Holding Hands
As we stepped into the outskirts of town, people began to appear little by little.
The restaurant Seoa had mentioned sat a bit farther in, tucked into a relatively quiet alley. It was a modest Korean place with a simple wooden sign that read Wildflower Restaurant. From the outside alone, the neat, quiet atmosphere already felt right.
"Let's go in."
Warm lighting and wooden tables wrapped the interior in a cozy hush. Dinner hour meant a few tables were already occupied. Our entrance drew a handful of glances—some startled, as if they recognized me, others simply curious. But no one whispered openly or wore the old, uncomfortable looks. Maybe it was the string of incidents that had shaken the village. Maybe time had simply worn the edges smooth. Or maybe it was fear. Either way, it no longer mattered. The only person who mattered to me now was Seoa.
We took a corner table by the window, facing each other. Outside, the alley lay in soft darkness; inside, the warm glow made a quiet contrast. I stared at the menu, trying to shake off the last of the awkwardness.
Seoa spoke first.
"I hear the bibimbap here is really good. You used to like bibimbap, Taejun…"
I blinked. She remembered something that small—something more than ten years old. And she had added that careful little "used to." Something warm and tight rose in my chest. I kept my voice even.
"Really? Then I'll have that."
"I'll take the doenjang stew. People say theirs is excellent too."
She ordered with a bright smile. Soon the table filled with neat side dishes, a steaming pot of doenjang stew, and a bowl of bibimbap crowned with colorful namul. Just looking at it made my mouth water. We began to eat without much talk. The air between us felt easier than before.
Seoa filled the quiet with soft stories from the day—how the puppy the neighbor grandmother had just brought home was impossibly cute, how my mother had fallen headlong into the singing class at the village hall. I had little to add, so I mostly listened, nodding or offering short replies.
"I never knew Mom liked singing that much."
"Neither did I. She was so shy at first, but these days she's flying. Sometimes she drags me along and I end up singing too."
She flushed a little as she laughed. The sight was so endearing that a small chuckle slipped out of me before I could stop it. Seoa's eyes widened, as if the sound of my laughter still surprised her. How long had it been since I had smiled in front of her?
"Taejun… is there anything you've been wanting to do lately?"
Wanting to do. I thought about it. For ten years I had thought of nothing but survival and combat. Now that ordinary time had finally arrived, the blankness felt almost dizzying.
"…Not really. I never gave it much thought."
"Then… any hobbies besides fishing?"
"Hobbies…"
There had been no room for hobbies on a battlefield. My only pastime might have been swinging a sword. I gave a bitter little smile and shook my head.
"None."
"Then let's make some starting now. I'll help you."
She said it without a single hesitation. Her eyes held nothing but sincere encouragement and warmth. Help me? With what? How? The questions rose, but I didn't ask. Having her beside me was already enough.
"All right."
Even that short answer made her smile again, bright and satisfied. We kept eating, trading small, ordinary words. No talk of the wounds from ten years ago, no mention of threats that might still be coming. Only this moment. Seoa seemed happy with the change in me; her expression stayed light the whole time. I felt the walls inside me crumbling, piece by piece.
When the meal ended and I reached for the bill, Seoa stood first and held out her card.
"My treat."
"No, I—"
"It's fine. I earn money too."
She cut me off with a playful little grin. I didn't know when she had started working or what she did, but the quiet confidence in her didn't bother me at all. I pretended to give in, then swapped the cards at a speed no one could see. A tiny private victory. We stepped out into night air that had turned properly cool. A round moon hung high, stars scattered thick around it. We started walking home again. This time the awkwardness had thinned; comfort and a full, quiet contentment filled its place.
After a while I stopped. Gathering what courage I had, I held out my hand to her. I said nothing. I simply offered a hand that trembled, just a little.
Seoa looked from my hand to my face, startled. In the moonlight her cheeks seemed faintly pink. But she didn't hesitate. She laid her hand over mine as naturally as breathing. Soft, warm skin spread through my palm and into my whole body. My heart gave another hard lurch.
We walked on, fingers laced. The heat of her hand melted the last of the stiffness and tension. Under the moon our shadows stretched long side by side—anyone looking would have known at once they belonged to a couple. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a silent promise to keep her safe. She squeezed back just as quietly, and we kept walking toward home without another word.
