The Spirit's Enigma and the Dawn Raiders
Haeta's words instantly chilled Peran's gaze. She glared at Haeta and said,
"Yo-ma? Are you seriously calling the holy spirit of the Sun Furnace a mere yo-ma right now?"
"Sorry. But I don't believe in Sun Doctrine. From a Sandesiya perspective, the entity in the Sun Temple isn't all that different from other yo-ma. Just a bit more powerful."
Unlike the icy Peran, Haeta's expression remained mild and clear. As if she were merely stating plain facts about reality. Her eyes were so pure it was almost unnerving.
"...You're dismissing the holy spirit, the temple, and my entire faith. Sandesiya sorceress. If you weren't a comrade from last night, I'd draw my blade. But say 'yo-ma' one more time, and I won't hold back."
"If it upsets you, I won't say it. But shouldn't we explain to Jin-cheol what we're talking about?"
Both women's eyes turned to Jin-cheol. He shrugged.
Why? If you're gonna fight, fight each other. Leave me out.
But somehow, they took it the wrong way. Peran clamped her mouth shut, letting out a low growl as she crossed her arms. Haeta, looking faintly smug, opened her mouth.
"Holy spirits, elementals, yo-ma, demons, mother fairies—different regions and people call them by different names, but they introduce themselves as Esai. Beings with immense yo-sul power."
"...If they call themselves AI, shouldn't we just go with that?"
Jin-cheol's question drew a smile from Haeta.
"They're too varied to lump together like that. From hostile ones like the entity we met in the Sun Temple, to those in the deep forest Kampoeni farms who only care about feeding their worshippers."
"...The Sun Spirit isn't hostile to us."
Peran's sudden interjection. Haeta looked at her with a smile.
"The yo-sul she showed us last night was brimming with enmity. I can't even imagine how Jin-cheol convinced her. And hasn't it been nearly a century since the temple couldn't hear her voice?"
"That's..."
Peran started to retort but trailed off, as if her words were stuck in her throat. She slumped back in her chair, arms crossed, looking sullen.
"Anyway, these entities each have their own purposes and wills. Sometimes incomprehensible to ordinary folk, making them incredibly capricious and troublesome. In extreme cases, they even kill those they meet. The one we encountered was especially powerful and ancient, worthy of being called the Sun Temple's holy spirit."
Haeta turned back to Jin-cheol and continued.
"That's why I signaled you underground not to talk about her. I had no idea what she might do if she overheard us casually discussing her. Peran seems curious about what you said to her, Jin-cheol. Honestly, so am I. Her yo-sul felt like it was dead set on killing us."
Jindallae. The AI of the nuclear fusion plant 'Haetsalnuri'. Her hologram had seemed incredibly unstable when Jin-cheol met her. A computer intelligence that had repaired and altered itself for ten thousand years—was it an entity of boundless wisdom, or a destroyer of human morality?
Jin-cheol lifted his left arm and stared at the tattoo etched there. A pattern of black bars of varying thickness and length. He could still feel the heat beneath it. He hadn't noticed when the light faded, but now it felt like he could summon the blade of flame with a mere thought. Like it needed some recharge time.
Gazing at the tattoo, Jin-cheol said curtly,
"She just told me not to kill anyone in the temple."
"...That's it?"
As Jin-cheol nodded nonchalantly, Peran—arms still crossed, face sour—pulled something from between her breastplate and held it out to him.
"Do you know what this is?"
"..."
Jin-cheol narrowed his eyes at it. It was a thin, square card. More precisely, the one Jindallae had used to extract the barcode pattern from his wrist.
"I found it on the floor back then. I didn't see it going in or out before, so it must've been left there when you met the spirit. And this matches the relic the sorceress targeted during the Baika merchant ship pirate attack. It was stored deep in the civil war archives. The power inside this relic is what the spirit gave you, right?"
Taking the card, Jin-cheol examined it closely. On the black surface, a faint pattern was barely visible. Like something once drawn there had faded with time.
"...To be honest, Jin-cheol. I'm scared."
Peran's abrupt words made Jin-cheol's eyes widen. Scared of what, out of nowhere?
