar silhouette splitting off from the shadows like a second self.

What Sun-woong had warned him about—it was true. His opponent was himself. Yet there was no warmth of life in it.

“Well, this feels… weird in its own way.”

It wasn’t exactly a doppelgänger, but something eerily close. So… was he supposed to just punch it until it went down?

He almost laughed at the absurdity. There was no sense of danger yet, no fear, not even tension.

When the distance between them shrank to about ten meters, the shadow moved—like lightning. Beomjin’s eyes tracked it, but in the blink of an eye, he lost sight. He twisted his body and dropped low, just in time. A blur passed over his head, tearing through the air like a tiger’s strike.

The hairs on his body bristled. That was when he truly realized—it had begun.

“Huff!”

Beomjin exhaled sharply and steadied his stance. The shadow faced him—neither fully upright nor crouched, poised like a predator ready to spring.

It shifted, creeping sideways—then darted right. By the time Beomjin turned his head, it had already vanished from sight. When it reappeared, it was from below—an uppercut ripping through the air, tearing open his shirt. Razor-sharp claws grazed his chin by a hair’s breadth. He couldn’t see the wound, but he could smell blood.

Just two attacks—and the shadow already felt more terrifying than the Vermilion Bird himself.

Its pace quickened. There was no chance to counterattack; even dodging was suffocating.

Slash!

Something struck from beyond his vision. Three deep lines ripped across his left cheek. Blood spattered, staining his eyes red. Another blow followed, sending pain lancing through his right knee as it buckled.

He couldn’t even scream. Only fear came flooding in now.

When he tried to wipe the blood from his face, his arm tore open. A kick from behind sent his jaw snapping up and down; dizziness hit, and he crashed to the ground.

Flat on his back, Beomjin scrambled away on instinct—just to survive.

Squelch.

Footsteps, wet with blood, echoed closer.

Is this all you’ve got?

Can’t even protect yourself?

The shadow’s advancing form overlapped with Jungpyo’s face in his mind.

Beomjin clenched his teeth. There was nowhere left to retreat. He pushed off the ground—and the shadow’s fist drove into his stomach. Pain shot through his ribs, but Beomjin seized its arm before it could pull back.

Instead of dodging, he twisted its arm and slammed his forehead forward. The shadow staggered; Beomjin shifted his weight smoothly, hooked its leg, and threw it down.

Without hesitation, he pinned it beneath him and struck at every vulnerable spot he could reach. Claws raked into his flesh, but he didn’t stop. When the shadow’s hand shot up toward his face, he blocked it, trapping both wrists—then smashed his forehead down again.

Crack!!

“Haa…”

Beomjin stood, panting heavily. The shadow lay motionless. He nudged it with his foot—no response. Yet, there was no visible change in himself either.

Was that it?

He clenched his fists, threw a few shadow punches—nothing. No difference.

Maybe once I get out, I’ll feel it.

Turning toward the archway, he felt strangely light—but couldn’t be sure. Maybe Sun-woong had tricked him.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, something yanked the back of his neck with tremendous force.

Crash!

He hit the ground hard, stunned.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Beomjin froze. Another version of himself stood there—not a shadow this time, but him.

“What the—? It’s not over yet?”

The other Beomjin looked down at the fallen shadow, then lifted his gaze, eyes glinting with a calm, cutting edge.

“You thought that was the end? That thing’s just a shell.”

He pointed at the collapsed shadow.

“That’s the you from now—what’s been holding you back all this time.”

Then he tapped his own chest.

“And me? I’m the you from before the return—before you lost everything, before you gave up on anything.”

He smiled faintly.

“The real fight starts now.”