Farewell to the Light Sword
"Good day. This is Prime Minister Baek Se-jun. President Seon Ui-cheol is currently bedridden and unable to move due to severe shock, so I ask for your understanding as I take charge of the state funeral proceedings.
On May 9, 2020, at 7:13 a.m., we received the tragic news of Light Sword Heo Yun-hwan's death. ... (excerpted) ...
Therefore, to honor the deceased's will, the government pledges to do everything in its power to protect the safety of all citizens. We solemnly pray for the departed's soul to rest in peace."
May 14, 10 p.m. Gwanggeom Heo Yun-hwan's grave.
A fine drizzle falls. Not a downpour that floods the world, but enough to soak everything in quiet sorrow. The streets are filled with grief. People honor the departed in their own ways, countless visitors flocking to his funeral hall to mourn.
Once Gwanggeom's death was confirmed, the government swiftly pushed through a state funeral. Before rumors could swirl about how he died or who killed him, Seon Ui-cheol rammed it through like popping beans under lightning. The funeral began the very next day, May 10.
May 14. The final day of the five-day state funeral.
Gwanggeom was buried in a wooden coffin, clutching the iron sword embedded in his heart, his face serene. With no specific deathbed words or will from the deceased, his body was laid to rest in a park near Shin Seoul at the wishes of his de facto family—Yu Yeong-ho and Seok Ha-rang.
The government declared it would convert the park into a memorial once the wave of mourning subsided. Footsteps of countless mourners never ceased before his tombstone. Everyone waited hours to lay a single chrysanthemum, piles of them surrounding the grave.
"...Still a lot of people."
"Everyone's been helped by Gwanggeom at least once."
Eun Yu-ha opened an umbrella over Seok Ha-rang's head. Though she could freeze the raindrops or craft an ice umbrella, Ha-rang simply let the rain drench her. It soaked her white hair, her black mourning clothes clinging tightly to her body.
"Look over there."
Eun Yu-ha nodded toward a massive screen visible even from afar. Inside, a tribute video played with Lee Seung-hyung's narration highlighting Gwanggeom's exploits.
"Sis. Ain't teacher somethin' else?"
"Yeah."
The video showed a young Gwanggeom wielding golden twin swords, slaying monsters. Reclaiming Jeonju, assaulting Jeju Island, the Fourth Seoul Defense Operation. In every battlefield, he killed beasts and saved lives.
"Everyone in Shin Seoul owes him their life at least once."
"Grich?"
A boy who lost his arm to a monster bite placed chrysanthemums with his mechanical prosthetic, now a young man. A middle-aged woman tormented by PTSD after being taken hostage by villains bowed and wept at the funeral hall of the man who saved her sound of mind. Even Professor Do, who had endlessly criticized Gwanggeom for holing up in Shin Seoul, prostrated before his portrait in tribute.
On the third day of the funeral, President Seon Ui-cheol, who had collapsed and risen from his sickbed, reportedly wailed as if losing family before passing out again. The news plunged Shin Seoul deeper into sorrow.
Of course, some viewed it more objectively, without sharing the grief.
A man in a jacket by the filming trailer whispered to the reporter beside him.
"...Hey, what happens to this country now? Shouldn't we tell HQ and get outta here quick?"
"You think they'll really start a war? What era do you think this is?"
Staff with broadcaster logos on their jackets gossiped quietly. Reporters from networks broadcasting Gwanggeom's funeral worldwide murmured just out of earshot.
"Who killed Gwanggeom? No results yet?"
"They say the world was cut off for 7 hours straight. Hero communities worldwide are in chaos. Scholars are swamped just studying his ultimate technique."
Domestic reporters broadcast silently with bloodshot eyes, but foreign ones hammed it up for viewers.
Grit.
Seok Ha-rang ground her teeth. Eun Yu-ha gently grasped her hand. It felt like touching a frozen object.
"Harang. Calm down."
"I'm not okay right now."
Ha-rang spoke flatly, expressionless, neither crying nor smiling. But she didn't pull away from Eun Yu-ha's hand.
"Teacher went smilin', didn't he? Then it couldn't be a villain. Maybe he tangled with some old grudge and lost? Like in that movie, guys fight and the loser dies."
Ha-rang squeezed Eun Yu-ha's hand. Eun Yu-ha turned, pulling her into an embrace.
"You can cry. No one's watching."
Eun Yu-ha lowered the umbrella to shield Ha-rang's face. Her puppets chatted with bystanders, diverting eyes.
"Sis. I think I'm a cold bitch."
Ha-rang's voice was dry.
"My only teacher passed, the man who pulled me from that hell and gave me life... gone to heaven."
Ha-rang looked up, meeting Eun Yu-ha's eyes. Hers were abyssal, lightless depths.
"Not a single tear. My chest burns like boiling, I wanna freeze those bastards badmouthing teacher and kill 'em... How can a person not shed one tear?"
"...Everyone grieves differently."
Ha-rang rested her head on Eun Yu-ha's shoulder. Her exposed collarbone chilled like an ice pack. Eun Yu-ha steadied her trembling hand, stroking Ha-rang's back.
Ha-rang hugged her tightly. Her body shook like she might break into sobs any second—but tears alone wouldn't come. As if her tear ducts were frozen solid.
"Thanks for bein' by my side, sis."
"Yeah, yeah."
Eun Yu-ha endured the frostbite chill, patting her.
"Let's go to your room and rest. The living gotta live on."
Still, the drizzle soaked the earth relentlessly.
The funeral ended. Gwanggeom rested eternally in his grave. Seok Ha-rang lay blankly on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
"......."
No energy even to speak. Reporters hounded her endlessly as his sole disciple. Not directly, but media and netizens pried for any scrap on Gwanggeom.
Did he hide his power? Did you know? Who fought him? Revenge plans? Inheriting his legacy justified? Who's Korea's top hero now—Fire Fist or Snow Flower Princess?
"Damn, wanna smash their heads."
The violent words shocked even her, but Ha-rang was that cornered mentally.
Gwanggeom found her abandoned near Busan orphanage, abused like trash. He saved her. Thanks to him, she awakened as S-rank ice mage; his sponsorship put her at Korea's top hero.
Her life bloomed after meeting him. Now he was gone. Unshown, her heart froze colder than a blizzard wasteland.
May 15: Teacher's Day. Gift for Teacher ★
Her smartwatch beeped. Ha-rang turned to check the reminder she'd set.
"Haha, ha."
Dry laughter escaped. She splurged everything on top-shelf wine—a non-drinker studying vintages to import for him. Now it gathered dust.
She'd nagged him daily not to drink. Should've bought and let him booze freely.
"......What's the point now."
Ha-rang covered her face. Hands corpse-cold, like she herself was dead.
"Ha, power up again already."
She raised a finger, crafting an ice bird. To counter that enigmatic Azure Flame, weeks of brutal training pushed her to the next realm's threshold.
But the one person she wanted to brag to was dead.
"God up there watchin'?"
Ha-rang glared at the ceiling through her hands.
"Take this new power—hell, all my power—if ya...
Her eyes dimmed between fingers.
"...bring back my teacher?"
No answer. No one answered Ha-rang's silent scream. She lost consciousness.