The night air was cold, yet the warmth traveling from her hand more than canceled it out. Her hand fit completely inside mine—soft, warm. That same small hand I had turned away from ten years ago when I broke the engagement. It had taken far too long to hold it again. Thinking of the loneliness and fear she must have carried alone all that time made a dull ache bloom in my chest.
I have to protect her.
This time, without fail. No matter what threat came, this one person at least would remain whole. Even if it cost me everything. Cheok Jun-gyeong's power, the notoriety I had built as the Sword Demon—none of it mattered. For Seoa's peace I was ready to stain my hands with blood again.
We walked the moonlit road in silence. The country path had grown dark enough that the sparse streetlights left long stretches of shadow; you had to watch your feet. Strangely, though, unease never rose. Quiet and calm filled me instead. Probably because Seoa walked beside me—her steady breathing, the small pressure of her fingers, the soft scuff of her steps. Everything felt both new and deeply familiar. This ordinary everyday warmth was nothing like the noise inside me or the madness of the battlefield. Maybe this was what I had hungered for all along.
At the same time a thin anxiety crept in. How long could this peace last? Was someone like me even allowed such quiet hours? The small happiness felt almost like a mirage.
"Taejun…"
Seoa spoke carefully, almost shyly.
"Yeah?"
"Today… was really nice. Eating dinner together like this… and walking hand in hand."
Her voice trembled a little, but the sincerity was clear. Moonlight showed the mix of shyness and happiness on her profile. Looking at her, I felt something warm rise from deep in my chest.
"I… liked it too."
Clumsy and blunt, but true. I hadn't expected a single small smile of hers, or this short stretch of shared time, to shake me so thoroughly. The locks I had kept bolted shut for ten years were loosening, one by one.
That was when it happened.
We had reached a stretch of road on the village outskirts—unusually dark, almost empty of people—when my heightened senses caught a faint but unpleasant approach. Not an animal. Intent. Low-grade, but unmistakably hostile.
I frowned slightly and sharpened my awareness of the surroundings, yet on the surface I kept walking at Seoa's pace, as if nothing were wrong. She still seemed wrapped in the earlier warmth, noticing nothing. I didn't want to frighten her.
They came this far?
Choe Kanghyuk? Or someone else? It didn't matter. Anyone who dared stand in Seoa's path would pay the full price.
I eased the pressure of my fingers and dropped my center of gravity, ready to move the instant it was needed.
Of course.
The moment we rounded the darkest corner, three men stepped out of the thick shadow and blocked the road. Shabby clothes, faces that looked rotten at a glance. Yet the thin mana rippling off them said they were hunters, not civilians. C-rank at best. What kind of nerve made trash like this show up in front of me?
"Heh. Found you."
The one in the middle—clearly the leader—smiled with oily satisfaction and ran his eyes up and down Seoa. The instant that filthy gaze touched her, something inside me snapped. The killing intent I had been holding down surged up; I barely forced it back.
"So you're the woman Kang Taejun's been dragging around? Up close the face is as pretty as the rumors said."
Seoa's face went white. She instinctively tried to slip behind me, but I was already moving, placing myself squarely between them and her. Over my shoulder I felt her trembling.
"Who are you."
I kept every emotion out of the words, leaving only ice. They flinched at the killing intent riding my voice, then recovered, emboldened by numbers.
"You don't need to know who we are. We came because we have business with you, Kang Taejun."
The leader swaggered as he spoke.
"You actually had the balls to turn down Titan Guild's offer? Know your place. We're here to give you a little warning."
Titan Guild. Choe Kanghyuk.
Of course it was him. Too spineless to come himself, so he sent garbage. Beyond pathetic—disgusting.
Then their next words raked across the one line I would not allow crossed.
"Watch real close what happens to your precious woman! That ought to knock some sense into you!"
The instant the words left his mouth, one of the men flanking him grinned nastily and reached for Seoa.
The filthy hand was about to close on her slender arm when—
Whoosh—!
A sharp crack split the night air. The small stone that left my fingers buried itself dead-center in the back of his hand. It was no ordinary pebble; I had laced it with just enough force to turn it into a weapon.
"Aaaargh!"
Blood burst from the man's hand as he screamed.