As True as a Dream Chapter 128

“The Guishan Dao… Is it true that finding it will cure him?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Hae-Joo clenched her fists tightly. Now she understood why he was so desperate to find the Guishan Dao.

 

“What am I supposed to… do with the Guishan Dao? Earlier….”

 

“Yes. You saw him earlier, the kid. Man Insa.”

 

“If it’s Man Insa… it’s the black snake in Guishan Dao, right?”

 

“Yes, it is, and it seems to be in his body right now. My guess is that there’s a stone called the Ten Thousand Blood Stone in his right eye… it’s the only way for him to get better.”

 

“Ten-thousand… bloodstone?”

 

Hae-Joo repeated the unfamiliar word, and Hongo nodded.

 

“The Ten Thousand Blood Stone are like a panacea in a nutshell, they can cure any illness as if it were washed away.”

 

It didn’t matter anymore how the snake in the painting had jumped out and slithered through the world. She replayed in her mind the story Hongo had told her.

As she did, Hongo cautiously opened his mouth.

 

“…Are you going to leave my master?”

 

Hae-Joo didn’t expect Hongo to ask this, so she looked at his haggard, aged face.

 

“…He’s been lonely all his life. For the first time… he’s been so obsessed with someone, cared about them, and given them his heart. He’s a gumiho… but it’s only half a gumiho… with only five tails. He can’t even turn into a fox… he’s not human, he’s not a youkai… so he’s looked down upon, despised, ostracized…”

 

Hongo laughed, his face clouded with tears.

 

“He’s lived for 400 years… without being any of those things… so, Miss Hae-Joo, please stay by my master’s side.”

 

Speaking in a pleading tone, Hongo bowed deeply toward her.

 

“Please be a warm spring in my master’s life, which has been like a winter gale.”

 

“Why… why are you… doing this… is it simply because the boss brought you here?”

 

Hae-Joo asked, and Hongo pursed his lips with a troubled expression.

 

“Over the years, I can’t count the number of times the Master has saved this insignificant life of mine, and I’ve been following him to save this little life of mine, but… as the years have gone by… I’ve come to feel that Master is like my son, like my friend, like my brother.”

 

She had selfishly assumed that youkai were strange, cruel, and unappreciative people. But they weren’t.

Hae-Joo looked at Hongo, who smiled bitterly, as if he didn’t quite understand what he was saying.

 

“Please don’t tell my master, it’s just… I’m just… I’m just… I think he might pass away suddenly… it hurts here.”

 

Hongo patted his heart.

 

“That’s when I realized that it could hurt here too, and I wanted to save it, and I wanted him to live well, and I thought it would look good if he lived… like a human… with a little bit of lust, that’s all.”

 

Hongo dried his face with his thick hands and chuckled.

 

“It’s the nature of being a youkai to be driven by instinct, driven by excitement. For hundreds of years, he’s been my only source of excitement.”

 

As he finished, Hongo clapped his hands lightly to lighten the mood.

 

“Now, then, my lady, I’d like to ask you a favor: I’d like to inquire about the whereabouts of the Ten Thousand Bloodstone….”

 

As Hongo turned to leave, Hae-Joo came to her senses. Her heart sank as she remembered the woman who had lost her life to Man Insa today.

 

“…Mister Hong, the governor, Governor Saito, told me that he’s raising that child… that is, Man Insa.”

 

“I am aware of that. But right now, with my master in such a state, we can’t make any rash movements here. Miss Hae-Joo, please be careful when you go out for the time being. My crows will always follow you, and my master has instructed them to do so in the past.”

 

At Hongo’s next words, Hae-Joo thought of the crows that had lunged at her as if to block her dagger and then had their wings slashed.

It was crazy to think that she had heard the crow’s cries on the mountain where she was kidnapped, and when she was nearly burned to death by Mao Saito.

Yi Ho hadn’t told her what he was, but he had protected her all this time.

