“Daddy! Bring the yummy stuff! The yummy stuff!”

“All right. When I come back, I’ll bring sweet pastries and dumplings.”

“Wow! Dumpliiings!!”

Waving to his son—who was jumping up and down, urging him to hurry back—Yeon Hwi descended the mountain.

He felt cheerful, imagining how his wife and child would smile when he returned with their favorite treats, bought with the money from selling the herbs and mushrooms he had gathered.

These mushrooms were hard to find. I’ll make sure to sell them for a good price. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

At his waist hung the small transparent carving of a baby bird.

Fwoosh—

“Did you hear? Last night those Black-Boat bastards or whatever they’re called attacked the village past the ridge. Took all the livestock, everything. Killed a lot of people, too. How can anyone live in peace like this?”

“Oh heavens... Shouldn’t we flee too? If we stay, we’ll be robbed and killed just the same!”

“Who doesn’t know that? It’s just that this is everyone’s home—they were born here, raised here. It’s not easy to leave.”

“Even so, that Baek family at the village entrance—they fled in the night. When we checked this morning, they’d taken everything and vanished.”

From one corner of the market, Yeon Hwi glanced toward the women whispering in hushed, fearful tones.

In his right hand he carried a paper bag of sweet pastries and dumplings bought with his day’s earnings.

“Here you go! Cleaned and ready—boil it or roast it however you like!”

The shopkeeper with the booming voice came out from behind the counter, holding a chicken tied with straw rope.

Yeon Hwi handed him the prepared coins and took the chicken.

“Ah, thank you.”

“By the way, are things all right where you live?”

“Pardon?”

The shopkeeper cast a glance toward the gossiping women and asked with concern.

“You said you live somewhere past the mountain, didn’t you? Word is those Black-Path bastards came right up to the foot of it....”

“Ah... yes....”

He had already heard rumors of the Black-Boat gang, one of the Black-Path factions that had arisen in the southern plains—and of how they were growing fiercer and larger with every passing day.

The last time he’d come down to the market, he’d heard they operated far away from here.

So they’ve come this close.

Had the Black-Path ever been such a problem before?

He’d heard the martial sects had tried to wipe them out several times—and failed.

“If you can, you should run too,” said the shopkeeper. “Especially in the mountains—you’ve got no one to call for help. If something happens, no one will even know. The world’s gone mad...”

Clicking his tongue, the man disappeared back inside.

Yeon Hwi’s expression darkened.

“...It’ll be fine....”

It had been only half a day since he’d left the mountain.

What could have happened in that time?

Tak—

But contrary to his thoughts, his pace quickened.

He had planned to buy a trinket for his wife after purchasing the chicken, yet now he headed straight home.

Thump—Thump—

His pounding heartbeat echoed in Seolhwa’s ears.

The anxiety was so vivid it felt as though her own heart were racing.

Yeon Hwi was trembling.

The fear within him was the same as when he had run to the river upon hearing of his mother’s death.

No—it was greater, darker. A foreboding shadow seemed to follow close behind him.

“Please... please...!”

The cheerful voice of his child calling to him brushed past his ears.

The face of his wife, smiling as she held him in her arms, flickered before him.

He had already lost his sister, his mother, his father—

Every precious person he had loved had been taken away.

Please... not this time.

Let this dread be wrong, just this once.

The bags in his hands shook as he ran, the pastries and chicken swaying violently.

The bird carving at his waist clattered against his belt.

Tat-tat—!

Yeon Hwi ran with all his strength, but without martial training, his steps were painfully slow.

Seolhwa almost wanted to lift him herself and carry him up the mountain.

He ran without rest, breath ragged.

“Huff... huff... huff....”

The things in his hands slipped and fell one by one.

The torn paper bag spilled its contents; pastries rolled across the dirt.

Seolhwa squeezed her eyes shut.

By the time Yeon Hwi reached the house, chaos had already consumed it.

The gate was shattered. Dried herbs lay scattered across the courtyard.

Broken pottery and stains of blood—whose, he could not tell—marked the ground.

“Ah... ahh... no....”

He staggered forward, barely able to move his legs.

