As True as a Dream Chapter 172

Hae-Joo looked down at Yi Ho, his veins bulging all over his body, and could do nothing but try to wake him by calling his name.

 

Yi Ho’s trembling body twisted painfully this way and that.

 

Hae-Joo held his body down, repeatedly calling his name.

 

“Boss, open your eyes…! Please…! Ban Yi Ho!”

 

Her voice grew hoarse from calling his name.

 

Hae-Joo was exhausted, as if her whole body might give out.

 

She hadn’t rested for a single moment since yesterday.

 

Both her body and mind were pushed to the brink, feeling like they might break.

 

Still, she held onto Yi Ho’s body, hoping he would open his eyes, that he would be okay.

 

She felt pathetic and frustrated that this was all she could do, but there was no other choice.

 

She didn’t know how much time had passed.

 

Her clothes were damp with cold sweat, and her face was sticky from the constant flow of tears.

 

The bulging veins on Yi Ho’s face had subsided, his trembling had stopped, and his skin color had returned to normal.

 

But he wasn’t breathing.

 

His heart wasn’t beating.

 

Fortunately, he was still warm.

 

Since this was a state beyond medical explanation, Hae-Joo held onto a sliver of hope.

 

Because he was a supernatural being, maybe there was another reason his heart had stopped now.

 

“You’ll be okay, you’ll open your eyes, it’s alright, you’ll be okay, it’s alright….”

 

She held his hand tightly with both of hers, not taking her eyes off him.

 

It felt like if she looked away even for a second, he would disappear, so she stubbornly kept watch over Yi Ho.

 

But even as the sun eventually set and black night fell, Yi Ho’s heart did not beat.

 

‘This is absurd, he’s so warm!’

 

‘He can’t be dead!’

 

Hae-Joo buried her face in his hand and sobbed quietly.

 

Then, suddenly, the finger she was holding seemed to move. Hae-Joo jerked her head up and looked at Yi Ho.

 

Perhaps it was her imagination, but his eyes were still closed.

 

Just as she was despairing, thinking it might be an illusion born of her desperate hope, the hand she held moved again.

 

A twitch.

 

It was a very small movement, just a bending of the knuckle, but Hae-Joo’s heart swelled with hope.

 

She immediately held her hand under his nose and could confirm a faint, shallow breath.

 

Next, she pressed her ear to his chest and could feel a thump-thump heartbeat.

 

Hae-Joo cried out in relief.

 

He’s alive! He’s alive!

 

“Boss…!”

 

As she spoke in her hoarse voice, Yi Ho’s eyelashes fluttered, and then slowly, his eyes opened.

 

The deep, soulful eyes she loved so much looked at her weakly.

 

“…You awful man…! I thought you were dead…! I thought you were leaving…! Why did you only open your eyes now…!”

 

Hae-Joo, who had been crouched beside him, overwhelmed by layers of fatigue and relief, lost consciousness without even realizing it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Every part of his body throbbed and ached, making it hard to even breathe.

 

Yi Ho took a moment to steady his breathing against the intense pain coursing through his entire body, then slowly opened his eyes.

 

He saw a yellow ceiling and wooden support beams.

 

Slowly rolling his eyes, the room’s layout and furniture looked familiar.

 

It was the room where Hongo had drawn his last breath.

 

It was difficult to move even a finger. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again and slowly turned his head.

 

It was because of the steady breathing and body warmth he felt from his right side.

 

The corner of Yi Ho’s mouth curved faintly when he saw the source of that warmth.

 

There, fast asleep, was the face he most worried about and yet always wanted to see, even when he was looking right at it—her disheveled hair, her face gaunt with fatigue.

 

Yi Ho tried with great effort to move his heavy hand, then let out a soft laugh.

 

It was because Hae-Joo was clutching his right hand tightly to her chest.

 

“…You awful man…! I thought you were dead…! I thought you were leaving…! Why did you only open your eyes now…!”

 

The voice that had been weeping on his chest was utterly hoarse, and her expression had been full of anxiety and fear.

 

Even the way she clutched his hand, as if grasping at a straw, felt desperate.

 

Yi Ho closed his eyes again against the wave of fatigue washing over him.

 

He’d really thought, this time, he was done for.

 

While fleeing the Japanese soldiers swarming the residence, the last ember of the fox bead fragment, which had held on with just a sigh left in his dantian, had gone out.

 

It was as if it had burned up all the life force he had left.

 

He could no longer support his own body, and his last memory was the sound of Hae-Joo’s frantic voice calling his name.

 

He had wanted to live.

 

In all his long years of life, it was the first time he had ever yearned so desperately to live.

 

He had been afraid he wouldn’t open his eyes again.

