The Curse of the White Winter
Morel swallowed once, then cautiously opened his mouth.
"I... have no talent for yo-sul. So, I... don't know much about it. Beyond the commonly known facts..."
"You know something, at least? I know jack shit. So, 'Morel, who only knows the commonly known facts about yo-sul.' In your opinion, could there be a kind of yo-sul that invades someone else's dreams?"
At Jin-cheol's follow-up question, Morel blinked, glancing back and forth between the bed and Jin-cheol. Then, with a sigh, he said,
"...I'm an Antela warrior. I can't answer that."
"Can't answer. Not that you don't know, huh."
Morel's gaze dropped to the floor.
"Yo-sul is an incredibly mysterious and complex power. Those who haven't dipped into that knowledge can't even grasp its fragments. What's possible and what's not, where yo-sul ends and artifact power begins. What is a person's manifested will in the world—yo-sul, or mere intent... So, what I can tell you is..."
What the hell is this guy on about? As Jin-cheol crossed his arms and stared at him, Morel's gaze lifted from the floor to meet his directly.
"...that the will you encountered probably wasn't trying to harm you."
"..."
Jin-cheol silently met those eyes. He could see the vertically slit pupils surrounded by irises of intricate, subtle hues. The irises weren't a single color but a mystical blend of reddish tones, orange, yellow, and more. What emotion was woven into those colors? Anxiety? Or hostility? Jin-cheol snorted softly.
Like I can read emotions from eyes alone. Gotta look at the face.
"What're you talking about? Who's saying they're gonna hunt down every yo-sul user in the world? I was just curious about what I saw today—maybe that's possible too? Why so tense?"
Jin-cheol said it with a grin, but Morel's stony expression didn't soften. Jin-cheol, feeling awkward now, smacked his lips. The air in the infirmary, which had briefly lightened, grew heavy again. Jin-cheol and Morel sat in silence on their chairs, staring at the unconscious patients on the beds.
"If I may answer that question as a yo-sul user in his stead, I'd say it's 'possible.'"
A voice came from the infirmary entrance. Jin-cheol turned to see an Esai woman standing there. Morel shot to his feet at the sight of her, knocking his chair over.
"Ishanka! What brings you here..."
"Can't I come to check on my injured warriors?"
"Pardon? No, that's not it. My apologies."
"How's Peran's condition?"
Morel quickly righted his toppled chair, stood straight, and replied.
"Doctor Parm says they've taken all measures possible on this ship. Now it's up to her will..."
Ishanka strode over to Peran with firm steps. She leaned down to examine the unconscious warrior's face, her hand gently brushing back Peran's hair.
"Her complexion is pale."
"Yes. She lost a lot of blood..."
Ishanka, gazing at Peran's face, closed her eyes and placed her fingers on the warrior's forehead. At the same moment, the jeweled circlet on her own forehead began to glow faintly. Like a nun tending to the sick, she stroked her kin's face.
"She hasn't given up. She'll wake."
With those words, Ishanka's eyes snapped open, and she slowly straightened. The glow from her circlet faded. Whether her words were comfort or some assurance, Morel's expression brightened further. Had that light touch somehow read the fainted warrior's mind? Still seated with arms crossed, Jin-cheol blankly watched Ishanka.
"...In Siol, there's an old prophecy called the 'Curse of the White Winter.'"
The sudden, out-of-left-field story began. Jin-cheol, who had been silently watching Ishanka, tilted his head.
"Long ago, when the beings we now call intelligent were still mere beasts, the world was blanketed in snow and cold. All living things huddled in deep burrows, barely clinging to life. The sun, shining alone in that pale sky, took pity and sent a part of itself to the earth. Where its light fell became Siol's heart, driving out snow and cold, birthing intellect and civilization."
Ah, that Sun Temple in Siol that Parm was talking about?But why bring it up out of nowhere?
"...But someday, the curse of winter banished by the sun will return. It will be born at the heart's center, draped in pale cloth, extinguishing Siol's flame, raising the banner of snow, and ending the sun's era..."
Ishanka's eyes turned to Jin-cheol.
"Nineteen years ago, if you'd asked if I believed that tale, I'd have said yes—to avoid crossing my father. But if you ask me now, I absolutely do not believe it."
"..."
What the fuck is this crazy bitch rambling about solo? Beyond baffled, Jin-cheol began doubting the Esai woman's sanity but kept his face calm. She looked dead serious, after all.
"My daughter was born a bit paler than other Esai, and for that, she faced endless persecution. She could never appear before Siol's masses, was shunned as the curse's child, and later they even said to execute her before she could truly extinguish the sun."
"...Ah, that kid's your daughter?"
Jin-cheol finally spoke, but Ishanka's deeply sunken expression remained unchanged.
"The moment she came of age, she left Siol. That was three years ago."
Got it. This woman had a kid who perfectly fit the bad prophecy about descending on the city, got persecuted, and left. Jin-cheol nodded as if he understood, then finally voiced what he'd been holding back.
"So what? Why tell me this?"
"...My child left Siol with someone who had 'pale skin.' Not gray like northern Esai, nor red like Olrog. The stranger had skin different from any race. Yes, like yours."
Pale my ass, you blind? Jin-cheol nearly laughed— he'd never even heard "pale skin" as a joke in his life. But soon his face hardened seriously.
'Like mine'?
"For the past three years, I've used every power and yo-sul at my disposal to find my child. This journey was ostensibly to trade artifacts with the western Arkhe family, but my personal goal was solely to find her. Yes, Jin-cheol. I can guess what you wanted to ask me on the deck earlier, and what you just asked Morel."
