The campfire flickered softly in the still night, its dying embers painting the earth in hues of orange and gold. Smoke coiled into the air like phantom memories...fading, twisting, and vanishing just as quickly.
Kang Jinhyuk sat at the edge of the camp, alone, his sword laid across his knees. The steel gleamed under the pale moonlight, reflecting a thousand moments of blood and struggle.
He stared into the blade, but what he saw was not his reflection...
it was the faces of the dead.
His wife. His child.
The farm he once tended, now burned to ash in his memory.
He exhaled slowly. Every time I hold this sword, he muttered, it feels heavier than before.
From behind, a familiar voice replied...light, teasing, but with an undertone of concern.
Maybe that's because you keep stuffing guilt into it, said Dan Sae-Ryeo, walking into the light. She dropped a canteen beside him and sat cross-legged, her usual smirk gentler tonight. Or maybe you're just getting weaker.
Jinhyuk gave a faint, humorless chuckle. If I were weak, I wouldn't still be breathing.
True. She leaned back on her hands, gazing at the stars. But sometimes, staying alive isn't strength. It's punishment.
Her words lingered, sharp and quiet.
He didn't answer at first. He didn't need to...she could see it in his eyes.
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the distant murmur of night insects. Then Sae-Ryeo spoke again, her tone softer.
You've changed since the day I first saw you.
Jinhyuk's eyes shifted toward her. Changed how?
You used to be wild...reckless, almost feral. Like a man trying to bite the world before it could bite him.
He smirked faintly. And now?
Now, she said, meeting his gaze, you look like someone trying to reason with the beast inside.
He turned back to the fire. Reason? No. I just learned that killing isn't the same as vengeance. Killing is easy.
Sae-Ryeo tilted her head, curious. And vengeance?
That's harder, he said quietly. Vengeance demands you live long enough to carry it.
A long pause followed. Sae-Ryeo studied his profile, the lines of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the faint tremor in his hands.
He looked invincible in battle, but here, under the moonlight, he seemed… tired.
Tell me something, she said. When it's all over...when you've taken your revenge...what then?
Jinhyuk didn't move. The question seemed to pierce straight through his chest.
He finally answered, voice low. Then I'll see if I have anything left of myself to bury.
Sae-Ryeo frowned. That's not living. That's… waiting to die.
Maybe that's all that's left for someone like me.
She grabbed a stone and threw it into the fire, sparks bursting like fireflies. You're such an idiot sometimes, you know that?
He blinked, startled by her sudden outburst.
Do you think you're the only one who's lost something? The only one who bleeds when they close their eyes? Her voice trembled slightly, betraying emotion she rarely showed. We all carry ghosts, Jinhyuk. But you...you wear yours like armor.
Jinhyuk looked at her, truly looked this time. Her eyes were fierce, glistening with pain and sincerity.
What are you saying?
I'm saying… She exhaled shakily. You don't have to let vengeance eat every part of you. You don't have to become what you hate.
He smiled bitterly. You sound like Jeok-Ma's opposite.
Maybe I'm the balance he doesn't want you to have.
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of cedar and damp soil. The forest around them hummed softly with nocturnal life.
Jinhyuk ran a hand through his hair, his mind caught between two worlds, his burning hatred and the fragile warmth beside him.
He thought of Namgung Yura, her laughter, her eyes full of light.
He thought of Sae-Ryeo, sitting there under the same stars, fierce and alive.
And in that moment, a strange ache filled his chest. Not pain...
but something dangerously close to hope.
He spoke quietly. Sae-Ryeo… if you'd met me before, before all this blood and smoke… would you have still sat beside me?
She looked at him, eyes narrowing slightly. You mean when you were just a farmer?
Yes.
A small smile tugged at her lips. If you'd asked me back then, I probably would've stolen your chickens.
He snorted. You still might.
Her smile softened. Maybe. But at least now, you'd chase me.
The two shared a quiet laugh. It wasn't loud or joyous but it was real, and for a fleeting second, it broke through the darkness surrounding them.
Then silence again.
But this time, it wasn't heavy...it was gentle.
Jinhyuk turned his gaze upward, watching the stars shimmer. You know, he said after a while, I used to believe strength meant crushing everything that stood in your way.
Sae-Ryeo tilted her head. And now?
Now I think strength is what keeps you standing after you've lost everything.
She nodded slowly. That sounds more like a leader than a killer.
He met her eyes. I'm not sure which one I'm becoming.
She leaned closer, her voice quiet but steady. Maybe you don't have to choose yet.
For a long time, neither spoke. The fire dwindled, replaced by the silvery calm of moonlight.
Inside Jinhyuk's mind, Jeok-Ma's voice stirred faintly...cold, echoing, skeptical.
Emotions… distractions. Affection will be your downfall, boy.
He ignored it for once. Instead, he whispered to himself:
No. It's what keeps me human.
As dawn approached, the mist began to lift.
Sae-Ryeo was asleep beside the dying fire, wrapped in her cloak. Jinhyuk rose quietly, stretching his tired limbs.
He looked down at her...her head resting on her arm, expression peaceful for once.
A warmth spread through him that both comforted and frightened him.
I can't afford to care… but maybe I already do.
He tightened the strap of his sword and turned toward the horizon.
The world beyond the mountain still burned with the scent of war and betrayal, but for the first time in years, Kang Jinhyuk's heart didn't feel completely hollow.
As he walked away, Sae-Ryeo's voice, soft and half-asleep, drifted to him.
Hey… when you finally get your revenge, she murmured, don't forget to come back.
He paused.
I'll try, he said.
Then, without looking back, he disappeared into the light of dawn.