Chapter 8
“Have I not told you countless times that you mustn’t barge in like this when the patient’s life hangs by a thread!”
It was almost a roar.
“You pay not the slightest bit of thought to the patient who’s on the verge of death and act so recklessly. Unless you’ve come for something truly urgent, leave at once.”
The old man pressed on irritably again.
But my eyes were fixed past him, on the bed.
There lay someone I remembered, looking a little older now.
The father of this body.
Head of the Geumhwa Trading Company and patriarch of the Geum clan.
Geum Danmok.
‘Not good.’
I drew a shallow breath.
The stench of death hung thick in the air.
He was dying.
Even now, moment by moment.
Looking closer, his condition was worse than I had thought.
It wouldn’t have been strange if his life had already slipped away.
‘Poisoning, is it?’
His bloodless skin was tinged faintly blue.
The mark of poison.
That much I understood.
It made sense that enemies would stoop to striking even the clan head if their goal was to devour the Geumhwa Trading Company whole.
What was strange, though, was that after using such deadly poison, they had also kept him alive until now.
That faint bluish hue was not only proof of poisoning, but also of detoxification.
‘So he was poisoned… and then treated?’
My gaze shifted back to the old man who had scolded us.
Judging from his appearance, he was a physician.
And a skilled one at that.
Most likely, he was the one who had administered the antidote and kept Geum Danmok alive.
Whether that had been intended by the assassins, or whether something else was at play, I didn’t know.
But one thing was certain:
If Geum Danmok was to be saved, this man was necessary.
Therefore—
“At least until the clan head is saved, I’ll not question nor harm you, elder.”
The old man started to speak, but I cut him off.
“So, from this moment on, do not interfere with what I do.”
That was the signal.
Without the slightest warning, Myeolak Sword slipped from its scabbard.
The strike that followed made no sound—
No tearing, no slicing, no screams of the cut down.
Only the world gradually staining red.
By the time five hidden assassins had been slain—
“Kill him!”
With a rasping metallic voice, more assassins burst from the ceiling, walls, and floor.
Another five.
And each one surpassed the level of a Black Banner Commander.
But in the end, they were nothing more than killing fiends.
‘Blades honed solely for slaughter? To me they’re no different from wooden swords swung for fun by street urchins.’
They posed no threat.
Boom.
In an instant, four were dispatched.
The last remaining was the man with the rasping voice.
“I know many things! Spare me and—”
It wasn’t a pleasant sound.
I swung Myeolak Sword, cutting off his words—literally and figuratively.
Even if I needed information, I could get it elsewhere.
After the final assassin fell, I turned.
My gaze met that of the old physician.
He hadn’t budged an inch.
He didn’t seem to have obeyed me, but neither did he look remotely interested in what had just happened.
His face and eyes said it all.
The man was a physician through and through.
“I must tend to the patient again, so if you’re done, leave. Ah, but before you go, clear away those corpses.”
At the sudden dismissal, I let a faint smile slip.
That one line had drawn a clear line between himself and the assassins.
He might be lying.
But if so, I had to acknowledge it—
his act was so convincing it had fooled even my eyes.
‘One thing’s certain—he’s no ordinary physician.’
I wasn’t inclined to obey him, but I called Songgok, who was waiting outside, and had him remove the corpses.
The heavy atmosphere of death would do no good for the patient.
“These… these men were hiding in the lord’s quarters?!”
Songgok was shocked, but without further questions, he set about clearing the bodies.
While he busied himself, I asked the physician:
“May I know your name, doctor?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he readied something and approached the bed.
He looked between Geum Danmok, lying as if dead, and me—then suddenly asked:
“Are you perhaps the clan head’s son? The eldest who was said to be gravely ill?”
For the first time, he showed interest in me.
“That’s right.”
At my confirmation, his eyes scanned me up and down.
Then, puzzled, he asked:
“They said you were at death’s door. Yet to my eyes you look not only healthy, but as if you might outlive most men by a hundred years.”
“If that’s how you see it, perhaps it’s so.”
“Hm. No hidden ailments?”
Why was he asking such things?
The way he questioned me felt odd, but I didn’t deny it.
“As you can see.”
“Strange. This is a first… what to make of it.”
His face grew serious, thoughtful even—
as though waiting for me to ask why.
But I had no intention of playing along.
‘If he has something to say, he’ll say it first.’
Yet he held his tongue.
