I Don't Think I Can Lose
"Beat you and you become king? What, is the throne something you settle with a battle royale?"
After Na Wangrang's bombshell, they had a rare chance to all be in one place, and at the Phantom Thief's suggestion that they might as well throw a simple party, a modest little gathering took shape.
"Nothing better came to mind, though."
Na Wangrang smiled bitterly, and Dan Chuyeon found the sight unbearable.
"Just leave it to us. Why walk straight into a briar patch? If you were ridiculously strong, I wouldn't be worried. But you're not, are you? Have you ever even caught a villain?"
He scolded Na Wangrang more roughly than usual. Na Wangrang wasn't particularly hurt by it. He knew the sharpness came from nothing but honest concern.
"Never. I grabbed a few petty thieves back when the streets were bad, but the strongest villain I've ever dealt with was a bank robber, I think."
"See? A guy who can't even throw a proper punch, talking about taking on werewolves."
As if something were burning him up from the inside, Dan Chuyeon knocked back mango juice the way other people drank beer. Whether the anger had gotten to him or the mood had, his cheeks flushed a faint red.
"Chuyeon. I hate it when the people around me get hurt. That's the whole reason I said I'd become king. If I take other people's help for a problem that's mine, I'm spitting in my own face. And it'd be an insult to the people who follow me."
"You've got a justification. A justification. It's not like this has nothing to do with us. Ever heard of a united front? I'm saying don't fight it alone. Fight it with us."
"Fighting together would be good, sure. It might even keep the damage down."
"I guarantee it. You and the rest of them won't even have to step in."
Dan Chuyeon jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Hong Yumin and Mi Soryeong were nestled together, watching a drama. Pele leaned into the soft of San-gun's belly, fishing out snacks and eating them. Dan Miryu and Hwang Seokgu sat at the table with their drinks, deep in talk. Dan Miryong was caught in the Phantom Thief's grip and being cheerfully tormented. Alexei disappeared into a room to peel off his wolf pajamas, and Kana, thoroughly drunk, was pouring out the sorrows of her life to Sipsado. It was a pleasant scene—so pleasant that the idea these people were the heroes who had brought down the Heavenly Punishment seemed like a lie.
"If my dad alone stepped up, the entire council of elders would have to rush him. And if it were my master, it'd be over before a cup of ramen went cold."
"They're that strong?"
"Stone-cold fact."
He didn't mention the Phantom Thief or Pele. Those two were outside the discussion. Dragging a god into a fight between humans would simply be too pitiful for the enemy.
"How strong can a pack of elders who turned their blades really be? Even if I rate them absurdly high, they're Heavenly Punishment class at best."
He talked down elders who had lived for decades as seasoned warriors, and the judgment was, to some extent, grounded in experience. Of course, no one present was about to sit quietly and watch arrogance like that.
Thwack.
"Agh!"
"Anyone watching would think you treat us as your underlings. Are your father and your master pieces on a board to you?"
"M-Master, that's not what I—"
Dan Chuyeon folded at the waist of his own accord and begged Hong Yumin with both hands pressed together.
"I-I think my temper got the better of me and I misspoke... I didn't actually mean it that way..."
"You cannot even honor your friend's decision, and instead you take him to task. It was a decision made with due deliberation, as befits their representative—the bearing of a king mindful of the subjects who follow him. Foolish disciple. Even a man nursing a grudge soothes his heart with drink, and yet the likes of you would presume to offer counsel? You died once and came back to life, and still you have not come to your senses. I have taught you poorly. Very well. I have neglected you of late, so let us share the bond of master and disciple for the first time in a long while."
"M-Master! M-mercy...!"
"A monkey, begging a person for mercy. Tonight will be a long one."
"Aaaaaah!!!"
Hong Yumin seized her disciple by the scruff, stepped out into the yard, and leapt high. Man and woman vanished together over the wall and into the night.
Na Wangrang's hand drew a clumsy sign of the cross. He prayed for the repose of his friend's soul.
"Mind if I take the seat beside you?"
As if to fill the empty place his friend had left, a huge old man came over and asked leave. Hwang Seokgu, a can of beer in one hand, had a warmth in his eyes. Na Wangrang hunched his shoulders.
"Y-yes... that's fine."
"You have my thanks."
Hwang Seokgu lifted the can to his mouth. Yellow alcohol slid down his throat.
"Hah. Bitter stuff."
"I-I'm sorry."
"What is there to be sorry for?"
Na Wangrang found Hwang Seokgu difficult to face. No—guilt was the truer word. He didn't know the details, but he couldn't shake the thought that he might have stood in the way of one man's rightful revenge.
"Why did you come to a decision like that?"
