Bijong and Yurin (1)
“So, this came from Suzhou's defense commissioner?”
“Yes, that's right.”
That was the gist of it.
After the successful pirate extermination operation in Zhejiang Province, the pirates had started avoiding the area and flocking to the surrounding provinces of Fujian and Suzhou in Jiangsu.
The officials in those provinces, racking their brains over the issue, naturally looked into how Zhejiang had solved their problem—and out spilled Yujin's story.
However, to them, Yujin was seen as someone 'promoted' by Hyejin, making it awkward for the crown prince's faction to ask for help outright. So, they thought, why not just kidnap him? That was the full story behind the midnight incident.
Hyejin pieced it together from their confessions and let out a deep sigh.
“...If you'd sent an official document requesting help properly, I would've granted it.”
Yujin flinched. Even though he hadn't fully come to his senses yet, hearing his superior so casually talk about shipping him off to some distant land—like it was a dream—made his body tremble involuntarily.
Whether he reacted or not, Hyejin had no choice but to ponder how to handle this incident and future contingencies.
“If memory serves, Suzhou's defense commissioner is that 'Silk-Clad Rat' Jo Unhyeon, and the garrison commander is Yugu Su.”
“Correct.”
Silk-Clad Rat—a moniker implying a rat wrapped in fine silk. How rotten did a man have to be for such a derogatory nickname to stick like a title? Of course, say it to his face and he'd explode in rage, but Hyejin had no qualms using it to refer to him.
He was a clear enemy acting against her will, a corrupt official she had to purge someday.
But before her own desires, she needed to address the root problem first. No matter that he was under such a man's command now, Suzhou's people were still subjects of the empire she had to protect. As a princess, Hyejin couldn't just stand by while they suffered.
One issue, though:
“We've only just gotten things sorted here, and some breathing room is starting to appear. But asking the kid right away feels too harsh.”
She could see how he'd barely slept and suffered these past days. She'd been planning to treat him properly for once, but sending him off to the far reaches so soon weighed heavy on her heart.
Caring for one person under her wing versus protecting countless faceless citizens—which was the right choice?
She wrestled with it inwardly but couldn't decide.
Politically speaking, ignoring it made sense. That region was fully under the crown prince faction's administrative and military control. If problems piled up and resentment grew, it could become public discontent she could harness against them later. Plus, it would showcase her administrative prowess—two adjacent areas, one thriving, the other crumbling, would highlight the difference starkly.
But what made her different from them if she thought so selfishly? The self-loathing from avoiding that thought gnawed at her. Now faced with the reality, she had no choice but to decide.
“...Fine. It's impossible to nab that rat bastard Jo Unhyeon right now. Sorry to the people, but no face to show— we'll let it slide this time.”
“Jo Unhyeeeeon!”
“Mommyyy!!”
Somehow snapping to attention, Yujin shot his hand up and bolted upright with his massive frame.
“I'll goooo!!!”
Hyejin, caught off-guard again despite the prior incident, clutched her pounding chest and scanned the surroundings.
Her gaze landed on the inspector general, eyes squeezed shut, head awkwardly turned away in a forced show of concern for her reputation. Her face flushed rapidly at the contrived display, and trembling with fury, she lunged at the infuriating bastard.
“What the hell is it this time?!”
But just like last time, her intent to throttle him fiercely was thwarted by his absurdly thick trapezius muscles. Was this guy doing it on purpose? Revenge for the previous torment?
“Didn't you just say you wanted a break from all the damn work? Made it so obvious you hated it, so why the sudden change?!”
“...From that moment at Jusan, facing the devastated people after the pirate raid—I swore it.”
What grand bullshit was he about to spout now? But unlike before, the situation wasn't urgent, so she gave him a moment to hear him out.
“A true martial artist can't pass by injustice. I'll protect the people, wrap up the mission quick, and come back!”
“Bullshit—what's the real reason? Spit it out.”
But as usual, his words didn't get far, and the bickering between them dragged on for a while.
*
Meng Huan San—the knockout drug's name, overheard in his haze, reignited hatred surging through his body toward that bastard.
Jo Unhyeon.
That scum, alongside Moyong Shin, a serial victim-producer in the story who absolutely had to die.
Just hearing the name made the game plot, once mere text, come alive vividly in his mind.
It was the tale of victims like Yujin—and others.
If these descriptions bother you, chapters 28-29 are fine, but skip 30.
The market bustled with far fewer people than usual, yet still teemed with life.
