As True as a Dream Chapter 137

Lately, an eerie foreboding had settled over Gyeongseong.

The reason was simple: corpses—dozens discovered nightly, sometimes even more.

 

“Extra! Extra!”

 

Despite the blazing midsummer sun, the streets were somber rather than lively.

A newsboy’s artificially loud voice echoed through the alleys.

“Governor-General’s Office releases investigation results on recent massacres! Extra! Get your extra here!”

Passersby, who had been walking in silence, rushed to buy copies.

 

The headline made their faces turn ashen:

“Autopsies Reveal Uniform Pathogens in Victims… Is an Epidemic Looming?”

 

Those with ties to the police or underground networks seethed.

This was an insult to their intelligence.

Everyone knew the victims bore knife wounds and were drained of blood—yet now the authorities blamed an “epidemic”? First, they’d spun tales of Western ghosts, and now this.

Was this their attempt to quell panic? A blatant lie to cover their incompetence?

 

But no one dared protest openly.

 

The article continued:

“The Governor-General vows to thoroughly investigate and eradicate the source of this epidemic…”
Eradicate?

 

Whatever their scheme, this announcement implied the nightly horrors would soon end.

With foreign diplomats and dignitaries in Joseon, Japan had to maintain appearances, no matter how absurd their lies.

 

People hurried home as the sun dipped below the mountains.

After dark, Gyeongseong’s streets became lifeless—not even a rat dared scurry.

No one knew when the unseen hand (human or demon) might strike.

One thing was certain: this was no “epidemic.”

Yet few cared to dig deeper.

They only prayed the “plague” wouldn’t claim them next.

 

* * *

 

Deep night.

Even the brothels, usually raucous until curfew, had shut early.

Hiding in darkness, citizens extinguished lanterns, fearing the “plague ghost” might visit.

 

But while others cowered, a group clad in black quietly ascended Bukhansan’s narrow trails.

The moonlit hike to the summit took two hours.

Hae-Joo led, followed by Yi-Ho, Hongo, and three shapeshifted crows.

Each carried an urn wrapped in black cloth.

 

Earlier, Hongo had bribed a low-ranking policeman—a regular at Song Yue Pavilion—to steal Eun-sil’s family’s bodies from the morgue.

After cremating them at Yi-Ho’s secluded mountain cabin, they’d brought the ashes here.

 

At the peak, a biting wind cut through the summer night.

“Good,” Hae-Joo murmured, clutching her urn. “The wind’s strong tonight.”

She stroked the container gently.

“Thank you for your trouble, Mister Hongo.”

“Not at all,” Hongo replied stiffly, eyeing the small urn in his hands.

A 600-year-old crow demon never imagined he’d be scattering a human child’s ashes.

 

“Shall we… send them off now?”

Perched on a rock, Hae-Joo unwrapped the cloth.

“I’m sorry this is all I can do for you…”

As she opened the lid, the wind caught the pale powder inside, scattering it soundlessly.

“Thank you, Eun-sil… And forgive me…”

Her voice cracked.

“If I’d known it’d end like this… I’d have let you chase your dreams…”

 

Eun-sil had always talked of joining the independence movement.

 

But Hae-Joo, citing “safety” and “responsibility,” had clipped her wings.

Now the vibrant, righteous girl was just dust slipping through her fingers.

 

“I’m sorry… Thank you. Rest easy now… Next life—live free.”

Tears fell as the last ashes flew into the void.

Eun-sil had been only seventeen.

Her siblings, barely grown. Their mother, who’d struggled to keep them alive in this cruel era.

 

‘Why did it have to end like this?’

‘Because of Man Insa? Governor Saito’s greed?’

The victims had done nothing wrong.

 

As the final ashes dispersed, Hae-Joo’s grief hardened into ice.

She stared at the darkness below.

Pitch-black. Unseeing.

Like Joseon’s future.

 

Dawn would come. Life would stagger on without Eun-sil, without the Sunginjeong alley victims.

But—

 

‘Yeon Hae-Joo, is that really living?’

‘Can you forget?’

 

‘Laugh and chatter like nothing happened?’

‘Pretend you don’t know about Man Insa’s atrocities? Saito’s plans?’

‘Will you be a coward again?’

 

She twisted her shirtfront, but the ache in her chest wouldn’t loosen.

 

Just then—

*Flap. Flap.*

A crow plummeted from the sky, landing on a nearby branch. It croaked at Hongo, who stiffened.

 

“Report,” Yi-Ho ordered flatly.

 

Hongo’s face twisted.

“The Governor-General’s office… They’ve declared the killings the work of an ‘epidemic.’“

 

“…What?”

 

“An epidemic,” Hongo repeated.

 

Hae-Joo’s hands shook.

“They’re calling it… a plague?”

 

“Covering their eyes and ears,” Yi-Ho muttered.

 

“That’s— That’s impossible!” Hae-Joo’s voice ignited with fury. “How?! How can they lie so brazenly?!”