The Soldier's Shattered Vow
The tragedy hit him like a nightmare. And the searing emotions that surged when he failed to protect the one who'd sworn such resolve—those were more than enough to drag him to the very bottom of existence.
Especially when it came to something utterly unforeseen, something he could never have prepared for.
Those had been happy days. After time passed and he'd wed Yurin, his days in the military were filled with well-earned recognition.
“Vice Commander of Suzhou's garrison, Bijong. His Excellency Governor Jo Unhyeon himself seeks you out to commend your great contributions to improving security in the city.”
The change began that night, with the urgent summons from the government offices. Word was, it was a “banquet” to honor his achievements.
But there was a vague unease. At first, it felt a bit off that this was hosted not by a military figure, but by a civilian official, the governor.
“Whoa, Bijong, you've really made it big!”
“I guess I'm just that good, huh?”
“Ugh, give you an inch and you take a mile!”
But at the time, he brushed aside the odd atmosphere. The invitation said to bring his wife, and Yurin was thrilled at the chance to see the governor's mansion thanks to her husband's merits. So the two headed into the city together.
“For security, leave your weapons here. Your identity's confirmed—go on in.”
Once inside the offices at the invitation, an overly thick scent assaulted them. It mingled alcohol, oil, and something faintly nauseating.
But they couldn't show discomfort in front of such a high official. Following the guide, they sat side by side next to him, and conversation naturally began with the governor's gracious words of praise.
“Suzhou's vice commander, right? You've been making waves lately.”
Jo Unhyeon leisurely tilted his cup.
“A soldier devoting his body to the nation... truly an exemplary talent.”
It was praise. But his eyes weren't smiling.
“However, standing out too much can sometimes invite poor outcomes.”
What was he getting at? A chill ran down Bijong's spine in that instant. This isn't just a friendly gathering, he realized.
“Oh, not trying to ruin the mood. Just sharing some wisdom for juniors like you—best to know it early.”
Bijong silently bowed from the waist before him.
“Come closer, sit here. You too, madam.”
Jo Unhyeon beckoned them to move nearer. Yurin hesitated briefly, but nodded at Bijong's cue and cautiously shifted seats.
“As the rumors say, a true beauty. The commander must be blessed.”
His gaze blatantly raked over Yurin. Bijong's expression subtly hardened. I'm just not cut out for these scenes, he thought.
“You honor us.”
“No honor about it. Leaving a woman like this for the battlefield—you're ruthless.”
Laughter.
But those eyes were already scheming something else. Bijong wanted to refuse, but under the coercive pressure—not quite force—cups passed several times.
Suddenly, Yurin frowned and whispered in his ear.
“Bijong... I'm feeling dizzy.”
“Ah, this 'scent' is a bit strong. No major harm to your body—don't worry too much.”
Somehow catching even that murmur, Jo Unhyeon calmly replied and quietly set down his cup.
At the same moment, an official burst into the banquet hall. He hurried to Jo Unhyeon's side and handed over a small envelope.
“Hmm.”
His face grew grave as he took it.
“Just got a report.”
After a pause, he turned to Bijong and explained.
“Suspicious movement spotted near the west gate. Likely pirate remnants.”
Bijong's face hardened instantly. The west gate was well-fortified after repeated preparations—they'd bloodied the pirates there multiple times. Why target it again?
“Certain?”
“Why tell you if not? You're the expert in this.”
He pondered briefly, then spoke to Bijong.
“Can't ask you to head out on a fine night like this. But could you just quickly advise the courier waiting in the outer office on response?”
Not a tough task. But with Yurin here and the nagging unease, she lightly tugged his sleeve.
“You'll be right back, right?”
No real excuse to refuse. I'll make it quick, Bijong nodded.
“I'll return soon.”
The moment he stepped out—
Clack.
A soft bolt sliding shut echoed from inside.
What the hell? Startled, Bijong turned back to the room.
“Wait—”
As he pivoted, two martial artists guarding the door blocked his path.
“Halt.”
His hand instinctively went to his sword hilt—but he belatedly remembered leaving it at the entrance. And in this uncertain situation, spilling blood could endanger Yurin.
He clung to reason.
Following the warriors' guidance, he entered the main hall—empty, not a soul inside.
Bijong's heart pounded wildly. Retracing his hurried steps back—
Then, a crashing sound from the inner quarters.
A choked, stifled scream.
Bijong's eyes rolled back in rage.
“Out of my way!”
His battlefield-hardened body exploded forward. Thud! A punch laced with killing intent.
“Gaaahk!”
The blocker slammed into the wall, blood spraying from his mouth.
Ignoring the downed man, Bijong kicked the door wide—
“Bi, Bijong? What's wrong? What happened?”
Contrary to his fears, nothing seemed amiss. Just the governor sheepishly picking up a dropped cup, with Yurin playing the gracious companion.
What? Was it his imagination? Doubt flickered in his mind about his own judgment.
But the disturbance wasn't minor—he'd forced entry.
“This was to honor your achievements. What nonsense is this, Vice Commander?”
“...My apologies.”
The governor's rebuke turned on him. Bijong could only sincerely apologize; the fault was his.
If the governor pressed charges, he wouldn't leave unscathed.
“...Enough. Fine day like this—I don't want to sour it.”
Fortunately, he seemed unwilling to escalate.
“Got an unexpected bonus, after all?”
That inscrutable, ominous glance again.
“So, can you handle the task I asked?”
“...I'll do it.”
“Good. Withdraw now—with your wife.”
*
The orders that followed were downright bizarre.
The belated delivery: documents detailing pirate routes and a massive raid plan.
With the deadline looming, investigating origins took a backseat to defenses.
