Here You Were. (2)
- If I’m ever surrounded by enemies, you must save me. If that’s impossible, then drag even my corpse back to Mount Hua.
- If even that can’t be done, then at the very least, you must send this manual back to Mount Hua.
- Don’t forget, Sasuk.
- You’re the only one who can do it, Sasuk. Absolutely! Don’t ever, ever forget!
“Uh... uh...”
Trembling fingertips reached toward the skeleton. But just as they were about to touch it, they froze, as if seized by fear.
He was afraid.
Afraid that the moment his hand made contact, it would crumble to dust.
Afraid that it would vanish like a hallucination.
“...Jina.”
Here you were.
You were here.
My junior brother. How lonely must you have been in this dark place?
How very... how very...
“Uh... uh...”
As though he had lost the ability to speak, Chung Myung could only make strangled noises as his shaking fingertips groped at the skeleton’s forehead. The moment he felt the rough, cold touch, he flinched and snatched his hand back, but then, as if remembering how to cradle a newborn, he carefully laid his hand on the bones again.
“Uh... uhh... uhh...”
I... I was too late.
How long did you wait? How long did you have to wait in this frozen place?
Forgive me.
Forgive me, Cheong Jin.
Forgive this foolish Sasuk who only came for you now.
The hand that traced the skeleton’s cheek moved as gently as if it were touching a living person.
Why is it only after we lose something that we come to understand it? Why are people so absurdly foolish?
Chung Myung’s jaw trembled. When he lowered his gaze, he saw clothes that had rotted away until only half remained. Beneath them, the bones visible through the fabric were stained black in places.
Mahwa...
At this point, even walking must have been nearly impossible in the final moments.
When his legs could no longer hold out and he collapsed mid-step, he must have rolled and crawled here with desperate effort.
Death was not frightening. Dying did not matter.
But there was something that had to be left behind.
A place no one in the world could find. A place only the disciples of Mount Hua would be able to discover.
Something that had to be left there, no matter what.
He must have spent the last scraps of his life digging this cave, dying while thinking of the ones who would someday come here.
Because he could never return to Mount Hua, he had chosen at least to die in a place that could still remind him of Mount Hua... all alone in that loneliness.
You waited for me, didn’t you?
You believed I would come?
Me. Your Sasuk.
At last, Chung Myung’s gaze fell on something beneath the tattered hem of clothing. No—he looked at it, but he could not truly see it.
Nothing was visible. His wildly distorted vision had blurred everything into a milky haze.
He bit down hard on his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. Overflowing grief spilled down his cheeks. Only after a long while did he open them again and stare at what he had truly come to find.
A single manual.
The one Cheong Jin had never let go of even for a moment as he died.
Zixia Art, Plum Blossom Sword Manual.
And...
He stared at the book with trembling eyes. Time had weathered it so much that much of it had faded, but even so, that elegant handwriting still stood out clearly. A suppressed groan escaped Chung Myung’s mouth.
Zixia Divine Art.
- You can’t show this to even your Sasuk.
- Ah! I’m telling you, this is martial learning only the Mount Hua Sect Leader can practice! Get lost already, before I tear it in half!
- Yes. Of course I’m the one who should have it. I protect the manual, and Sasuk protects me.
- Don’t worry. Even if it kills me, I’ll protect this manual. That’s how I protect Mount Hua.
That’s right. You protected it.
And yet...
“I...”
Chung Myung clutched at the floor.
“I couldn’t do it. I...”
Forgive me. Please forgive this useless Sasuk.
Cheong Jin... Cheong Jin.
The grief surged so violently that he could scarcely breathe. His vision kept blurring.
Everything he had held back clawed its way up his throat and spilled out of him all at once.
He stretched out his trembling hands and carefully gathered the skeleton, now so small it seemed it might vanish in his arms.
Afraid it might crumble, afraid a bone might break, he could hardly bring himself to touch it properly; instead, he awkwardly embraced only the empty air before pressing his forehead against the skeleton’s shoulder.
“Uh... uhhhh... ah...”
A massive weight of feeling crushed his chest, then burst from it. He could not say a single word.
Let’s go back.
Let’s go back together.
Now that I’m here, let’s return to Mount Hua together, Cheong Jin.
I’m sorry I came too late.
So let’s go back to Mount Hua now, even if only now.
There are still things you left there. Things you meant to leave behind are still breathing there.
“Uh...”
It was less a sob than a convulsion.
Through the mouth he had been trying to clamp shut, the emotions he had locked away for so long finally burst free.
You were right. I left nothing behind.
But the ones you tried to protect are still there, guarding that place. Just as you said, they are clinging to what you left behind.
So let’s go back.
To the place you protected. To the place you wanted so badly to reach.
Watching Chung Myung break down as though he had lost his tongue and could only gag on his own grief, Baek Cheon could not bear to keep looking and turned his head away.
The disciples who had come down with him, who had witnessed the scene, also seemed to have fallen silent as they looked at Chung Myung and their ancestor, faded by the long passage of time.
A hundred years...
In a cave this narrow and dark...
Baek Cheon slowly closed his eyes.
If they had dug this much of a tunnel, then they must have first shaken off the enemy’s pursuit, even if only for a moment. Which meant he might have had a chance to run.
And yet, rather than gambling with the last of his strength, their ancestor had chosen to hide where the enemy could never find him.
So that instead of surrendering his life, he could ensure the manual strapped to his body would one day be delivered to Mount Hua.
Baek Cheon could not even begin to imagine what it must have felt like to meet one’s end in this cold, dark place.
