Ensnaring the Painter Hwa-seon
"Something feels off, my lord."
Hwa-seon Yang Yeon-hwi spoke up. "It's already been days since the Golden Dragon Battlefield Lord went in. For Go-eui, who so despises martial artists, to allow it... there must be something going on."
"Hm."
The Soul-Chasing Death Ghost Ak Bul-beom stroked his chin.
"Did things go well with the Tang girl?"
"Probably, my lord? It seems the item left by that master the Golden Dragon Battlefield Lord mentioned really had something to do with Go-eui."
"And what does that have to do with us?"
"Didn't the Golden Dragon Battlefield Lord promise to pass along the message to Go-eui if the opportunity arose?"
"Even setting aside whether he's trustworthy, it's better not to hold out too much hope."
Ak Bul-beom was cynical. Perhaps it grated on him, body and soul, to rely on help from someone like that Tang girl, the type he despised.
"This lowly wife wants to cling to even the slimmest thread of hope."
"......"
Understanding his wife's feelings, Ak Bul-beom fell silent. He closed his eyes and turned inward, contemplating his body.
How much longer can I hold out?
He could feel his condition deteriorating. Pain was familiar, so it held no terror. What frightened him was how long he could protect his wife.
Decades as a ronin, living by the blade. The grudges he'd sown were as deep as the blood he'd spilled. There were probably plenty in the martial world sharpening their knives for him. Especially now. Word of his declining health must have spread far and wide.
Still, he was fine for the moment. He had enough strength left to slaughter a few blind, grudge-driven moths. And this was Go-eui's domain. In a place teeming with desperately ill commoners, no one would dare make a move.
The real problem would come when they had to leave Cloud Middle Pavilion without treatment. A beast is a beast only when hale and hearty. A wounded one gets torn apart without mercy—A Ak Bul-beom knew that all too well.
In the end, we reap what we sow.
As Ak Bul-beom muttered bitterly to himself,
"My lord, the door's opening."
Yang Yeon-hwi spoke in a voice that hadn't abandoned hope, her expression pleading for good news.
And for once, that hope was rewarded.
"Wha—what's this? Something's off. Th-they're coming this way!"
Ak Bul-beom's eyes snapped open.
Of course, neither Ak Bul-beom nor Yang Yeon-hwi had ever laid eyes on Go-eui before. Nor had the patients camped outside. But they knew at a glance that he was different. The aura he exuded was on another level entirely from ordinary folk.
"I-it's the physician!"
"Physician! Physician!"
"P-please, treat me! I beg you!"
"If you just save this wretched life once, I'll serve at Cloud Middle Pavilion as a slave for life!"
The patients rushed forward, pleading desperately. But
"Tell them if they don't shut up right now, there's no treatment—ever."
Go-eui said coldly to his attendant. She relayed it verbatim.
"Listen up! The physician says if you don't quiet down immediately, no treatment—ever! I've warned you!"
"Gasp."
"Hic."
In an instant, the patients turned mute as clams. They knew Go-eui was a man who meant what he said. They couldn't risk forfeiting their one slim chance at healing.
Swoosh.
As silence fell, Go-eui raised a hand. His attendants promptly formed a circle around him—a makeshift screen. Only then did he slowly approach Ak Bul-beom and Yang Yeon-hwi.
"You're the Soul-Chasing Death Ghost?"
"And you're Go-eui, I take it. You're a hard man to get a look at. Ah, not your face—the mask, I mean."
"......My lord."
Even before the one man who might heal his internal injuries, Ak Bul-beom didn't grovel or bow low. He'd lived his life with that pride; he wasn't about to change on the brink of death. Yang Yeon-hwi fidgeted anxiously beside him.
"Your mistake for thinking a martial artist like you deserved to see my face."
Go-eui snorted derisively.
"Still, here I am."
"The Golden Dragon Battlefield Lord begged so earnestly. I owed him one, so I couldn't refuse."
Ak Bul-beom and Yang Yeon-hwi's expressions shifted at those words. The Golden Dragon Battlefield Lord. He was tied to this turn of events after all. Yang Yeon-hwi let out a relieved breath, profoundly grateful. He'd gone above and beyond mere promises.
