The Predator Hidden Behind the Veil
I met the strong will flickering deep in her eyes—a light that refused to dim even through sorrow.
Her claim that she was no longer a ten-year-old girl had not been wrong. At twenty, Yoon Seoa was no longer someone I had to protect one-sidedly. If anything, she might be the only pillar holding me upright in this horrific reality.
Ten years ago I had left for her sake. Now she said she had waited for mine. Why that paradoxical truth felt like a single ray of light cutting through this hellish life, I could not say.
How long we stood there in the dark, simply looking into each other’s eyes, I never knew. I was the first to look away. Feeling my throat burn, I forced my gaze up toward the night sky. It was a murky expanse without a single star—much like my future. Yet in this moment a small, fiercely bright presence stood right beside me. Was that not enough? I asked myself the question quietly.
"…It’s late. Let’s go inside."
The words were still curt, yet they carried a different weight now—the weight of my decision to accept her choice, and her heart.
Seoa gave a small nod and carefully withdrew her hand from the back of mine. The lingering warmth remained, tickling skin that had long gone cold. We stepped into the house without another word. The faint light spilling from within felt unusually warm tonight.
The next morning, sunlight poured through the windows exactly as it had the day before. Yet the air inside the house had shifted in some subtle way. Was it the aftertaste of last night’s heavy conversation, or the small change that came after we had confirmed each other’s hearts?
My parents prepared breakfast as though nothing had happened, and Seoa helped them with practiced ease. In that ordinary scene I alone felt like an outsider.
"Taejun, go into town with Seoa today and do the market run. There’s a lot to buy, and it’ll be too much for her to carry alone."
Mother set a bowl of rice in front of me as she spoke. I frowned slightly. Crowded places were the last thing I wanted. Ten years inside the Gate had been nothing but the razor edge between death and survival—corpses, screams, mad eyes. The aftermath still clung to me; simply mixing with a throng of people felt like it would bring crushing fatigue and unease. Every gaze seemed to land on me, and the constant dread that a threat could appear from anywhere crawled up my spine.
"I can go by myself, Mother," Seoa said carefully, as if she had read my mind. Mother shook her head firmly.
"No. Look at how much you’ll have to carry. And Taejun, you shouldn’t stay cooped up in the house either—get some fresh air. Isn’t that right, dear?"
Father gave a silent nod. Worry for their son sat plain on both their faces, along with a clear wish to send me out with Seoa. After that unwelcome visit from Kim Minseok last night, their concern must have grown. Seeing the two of us together would ease their minds, if only a little.
"…All right."
In the end I answered reluctantly. I could not ignore my parents’ worry, and I had no good reason to refuse Seoa. More than that—after the courage and resolve she had shown last night—this much discomfort was something I ought to bear.
"Then you really must come with me. Mother asked, and there’s quite a bit that needs buying separately."
Seoa smiled faintly beside me. Her eyes held a playful request, and a new kind of ease that had not been there the night before. I let out a short breath and rose from my seat.
The road to the town market after so long was quiet and peaceful. Wildflowers I could not name lined the path, and a breeze carrying the scent of earth brushed my face—scenery I could never have imagined inside the Gate. Still my nerves stayed taut, the habit of ten years spent bracing for any threat.
Seoa walked quietly at my side. Now and then she spoke about the scenery or murmured the list of things we needed. Her calm voice had a strangely settling effect on my frayed edges. It was far better than awkward silence.
As we entered the town proper, people began to appear. Shops and stalls lined both sides of the narrow street, filled with noisy chatter and lively energy—the typical country market. The moment we stepped into its heart, that energy froze as if someone had flipped a switch.
"……!"
Bargaining voices, children’s laughter, merchants’ cries—all died at once, as though a vast silencer had been switched on. Every gaze turned toward me in perfect unison. Dozens, perhaps hundreds of eyes mixed curiosity, awe, and a thread of fear.
See? I knew this would happen.
I clicked my tongue inwardly and scowled. Those blatant stares always soured my mood; I felt like an exhibit in a zoo. Behind the alias “Sword Demon” lay my blood-soaked past and the vague terror people felt toward me.
"Hah—isn’t that the Sword Demon?"
"It really is! Seeing him in person, the presence is no joke."
"The young lady next to him—his girlfriend? She’s gorgeous."
