"I'll go to Bliderin myself."
"What?"
"I'll go and see for myself whether Lady Roen is alive."
Bi Young's resolute words sparked a flicker of interest in Suhen's eyes.
And so began a long, grueling night.
***
Crack. Crack.
"Ugh… p please, spare me… cough…"
As dawn's faint light crept into the sky, the silence of the dungeon was shattered by the sharp crack of a whip. The sound cut through the air with merciless precision.
A whip made of wolf hide struck again and again, each lash tearing into the flesh of the boy collapsed on the cold, stone floor. His body was covered in bruises and open wounds, a grim testament to days of relentless punishment. Fresh streaks of blood mingled with the dried remnants of earlier beatings.
An old man stood over him, gripping the whip with a hand that trembled not from guilt, but from rage. His face twisted in disgust as he glared at the boy beneath him.
"Confess the truth! Now!"
"No… it wasn't me! I didn't… cough… I swear!"
The boy's voice broke with pain and desperation, his small frame convulsing on the ground. The man, unmoved by his pleas, raised the whip again, his tone cold and filled with contempt.
"All the evidence points to you, you worthless wretch! How dare you lie to me?"
Crack!
"Father! No!"
"I am not your father! That filthy mouth of yours is cursed!"
Crack!
"Please… stop…"
"You're nothing but a curse on Brendell, a monster destroying our kingdom!"
Stop.
Just leave me alone.
The child shivered and dragged himself to the cold, damp wall. His small frame sagged with exhaustion as he pressed his trembling back against the stone. Gasping for air, he curled into himself, trying to shrink away from the world.
"I'll ask you one more time." The king's voice was a growl, low and menacing. "Did you kill Hyul?"
"No… it wasn't me… please, just leave me alone… stop"
Crack!
The whip lashed across his frail body, drawing a strangled cry. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he clutched his chest, where the cursed mark branded his skin, a mark he could never escape.
"Damn you, you wretched beast!" the king spat, his eyes burning with contempt.
"Ugh… cough!"
"Your Majesty!"
A woman's voice cut through the tension, sharp with desperation. She rushed into the dimly lit cell, her delicate features pale with panic. Her slender frame trembled as she forced her way past the line of soldiers, abandoning all decorum.
"Please, stop this!" she cried, her voice cracking.
The king turned to her with an icy glare, his patience clearly worn thin. Two guards restrained her outstretched arms, holding her back as she struggled to reach the boy.
With a frustrated grunt, the king flung the whip aside. He cast one last, disgusted look at the trembling child huddled on the floor before turning on his heel.
"Disgusting creature."
As he exited the cell, he barked an order to the guard stationed at the door.
"Not a single drop of water until I say so."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Your Majesty!"
The woman's anguished cry echoed through the dungeon. The king turned to her, his face darkened with irritation.
"Enough of this nonsense, Queen. Compose yourself and follow me."
"Your Majesty, please!"
Mother…?
The familiar voice pierced through the boy's haze of pain and fear. Weakly, he lifted his head, his blurred gaze finding the woman reaching toward him, her face twisted with grief.
"M Mother…"
Her voice trembled but held steady as her tear filled eyes met his. She tried to move closer, but two soldiers grabbed her arms, holding her back.
"Let me go!" she pleaded, but they dragged her away.
The boy crawled forward, his battered body trembling with effort. His raw, bleeding hands gripped the cold iron bars of his cell, sending sharp waves of pain through him.
Don't go.
Please… don't go.
His silent plea hung in the air as he clung to the bars. His strength failed, and he slumped onto a filthy pile of straw. His cracked lips moved faintly, forming words barely louder than a whisper.
"Don't… go…"
The sight was so heart-wrenching that even the guards turned away, unable to meet his gaze.
As the boy's eyes drifted shut, a memory surfaced a soft voice, a gentle hand stroking his back.
I'm here, Hwan. Don't worry.
In his daze, he felt the phantom warmth of an embrace comforting, tender, like his mother's touch. It stirred a quiet tear that slid down his face as he leaned into the imagined solace.
Then, with a gasp, he awoke.
Hwan sat bolt upright, drenched in sweat. Dawn's first light crept through the window, casting a faint glow in the room.
Beside him, Sahan lay sound asleep, mumbling faintly as he shifted in his dreams.
