Tell You What Real Despair Means (4)
Who wouldn’t have understood?
That this was nothing more than a cruel trick. That the words coming out of that demon’s mouth were meant only to drag them down into the dirt, trample them, mock them, and laugh at them.
And yet... had there really been anyone here who hadn’t wavered?
The instant those words about life slipped from Jang Ilso’s lips, was there a single person here who hadn’t felt a spark of hope, however small, however desperate, stir in their chest?
Namgung Do-wi shut his eyes tightly.
I...
The moment he heard Jang Ilso speak, even Namgung Do-wi, prepared to die, felt a fierce impulse rise in him. The urge to live. The fear of death.
If no one had been watching, he might even have dropped to his knees before Jang Ilso and clung to his leg.
Please. Don’t kill me. I don’t want to die. Not yet... not yet.
Who would be any different?
No matter how upright a person tried to be, how could the desire to live be any different? With a single sentence, Jang Ilso had so easily dug up that desire they had buried so deep inside themselves.
“You—”
Namgung Hwang ground his teeth, but no words came out.
He was probably feeling the same way Namgung Do-wi was. That trembling in his hand was not anger at Jang Ilso, but rage at himself for not being composed in that moment.
At last, Namgung Hwang shouted in a voice that boiled with fury.
“You wicked bastard!”
Jang Ilso looked at him with a strange glint in his eye.
“Wicked, was it?”
“...”
“Hmm. Well... that is one of my favorite words. Wicked, vile, cowardly... yes, yes, anything works. I do like them. But...”
Jang Ilso slowly shook his head.
“Not in this situation. Not now, Namgung Hwang. This isn’t the time to be cursing me.”
Namgung Hwang shut his mouth. He had been trying to read Jang Ilso’s intentions, but it was hopeless. With his own ability, he could never hope to see through that monster’s mind.
“There’s no need to think of it too badly.”
Jang Ilso turned with languid grace and slowly walked toward Namgung Hwang. Though Namgung Hwang’s sword never relaxed its guard, Jang Ilso remained as calm and leisurely as ever.
When he came close, he leaned in and whispered softly in Namgung Hwang’s ear.
“Now... Namgung Hwang. Think about it. Hmm? You have to think desperately. Being abandoned isn’t necessarily a bad thing. You become free, don’t you?”
“...”
Namgung Hwang bit his lip and glared at him. His face was streaked with blood, his hair was in disarray, and his eyes were bloodshot; he looked utterly tragic.
But did Namgung Hwang know?
What it meant for a swordsman, for whom maintaining distance was essential, to yield that distance to a fist fighter. That single act alone proved beyond all doubt that he was wavering.
“You...”
He spat the words out through clenched teeth.
“You’re telling us to become your lackeys? Do you really think our Namgung Clan would become a dog of the Sapa?”
He shouted so that everyone, even those already wavering under that demon’s voice, could hear him clearly.
“We’ll die before we become your dogs! Don’t be ridiculous, Jang Ilso!”
Everyone agreed with that. Survival was important to everyone. But there were values that could not be traded away, even for survival.
The Namgung Clan of the Azure Sky.
They might accept death, but they would never become Jang Ilso’s hounds. If they were the sort who could do that, they would never have abandoned peace and charged into Maehwado in the first place.
As everyone was about to be swept away by their fierce resistance to Jang Ilso—
“...Dogs?”
Jang Ilso tilted his head slightly, looking so serene and genuinely puzzled that everyone’s eyes were once again forcibly drawn to him.
“You keep saying such strange things. I don’t understand.”
Jang Ilso arched his brows and mocked Namgung Hwang with exaggerated amusement.
“Gamyeong.”
“Yes, Alliance Leader.”
“Did I ever say such a thing to them?”
“Not at all.”
Ho Gamyeong answered at once, as if he had not even needed to think about it. His face, so unlike Jang Ilso’s, was expressionless to the point that no one could guess what he was thinking.
“Then why would they say something like that?”
“People think only within the limits of their own understanding. It is only natural that they cannot keep up with Alliance Leader’s thoughts. There is no reason to blame them.”