 

The thought that he might never see Yeon Hae-Joo’s beautiful smile again had nearly driven him mad.

 

But he had lived.

 

He didn’t know how it had happened, but what was certain was that his whole body hurt as if it were broken, and he felt weak and heavy.

 

Frowning at the elusive thought, Yi Ho suddenly rolled his tongue at the coppery taste in his mouth.

 

Blood…?

 

There’s no cut in my mouth, so why does it taste like blood?

 

Swallowing his puzzlement, Yi Ho checked his condition again.

 

No matter how sharply he honed his senses, he could no longer feel any trace of the bead within his body.

 

The powerful force that had always circulated abundantly through his bloodstream was also gone.

 

“Boss?”

 

Coming to his senses, Yi Ho looked down at Hae-Joo, who was still holding his right hand.

 

Hae-Joo, who had just woken up and had drowsy eyes, was looking at him.

 

“…Sorry for scaring you.”

 

As he spoke in a ragged, sleep-hoarse voice, Hae-Joo’s already bloodshot eyes welled up.

 

“You’re alive… so it’s okay. Welcome back.”

 

“…Yeah. I’m alive and back.”

 

As Hae-Joo sat up, his loosened hand turned over and cupped her rough cheek.

 

“Your face is an indescribable mess.”

 

“Whose fault is that?”

 

At his teasing words, Hae-Joo gave him a look that wasn’t really angry and let out a deep sigh, still holding his hand.

 

“You’re alright now, right?”

 

Yi Ho swallowed with difficulty and stared blankly at the ceiling beams for a moment.

 

“Boss?”

 

Hearing the anxious tone in Hae-Joo’s voice, Yi Ho looked at her with an expression caught between a smile and a grimace.

 

“It hurts. It hurts like I’m about to die.”

 

“It hurts? Your wounds? Where does it hurt? I applied medicine….”

 

Hae-Joo sat up hurriedly, frowning.

 

But ignoring her reaction, Yi Ho muttered as if to himself.

 

“This is a problem.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Hae-Joo looked at him with a puzzled expression. Yi Ho, with an unusually complicated look on his face, stared intently at her before suddenly speaking.

 

“I think I’m nothing anymore.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“…Just what it sounds like.”

 

Hae-Joo stared at him blankly. Yi Ho raised his arm and looked at his hand.

 

He felt nothing.

 

It just hurt, and hurt, and he was tired.

 

“I don’t think I’m a half-baked supernatural being anymore.”

 

“That means…”

 

“…A human. Probably. Just… an ordinary human…?”

 

Even saying it himself, it didn’t feel real.

 

But he had a definite intuition.

 

He didn’t know if this was a good thing or not.

 

All Yi Ho felt was a strange sense of loss.

 

He had been so strong, strong enough to protect Hae-Joo and support her in what she wanted to do.

 

But if he was nothing now, how could he protect and support this woman?

 

Yi Ho looked at Hae-Joo’s dazed face and swallowed a bitter feeling.

 

He had never, ever been fond of his half-baked existence.

 

But now, he felt regretful.

 

Surely she wouldn’t dislike him just because he couldn’t run across rooftops now, or ride the wind up mountains?

 

Thinking that, Yi Ho felt a little insecure.

 

“Really?”

 

Hae-Joo found her voice belatedly.

 

Yi Ho looked down at his body, wrapped in bloodstained bandages here and there, and affirmed with his eyes.

 

He was truly useless now.

 

It seemed he was always like this in front of Hae-Joo.

 

Either suffering from his chronic illness, collapsing, or becoming weak like this.

 

Pathetically.

 

“Then… we can grow old together, can’t we?”

 

Just as Yi Ho’s expression was growing heavy from the self-deprecating thoughts running through his mind…

 

At Hae-Joo’s voice, which held a hint of laughter, he looked up at her face, now beside him.

 

“I don’t have to worry about getting all wrinkly-old by myself now, right?”

 

At her following words, he was speechless.

 

Grow old together? Get all wrinkly-old?

 

“We can live on together, right?”

 

Living on together was a given.

 

Yi Ho’s heart stirred at the gentle smile on Hae-Joo’s face.

 

“Is it okay if I’m human? I’ll be useless. Weak.”

 

“I told you before. I don’t care if you’re human or not. As long as you’re Ban Yi Ho, that’s enough. As long as we live on together, that’s all that matters.”

 

Hae-Joo whispered with a soft laugh, and Yi Ho pursed his lips.

 

“They said the Ten Thousand Bloodstone… only works on humans… that the outcome was unknown… I guess this is how it turned out.”

 

At the mention of the Bloodstone, Yi Ho once again recalled the coppery taste in his mouth.

 

“…Did you use it?”

 

He watched Hae-Joo’s expression carefully.