"Shh! Keep it down. If he notices, we’re dead."
Hushed whispers rose from every direction. Most of them were the same: admiration and fear for me, curiosity about Seoa at my side. Irritation surged. I wanted to leave this place at once, and I had to crush the impulse.
Then Seoa slipped her arm through mine—lightly, yet firmly. Startled, I looked at her. She wore a calm smile and whispered near my ear.
"We haven’t done anything wrong. Let’s walk with our heads high, Taejun."
Her voice was steady, but her grip on my arm held strength. She seemed already accustomed to stares and attention like these. Perhaps over the past ten years, living under the label “the Sword Demon’s fiancée,” she had endured countless such looks. Her composure left me feeling oddly sheepish.
"…Hmph."
I snorted softly and faced forward again. She was right. I had done nothing wrong; there was no reason to hide. Annoying as it was.
I matched my pace to hers and walked on. The path before us parted like the Red Sea; people edged backward to clear the way. Even so, Seoa moved with practiced ease, seeking out what we needed. She chose fresh vegetables at one stall, inspected fish claimed to have been caught that morning at another, and bargained naturally with the merchants. Her composed, capable manner gradually eased their wariness until they treated her as they would any regular customer—though they remained conscious of me, often adding a little extra or speaking with extra kindness.
We had been shopping for some time and our bags had grown heavy when we tried to leave a narrow alley. Three or four local thugs, reeling drunk, blocked our path. Cheap liquor glazed their eyes; they were a pitiful lot. One of them deliberately staggered and slammed hard into my shoulder.
"Whoa!"
He lurched theatrically and glared at me. Whether from drink or because he failed to recognize me, his eyes brimmed with bravado.
"Watch where you’re going, you bastard!"
The others snickered and closed in. The instant their gazes slid toward Seoa with ugly intent, something inside me went ice-cold.
"Well, well—look who it is! Our proud hero, the great Sword Demon himself!"
One of them, finally recognizing me, called out with a sneer. Surrounding eyes swung back to us, this time thick with unease and tension. Ten years inside a Gate would mean little to ordinary people, especially in a backwater like this. Perhaps they simply believed a public figure as famous as I would never harm them.
"What brings the hero to a shabby place like this? And with such a pretty girl, no less."
The one who had bumped me grinned lewdly and looked Seoa up and down. Her expression tightened at that filthy stare. I eased her behind me.
"Hahaha! I heard you left a woman alone for ten years to look after your old parents while you were stuck in a Gate. Then you come back and just trail after her like a lost dog! Heroes aren’t much after all!"
Another spat on the ground as he taunted me. Liquid courage, no doubt. From his bold words I learned that even common folk knew about Seoa’s situation—or perhaps they were simply spouting baseless rumors and malice. Either way it no longer mattered. What mattered was that they had crossed me, and they had insulted someone who was mine.
My face turned cold in an instant. The air itself seemed to freeze. Without a word I looked at each of the thugs blocking my path in turn. My black eyes held no emotion at all—only the pure, crushing pressure forged across a decade of battlefields. Words were unnecessary.
The moment my gaze touched them, the snickers and bravado vanished from their faces. Shock and primal terror rose in their eyes. It felt as if their blood had been plunged into ice water. Their chests rose and fell in tiny, forgotten breaths.
The first to break was the one who had struck my shoulder. He could not even scream; a choked “urk” escaped him as his eyes rolled, and his legs gave way, dropping him into the muddy ground. Hot liquid soaked the crotch of his pants and reeked. The others fared little better.
People judge by the information they hold; monsters are no different. Moments ago I had seemed a helpless prey animal. Now I was a tiger that had suddenly appeared before them. They trembled like aspens, unable to meet my eyes, heads bowed. All their earlier swagger was gone; only the raw instinct to survive remained.
"W-we’re sorry! We’ve committed a capital crime!"
"We were wrong! Please forgive us!"
They prostrated themselves on the ground, shaking and begging for mercy. The surroundings fell silent as if water had been poured over them. In that absolute hush only the thugs’ pitiful, tear-choked voices echoed.
I swept a contemptuous glance over the insects writhing at my feet. They were no longer worth dealing with. Gently I took Seoa’s hand from where she had been shielded behind me. Her fingers trembled slightly, yet the eyes that looked up at me held no fear—only relief and trust.
"Let’s go. We still have things to buy."