As True as a Dream Chapter 134

“Father knows about that half-breed fox too?”

 

[“Why… do you call it a half-breed fox?”]

 

Saito stared coldly at the crumpled portrait in his hand. Kyung-In answered.

 

“Why? Because it’s half-human, half-fox.”

 

‘Half-human, half-fox?’

 

Saito vaguely understood what that meant.

 

Long ago, after encountering Man Insa within Guishan Dao, he had come to believe in the various supernatural beings that existed in this world.

 

In fact, through the sorcerer who had introduced him to Man Insa, he had even seen an oni (demon) from Japan.

 

But now, a fox?

 

And not just any fox—one that was half-human!

 

Saito let out an involuntary laugh.

 

Memories of his encounters with Ban Yi Ho, the owner of Song Yue Pavilion, flashed through his mind.

 

That unshakable composure, that effortless confidence—it had been remarkable, almost out of place in this weak and ignorant land of Joseon.

 

But he had been wrong from the start.

 

Ban Yi Ho wasn’t human.

 

He was a fox.

 

A fox spirit.

 

Now, everything that had seemed inexplicable before fell into place.

 

The absurd rumors about the curse of Song Yue Pavilion. Mao contracting Hae-Seol after coming into contact with Yi Ho at the birthday party. The slaughter of over thirty soldiers in the garden.

 

And most of all—the fact that even Man Insa – Kyung-In had been reduced to this pitiful state. There was no choice but to believe Yi Ho was no ordinary man.

 

“[Ban Yi-Ho…!]”

 

Saito gnashed the name between his teeth.

 

‘How dare this Joseon monster harm my Mao!’

 

The image of his daughter, Mao, still hovering between life and death in the Governor-General’s hospital, darkened his expression with murderous intent.

 

He wanted nothing more than to tear that half-breed fox—neither human nor fully monster—limb from limb.

 

But seeing Kyung-In, drenched in blood before him, his boiling rage cooled slightly.

 

‘This is someone who could do this to Man Insa.’

 

Frankly, Saito knew that if Man Insa truly wished for it, he himself wouldn’t last long.

 

He was old—just a man with power and a ruthless heart.

 

Yes, he could mobilize the Japanese military in this land with a single word. He had tactical knowledge that could win eight out of ten battles. He had modern firearms.

 

But against a yokai one-on-one?

 

No human could guarantee victory.

 

Not unless he stuffed a bomb down its throat and blew it apart.

 

Saito studied Kyung-In’s grotesquely deformed left arm.

 

[“What about your arm? Will it interfere with the Bloodstone?”]

 

Kyung-In glanced down at his left arm, his face twisting in frustration.

 

“I need blood. With enough blood, it’ll grow back. Just like how this body grew in an instant. That’s why last night’s hunt was… lively.”

 

[“I don’t care. Do as you please. Kill them. Kill every last Joseon bastard. They’re useless alive anyway.”]

 

Kyung-In grinned, his bloodstained face stretching into a pleased smile at Saito’s icy words.

 

But his expression stiffened at Saito’s next question.

 

[“Once your arm is fully healed—can you defeat that half-breed fox then?”]

 

Kyung-In’s pupils slit vertically, a vicious aura radiating from him.

 

Even Saito felt the pressure, though he didn’t show it.

 

[“Let me ask again. If that half-breed fox were weakened—could you kill it?”]

 

“Weakened?”

 

[“You once told me that no matter how hard I try, a human can’t easily kill a yokai. But it’s possible, isn’t it? To cripple it, at least.”]

 

Kyung-In stared blankly for a moment before suddenly grinning in understanding.

 

“I’ll kill that half-breed fox. I swear…!”

 

[“Our Great Japanese Empire has many fine weapons. I’ll make sure your wish is granted.”]

 

Saito watched as Kyung-In, now excited, shook like a child. Then he lowered his gaze.

 

‘Ban Yi Ho will die.’

 

After daring to harm his daughter, whether human or yokai, that creature had no right to live.

 

 

* * *

 

As the dim light of dawn crept in, Hae-Joo opened her eyes after keeping them shut for so long.

