As True as a Dream Chapter 150

“Shooting…?”

Yi-Ho nodded calmly.

 

“Guns rely more on mental stamina than physical agility, so it might suit you.”

 

“A gun… But I’ve never even held one. I don’t know how to use it.”

“I do, so I can teach you.”

Hae-Joo’s eyes widened at his reply.

‘Why would a gumiho like Yi-Ho ever need to use a gun?’

And though she hadn’t seen him fight much, from what she recalled, he relied on his bare hands or whatever tools were nearby—using them like clubs.

 

“Bare-handed combat, swords, spears, daggers, cannons, guns… If necessary, I learned them all. Eventually, it became a hobby.”

“Necessary?”

Though he occasionally suffered from his illness, he was undeniably strong—absolute, even.

‘Had there ever been a need for such skills?’

 

“Where there are gumihos, there are also Imoogis (lesser dragons) and giant serpents. Half-human, half-monster… Creatures like me, neither one nor the other, were seen as abominations—prey. Over there, weakness means death. So I learned.”

“Wait, does that mean… those monsters still hunt you?”

“No. I don’t know how this’ll sound, but every time the world shifts, countless monsters rooted in this land die out. Even the survivors have retreated deep into the wilds, hard to find now.”

 

“Retreated into the wilds?”

Hae-Joo couldn’t help but ask again.

 

The “monsters” she knew were powerful.

Yi-Ho was. Hongo was extraordinary, too.

And what about the crows now following Yi-Ho?

 

“Humans grow smarter by the day. Facing their cannons, guns, bombs… even monsters would die. All living things have limits.”

Hae-Joo stared at him, lips slightly parted, unsure how to respond.

Caught up in her own struggles, she hadn’t had the chance to consider Yi-Ho’s past. His detached tone tightened her chest.

She felt sorry, imagining how harsh his life must have been.

 

“Don’t make that face. That’s why I’m offering to teach you. Will you learn?”

She studied him in silence—his expression unreadable.

He was right.

Without the Ten-Thousand Bloodstone, even his life was finite, racing toward its end.

 

Hae-Joo shook her head lightly, as if dispelling the thought.

Right now, what mattered was retrieving the Bloodstone and assassinating Governor-General Saito.

She had to focus.

There’d be time later for these conversations.

 

“Yes, I’ll learn. If it means protecting my people.”

“Using a gun means killing someone. With your own hands. Can you do that?”

 

“…Yes. I can. I will.”

 

Killing.

A terrifying word.

The image flashed before her—people who had been alive just moments ago collapsing like straw, their light snuffed out by gunfire.

Hae-Joo looked down at her hands, then clenched them into fists.

No more hiding. No more running.

She’d protect those she loved, and those fighting to survive in this wretched era.

Even if it meant staining these hands with blood.

 

“Teach me.”

She met his gaze with resolve. Yi-Ho, who had been watching her quietly, suddenly smirked.

“Of course, this assumes you have a talent for shooting.”

 

At his unexpected joke, Hae-Joo flushed, recalling her earlier awkward movements.

“Boss!”

Her body was already useless beyond walking and running—if she was terrible at shooting too, it’d be truly despairing.

Even Teacher Kim wouldn’t be able to make use of her.

 

“Don’t worry. If shooting doesn’t work… there’s always bows, hidden weapons, or even throwing rocks.”

“Hey! I can’t possibly be that hopeless. I’m good with my hands!”

She shot him a glare, though a flicker of unease remained.

The heavy mood lightened.

 

“First, we need a gun. Who knows when Teacher Kim will contact us, but even a single day—a few hours—is enough to learn something useful.”

“Yes. Though it might just be self-comfort.”

She smiled bitterly. Yi-Ho wordlessly pulled her close and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll teach you the basics. Even one day will be enough.”

 

Hae-Joo looked up at him, eyes crinkling.

Just having him by her side filled her with unshakable calm.

If past lives existed, she must have saved a nation.

 

“Shall we head down now?”

She turned briskly, leading the way back down the path they’d climbed—half-dead—earlier.

Glancing back, she grabbed a tree for support and began descending lightly, like a rabbit.

 

Yi-Ho followed, but suddenly frowned, pressing a hand to his chest.

A wave of nausea rose, the metallic tang of blood spreading in his throat.

He forced it down, swallowing hard, then stared at his lower abdomen.

 

Lately, during his severe episodes, he’d realized what the small clumps he coughed up were.

Beads.

Fox beads.

Tiny fragments of his shattered bead, expelled with his blood.

He wasn’t a full gumiho, so his bead had never been much, but after 400 years, it still held considerable power.

The source of his abilities. The reason he’d lived so long.

 

Only now did it sink in.

He was truly dying.

The only solace was that his bead hadn’t fully shattered yet.

 

“Boss?”

Hae-Joo, who’d been skidding down ahead, turned back.

Yi-Ho straightened, resuming his usual detached expression as he walked on.

The blood’s iron taste lingered, but he suppressed it.

 

“Let’s go.”

He smirked at her, but as she turned away, his face fell, eyes shadowed.

He needed to find another way.

He had to outlive her, at least.

 

 

* * *

 

Back at the manor, Hae-Joo suddenly turned as they crossed the courtyard.

It was time to act on what she’d delayed—meeting Teacher Kim.

 

“Boss, I need to talk.”

She led him to a bench and explained the idea she’d been refining since seeing Yongzhou at the Bogyeong Daily.

Whether the assassination succeeded or not, she refused to let Saito’s atrocities go unchallenged.

 

To exaggerate slightly, in Joseon today, people’s minds were swayed by the press.

Even the Governor-General’s Office tightly controlled newspapers, using them to manipulate public sentiment.

Like covering up the Man Insa incident with headlines like “Attack by Western Ghosts” or “Ignorant Koreans’ Superstitions.”

 

So Hae-Joo wanted to use the press against them.

To expose Saito’s madness—how he’d sacrificed Koreans as offerings to save his daughter, Mao.

If they could find proof and reveal it to the world, even reaching foreign press, Japan might face global condemnation.

It could be a chance for Joseon to break free.

 

“No official paper under the Governor-General’s thumb would run that. They’d drag everyone—even the rats—to jail.”

“I know. I’m not talking about official papers. You know as well as I do—Gyeongseong has more than just the Bogyeong Daily.”

 

She grinned. Yi-Ho chuckled, catching her meaning.

Gyeongseong had countless papers—even a few ghost operations that evaded the censors.

Like the ones that had refuted the “Western Ghost Attack” story, or those secretly run by independence groups.