It could balloon into catastrophe, so he bunked at the garrison for days, bolstering coastal guards. Fortune or curse, the pirate fleet never came.
Exhausted, he trudged home.
“Yurin?”
No sign of her. Where? Midnight—where would she go?
A home loses warmth fast. The house felt cold for hours.
Uneasy pacing at the door—then meaningful words from next-door Mrs. Yoon, ever the neighborhood gossip.
Two days ago, a carriage from the governor's mansion. Thought you two were together.
Dread flooded his mind.
No time for more—he bolted, racing to Nanjing's governor's mansion despite exhaustion-fueled fatigue.
-
“A soldier's woman can change anytime. Right?”
Loyalty to the empire demands sacrifice—unavoidable.
And the state must polish those victims. Yes, like him.
“Y-you call yourself this nation's elder?”
A vile chuckle as Jo Unhyeon gripped Yurin's weakened chin. He wove twisted logic, slowly pushing her toward the abyss.
“Heard the north's chewing up troops. Pulling some our way too.”
Yurin's body stiffened. She'd heard the rumors: Oirat border skirmishes, a death sentence for draftees.
Recalling Bijong's return with wounds great and small, she squeezed her eyes shut.
“A benevolent empire embraces even the weak. Widows, especially families of loyal soldiers who died serving.”
“...Don't.”
“Don't?”
“Please... don't. I beg you.”
The bold woman on her knees, pleading—it thrilled him, methodically breaking her spirit.
Another man's woman—irresistible.
But to shatter the mind fully, this wasn't enough. His experience demanded overwhelming pleasure to sever the will. Enter the drug—civilization's finest tool.
The small paper packet from his bosom doomed two lives at once.
. . .
From peak happiness, acknowledged by all—to total ruin in a heartbeat.
“Too strong this time? Haha, first use—might be a bit off for a bet.”
Her unfocused eyes, ragged pained breaths, clutched by the bastard, toyed with. Bijong ground his teeth.
Save her now.
He'd stormed the mansion, but inner guards swiftly pinned him. Powerless standoff.
She turned her limp head toward him—subtle change, but he knew.
Her sorrow, plea for help, agony.
“...Bi, jong.”
“What, slut? Drugged to hell and still lucid?”
Struggling, she whispered his name. He yearned to decapitate the dog and rescue her.
“Yurin, you okay?”
“I, feel weird. Body, weird.”
Her safety first. But her words trailed off, mouth sealed.
Utterly defiled, tremors uncontrollable, she begged him.
“Body, mind—wrong. Hurts. Don't want you seeing me filthy.”
“No, I'm fine. Please...”
“K-kill me.”
Sobbing hysterically, writhing unnaturally, Yurin shrieked—then yanked her hairpin high.
Bijong instinctively knew and bellowed.
“Don't!”
But her glazed eyes sharpened with resolve.
“S-sorry. Always, just chains on you.”
A short sigh. The hairpin plunged deep, piercing her heart with all her fading strength.
Blood poured as it transfixed her.
“Yu, Yuriiiin!”
Unable to endure the torment, she'd chosen suicide.
Not easy for her, dying before her beloved's eyes.
Apologizing to him, glaring hatred at the culprit, she breathed her last.
Those grudge-filled eyes stayed wide open.
Irritation flashed on Jo Unhyeon's face.
“Brought her for fun, and this?”
That snapped the final thread.
“Jooo Unhyeeeon!”
Roaring the architect of this tragedy, he charged. Fury from throat to veins to fists, swinging wildly.
“This mad bastard?”
“Agh!”
But swiftly subdued. No matter Bijong's skill, the villain's martial guards denied approach.
Sword dropped, knees buckled.
Jo Unhyeon eyed the bloodied corpse disdainfully. “Ruined quick. Clean it up.” Like discarding trash.
Pinned head-down, Bijong's gaze locked on limp Yurin.
Powerless then, powerless now—reality crushed him, denying even closing her eyes.
“Is this the reward for national loyalty?”
Impotent, strength ebbed. The warriors halted restraint, watching warily from afar.
Bijong swallowed erupting rage, slowly approached, cradled her cooling body. Wrapped her carefully in their shared clothes to preserve warmth.
Blood soaked the fabric—he ignored it. Clutching her, he fled the vile space, desperate to free her.
At rage's peak, a man turns eerily calm—a loathsome truth he now knew.
Outside at last, he gently closed her staring eyes with his hand, berating himself.
“Failed... again.”
What was all his effort for? Swordless hand, cherished woman in arms, tear-streaked glare piercing the night as he plunged into the brush.
“This empire—I'll smash it with my own hands.”
No matter the time.
Soon, bandits encircled him—greenwood outlaws.
Military garb or not, daring solo intrusion into their turf demanded punishment.
But the wretched man's sight told them much.
“Join us?”
Arms open. Bandit dens welcome the aggrieved.
Thus began the terror of the Yangtze basin, crippling imperial granaries—
“Please... let me join. I beg you.”
—the birth of the future Green Forest Lord.
*
...How to prevent that?
Simple—upend it all.
These fucking bastards, just wait. I won't let it slide.
Yujin smirked coldly with resolve—then his neck jerked aside.
“Gah!”
What the—? What's happening?
“You creep, quit that creepy grin and spit out your real intentions!”
“Ughhh!”
The gunner lady had mastered targeted torque. Her twist dug in.
Until recently, her clinging meant nothing amid his distractions. Now, her weighted leverage was no joke.
If not petite, with those bones against a man, she'd make a fine warrior—
“Gaaah, give up! Give up!”
“Say it in Zhongyuan tongue!”
—thought Yujin, mid-torture.