"We've been investigating since arriving in Siol, but the pirates' backers are still unknown. This relic was just one of the things they targeted; we never figured out its purpose. But instead of revealing the truth to us, the spirit entrusted it to you."
Her arms tightened around herself, as if embracing against the cold.
"...It feels like past and present events are weaving into one massive thread. The curse of returning winter, the revived blade of the sun, shadowy forces that sought the blade first, the seven overseers and doctrine practitioners bypassed in favor of an outsider receiving the holy sword from the spirit... If I were a doctrine practitioner, I'd see it all as omens. Clear signs of the temple's corruption and the eternal winter's return."
Her gaze dropped to the barbershop floor. She seemed frightened by her own words.
"What is the spirit thinking? If what Kasian said is true—that the power in your hand is truly the sun's blade—then she entrusted you with the mightiest weapon against winter. Without even a hint to any of the seven families that served the sun for centuries, thousands of years. Why? Because of the temple's corruption? Or some other danger?"
Confusion and faint fear welled in her eyes.
"I just wanted to rescue Teacher Parm, but how did it spiral like this? I don't even know if I'm reading these omens right. The knight order Kasian and the inquisitor belong to, and the Muksaang House that tried to kill Teacher Parm—is that another omen I should heed?"
Her eyes met Jin-cheol's.
"...Jin-cheol, do you have answers?"
"..."
Hey, I'm just a stranded soldier from this era. I don't even know why Jindallae implanted this in me—answers? What answers?
Jin-cheol had never once believed he'd become someone great. Before the war, his head ached from scraping by; after it started, he crawled through hell beside exploding skulls just to survive. Emerging from that inferno, he found no one left around him. Maybe that's why he let go of Captain Kim Sang-cheol's hand after his half-assed revenge for the squad—not that he had any reason left to endure.
To such a broken soldier, talk of spirits, winter curses, and shadowy powers only brought one crude solution: round them all up, line 'em up, and gun them down. No brilliant strategies.
But he couldn't spout that nonsense to a woman with such anxious eyes. So Jin-cheol just smiled faintly.
"Ever wondered this? If you took today's worries ten thousand years into the future, would they still feel as grave?"
"...What do you mean?"
Peran's face twisted in confusion, unsure if he was joking or serious. Jin-cheol scratched his chin.
"People ten thousand years ago had their own dire problems. But to someone ten thousand years later? Might be nothing. Time flows on; those ancient folks are dead, but life persisted. Even if that crisis wiped out everyone back then, new beings would fill the void after that much time."
Peran, Haeta—even Udim, who had been listening quietly—stared at Jin-cheol. Their eyes held more bewilderment than inspiration. Jin-cheol chuckled too.
What bullshit am I spouting?
"Just something to think about when you're anxious. The crisis feels world-ending in the moment, but time marches on, and life finds a way to continue. No need to freeze up. The world and life don't stop."
"So... don't be afraid?"
"Don't despair and collapse. Don't stand still and let the crisis erase you. Thrash with everything you've got. Even if you don't overcome it, leave a trace—even a tiny one for ten thousand years from now."
"...In ten thousand years, we probably won't even be dust."
Haeta's remark drew a grin from Jin-cheol.
"More than you think. Way more than you imagine."
Peran seemed lost in thought, pondering his words deeply. Haeta and Udim—who had been massacring bread—gazed into the distance, as if envisioning ten thousand years ahead.
Then Aiman burst in from the kitchen, breathless. Drawing all eyes, he shouted at Haeta,
"Those idiots ran off!"
"...Pardon?"
"The moron—no, Harmen and the two pirates bolted out the back!"
Haeta shot to her feet.
"Why? Why would they...?"
"Obvious! He feared we'd meddle in his shit! Maybe he just wanted to bandit around! Anyway, we gotta find him now! If we can't prove to Sandesiya's swordmasters he's alive, rescuing him from prison might as well be impossible!"
Aiman turned to Jin-cheol.
"Pleasure meeting you, Jin-cheol! Situation's urgent—remember one thing! My offer stands!"
"You mean learn swordsmanship, or join the knight order?"
