As True as a Dream Chapter 141

Many scenes flashed through Hae-Joo’s mind: Eun-Sil and her family, the people of the Sunginjeong alley, the corpses piled up in the vacant lot on the outskirts of Gyeongseong…

“…No.”

She debated how to persuade the old man but decided to be honest.

“There’s something I need to do, and I’d like your help.”

 

“Then this money isn’t a donation—it’s a fee.”

The old man chuckled and pushed the envelope back toward her.

“We live for our country, not to take money and follow orders. Keep it.”

 

“What if our paths align?”

 

Hae-Joo slid the envelope back to him.

The old man twisted his brows, glancing between the money and her.

 

“As the letter said, everything happening in Gyeongseong now is orchestrated by Governor-General Saito Jiro and that monster Mi-Yeon mentioned. And because of them… I’ve lost people very dear to me.”

Hae-Joo met the old man’s weathered gaze, clenching her fists.

“So I want them gone—wiped from this land.”

 

“You want us to do it? You think we’ve stayed idle all this time by choice? Do you really believe assassinating the Governor-General is easy?”

His tone was dismissive, as if scolding a child. Hae-Joo smiled faintly.

“I’m not asking you to do it for me. I’m asking you to do it with me.”

 

“‘With you?”

“I’ll do anything for the people I’ve lost. But alone, I’m no match for Man Insa or the Governor. The Governor-General has endless weapons and soldiers.”

 

“You’d still walk this path, knowing that?”

“Yes.”

“You could die.”

“No. I won’t die. I’ll survive… and win.”

Her voice was steel.

 

The old man pursed his lips, staring at the letter and money on the table.

“We’d kill Saito if we could. But we can’t gamble on an untrained civilian.”

 

“You’ll need me.”

Hae-Joo cut in calmly.

“No one knows that monster—or Saito—better than I do. I have a plan. If it works, the Koreans in Gyeongseong… won’t be slaughtered anymore.”

 

“…I’ll report to my superiors. Wait for their answer.”

“I’ll return in four days.”

She bowed and stood to leave.

 

Then Ban Yi-Ho, who had been silently observing, placed another thick envelope on the table.

Both Hae-Joo and the old man turned to him.

 

“A bribe. Grant her wish.”

 

The old man narrowed his eyes at Yi-Ho’s sudden move.

“Let me ask you something, Director of Song Yue Pavilion.”

“Ask.”

“As far as I know, Song Yue Pavilion has never taken sides—not with Korea, nor Japan. Why interfere now? How should we interpret this?”

 

Yi-Ho glanced at Hae-Joo beside him.

“Her decisions are mine. If she walks your path, so do I. Clear enough?”

His tone was casual, as if discussing the weather. Then he walked out ahead of her.

 

Hae-Joo stared after him, her nose stinging. When she’d offered all her savings for this deal, Yi-Ho had refused.

 

As the owner of Song Yue Pavilion—one of Gyeongseong’s financial giants—her meager funds were nothing to him. Yet he’d prepared this backup plan. And his words to the old man struck her heart.

 

Outside, Yi-Ho waited in the courtyard.

“…How much did you give?” She hooked her pinky around his.

“A little.”

“How little? More than my life savings?”

“Isn’t it obvious I’m richer than you?” He smirked.

 

Hae-Joo pressed her lips together. ‘Right. Dumb question.’

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know. But I wanted to contribute. If I can’t fight, I’ll spend money.”

He interlaced their fingers and pulled her close. The streets were empty, so she leaned into him.

 

“Thank you. Without you, I… wouldn’t have held on. I couldn’t have promised to survive.”

“If anyone survives, it’ll be you.”

“Only if you’re safe first.” She squeezed his hand.

 

Guilt gnawed at her. By siding with her, Yi-Ho—and by extension, Song Yue Pavilion—had broken its neutrality. The pavilion had thrived under Japanese rule precisely by avoiding alliances.

 

“I’m following my own heart,” Yi-Ho said, as if reading her mind.

She bowed her head. In this vast world, he was her only constant. She wouldn’t let go. And she would survive.

 

 

* * *

 

Late Night.

 

 

Moonlight spilled through the curtains as Hae-Joo and Yi-Ho slept deeply. Then—

Yi-Ho’s eyes snapped open. A whistling sound cut through the air before an explosion rocked the pavilion’s annex.

 

Hae-Joo jolted awake as Yi-Ho yanked open the balcony curtains.

The annex was just the beginning. Bombs rained down on the main hall, gardens—everywhere. Flames erupted; screams followed.

 

Another shell landed in Yi-Ho’s yard, splitting his favorite tree in half.

“What the—?!” Hae-Joo rushed out, barely processing the chaos.

 

Yi-Ho tackled her as another projectile hit their roof. Debris flew.

From their hiding spot atop a wall, they saw the devastation: flames, smoke, panicked staff. Crows screeched overhead.

 

The bombs kept falling. Nearby residents peeked out, then ducked back in terror—Japanese soldiers surrounded the pavilion, heavily armed.

 

Hae-Joo and Yi-Ho watched, hidden, as their world burned.