Hae-Joo bit the inside of her lip hard as the inside of her chest stirred once more, and she nodded.

 

“Yes, I’ll be careful.”

 

Afterward, Hongo went to Song Yue Pavilion for a briefing, and Hae-Joo, left alone, sighed heavily and went to the veranda that connected to the study, looking up at the moon through the glass windows.

Suddenly, she remembered the shadow of the fox at Yi Ho’s feet.

 

“A gumiho… but it’s half… with only five tails… half. That’s all it looks like under the full moon. He can’t even turn into a fox. He’s not human, he’s not a youkai… So it’s despised, scorned, ostracized….”

 

Hongo’s plaintive voice echoed in her head again.

Gumihos are called gumihos because they have nine tails. But Yi Ho only has five tails, and he can’t turn into a fox. The only thing that proves he is a fox is his shadow under the full moon and his body’s inhuman abilities.

Nevertheless, as the child of a fox and the illegitimate son of the Ban clan, he grew up being treated as less than a beast.

The thought of the ostracization and persecution he must have faced as a very young child made Hae-Joo’s heart ache inside her chest.

She was ashamed of herself for the way she’d kept him at arm’s length once she realized he was a gumiho.

 

‘What was wrong with being a fox?’

The fox ears and five fluffy tails that could be seen through his shadow were mysterious and mesmerizing.

His golden eyes, shining beneath long black lashes, were so beautiful and brilliant that she couldn’t look away.

She was intrigued.

With a different perspective, everything looked different, easy, and unimportant.

The truth is, she didn’t even know what she’d stepped into yet, but whatever lies ahead, she had no choice but to move forward.

Forgetting him, pretending she didn’t know him, going back to her life alone as if nothing had happened—she couldn’t do it.

 

When she thought about it in her head, she didn’t have an answer, but after she almost died, after she was told that Yi Ho might die, the answer became clear.

Her own little life had been the most important thing to her before, but now there was something more important.

It didn’t matter what Yi Ho was.

All that mattered was that he was Yi Ho, and that was all that mattered.

 

“…Wake up, there’s something I need to tell you.”

 

Muttering to herself, she turned to go back to the room.

Without thinking, she hit the stack of newspapers on the desk, causing them all to spill out and scatter across the desk.

Hurriedly, she tried to gather the papers back together.

But her hand froze when she saw the headline on top.

 

“Nine people died in a row last night in the Shantytown….”

 

‘Yes, there have been bodies found in Gyeongseong every few days. The number I know is well over thirty.’

The words of the dragon lord she had met in the village of Bangaho flashed through her mind.

Hae-Joo frowned and looked down at the paper.

A chill ran down her spine and her shoulders shook as she recalled the chilling image of a man who treated human life as nothing more than a game.

 

“The governor is trying to kill all the hard men…….”

 

Hae-Joo pressed her lips together and gripped the newspaper fiercely.

The Koreans are not to be played with, nor are they expendable, to be used and discarded when they are no longer useful.

But the Japanese, the invaders of this land, and even the snakes kept by the Japanese, all treated Koreans as such.

She felt a lump in her throat.

 

‘Why? What did we do wrong? How could they take away our land, take away our rights, and take away our lives like we deserved to die?’

 

Hae-Joo remained silent and stood like a ghost in front of the desk for a long time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yi Ho slowly opened his eyes.

He could see the familiar ceiling, and the room was silent.

For a moment, the inside of his lungs burned and ached as if it had been ripped open.

He grimaced and closed his eyes, only opening them again when the pain eased a little.

He felt heavy and languid, as if all the strength had been drained from his body.

It was not an unfamiliar sensation to him.

The taste of blood in his throat, the hollow feeling of emptiness, the helplessness of not wanting to do anything…

These were all sensations that had been coming to him unannounced for years.

The only difference was that lately, the intensity of these sensations had never been stronger.

He tried to wiggle his fingers.

Fortunately, he had the energy to move them.