But at the very least, he knew what he had to do now.
When Baek Cheon quietly signaled them, the disciples understood his intent and stepped aside a little to make space.
“This bow.”
The disciples of Mount Hua all knelt at once.
It was the most solemn gesture they had ever made. It carried their reverence for their ancestor, and their respect for a warrior who had carried out his own will until the very end.
Once.
And again.
After bowing twice, Baek Cheon slowly rose to his feet.
Then he walked toward Chung Myung. This time, even Yu I-seol did not stop him.
“Chung Myung.”
Baek Cheon carefully took hold of Chung Myung’s shoulder.
The instant his hand touched him, he felt the trembling. The shoulders that were always so brazen now shook so violently that he almost feared to grip them at all.
With a quiet sigh, Baek Cheon gently urged him.
“We should bring this elder back to Mount Hua as soon as possible.”
“...”
“It’s too cold and lonely here. Let’s go to Mount Hua, Chung Myung. Our ancestor would want that as well.”
Only then did Chung Myung give the faintest nod.
Carefully laying the skeleton down, he slowly removed his outer robe. Then he spread the robe wide and laid it on the ground.
After that, he simply stood there, staring silently at the bones for a long while.
Guessing why Chung Myung wasn’t moving, Baek Cheon pressed a hand against his shoulder.
“I’ll do it.”
“N-no.”
But Chung Myung slowly shook his head.
“I have to do it... I have to do it, Sasuk.”
His voice was not the Chung Myung Baek Cheon knew.
“...Alright.”
Baek Cheon could only nod again and step back. Even then, Chung Myung stared blankly at the bones for a long time before slowly reaching out.
Right. Let’s go home, Cheong Jin.
You must have wanted to go back all this time. So now, let’s go back.
As though touching an injured cheek, Chung Myung gripped the bones and slowly lifted them. There was a faint resistance at his fingertips.
At last, with his lips bitten white, Chung Myung shut his eyes and put a little more strength into the hand holding the skeleton.
The small, clicking bones finally separated from the neck.
After gently stroking the head several times, he carefully placed it on the spread robe.
Click.
Chung Myung moved each bone, one by one, from the skeleton that looked as though it might scatter across the floor at any moment, and laid them on his outer robe. When even the last remaining scraps of clothing had been set atop the bones, he wrapped them carefully in his own robe.
It’ll be cramped, but bear with it for a little while.
Chung Myung picked up the manual from the floor and stood. Then he stepped forward and held it out to Baek Cheon.
“This...”
“You take care of it, Sasuk.”
“...”
“This is your job.”
Baek Cheon quietly stared at the worn manual for a moment, then nodded. He could not fully guess Chung Myung’s intention, but if Chung Myung said so, it must have meaning.
He too removed his robe and carefully wrapped the manual in it.
Chung Myung gave a slight nod, then turned and hoisted Cheong Jin’s remains over his shoulder. His gaze suddenly fell on the words carved into the wall. A laugh almost escaped him.
Honestly, you have no flair at all.
If those were your last words to the world, you could at least have acted a little cool.
You foolish bastard...
Yeah.
Let’s go now. To the place you wanted to reach so badly.
Chung Myung lifted his head and looked at the Mount Hua Five Swords.
“Let’s go back.”
At those finally spoken words, everyone slowly nodded.
Yoon Jong was the first to start forward, but Baek Cheon’s words stopped him in his tracks.
“Look at this carefully... and remember it.”
Everyone seared the sight of the cave into their eyes.
“The soul of Mount Hua was here.”
What preserved Mount Hua was not the honor of being the greatest sword sect under heaven.
What preserved Mount Hua was the will that remained here.
What they must never forget. What they must carry forward. All of it was here.
The disciples of Mount Hua, having burned every visible detail before them into their memories, turned away one by one with hard, set expressions.
And at last, after even Yu I-seol and Baek Cheon had left the cave, Chung Myung remained alone, his eyes lowered as he looked around the dark chamber.
In the empty cavern, the image of Cheong Jin from his memories took shape.
Even while dying in blood, he had dug the tunnel, reinforced the walls with his inner power, written the final words, and then used up the last of his strength to sit in full lotus.
And then...
Did you smile?
Of course you did, if it was you.
- I’ll leave the rest to you. You damned Sasuk.
It was as if he could hear Cheong Jin’s teasing voice, smiling warmly in his ear.
“...Of course.”
I know. You wouldn’t trust me. That’s the kind of person I am.
But...
“I remember.”
What you said. What you asked of me.
What I have to do.
Chung Myung slowly walked to the wall. Standing there, he silently looked for a long while at the stone face on which Cheong Jin’s final words had been carved, then raised his hand.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
The sound of stone being carved rang through the cave.
A moment later, Chung Myung lowered his hand, looked once at the stone wall, then turned away. Not long after he slipped out through the passage, a mound of earth collapsed behind him and the tunnel sealed shut completely.
The cave was now painted in total darkness.
From this moment on, no light would ever seep into this place again.
But perhaps someday, after countless years had passed... if an animal seeking shelter dug into the cave, or if someone discovered this place after wind and rain had worn it down into view, they might yet see the words carved into the stone wall.
Though my body sleeps here
My heart remains with distant Mount Hua.
Cheong Jin, 13th Generation Disciple of Mount Hua.
What the soul of Mount Hua left behind
I return to Mount Hua.
Chung Myung, 13th Generation Disciple of Mount Hua.
Words no one could understand. Meanings no one could guess.