 

She had lain in bed since returning to Song Yue Pavilion but hadn’t slept a wink all night.

 

Images of Eun-Sil, her family, and the neighbors she used to exchange lighthearted words with in Sungin shantytown kept flooding her mind.

 

The harder she tried not to think, the more vividly they appeared—and the more suffocating the reality that they were gone became.

 

‘Why must we always be the weak ones?’

 

‘Why must we always be the ones to suffer, to be robbed, to die?’

 

Faintly, she recalled her mother—tortured by Japanese soldiers, escaping prison to find her.

 

She thought of her biological father, dragged away by the Japanese, his fate unknown.

 

She remembered the bodies piled like trash in an empty lot outside Gyeongseong two months ago.

 

A Joseon man, forced to prostrate himself and press his forehead to the ground simply for bumping into a Japanese passerby. A kimono-clad woman scolding a starving Joseon child begging for food as if it were vermin.

 

‘Why is everything so unfair?’

 

Her thoughts spiraled chaotically, her vision blurred. The weight in her chest made it impossible to stay still, so she sat up.

 

Behind her, Yi Ho’s steady breathing filled the room. She turned to look.

 

He was deep in sleep, undisturbed by her movements.

 

Come to think of it, whenever he was unwell, he always slept like a sick chicken.

 

Guilt twisted her lips.

 

‘I’m sorry.’

 

‘I can’t control my emotions right now.’

 

‘I’m too sad.’

 

‘Too angry. Too wronged.’

 

Just yesterday—no, the day before—those people had been alive, breathing, living their lives. Now, they were corpses, erased without a trace.

 

Since the rumors of mysterious killings and “Western ghosts” began, the police had only collected bodies as “evidence,” producing no results.

 

Given time, this too would be swept under the rug with no one held accountable.

 

‘When has anything ever been fair in this era where Japan plays the master of Joseon?’

 

Hae-Joo squeezed her eyes shut.

 

‘Who should be held responsible for last night’s massacre in Sungin town?’

 

‘Man Insa, who directly killed them?’

 

‘Governor-General Saito, who let Man In-Sa run rampant?’

 

‘Or Japan itself, never satisfied with what it has, always waging war?’

 

When she opened her eyes again, there was a sharper glint in them.

 

After carefully adjusting Yi Ho’s blanket, she stood unsteadily and moved to the low table and sofa by the bed.

 

She pulled out the envelope she had planned to deliver to the Bogyeong Daily today.

 

As dawn broke, the room gradually brightened.

 

Hesitating briefly, she opened the envelope and unfolded its contents.

 

“To Respected Teacher Kim Cheong-Ho, from Mi-Yeon. I write urgently with news you must hear. Mysterious killings are occurring in Gyeongseong. To put it plainly—this is the conspiracy of Governor-General Saito Jiro. I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but you must…”

 

The letter’s tone was calm, unlike the frantic, disheveled woman who had written it.

 

She couldn’t have penned this while being chased—she must have prepared it beforehand.

 

“Mi-Yeon…”

 

Hae-Joo murmured the name unconsciously.

 

The woman she had only known by face was named Mi-Yeon, and she wrote that she had lived in the Governor-General’s residence for two months under the name “Sae.”

 

The letter detailed the horrors inflicted upon her and her child, the monster wearing her child’s skin that was killing Joseon people, and the Governor-General’s beastly encouragement of it all.

 

Hae-Joo’s expression darkened as she returned the letter to the envelope.

 

Her knuckles whitened, her hands trembling faintly.

 

Having lived in the Governor-General’s residence for two months, Mi-Yeon knew the atrocities committed by Saito and Man Insa—including the truth behind the Ten Thousand Bloodstone.

 

Governor-General Saito was nurturing Man Insa and encouraging its killings for one reason: to cure his daughter’s illness.

 

Hae-Joo gritted her teeth.

 

‘To save his daughter? Fine.’

 

But according to Mi-Yeon’s letter, Mao Saito’s “illness” wasn’t life-threatening.