“Hmm. Yes. That does make sense.”
Jang Ilso nodded lazily, then beamed at Namgung Hwang.
Namgung Hwang could only watch the exchange, which was like a scene from a stage play.
Since the moment Jang Ilso arrived here, it felt as though everyone had been moving only according to roles he had already written for them. Breathing in and out, losing their tempers, even letting their anguish spill over.
“No. That’s not it, Namgung Hwang. And...”
Jang Ilso’s gaze shifted from Namgung Hwang to the swordsmen of the Namgung Clan.
“Namgung Clan.”
It was as if he were reminding them that this decision did not rest with Namgung Hwang alone, but with the Namgung swordsmen as well.
“Why do you think I’m deceiving you?”
“...”
“Because I’m from the Sapa?”
“...”
“I’m only telling you the truth as it is.”
They were being drawn in.
By that voice. By that tone. By the slightest flick of his hand.
“Let me say it again. What I want isn’t that. You don’t need to become dogs, and you don’t need to join the Saperyeon. What I want is just one thing.”
His thin lips curled.
“All I need is for the words ‘please save us’ to come out of your mouths. Yes. That’s all.”
Everyone stared at him, speechless.
The same was true of the Water Bandit Sect pirates as well as the Namgung Clan. Confusion was etched into every pair of eyes fixed on him.
It was nothing short of a miracle that so many faces on this island had all turned the same color.
Was he mad? Was he really saying such things sincerely? Why? Why on earth? Why?
Jang Ilso stood amid all those eyes, each filled with disbelief and shock, and chuckled softly.
“It isn’t difficult, is it?”
“...”
“That’s all it takes. Then I’ll save you. The moment those words come out, I’ll let you all go. Right over there. Back to the northern lands you’ve longed so desperately to return to. To the safe, comfortable place where your home awaits.”
There would surely be poison beyond measure lurking in a demon’s whisper.
But even knowing that, nothing changed.
How could anyone ignore words this sweet?
“I’ll even let you recover the bodies and take them with you. They may have died here, but don’t they deserve to be buried in their homeland? Isn’t that right? They fought harder than anyone.”
The Namgung swordsmen could not overcome their instincts and turned their heads away. The sight of their kin and comrades, fallen with their eyes still open in death, burned itself into them like a brand.
“It’s not difficult.”
Jang Ilso spoke as though soothing a child.
“Just one word. One word, and it all becomes yours. By the name of me, Jang Ilso, the Tyrant Lord...”
Then he paused slightly.
He made everyone wait for his words with parched, desperate hearts.
“...I promise it.”
When those sweet yet deadly words came to an end, silence hung for a moment.
Then someone finally spoke, as if under a spell.
“Save...”
“No!”
At that moment, Namgung Do-wi beside him hurriedly reached out and clamped a hand over the man’s mouth. Then, with a face twisted by fury, he shouted,
“Jang Ilso!”
Jang Ilso frowned slightly.
“My, my. What a fine and noble superior, muzzling the mouth of a man who wants to live and driving him toward death. How ugly. Even the Sapa wouldn’t do something so low.”
“Shut up, you dog! What the hell are you plotting?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t look down on Namgung! We won’t fall for your tricks—”
In that instant, Jang Ilso’s perpetually gentle eyes twisted viciously. The force of that presence was so terrifyingly savage that Namgung Do-wi involuntarily cut himself off and stumbled back a step.
Within those pale eyes, the viciousness roiled like blue flames.
“Look down on you?”
Jang Ilso ground his teeth.
“I’ll tell you something, young master. It isn’t me who looks down on you. It’s you who look down on yourselves.”
“...”
“Shaolin abandoned you. No, the Orthodox Sect abandoned you. Tell me, do you really think any of the sects that arrive across that river after Shaolin would willingly spill their blood for you?”
No one could answer right away.
Of course they wanted to cry out that they would. To shout that one should not underestimate the solidarity of the Orthodox Sect and scream until their throats bled.
