As True as a Dream Chapter 144

Hongo barely dodged Man Insa’s slashing blades, transforming into a crow—only to be snatched mid-air.

 

“Kekeke! Run all you want!”

 

Man Insa tore his wings, shattered his legs, and hurled him to the ground. Then, the crow-boy Hongo had recently empowered dragged him away as desperate caws echoed around them.

 

Carried in the boy’s arms, Hongo was taken to a small house he’d once gifted his transformed crows.

 

Gasping, he collapsed onto a futon. Consciousness flickered.

 

When his eyes opened again, five crow-turned-humans hovered over him with anxious faces.

 

‘Idiots!’ He wanted to scream. ‘Fetch a doctor, not gawk!’ But his vision blurred, and darkness swallowed him once more.

 

Each time he awoke, the life in his grasp felt thinner. The gut wound—deep, vicious—was winning.

 

‘Six hundred years… and this is how I go?’

 

“Serve… the Master… Protect him…” were his last rasped words before fading again.

 

When his eyes fluttered open next, they stung. Yi-Ho’s icy face loomed above him.

 

‘Did you come for me?’

 

‘Does this mean… we had a bond after all?’

‘Sorry for leaving like this.’

‘Our years together… were petty and hard… but happy.’

‘Why does immortality feel so brief now?’

‘What of the treasures I buried in the hills?’

‘I should’ve cherished more… seen more…’

 

A tear trailed down Hongo’s temple as Yi-Ho’s clenched fists trembled—veins bulging over bloodless knuckles.

 

‘Ah… I wanted to live.’

‘Six hundred years weren’t enough.’

‘I wanted to see you and Hae-Joo build a life… maybe meet your child.’

‘Was that… a dream?’

‘I had dreams…’

 

Another tear fell as his eyelids grew heavy.

 

‘How ironic—to crave companionship after centuries alone.’

‘Why does everything… suddenly feel so precious?’

 

He parted his cracked lips, but his throat was ash. Breath guttered like dying embers.

 

‘Next time I wake… I’ll tell him.’

 

Hongo closed his eyes.

 

He never opened them again.

 

 

* * *

 

Yi-Ho stared motionless at the corpse. Minutes? Hours? His lowered eyelids veiled a storm.

 

Suddenly, he yanked the futon aside.

 

Hongo’s stomach yawned open—entrails visible, slashed beyond repair. Legs bent unnaturally, kneecaps jutting through flesh. Arms shattered.

 

A miracle he’d lasted this long.

 

Yokai were hardy, not invincible. Without Yi-Ho’s nine-tailed resilience, such wounds were fatal.

 

“…Man Insa?” Yi-Ho’s voice was gravel.

 

“Yes,” the crow-boy whispered behind him, tears unshed.

 

“His last words?”

“‘Follow the Master. Protect. Serve.’”

 

“…Meddling to the end.” Yi-Ho swallowed the rest.

 

In four centuries, none had stayed longer than Hongo. No vows exchanged—just a stubborn crow clinging until he became indispensable.

 

Yi-Ho had assumed he’d always be there.

 

Now, only ruin remained.

 

He seared the image into his mind: This pain. This cruelty.

 

Hongo’s body shifted—returning to his true form, a crimson-feathered crow—before crumbling like charred paper.

 

As if he’d never existed.

 

 

* * *

 

“You’ll obey me now?” Yi-Ho finally spoke.

 

“Yes,” the five crows chorused, bowing deeply.

 

“Monitor Saito and the Government-General. Report daily.”

“Yes!”

 

Stepping outside, Yi-Ho trudged toward Ikseon-dong. The crows’ mourning cries weighed his steps.

 

 

* * *

 

“[Nothing? No bodies? No traces?]” Governor Saito slammed his desk, “[Imperial soldiers, outwitted by vermin!]”

 

The reporting soldier paled. “[We’ll scour the city! The plague-spreaders will hang!]”

 

“[Do it!]”

 

As the man fled, a childlike voice giggled from the windowsill.

 

“Told you he’s not easy prey.”

 

Man Insa swung his legs, delighted by last night’s hunt. His right eye hid under a patch—Yi-Ho’s parting gift.

 

“[Why didn’t you chase the fox?]”

“Busy playing with crows~ Besides, you said to bring him wounded.”

 

Saito exhaled. True enough.

 

Man Insa licked his lips, recalling Yi-Ho’s fury as he fled. ‘That crow’s probably dead. Payback for my arm.’

 

Next—the girl. That human the fox clung to like a lifeline.

 

And then… realization struck.

 

‘That fox is broken.’

 

Last time, Yi-Ho had only defended—never attacked. Even with Man Insa’s back exposed.

 

‘Why?’

 

Now, he was sure: Yi-Ho was crippled.

 

“Don’t worry, Father,” Man Insa hopped down, grinning. “Next time, I won’t miss.”

 

Outside, full dark had fallen.

 

“Time to hunt.”