A hub where all sorts gathered to trade, it mingled sounds and scents in a vibrant chaos.
Fishy odors blended with the nutty aroma of fresh-pressed grain oil; steam billowed from just-steamed buns, pulsing with the market's energy.
But what turned this mundane routine into something precious and special was one thing:
Lately, work had kept him so busy their time together dwindled, leaving her with that occasional pouty look.
That made these moments all the more treasured, blissfully happy.
“Were there always this many people?”
“Idiot, you've lived here for years!”
Yurin giggled at his dumb question, her laughter bright and clear.
How much time had passed since this easy companionship became routine? Her parents' memorial tablets still sat in one corner of her home; he figured her grief hadn't fully faded.
Three years in mourning—folks nowadays mocked such old-fashioned rites, but he wanted to honor her wishes.
So he simply let her tend the tablets devoutly and offered his shoulder when grief weighed heavy.
Watching her struggle alone sometimes dragged up the past unbidden.
That horrific past—the origin and turning point of everything now.
*
A snot-nosed kid wielding a stick, rallying neighborhood brats for mock soldier games.
“Take this! Hiyah!”
“Uwaaak!”
Bijong always claimed the leader spot in scraps with the next village over, charging ahead with his bigger build and stronger muscles fueling cocky dreams of becoming a great warrior someday.
“Don't push! Flank left!”
“Argh, they're breaking through!”
Yeah, back when the world held no fears, just innocent kid stuff.
He sometimes wondered what he'd be like now if he'd grown up unscathed.
“Ugh, Bijong, you punk—when'd you get so strong?!”
“Again! Let's go!”
“Kuhaha, bring it!”
A clueless frog in a well, snatching the rival flag and claiming victory.
His eyes caught her then—off from the group, under the wall, always the same quiet kid.
Small, scrawny, few words; pushed over without a peep of anger. At first, he couldn't fathom it.
Why? Push back if pushed, curse if cursed, rage if raged at. Taking it lying down just got you looked down on.
He never voiced it, but she stuck in his mind.
Maybe at first, it was just a leader's duty to protect the weak. Or perhaps—
“Ah.”
He got mad on her behalf. Before he knew it, his body moved first, chasing off her tormentors, leaving them awkwardly alone.
“Those guys keep bullying you, huh?”
“Uh, y-yeah.”
Bijong struck a cool pose.
“Don't worry anymore. I'll protect you from now on.”
She finally looked up. Seen up close, her eyes were so clear.
“Really?”
“A man's word is his bond!”
He masked the awkward feels with bravado.
“I'll become a great warrior someday—general or martial artist! And protect you... er, everyone.”
A light promise, kid stuff without weight.
“Thanks.”
“Hmph.”
Yet she offered pure gratitude. Unfamiliar, he grumbled gruffly.
Now he cringed at his response, but it was a sincere vow to his younger self—not trivial.
But promises like that couldn't last.
The law of strength was cruel, teaching brutal lessons too early for kids.
And Bijong learned: Don't make promises you can't keep.
—That was when the pirates struck without warning.
“Kyaaak!”
Screams tore the night as flames spread. Thatched roofs blazed; village men fell one by one to pirate blades.
A hellfire inferno—the blaze engulfed the whole village swiftly.
Slash, slice!
“Argh!”
“P-please, spare me!”
Flames hemmed escape routes; pirates at chokepoints reaped fleeing civilians.
“Group up first! Buy time!”
Bijong's home wasn't grand, but from a long military line, they reacted fast. Father grabbed his sword and charged out; mother shoved Bijong into a backyard brush pile to hide.
Terror made his legs quake, mind blank white.
But his eyes, sharp through the gap, witnessed horrors unfit for a child.
—Her house afar, engulfed and collapsing.
Her parents tumbling from a pirate's shove at the door.
The blade arcing straight down on them.
“We’re out of time. Let’s slaughter them all and get out of here.”
No time. Time to slaughter them all and bolt.
“Roger!”
Understood!
“Mom... Mommy...”
Blood soaked her vision in a gruesome scene, etching an unforgettable trauma for life.
Bijong could only tremble in fear.
His old foolish thoughts resurfaced.
Why? Push back, curse back, rage back.
She would've if she could.
But overwhelming violence paralyzes reason in an instant.
—Like him now.
Surviving it was heroic. Yurin was amazing.
Terrifying. This peril, death looming, turned him into a quaking coward and liar.
Unaware, he prayed to the heavens for her—his favorite girl—to survive. That was all he could do.