"Both! When we meet again, you'll do at least one!"
Chuckling heartily, Aiman nodded to Peran and Udim before dashing for the door. But his steps halted there—Haeta was staring between him and Jin-cheol, lost.
"...Haeta. We must go."
"I know! I just..."
Tears welled in her eyes. As Jin-cheol met her gaze with a puzzled look, she wiped them away, her face hardening with resolve.
"Jin-cheol."
"Yeah?"
"We'll meet again."
"Uh? Yeah, sure. See you later. Thanks for all the help in the underground city. If you ever need mine, I'll do what I can."
Jin-cheol stood and offered his hand—a farewell handshake. But Haeta glanced between his hand and eyes, then suddenly threw herself into his arms.
"Huh?"
"...We'll meet again. Promise."
Whispering that, Haeta turned and chased after Aiman. The two left the barbershop without looking back. Jin-cheol stared blankly at their retreating figures.
What just happened?
Glancing around, Peran looked coldly aloof, while Udim impassively chewed his last bread crumb.
"...Typical Sandesiya folk. Come like the wind, leave like the wind."
Peran shook her head with those words. Jin-cheol just kept staring at the still-swaying door.
Thus, the swordmaster and sorceress from Sandesiya departed.
Not long after Aiman left, Teacher Parm and Morel emerged from the back room. The teacher washed his hands with water from the kitchen, looking for the others.
"Where'd the Sandesiya people go?"
"They left. Their pirate pal ran off."
Parm paused mid-wash, blinking at Jin-cheol in disbelief.
"Quite the free spirits. I wanted to talk more with that Kampoeni swordsman."
"If it's fate, we'll meet again. Plenty of time to get friendly then."
"...Well said. If it's fate, we'll meet, and befriending can wait."
Did I say it like that? The teacher had a habit of refining Jin-cheol's words on his own. Maybe because he was the one teaching him speech. Jin-cheol just smiled it off.
Parm's eyes shifted to Peran.
"I've finished the emergency treatment on your friend. He won't die immediately. But we can't keep him here."
"Antela has a safehouse. Drugs and doctors there—he'll be fine."
"You sure? He's a prisoner from the temple basement."
Peran smiled.
"If anything, I should be asking you for the favor. Having him lets us keep Kasian in check. We need to hunt the Muksaang House that planted spies in Siol too. I'm more worried about you, Teacher. Don't you want to hear more about the House from him?"
"Hm. Not certain, but... I doubt there's much to learn from him. Even if there is, probably nothing beyond what Kasian extracted in prison."
"We'll know once he's recovered. Then, we'll take the prisoner."
Peran nodded to Morel, who was washing his hands vigorously. He shook them off and headed back inside. He returned carrying Gugban, wrapped head to toe in bandages. The man was unconscious.
The two nodded to the teacher and Udim. Peran lingered on Jin-cheol with her gaze.
Jin-cheol spoke.
"Why stare like that?"
"...That power in your hand. Use it well. And may it never point its edge at Siol."
With that, Peran left the barbershop. Morel, carrying Gugban, glanced back at Jin-cheol before exiting. He seemed about to say something, then just nodded and departed.
Now, only Jin-cheol, Teacher Parm, and Udim remained. Jin-cheol sighed deeply, feeling the long day finally end.
Seeing it, Parm said,
"Why the sigh?"
"Thought I could finally sleep. Haven't properly since the night before last, thanks to all this."
"Hmm. Sorry. But it's not over yet."
"Pardon?"
Parm fiddled with his mask like stroking a beard.
"Handing Gugban to Antela was partly for his health, but mainly because I have no more time to spare on him."
"No time why?"
"We need to search Bildo Bell's mansion now."
Jin-cheol blinked. No sleep for the rest of the night either?
"The dead scholar's place?"
"While treating Gugban, he whispered to me alone: search Bildo Bell's study."
"...Morel saw that?"
"He saw the whispering. But didn't ask what. A man of loyalty. We'll get closer."
Doubtful. Seemed like he didn't care... Still, worth getting friendly.
"Fine. Since we're up, let's ransack it before dawn. Sleep in the morning. Udim?"