“Let’s save the patient first. We can talk after.”
From his robes, he drew out a peculiar needle case.
My eyes wouldn’t leave it.
Strange engravings etched into it, like talismans.
‘A divine artifact?’
Unbelievably, it was.
And with a will of its own.
‘This will be difficult.’
The needle case’s intent reached me, along with a surge of divine power.
‘A needle case imbued with divine energy…’
While the physician worked diligently, I studied it.
Though it spoke no words, I could see divine energy stirring now and then.
Each time, the right needle leapt into his hand as though chosen.
‘Remarkable.’
I wanted to speak to it, but he was so focused I held back.
How long passed?
At last, the acupuncture ended.
The physician muttered to himself:
“…The remaining poison has been purged, the twisted meridians straightened… but whether he survives, I cannot say. Still, I must do all I can.”
At that, the needle case itself spoke:
‘His name is already written in the ledger of the dead. The reapers will come before the threads of life can be rewoven.’
The physician, of course, could not hear.
He could use the artifact, but not hear its voice.
‘If only half an hour could be bought against the reapers… it might be enough. Otherwise, nothing done now will matter.’
The physician threw himself into treatment again, refusing to give up.
But if the needle case was right, it was meaningless.
Would things change if he could hear?
No. Even then, he could do nothing.
But I was different.
“Half an hour is enough?”
The physician stopped, staring at me in confusion.
But my eyes were fixed on his hand.
‘What? Was that… directed at me? How can he hear?’
The needle case was flustered.
It hadn’t imagined anyone could understand.
I could have teased it further, but saving Geum Danmok came first.
“Half an hour. Can you hold them off?”
The physician clicked his tongue, dismissing me as mad.
But what mattered was the artifact’s reply.
After a moment, it carefully answered:
‘…That should be enough.’
So that was it.
“Then I’ll trust you.”
With that, I left the chamber.
The needle case called after me, but its words weren’t important.
“They’ve already arrived.”
Outside, the corpses of the assassins I’d slain lay in a row.
Songgok was gone—likely fetching help to move them.
The place was quiet.
But not empty.
The assassins’ spirits had risen from their bodies.
And three reapers had come to collect them.
I watched for a while.
‘Careful not to mix the order of their deaths.’
‘That one’s trying to run.’
The reapers busied themselves with gathering the souls.
‘I’d prefer if they only took the assassins’ souls and left…’
But no such luck.
Once finished, their gazes turned toward the clan head’s chambers.
So Geum Danmok was also among their targets.
Yet there was a silver lining.
A faint smile curved my lips.
“Should I call this luck?”
One of the reapers was familiar.
The very one I had met most recently—
from Mount Hua.
One of the reapers who had come for me.
‘We couldn’t speak then, but today may be different.’
I’d find out soon enough.
“Hey!”
Before they could move, I waved.
They ignored me.
Naturally—they believed a living human couldn’t see them.
But when I pointed directly at the familiar reaper, things changed.
“You there, reapers. Care to talk for a moment?”
Finally, their eyes met mine.
Realization dawned, and shock followed.
‘How does a living human see us?’
A rare few priests or shamans could perceive them, but that was the limit.
To actually meet their eyes? Almost unheard of.
No wonder they were surprised.
Especially the one from Mount Hua.
‘The Divine Sword of Mount Hua… here? And in human form?’
Though I’d caused him grief at Mount Hua, he still recognized me at once.
But even he looked lost, unable to comprehend the situation.
The other reapers, meanwhile, grew curious, glancing between him and me.
‘The Divine Sword became human?’
‘Explain that in detail.’
The familiar reaper began to speak, then clamped his mouth shut.
I nodded at him.
“Wise choice, to hold your tongue.”
There’s a saying—see and pretend you didn’t, know and act as if you don’t.
Perfectly apt here.
But the others didn’t share that view.
‘If you won’t speak, then we’ll ask him.’
‘A conversation with a living man… how amusing.’
Their gazes turned sharp, heavy enough to make ordinary legs tremble.
I only shrugged.
“Sorry to disappoint. If you’re trying to intimidate me, know this isn’t my first time meeting your kind.”
So perhaps you’d look elsewhere.
My goal was only one—
the familiar reaper.
“Shall we have a private talk?”
I intended to buy time through him.
Connections of school, blood, and fate—such ties had their use.
But then, I realized I wouldn’t even need that.
