By Zephyria 
“I’m sorry.”
“Hm? For what?”
“For everything… You went through so much because of me.”
Even in the dream, a tender touch carefully rubbed the reddened, swollen corners of his eyes.
“I tell you this all the time, but I’m not as kind or as good a person as you think. You can’t even imagine how selfish I am. I chose to save you because there was enough profit in it for me.”
“What profit?”
“I got to meet you after you grew up safely.”
That was nonsense. It was such a flimsy excuse that a hollow laugh escaped his lips.
“Out of my own selfishness, I hid everything from you. I can’t apologize for that. Because even if I were given a similar choice again, I would always choose the same thing.”
“I want you to tell me.”
Yoo Jiha rubbed his face against the palm of the hand caressing him. The long, large hand felt as warm as reality, despite it being a dream.
“I don’t want you to carry it all alone and be in pain. You know, it’s a cliché, but they say happiness doubles when shared, and sadness is halved.”
“…….”
“Even if I look like a child in your eyes, I’m an adult too. Even if I get hurt by truths I didn’t want to know, it’s okay as long as I have you. Really.”
The truth that his biological father was a murderer continued to bring agony. Not just the past killings, but the vivid terror that had threatened him and Jeong Ing-bar would likely be recalled for a long time.
However, he did not regret knowing. Because of the pain caused by that knowledge, he came to know his biological mother’s love and her sacrifice. He realized that his life, which he had considered merely ordinary, had reached this point based on profound affection and devotion. Even if given the chance to choose again, he would willingly drink the bitter cup of knowledge rather than the comfort of ignorance.
If time passed and he could overcome the scars of pain, he would be able to love himself a little more. By the side of the man who had served as the foundation for his life to stand straight.
“And I hope that you never get hurt because of me ever again….”
“…….”
After remaining silent, Jeil Heon brushed back his hair and spoke softly.
“Jiha, when we first met, you agreed to grant my wish. Do you remember?”
How could he have forgotten? He had agreed to grant a wish in exchange for saving the other victims of the Eight Phases Mental Hospital. As he nodded silently, the whisper flowed in like a dream.
“No matter what happens from now on, none of it is your fault. So, please resent me. That is my wish.”
What did that mean? He wanted to ask, but his heavy eyelids slowly closed. It was okay. He could just tell him again after waking from the dream. Tracing the image of the man etched onto his retina one last time, Yoo Jiha fell into a deep sleep. Only a low murmur, whether a whisper or an auditory hallucination, lingered in his ears for a long time.
Jiha.
I think this kind of selfishness is, after all, not love.
It was a strangely quiet morning. Waking up on a bed rather than the floor where he had fallen asleep, Yoo Jiha thought blankly with a half-awake mind, before his face suddenly flushed red like a ripe persimmon. It seemed that talking with Jeil Heon last night hadn’t been a dream.
He felt incredibly embarrassed, feeling as though he had just thrown out random words without any refinement or order. If he had known it was reality, he would have expressed his apology and gratitude with more beautiful words.
Though he felt too awkward to even look at the man, he slowly crept out of the room. He had spent enough of the last few days avoiding him.
“Mister?”
Jeil Heon was nowhere to be seen; he must have gone to work. Then again, it was past 9 o’clock, so there was no way he’d be home. Since the phone was off, Jiha sent a text, but a long time passed without it being received.
While he himself was in a situation where he couldn’t leave Pilgyeongdang, looking at the Team 7 chatroom, the other employees seemed busy with the cleanup. Kim Min-seop even sent a photo of the office, saying it looked like a war zone. The team leaders were likely even more frazzled. While organizing photos of Lee Yeo-jin with various thoughts, Yoo Jiha suddenly realized why the morning felt exceptionally quiet.
He hadn’t heard the sound of daera once today.
A chilling sense of anxiety, for which he couldn’t find a reason, washed over him. Jeil Heon’s phone was still off. Pacing anxiously, he hurried toward the main building, and fortunately, Gong Ran-sa was there. She had a book open on her desk but couldn’t seem to concentrate; when Yoo Jiha entered, she quickly composed her expression, though she couldn’t entirely hide her troubled look.
