Chapter 68

They dropped low as if to lie flat and slid between the stacked boxes. The piles, mounded together like a single organism, writhed back and forth and moved with unnerving coordination.

“Should be about here…”

Du-seo pushed a few boxes aside with his foot. Thud, thud—the weaker cartons crumpled and a protruding wall was revealed. Rusted metal door stared back at them.

A faded sticker reading NO ENTRY clung to the door, and the handle had long since been ripped off—only a scar of metal remained.

“This is the one we go through.”

Du-seo produced a small pry bar and spoke in a low voice.

“Let’s open it.”

Screeeek.

Metal scraped on metal. Beomjin prayed the storage door wouldn’t stay shut even as he willed it to open faster.

Thunk. Rrr.

The elevator passage door swung inward. Beyond it lay a dark corridor—the shuttered shaft of an old elevator.

Du-seo flicked on a tiny headlamp and the beam shot long up and down the shaft. The way up to the third floor was sleek and straight.

“Come on. Not far now. We just go up and pull out the Mirror of Clear Reflection.”

They set their gear out without a pause.

Beomjin clipped crampons to his waist and gripped two ice axes that felt painfully sharp in his hands.

Du-seo, practiced, cinched his safety harness and found his footing.

“You go up first.”

At Du-seo’s command, Beomjin led the climb.

The elevator walls were old cement and corroded metal plating, but Du-seo moved like someone crawling through a cave—steady, reliable.

Beomjin followed. Fingers tuned to the texture of the wall, toes searching for balance, and even his heartbeat seemed to hone into a single, bright point.

They were close to the third floor when Beomjin clicked his tongue.

“…It’s blocked.”

“What?”

Du-seo quickened his pace and came up beside him.

The elevator door to the third floor had been completely covered in concrete. Whoever had retrofitted and repaired the interior had painted right over the opening.

“This wasn’t in the plan.”

Beomjin’s whisper left Du-seo stumbling over his words. He looked flustered—only his mouth moved, making small, helpless noises.

“The Myungshim Sect’s people sealed the route off.”

Du-seo ground his teeth. Beomjin craned his neck to study the wall.

He ran his hands along the narrow elevator shaft, hoping for a seam, a hatch—anything. But there was no doorway within the wall; it had always been a solid barrier.

Third floor—the Chamber of Revelation. The mirror they wanted, the Mirror of Clear Reflection, sat beyond that wall, unreachable by hand. The suffocating frustration nipped at Beomjin’s ribs.

“The Chamber of Revelation is beyond this wall. I’m sure of it.”

Du-seo tapped the concrete with his fingertips and spoke softly.

“We could smash it open. But—”

“Then the Myungshim lot would swarm us from above and below.”

Beomjin sealed his mouth and stared at the wall, then let his gaze fall back down. The first floor: the warehouse. Paper, plastic, cloth—layers of flammable junk piled like a pyre.

“Make enough noise. Make it loud enough to draw them out.”

Du-seo’s brows twitched at Beomjin’s words.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean?”

“Set it on fire. If we torch the first-floor warehouse, the Myungshim people will rush there. While they’re distracted, we break through the third-floor wall, grab the Mirror, and get out.”

“And the escape? We can’t exit through that corridor.”

Du-seo objected. No better option came to mind.

“This place will fill with smoke.”

They checked the narrow space again.

“I know. It’s a gamble.”

Beomjin’s face went serious.

“Before the flames spread, before the smoke chokes the place, we leave. While everyone’s attention is on the first floor, we blast through this wall, take the mirror, and escape through the third-floor window.”

Du-seo stayed silent for a long moment. He stared at the wall and exhaled, then let out a short, mirthless laugh.

“Right. This is the kind of thrill I came for.”

He rapped his bag at his hip and said, “Fine. I’ll light it. You wait for my signal here, then smash the wall at once. You have to break through and be out before I get up there. If it takes more than five minutes, the smoke will do us in.”

Beomjin produced a small hammer from his waist.

“I’ll wait for your signal. Let’s start.”

Du-seo nodded and immediately descended to the first floor. Beomjin braced himself against the wall with both legs, waiting for the flames to ignite.

Back in the warehouse, Du-seo tore open boxes and gathered the most flammable materials. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he flicked his lighter.

“This is completely insane.”

He muttered to himself and struck the lighter. A flame no bigger than a fingernail touched paper bags and thin cloth. It flickered, threatening to die out—but then, it roared to life.

The fire devoured the bags and began consuming the boxes. The warehouse was quickly engulfed in flames, and the fire alarm blared.

Beomjin swung his arm with the small hammer, striking the wall. Smoke began pouring into the elevator shaft.

Du-seo climbed back up the elevator space. His eyes stung; breathing was difficult.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The Myungshim Sect staff and disciples flooded toward the warehouse, alerted by the fire alarm. Screams and shouts pierced the air, relentless and ear-splitting.

Thud! Thud!

Beomjin hammered faster, but the wall was stronger than time. When the hammer seemed insufficient, he drew his fists.

“Agh!”

Bam!

His heavy blows dented the inner elevator doors. Pain radiating from his knuckles was irrelevant—concrete fragments fell, and a gap opened. Smoke filled the shaft, blurring his vision.