Ak Bul-beom had to concede it too. The man had abilities far beyond what he showed.
"Truly grateful, my lord."
"Indeed."
Ak Bul-beom nodded. To think a chance encounter led here. He didn't believe in fate, but this felt like heaven's will.
"No need for words. Let me take your pulse first."
"Very well."
Go-eui grasped Ak Bul-beom's wrist. The examination lasted a mere instant. Then he let go, as if there was nothing more to see.
"Half your dantian is dead, and seven-tenths of your meridians are in tatters."
The same diagnosis as other famed physicians. But none had discerned it so swiftly and precisely. The difference in skill was palpable.
"C-can it be... treated?"
Yang Yeon-hwi asked in a trembling voice. Go-eui was their last hope. She couldn't help but be on edge.
"More than enough."
Go-eui answered without hesitation.
At that moment, Yang Yeon-hwi's legs gave out.
Thud.
She collapsed to the ground, tears welling as she murmured, "Ahh... Th-thank you... Physician, thank you......"
"Nothing's set in stone yet. Calm yourself."
"Y-yes...?"
Yang Yeon-hwi's eyes shook violently at Go-eui's words.
"You want something in return."
Ak Bul-beom said calmly.
"Treating a martial artist without conditions is unacceptable to me."
"Wh-what conditions?"
"You're Hwa-seon, aren't you?"
"Y-yes."
"Then paint. Draw the painting I want, and for each one, I'll give you a day's worth of medicine."
Hwa-seon was a true artist. Far removed from the mercenary sort who sold their soul for gold. No one could force her brush under duress, no matter the bribe.
But not this time.
"I-I'll do it. I'll paint, so please... give us the medicine."
Yang Yeon-hwi pleaded desperately. Nothing was more precious to her than her husband's life.
"......Forgive me."
Ak Bul-beom apologized heavily to her. For a master at her peak, painting was pride itself. Yet here she was, willing to cast it aside.
For one thing alone. His life.
It filled him with despair, but he had no choice but to accept her will. That was respect for her.
"No, my lord. This lowly wife is overjoyed to be of help to you."
Hwa-seon smiled. A genuine smile brimming with long-absent joy. A path to healing her husband's near-impossible injuries had finally opened.
"Hm, good. It's severe, so we'll start today."
"Th-thank you. Thank you, physician."
Yang Yeon-hwi bowed deeply, over and over in gratitude. Ak Bul-beom silently inclined his head once.
"Come to think of it, do you have your painting tools?"
"Yes."
A true Hwa-seon always carried her supplies.
"Then that's settled. Follow me."
Go-eui turned and walked. Yang Yeon-hwi hurried after him.
And so they vanished into Cloud Middle Pavilion.
A modest, tidy room. Quiet and perfect for focus.
"How's this? Should be ideal for painting, no issues."
"Yes, physician."
Yang Yeon-hwi nodded slightly. No problems at all. In fact, the environment was ideal.
Just one thing nagging at her.
The massive mirror against one wall. A reasonable size wouldn't bother her, but one dominating half the room was distracting.
Still, she didn't voice it. She could just paint facing away.
"Good."
"What painting shall I do?"
Yang Yeon-hwi asked eagerly. She wanted to finish quickly and bring medicine to her lord.
"I get your eagerness, but first—"
"Yes?"
"You need to meet someone."
"Ah."
She assumed this person was the painting's subject. Otherwise, why mention it?
Creak.
The door opened, and a hulking man entered.
Huh...?
Yang Yeon-hwi's eyes filled with confusion. She knew that face.
The man who attended the Golden Dragon Battlefield Lord. What was he doing here?
"Ah, madam. Good to see you again. I'm here to assist while you paint."
Jang Il grinned.
"Pardon?"
Yang Yeon-hwi looked troubled. He'd only distract her.
She tried politely declining to Go-eui. "Physician, I—"
But the giant was suddenly in front of her.
"Now, now, just look into my eyes first."
His pitch-black eyes, deep as abyss, met hers.
"Ah......?"
Her mind fogged instantly. Vision blurred, vertigo spun wildly.
Wh-what's...
"Now, lights out completely."
A massive hand like a pot lid clamped over her eyes.
In that instant.
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Her consciousness plunged into total darkness.