Hwang Seokgu asked it lightly, the way a breeze passes. Na Wangrang's eyes rolled. Hundreds of excuses flickered through his head.
"W-well, I..."
"It's all right. Tell me when you've the ease for it."
The voice was warm. The face was gentle. The air was heavy all the same. Na Wangrang understood that this, too, was a crossroads. He forced down the bit of meat that had only been circling in his mouth, drew a long breath, and steadied himself.
"I thought it was the best way to end it."
Hwang Seokgu's gaze pressed him to go on.
"No need for a war or anything like that. A one-on-one duel, the leaders against each other. I mean to finish all of it with that."
"That only works if the other side agrees to it, doesn't it?"
It was a challenge, nothing more. If they simply refused to take it, that was the end. Why accept at all? The moment they did, they were traitors.
"I laid a board they can't refuse. If I tell them to do it, they have to obey. A king's command is absolute."
"Their loyalty runs that deep?"
"To werewolves, a king is that kind of being. Someone you have to obey. A god you worship down to the soul."
Na Wangrang had asked Elder Wildflower once why they followed a king they had never even met so fervently. Elder Wildflower had answered.
The reason they had hungered for a king even while they carved the flesh from their own bodies and ate it was that their souls wanted one, and that the werewolf race itself wanted one. When Na Wangrang declared he would become king, every werewolf faintly sensed that a king had been born. The feeling was so thin that most of them could not be sure. Only elders whose attainment as warriors ran deep were certain—certain past the point of reason, certain enough to rave.
"Then there may be no need to fight at all. They might simply follow you the moment they lay eyes on you..."
"Most of them would. Not those ones."
A strange certainty had settled in him. The ones nursing schemes had something mixed into them. They were beings who had taken one step outside of being werewolves. Even if he gave the order, there was a very good chance they would not truly obey.
"Hoh. You can feel even that? A king appointed by fate really is a different creature."
"I'm only guessing. I want the hunch to be wrong. Then it can end without a fight."
And if it wasn't wrong—
"They'll have to fight every werewolf there is."
If they didn't want that, they would have to take the king's seat for themselves.
"If they want to live."
"Like it or not, they'll have to come."
"They are coming. To Korea."
Not, of course, for anything like the reason first intended.
"Stick a foot in halfway, and that's the end of it."
Crunch.
"Are you confident you can win?"
"I'll have to train. Four days at the longest, but..."
Na Wangrang smiled, and there was not a trace of fear in it.
Hwang Seokgu's instincts bristled. The boy in front of him was no clumsy dog. He was a wolf waiting only for the day he could stretch, and the wolf that had been sleeping quietly opened its eyes. Hwang Seokgu looked back at Pele. Her lips moved.
Age, circumstance, experience—none of it mattered. From the moment he was born, the king of the werewolves had been Na Wangrang. He could not step outside that absolute measure, not even if he wanted to.
...Unless a being on the level of a god intervened.
Hwang Seokgu swallowed. It seemed that things really would proceed without much trouble at all, exactly as this boy—no, this king—wanted them to. A thrill ran through him.
If it comes to that, then at last I'll reach that one.
"The time...?"
Na Wangrang, who had been wearing that confident smile, glanced at the clock and startled. The king's presence vanished, and he was a flustered, deeply filial high school boy again.
"Time to head home? I'll drive you."
"Y-you really don't have to..."
"Don't refuse. I can't send a child off this late."
Hwang Seokgu jingled his car keys and went on ahead.
"It has gotten late. Wangrang, hurry on home. Your mother will worry."
Mi Soryeong held out a white bag. A delicious smell leaked from inside it.
"Eat this at home with your family. Just a few simple side dishes."
"Th-thank you. Then I'll see you tomorrow."
Mi Soryeong's smile turned mischievous.
"Coming in tomorrow? That won't do."
She spread her palm wide.
"The next five days are paid leave. Clear up all that troublesome business, and come to work after that."
"What? R-really?"
Paid leave! The first he had ever received in his life!
"In exchange, you'll have to work hard enough to make up for it."
"Thank you!"
Na Wangrang beamed. Mi Soryeong tapped his forehead, then pushed him toward the front door.
"Off you go. The elder will be waiting."
"Goodbye!"
She watched Na Wangrang bounce away, then let out a long sigh.
"Haa. I wish our boy took after even half his friend."
"Shall I text his teacher?"
"I think so. You know how it goes—you follow your friend wherever they lead. Chuyeon needs to suffer a little too."
Had the person in question heard that, he would have protested that the logic was absurd. Unfortunately, that person was in the middle of being swallowed by the earth. And Hong Yumin, once the message reached her, stretched the lesson in character—meant to be finished before the night was out—into five full days.
How nice. How very nice.