But hadn’t they already seen it? How Shaolin, the sect that guarded righteousness in the Central Plains, had abandoned them.
“Your lives are that insignificant to them. But... no. Not even they. The ones who think your lives matter least are you yourselves.”
“...”
“Life isn’t like that.”
Kiik.
The friction of Jang Ilso’s rings made a chilling sound.
“The value of a life is decided by the one living it. That’s how it was for me, anyway. Stabbing a blade into the belly of a so-called comrade, sinking your teeth into the throat of some bastard who calls you a friend, rolling in filth, and when an arm breaks, biting into a cliff with your teeth while you claw your way up...”
“...”
“That’s what surviving means.”
Everyone knew this was neither a threat nor an attempt to persuade them. This was Jang Ilso’s true heart laid bare.
“And yet... you tell me not to look down on you?”
Jang Ilso bared his teeth.
“If I don’t look down on fools who choose death because they can’t bring themselves to say one lousy word—please save me—then who in this world could I possibly look down on? Why should I show respect to people who value themselves less than worms? Answer me, boy! By what right do you decide the death of the man whose mouth you’ve clamped shut?”
Namgung Do-wi’s hands trembled.
If Jang Ilso had said one more word, Namgung Do-wi might have collapsed right there.
But at that moment, Jang Ilso suddenly loosened the force around him. He dropped his shoulders as if bored.
“It’s not difficult.”
“...”
“No one remembers the death of people like you. Glory gained through death is nothing more than crumbs cast to the dead by the living. Useless crumbs shaved off a mountain of spoils.”
Someone swallowed hard. Someone else clenched both fists.
“To die clutching those crumbs... that would be so sad, wouldn’t it?”
He almost nodded.
To those whispering words.
“So... say it.”
The viciousness was gone from Jang Ilso’s face, and in its place hung that bright, bewitching smile again.
“Beg me to save you. That’s all. That’s all it takes for you to live.”
Step. Step. Step.
Jang Ilso walked toward the Changgung-geomdae. Then he leaned close to the ear of a Changgung-geomdae member who no longer even seemed to remember how to hold a sword.
Softly, yet clearly enough for everyone to hear, slow and deliberate.
“You want to live, don’t you?”
Anyone who heard that voice froze where they stood like a statue.
“Of course you want to live. Everyone wants to live. But the ones who want to use your lives so efficiently say it so easily: a warrior must know how to throw his life away for pride. He must cast it aside like straw for righteousness.”
His eyes trembled. Jang Ilso voiced the question rising in the heart of the swordsman whose spirit was being violently shaken.
“For what?”
“...”
“No, no. You know it if you’ve lived, don’t you? Pride isn’t nearly as grand as people make it out to be. It’s like a night that passes if you close your eyes for a moment. So... say it. Say that you want to live. That I want to live.”
“I... I...”
At last, tears spilled from the Changgung-geomdae member’s eyes.
A swordsman tempered by countless years of brutal training. A sword of Namgung who had never feared death and was ready to preserve the name of the Azure Sky with his life... was now crying like a child.
An unbearable pressure.
Hope handed over like a thread, followed by the vast despair that came crashing down after it.
At the end of that torrent, before the one who twisted the soul in his grasp, will and righteousness were powerless.
“Shh. There, there. Good boy, isn’t that right?”
He could not possibly resist the words spilling between those red lips.
“Now say it. With that mouth.”
The Changgung-geomdae member’s eyes wandered helplessly. With a hoarse, broken voice, he sobbed out choking sounds.
His trembling hand, unable to decide itself, finally seized Jang Ilso’s sleeve.
“Save...”
“Stop it, Tyrant Lord.”
Then Namgung Hwang stepped in.
His voice was so weak it hardly seemed to belong to him.
“...You’ve enjoyed this enough already.”
It sounded as if his soul had been ripped out, as though he had aged ten years all at once.
Namgung Hwang’s head slowly drooped.
“We...”
He spoke in a voice that had no strength left in it at all.
“We... have lost.”
That was the moment everything in Namgung Hwang collapsed.