Ishanka pierced him with sharp eyes, as if reading his thoughts through his expression.
"I was the one who invaded your dream last night."
At her words' end, Morel, who had been standing rigidly, smoothly shifted to face Jin-cheol—likely wary of an attack on Ishanka. But in that moment, what gripped Jin-cheol's ears and mind wasn't that. It was her earlier words: 'the stranger with pale skin.' That shook him.
Jin-cheol masked his shock and pressed on with the conversation.
"...I see. So, have you found any other 'pale skins' besides me?"
"There were many in the world with unusual skin tones—even in Siol. But none knew of my child."
"Then why think I'm different?"
"...Because you're a stranger I've never seen. Not Esai, Olrog, or Baika, yet bearing traces of their features."
Even as they spoke, her eyes scrutinized Jin-cheol's face relentlessly. He sensed it was to detect any flicker of emotion. So, this woman was dragging out the talk to probe his inner thoughts, even slightly.
"I saw it clearly. The hell burning in your mind. No tyrant—no, not even the devil Marx the Lavito speak of—could harbor such thoughts. That wasn't a dream a human could have..."
Her circlet began to glow faintly again, as if threatening to unleash yo-sul if needed. And only then did Jin-cheol read the emotion her sharp eyes concealed: fear.
"...Who the hell are you? Do you know the stranger who took my daughter?"
Tyrant my ass. She must've taken what she saw in the dream as his everyday mindset. But it was just his memories. Any soldier who'd rolled through those war days could unfold a similar panorama. Treating him like a genocidal maniac.
Jin-cheol scratched his temple, pondering a reply, then let out a deep sigh. No slapping sense into her right now.
"I already told you my name. Kang Jin-cheol. And whoever took your daughter, I'd love to meet the bastard myself."
"..."
Ishanka eyed him as if gauging the truth, while Morel just glanced nervously between them, swallowing dryly. Jin-cheol met her sunken gaze with his own deep-set eyes. Silence once more enveloped the infirmary.
*
"No issues?"
Parm entered the infirmary and asked Jin-cheol. Lost in thought in his chair, Jin-cheol pulled the syringe from his belt and handed it over without looking.
"...Something happen?"
Sensing the odd vibe, Parm quickly took the syringe and approached the patients. But both warrior and pirate slept soundly. The doctor tilted his head at Jin-cheol.
"One of the Antela warriors who was here is gone."
"Parm."
"Hm?"
Jin-cheol met Parm's eyes.
"Know anything about the Antela family?"
"Antela? Why them suddenly?"
"The one slinging yo-sul like crazy on deck. Antela Ishanka. Anything on her?"
"Well, she's the third daughter of the current Antela head, and she's thrown herself into public activities these past three years? Why the sudden interest?"
Jin-cheol leaned back against the chair.
"Says she'll reward me. Thanks for the help in the fight."
"...But why so serious?"
"I told you. She's looking for kin."
"Right."
Back of my neck's itching for no reason. Jin-cheol rubbed his nape and continued.
"Thanks to this Ishanka, I got a lead, but it's too vague. Even she's chased it for years without a trace."
Parm, watching Jin-cheol quietly, began slowly packing his medical tools.
"Did Antela Ishanka come here?"
"Yeah. Said she was checking on her warrior, but really came to talk to me."
"Not another 'serious discussion' like the one on deck earlier, I hope?"
Jin-cheol chuckled.
"Nah. Just a real talk."
Antela Ishanka. Despite the fear lingering deep in her eyes, she hadn't pressed Jin-cheol further about that 'stranger.' Instead, she apologized for the rash yo-sul, promising ample reward upon reaching Siol—separate from the battle bounty. So now Jin-cheol's dilemma was this: Ishanka, who as Siol high society had rummaged through crowds of races seeking 'pale skin,' claimed he'd be the first of his kind she'd seen. Could he really find humans in Siol?
Was the 'pale-skinned' person she described the human he sought? Why had that stranger taken Ishanka's daughter? And how the hell was he, with no family power or backing, supposed to even start looking?
"Fuck, my head..."
"When your head hurts, try sleep."
Jin-cheol laughed at Parm's words.
"Heh. Sleep's the best medicine, huh?"
"'Best medicine'? Don't know that term, but sleep is like water. Take it from life, and only death remains."
"...Yeah. Today's been too damn long anyway. Guess I'll crash hard. You sleeping here, Doc?"
Parm nodded, gathering pillow and blanket.
"Gotta monitor these two tonight. Just in case."
"Right. Oh, what'd the captain say?"
Spreading the blanket, Parm shook his head.
"Antela family's billing for medical fees, so make an invoice. As inflated as possible."
"That guy's gonna rake it in."
"Shortsighted. What if they find out we padded the bill later? How do you think the Antela clan will react?"
"His funeral."
Parm chuckled at Jin-cheol's casual dismissal.
"Fair enough. I can always hop another ship."
"Yeah. Let him shoulder the blame. See you tomorrow, Parm."
"'Hop'? Ah, right. Sleep well."
After the exchange, Jin-cheol glanced at the sleeping patients and left the infirmary. He returned to his cabin, where he'd bolted out amid the siren, stripped off his torn clothes, wiped down, and flopped into bed. The ship's faint pulse resumed— the halted merchant ship was underway again.
"...What a night."
Jin-cheol lay face-down, lulled by the throbbing pulse, and drifted into sleep. Deep sleep, unbroken until noon the next day. Dreamless.