「What business do you have that makes you so restless?」
“I can’t get in touch with him at all. Have you heard anything?”
「Is it not time for him to have reported to the office?」
“That’s true, but it’s strange that I suddenly can’t hear the daera sounds. I wondered if it had something to do with him….”
Gong Ran-sa closed the book with a loud thud. After seeming to ponder how to start, she eventually muttered as if spitting the words out.
「By now, the military should be in the middle of an operation to isolate the Ten Thousand Waves Flute.」
“The Ten Thousand Waves Flute?”
This was unexpected news. Since Jeil Heon had scrambled to prevent him from becoming the Sealed One, he wouldn’t be sitting idly by now that it had become an immediate threat, but it was still sudden. He felt a flicker of disappointment that he hadn’t been given a single word of warning, but then he remembered that he was the one who had been shut away in his room, and he felt even more apologetic.
Reading his expression, Gong Ran-sa asked suggestively.
「Does the idea of isolating the Ten Thousand Waves Flute not satisfy you?」
To be honest, it was true that he had been so immersed in his mother’s affairs that he hadn’t thought deeply about his reality as the Sealed One. However, while working at the Management Bureau, he had frequently encountered how powerful an Aberration the Ten Thousand Waves Flute was in maintaining the barrier. And the utility of that barrier.
“I’m worried that the Mister or other Agents might get hurt…. It’s also true that the Ten Thousand Waves Flute was a great help to the company as much as it was dangerous, so I feel like there’s no need to force the isolation if it means the Mister might be harmed….”
「…….」
“Am I thinking too lightly of this because I don’t even know what a Sealed One really is?”
Jeil Heon wasn’t the only one who sacrificed himself to let him escape the fate of being the next Sealed One. Nam Hyeon-woo had rather tried to kill his own child, and Lee Yeo-jin died trying to stop him. That was proof of how cruel the fate of the Sealed One was.
But the Ten Thousand Waves Flute was a divine object that benefited everyone except the Sealed One. He might be able to feel a corresponding sense of value and reward. Even for someone as ordinary as himself, a new meaning could—no, that wasn’t it. He simply didn’t want to see Jeil Heon get hurt.
Gong Ran-sa rubbed her forehead and sighed softly.
「…The military once told me. That because your nature is so kind, I could not speak of it. It seems the military was not wrong.」
Was he too selfish after all? Yoo Jiha lowered his head and fidgeted with his hands. Even though Jeil Heon and his mother had endured such sacrifices to steer him away from his fate, he was still thinking like this.
But any cruel fate was better than losing him. He only hoped that the man would not sacrifice himself for his sake once again.
The Northeast region is a harsh land. The Darugachi clan that ruled this land had endured fratricidal struggles as fierce as the northeast’s freezing winds. A young boy once said he was sick of seeing the blood of his kin.
〈Just become strong. If you become so strong that no one dares to challenge your authority, there will be no more bloodshed.〉
The boy fulfilled that promise. Despite being born as a second son, he received his father’s favor with martial and military talent that far surpassed his elder brother, achieving brilliant feats in war. As the boy became a man, proud titles were attached to him. The undefeated rising general, Yi Seong-gye.
They always followed behind him. Until the word that once meant private soldiers became a proper noun referring to them. When the sound of their daera echoed across the battlefield, rebels, Mongols, Jurchens, and Japanese pirates were all equally trampled under hoofs and turned into a bloody pulp.
To the people of Goryeo, he was a great general no different from a guardian deity; to the Jurchens, he was an elder to be revered and honored; and to them, he was a master whom it was an honor to serve.
His final war, after never having lost a single battle on the field, ended in defeat. His son, who loathed the struggle for power between kin, defeated him while staining his hands with the blood of his brothers.
They cannot forget his tears of blood when he lost his young children. They cannot forget his resentment at being brought down by his own son. They know no forgiveness, nor do they know mercy. Even in death, they only seek to soothe their master’s grievances with a loyalty that remains unchanged.
Piiiii.
And now, 600 years later, the Whistling Arrow of the battlefield calling them was heard.