"What."
Jin-cheol pointed at the door, eyeing his sullen face.
"Lead. You know the way?"
"Obviously."
Udim strode out confidently. Jin-cheol shrugged at Parm, who donned his coat with a smile. The three stepped back into Siol's night streets.
They reached Bildo Bell's mansion in the late pre-dawn hours. Darkness just before the eastern sky turned blue—the deepest black.
Slipping through that gloom, the three scaled the wall. Jin-cheol in front, Parm in the middle, Udim at the rear, they crouched low and crept across the garden.
Jin-cheol headed for the large sliding window facing the garden—designed for viewing it from inside. Even locked, easier than the front door.
"...Not locked?"
Jin-cheol, ready to deploy his 21st-century glass-breaking expertise, deflated as the window slid open with a creak. Ruined my fun.
"No signs of life inside?"
At Parm's whisper, Jin-cheol peered in, listening. Only chill air seeped out.
"Seems empty since the scholar died and servants got nabbed. Makes sense—Gugban wouldn't leave other staff if he had any brains."
Though if he did, he wouldn't be caught.
Jin-cheol slid the door open and stepped in. Parm and Udim followed.
"Study where?"
"Second floor."
Passing the living and reception rooms, the mansion was a wreck. Furniture askew, plates and cups shattered on the floor.
"Looks like Kasian beat us here."
"Gugban must've hidden the study's secret from him."
"Maybe. Let's check upstairs."
The second floor revealed a wide hall and connected rooms.
"More wealth than your average scholar."
"He had a knack for picking words from the same sources that noble houses loved. Most Siol elites favored him—hence using temple warriors to cover his death."
"History-distortion expert. Wonder why a guy like that hung with those cultists."
They checked each door for the study. Like downstairs, everything was ransacked.
"Even if we find it, doubt there's anything left."
That dread grew upon finding the study. A grand room with ornate desk, drawers, wall-to-wall shelves. But books spilled forward, drawers dumped in the center.
Kasian searched like it was his own house.
"Everything's been tossed."
"..."
But Parm scanned without regret, then spotted a wide veranda.
"Over there."
Jin-cheol opened the sliding door to the spacious veranda, with tea table and chairs for sunbathing. Now, only the dim blue dawn sky and dark surroundings.
Parm stepped out, hands on hips, scanning the veranda and visible roof.
"What're we looking for?"
"...Gugban said we'd find it here. No search marks, unlike inside."
Really? Jin-cheol surveyed like Parm, eyes catching a small protruding transom above the door.
"Hm."
He approached, jumped lightly. His hand gripped the upper frame. One hand secured, he reached with the other, pulling the faint line. It caught, but with force—pop—a secret compartment opened.
Tossing the broken cover, Jin-cheol reached in, felt something heavy, and pulled it out.
"...What the?"
A rectangular metal brick. Setting it down, the top clicked open.
"What'd you find?"
"...Dunno."
The top had a small glass panel; below, a grid of square buttons. To Jin-cheol, a tiny monitor and typewriter keyboard.
Parm said,
"Some kind of typewriter. An artifact?"
More like a '80s sci-fi portable computer. Its clunky retro vibe stirred odd nostalgia. He scanned for a power button.
"Baika script, right?"
"Yes. Seems like a typewriter at least. Other functions?"
Fumbling, Jin-cheol realized someone had been silent. Udim stood at the veranda's edge, staring afar.
"Hey, man. Never seen one like this?"
"...No. Not that big."
"What? How's this big..."
Jin-cheol's jaw dropped. His eyes followed Udim's gaze. Then he understood.
Parm's eyes followed too. Forgetting the device, he muttered blankly,
"...That's Lavito... Lavito airship... their aerial battleship...!"
A massive airship emerged from Siol's brightening eastern sky. Catching the light first, its underside glowed yellow, jagged towers and cannons sparkling like thorns. A whole castle afloat.
Jin-cheol stared, murmuring to Parm beside him,
"They invading...?"
"...Hope not. Truly."
Parm replied gravely. As the three gaped, the airship entered Siol's skies.