Breath grew thick and labored.

“Ugh…!”

A cough came from below.

Beomjin and Du-seo quickly crouched to look down. The smoke had already reached him.

Thud-thud!!

With more forceful punches, a hole formed in the wall. Beomjin thrust his hands into the gap and pried it open like tearing paper.

With a rumbling crash, the elevator door and the wall blocking the path collapsed.

Beomjin reached for Du-seo. Gripping his wrist against the wall to steady him, he dove through the hole.

They tumbled onto the floor of the third-floor Chamber of Revelation, gasping for air.

“Ugh… ugh… I thought we were dead…”

“We’re not dead,” Du-seo replied.

Beomjin, eyes bloodshot and fixed on the goal, rose and headed toward the last objective.

Smoke now pressed into the Chamber as well.

In front of him stood a display that looked like a museum exhibit. Inside the clear glass case lay a circular, bronze mirror.

The Mirror of Clear Reflection.

Without hesitation, Beomjin shattered the glass. A deafening crash filled the room—louder than any fire alarm.

Beeeep! Beep! Beep!

The shrill, relentless alarm jolted Du-seo to his feet.

“Time to actually get out.”

Beomjin silently nodded.

Du-seo sprinted toward the window of the Chamber. Dawn was breaking.

Smoke surged harder, and the entrance was chaotic.

Crash!! Du-seo smashed the window open. Fresh air pushed in as pale smoke rushed out.

Only escape remained.

Time was short. Beomjin seized the Mirror without hesitation.

Cold, heavy, and solid in his hands.

“Hurry!!”

Du-seo extended his hand outside the window. Beomjin ran toward him.

The Chamber of Revelation burst open, and enraged Myungshim Sect guards poured in, wielding knives, clubs, and various weapons.

Beomjin held the Mirror of Clear Reflection in his left hand and gripped the ice axe with his right. Together with Du-seo, they leapt through the window.

As the sky and ground twisted into view, his vision spun wildly, rotating in a dizzying circle.

Darkness surged, and sweat soaked into his bones.

And then, the memory crashed over him.

Jin Geonmyeong’s feet.

On the dust-covered floor, Beomjin knelt, torso bent, bloodied hands pressed to the ground. He couldn’t move—couldn’t even clench a fist.

Arms, legs, even his head—everything was paralyzed in pain. All around, the bodies of Jin Young, Uwan, Risa, I-rang, and their fallen comrades littered his sight.

His heart thudded sluggishly, as if trapped in a sticky swamp.

“Young one, do not rush fate. This is your last chance.”

Geonmyeong’s voice.

Beomjin lifted trembling eyes to see Jin Geonmyeong looming above him. A calm smile, neither mocking nor sympathetic—a victor’s expression.

That smile—an echo of countless nights of nightmares.

“You cannot stop me. Struggle all you want, it’s useless.”

He bit his lip. He wanted to scream, but his throat was dry as cracked wood. No sound came.

Was this a hallucination? Or reality?

Beomjin flailed his arms. It was not real. Geonmyeong did not mock, and he had not ended up kneeling. This was a vision—but he could not escape the space, the scene.

Despair coiled around him like roots, nausea rose in his throat. Fingers went numb.

Hot tears fell like dead leaves from his eyes.

He could not relive the moment of losing everything.

Now, he was no longer that helpless self.

Through suffocating pain, he gritted his teeth and glared at Geonmyeong with bloodshot eyes.

Geonmyeong’s arrogant smile remained, lightning crackling at his fingertips—a silent taunt that he could never win.

“Shut up.”

The flickering embers of reason reignited. Beomjin rose, summoning all his strength, and charged, headfirst, at Geonmyeong.

Bang!

The world cracked; lines fractured across his vision. Geonmyeong’s face crumpled from the impact, flinging him backward.

And in that instant, the hallucination shattered.

Through the broken shards, reality surged like waves.

“Snap out of it!!”

Du-seo’s voice cut through. Fresh, crisp air flooded his clogged lungs.

They were falling, and the Myungshim Sect building loomed just ahead.

Reflexively, Beomjin swung his right arm. The ice axe bounced off the wall. He didn’t stop; he swung again, harder.

Thuk!

The sharp blade bit into the exterior wall.

The full force of the fall slammed through his wrist, elbow, shoulder, and body.

His arm twisted as if it might break.

But it held.

One axe had pushed death away.

Beomjin gasped, blood trickling from his palm gripping the ice axe.

“Hah, hah!! I told you not to touch it with bare hands!”

Du-seo yelled, gripping Beomjin’s legs.

“Still… we made it out alive.”

Beomjin, soot-streaked, nodded.

“Never done anything this insane in my life.”

Du-seo smirked, looking up at the sky.

Beomjin checked the Mirror in his left hand. His reflection stared back—smiling.

“Before they catch up, let’s get out of here.”

At Du-seo’s cue, Beomjin withdrew the axe and slid down the wall.

Their feet hit the ground, and simultaneously they collapsed. Alive. Holding the Mirror, they fled the Myungshim Sect headquarters.