Hwan slumped back against the wall, his chest heaving. Sweat beaded on his face as he stared into the still darkness, the weight of his memories pressing down on him like a storm.
He sighed deeply, reaching for the glass bottle on the bedside table. Without water, he swallowed a pill, the familiar bitterness lingering on his tongue. Another faint sigh escaped him as fragments of memory drifted into his mind, hazy but vivid enough to linger.
Don't worry, everything's fine. You're okay, Hwan.
Empty words, he thought, his lips twisting into a cynical smile.
Leaning back, he let his thoughts wander to that night on the balcony. Her soft voice had cut through the darkness, pushing back his shadows, even if only for a fleeting moment. The medication dulled the edge of his pain, but the memories lingered like thorns, creeping into his mind when he least expected it.
The same nightmares always returned. Images of a father lashing out at his child, a mother dragged away in tears they played over and over, etched into his soul. He scoffed at the cruel irony, his lips curling bitterly.
The man's face was a blur now, faded by time. Whatever remained of him was long gone, reduced to dust.
Hwan's eyes drifted to the bottle in his hand, his gaze hardening as he stared at the blue pills inside. He was tired, tired of relying on them, of the numbing routine they offered.
But something had changed.
For the first time, something had pierced through the endless cycle of pain. A fleeting warmth, a presence that stayed with him even as the weight of his past bore down.
A flash of her face crossed his mind, the one who had held him in his anguish.
Scowling, he pressed an arm against his forehead, as if he could force the image away.
"I'm really losing it."
A short, bitter laugh broke from his lips. His grip on the bottle tightened, the faint sound of the pills rattling inside echoing in the quiet room.
***
Since there was no formal training today, Lynn decided to get an early start. After an invigorating wash, she headed to the training grounds to practice on her own.
Her sword movements were smoother now, her grip steady and sure. The blade sliced through the air with sharp precision, each swing a testament to her focused practice. Yesterday's session with Hwan had paid off; her techniques were finally starting to feel natural.
But as her mind wandered back to yesterday, she found herself frowning.
Friend? Yeah, right. She rolled her eyes internally. He practically shoved me away with that whole 'It's none of your business' routine and then had the nerve to call it friendship?
She recalled the gossip from the girls about Hwan and shook her head.
Looks aren't everything, people! Character matters way more!
Frustration bubbled up, and her swings grew fiercer, her irritation driving each move. With a firm thrust of her blade, she muttered, "Fine, I'm done caring. From now on, it's strictly professional, warrior to warrior."
Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the familiar voice behind her until it spoke.
"Well, someone's making progress," Sahan teased, his tone playful.
"Huh? Oh, Sahan!" she said, startled but happy to see him. He stood casually, hands in his pockets, his skin glowing in the soft morning sunlight. Dressed in light blue training gear, he smiled warmly.
"You're really putting some power into those moves," he said with a grin. "What's up?"
"Oh, nothing!" Lynn replied quickly, her tone just a bit too eager to dismiss the question.
Sahan squinted, his smile turning skeptical. "Nothing, huh?"
Feeling his gaze linger, Lynn hurried to change the subject. "By the way, where are you headed?"
"Oh, Blaine summoned me," he replied, his tone light. Then, with a slight grin, he added, "But before I go…"
"You've really improved. Looks like all that training's paying off."
"Haha, really? Is it that noticeable?" she asked, her face lighting up.
"Definitely. So, with that in mind…" He glanced at the row of practice swords nearby, picking up a sturdy wooden one. Lynn, caught off guard, tilted her head, watching him curiously.
With a playful smirk, he held the sword out to her. "How about a sparring match? It's been a while."
"Again?" she groaned, her shoulders slumping.
"Come on. For martial artists, sparring is like breathing. You can't skip it."
She rolled her eyes with a chuckle. "Don't you have more important things to do?"
"I've got time for this," he replied smoothly. "Besides, it won't take long."
The teasing confidence in his voice was deliberate, and it hit its mark. Lynn's brow twitched in irritation.
"Oh, won't it?" she shot back, her tone sharp with challenge.
He just grinned, clearly enjoying her reaction, as she balled her fists, the fire of competition lighting up her eyes.
"So, this'll be over quickly, huh?"