As True as a Dream Chapter 151

“How will you contact them?”

“No need. I want to try printing the newspaper ourselves.”

 

Yi-Ho stared at her blankly until she explained:

“We can typeset it directly. The issue is the printing press… but I know someone who might help.”

 

His face hardened as he looked down at her sparkling eyes.

“Don’t tell me—”

“Time’s short—we need the fastest route. Luckily, I have an acquaintance in publishing.”

 

Hae-Joo swallowed a laugh at Yi-Ho’s immediate frosty expression.

‘Why does this always happen when Yongzhou’s mentioned?’ The usually composed man became childishly sulky.

 

“Brother Yongzhou is trustworthy.”

She had faith in the neighbor who’d interacted with her family’s teahouse for decades. His father had once been arrested for aiding independence fighters, then exiled from Gyeongseong to Gongju—likely forever under Japanese rule.

 

“You trust that guy?” Yi-Ho’s brows knotted further.

 

Realizing her misstep, Hae-Joo instinctively grabbed his hands.

“Of course no one’s more reliable than you, Boss.”

 

His glare softened with helpless affection as she grinned.

“Shall we meet him together?” She swung their clasped hands playfully, making his lips twitch.

 

“Boss.” She leaned in, blinking up at him.

‘When did she learn to act this cute?’

 

After a stiff pause, Yi-Ho pushed her forehead lightly.

“Send a letter first. Meeting now is risky.”

“A letter?”

“Set a time and place. If he’s trustworthy, he’ll come alone. If not… we’ll deal with the tails.”

 

Hae-Joo nodded, understanding. Double-checking wasn’t bad for something this critical.

“Even if I am trailed, I can handle it. We’ll see if he’s usable long-term.”

“…Alright.”

 

Only with Yi-Ho’s backing could she attempt this bold move. She stood to leave.

“I’ll draft the letter.”

“Give it to the crows.”

 

Nodding, she headed to the study—then doubled back to hug Yi-Ho around the neck.

“Boss, indulging me like this will spoil me rotten. How will you handle me in 10… 20 years?”

 

Pressed against his fever-warm skin, she mumbled her fears.

He’d anchored her after Eun-sil’s family died, tethering her to reason even in rage.

 

“Asking because I might change?” His low laugh rumbled as he stood, forcing her to release him—only for him to embrace her instead.

“Forgotten? I’m not human. Stubborn enough to leave my heart empty for 400 years… until you. That won’t change.”

 

Her eyes burned at his words.

 

Only her. In all his long life.

 

“Ten years, twenty—it doesn’t matter. Stop overthinking.”

When she looked up, his hand cradled her face, tracing her features.

“Even when wrinkles cover this face, your hair turns white, and you shrink further… you’ll still be Yeon Hae-Joo to me. Bright as spring blossoms, fierce as midsummer, clear as autumn skies, pure as winter snow. Always.”

 

His fingers brushed her eyes, cheeks, lips. In his gaze, she saw herself eternally twenty—forever loved.

 

“I… I love when you talk about our future,” she whispered, rising on tiptoes to kiss him.

“I love you, Ban Yi-Ho.”

 

As their eyes met, he wiped her damp lashes before kissing her again—a reverent seal. Holding her close, he prayed fiercely:

‘Let me survive this. Let me have decades with her.’

If they succeeded here, he’d find a way.

‘If the Bloodstone exists, so must other miracles.’

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bogyeong Daily, Society Desk

 

Yongzhou rubbed his bloodshot eyes at his desk. After the shantytown fires, last night’s textile factory explosion had police blaming “faulty equipment”—bullshit.

 

“Same old lies,” he muttered to his senior reporter, who cursed before being shushed.

 

Exhausted, Yongzhou slumped into his chair—then froze.

A letter, wedged between newspapers, bore tiny handwriting on the back:

“Brother Yongzhou.”

 

His pulse spiked. Only Hae-Joo called him that.

 

Six days ago, wanted posters for Ban Yi-Ho were plastered in Gyeongseong. After mysterious deaths, the Governor-General blamed a “plague” originating at Song Yue Pavilion—raiding it and branding Yi-Ho a fugitive.

 

When Yongzhou rushed to Hae-Joo’s home in Ikseon-dong, it stood empty. The neighbors knew nothing.

 

Now, this letter.

 

Locked in a toilet stall, he unfolded it:

“Bangaho Village, north hill’s seonang tree. Tomorrow 5 AM. Come alone.”

 

Leaning against the wall, Yongzhou exhaled hard.

‘What’s happening?’

The secrecy screamed danger.

But answers waited at dawn.