That step became courage, and he sprinted into the house.

When he tore the half-broken door from its frame, splinters pierced his hands, drawing blood.

He didn’t even feel it.

“Kk—kugh....”

A dying sound.

Yeon Hwi froze.

His beloved wife was collapsed on the floor, a knife lying beside her—ending her own life.

“My wife!!”

He dashed into the room.

But his foot slipped on something wet, and he fell hard.

Blood ran down from his brow where it struck the doorframe and floor, but he had no mind for pain.

She’s dying.

He pushed himself up—

“...!”

—and froze.

In the dark corner of the room lay his son, eyes open, lifeless.

The slick liquid underfoot was a pool of the child’s blood.

Yeon Hwi’s hands trembled as he stared at the stains covering him.

Before the shock could even settle—

“Kugh....”

“!”

He stumbled toward his wife.

He slipped again, slamming his chin, the ankle twisted from his first fall screaming in pain, but he rose.

“Wife... my wife!!”

As he reached her, she collapsed weakly into his arms, as if she had been waiting for him.

“Ah... ahh....”

The knife was buried deep in her chest. He hovered helplessly, not knowing whether to pull it out or press it in.

Then her trembling hand rose and cupped his cheek.

Her lips moved with great effort.

“...I’m... sorry....”

“No... don’t... please, no....”

A tear rolled down from her eyes as she looked up at him.

As if ashamed to have left him with misfortune when she had only ever wished him happiness.

Even as her life slipped away, her gaze was filled with guilt.

Thud—

Her hand fell. And with it, something deep inside Yeon Hwi’s chest snapped.

It was a darkness unlike anything before—not like losing his parents or his sister—something from which he could never return.

Why must I lose everything?

What have I done so wrong to lose everyone I love?

Was it because my childhood was too happy?

Does Heaven wish me to suffer?

What sin could warrant this punishment?

“Hey, look—the husband’s back.”

Laughter came from the doorway.

“Well, well. Look at him, holding his wife like that! Huh? What the hell—why’s she dead? We didn’t kill her.”

“No kidding. Hey, did you kill her yourself?”

Two men entered, approaching him.

One of them tapped Yeon Hwi’s head with his fingers.

“Sure, we had a little fun with your wife—but killing her? Damn, she was your wife, you filthy bastard!”

In that instant, Yeon Hwi understood everything.

These men had killed his son.

They had violated his wife beside their child’s corpse until she took her own life.

They had taken everything from him.

He could not let them live.

“Hey, why so quiet? Cat got your tongue?”

That was when Yeon Hwi tore the knife from his ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ wife’s chest and drove it into the man’s thigh with all his strength.

“Aaaagh!”

The man screamed and collapsed.

Yeon Hwi didn’t hesitate—he lunged and slashed again and again.

“W-wait! Spare m—kugh!!”

“Get him!”

The other two rushed him.

There must have been more outside; hearing the commotion, several of their comrades poured in.

Whack! Thwack!

Yeon Hwi stabbed and slashed at the legs of the two who came first.

“Aagh! My leg!”

“Aaagh!”

They fell screaming, and Yeon Hwi’s frenzy ended there.

Thud—!

A brutal kick struck his jaw.

Klang—!

The knife flew from his grasp, clattering across the floor.

His head rang from the impact, but through the blur, his eyes locked on the blade lying in the pool of blood.

He crawled toward it.

“You wretched bastard!”

The men’s kicks rained down upon him.

Crack! Thud! Whump! Thud!

Even as the blows fell without pause, Yeon Hwi’s gaze stayed fixed on the knife—

the blade stained with the blood of his son, his wife, and his enemies.

And as he stared, his eyes darkened—until they gleamed a deep, burning red.

“Boss. He’s out cold. What should we do?”

The man called Boss glanced at the corpses of his subordinates.

Two dead. Another would live, but crippled for life.

“Don’t kill him.”

He had fought as though already prepared to die.

And though the Black-Path scum lived by murder and theft, there was a kind of twisted logic to this.

They wouldn’t grant such a man the mercy of an easy death.

“Cut out his tongue, break his legs, and sell him as a slave.”