Chapter 41 — The Spy Was Caught, but Tae-hyun Couldn't Be Saved
Helga kicked the cabin door in.
The wooden door tore off at the hinges. The table shattered. A single kick from a knight instructor had taken out part of the building itself — and she hadn't even drawn her sword.
"Levran."
Her voice ground through the night air. Low, cold, like steel.
A lone candle swayed over the wreckage of the table. Levran shot up from his chair, face drained white. Across from him, the demonkin messenger's eyes flew wide beneath her hood.
"In-Instructor?!"
"Do you understand the crime you have committed?"
The color bled out of Levran's face at terrifying speed — two years' worth of accumulated lies crashing down onto the adjutant's neck in a single instant.
One line. That one line was all it took for his composure to crumble. He knows he's caught. Completely. He would have finished calculating both his excuses and his escape routes within three seconds.
Levran bolted for the side door. Fast — exactly what you'd expect from an adjutant who'd secured his escape route well in advance.
But.
Shing. Helga had drawn her sword before his first footfall even landed. Trajectory reading — the art of predicting where your opponent will move and setting your blade down in that spot. Impossible for anyone short of instructor level.
The flat of the blade cracked against the back of his neck. Thud.
Levran dropped. Not dead, not unconscious — a temporary paralysis from a strike to the cervical nerves. It had taken less than a second.
Ten seconds in, Helga had kicked away Levran's sword and wrenched his joints into lockdown. I looked past the fallen spy — toward the demonkin messenger sprinting for the window.
The messenger moved. Joints that bent well beyond a human's range carried her toward the window.
[Non-contact Suggestion] — activated.
...Stop.
Level-3 penetrating force. A different dimension entirely from level 2.
Her body locked stiff in midair, frozen as if time itself had stopped — hand still outstretched toward the window.
"What... my body..."
The messenger clenched her teeth. Resistance. They said demonkin had high mental resistance — and this wretch's raw strength was beyond a human's, too.
...Sit down on the floor.
Her legs buckled and she crumpled to the floorboards. The resistance broke. As her hood slipped free, purple skin, pointed ears, and yellow eyes came into view. A woman. Small frame — early twenties, if you counted in human years.
A small frame, and yellow eyes. She was my enemy and my prisoner, and my cock stirred first anyway. As it tried to stiffen, I bore down on it hard, thighs clenched. Fuck — getting horny in the middle of this. What kind of psychologist starts with an erection the moment he subdues a demonkin? A piece of shit, that's who. Me.
A jolt ran through me. My cock had answered, just once.
"This kind of [Suggestion]... it's a first for me."
"Don't move. Move again and I'll press down harder."
"Khh... a mere human..."
Her pride was intact. Her body simply refused to obey it.
Helga bound Levran — roped his arms together and forced him down onto his knees. The knot was a work of art.
"Do-hyun. Tie this demonkin up as well."
"She's pinned by [Suggestion]. There's no need."
"Tie her physically too. Your magic could come undone."
"...Fair point."
"Of course it is. A sword doesn't come undone because it's a sword. Magic comes undone because it's magic."
Knight-instructor pragmatism. Helga had the messenger trussed within fifteen seconds — order-of-knights binding technique, a knot that locked the wrist and shoulder joints simultaneously, making resistance structurally impossible.
She had even factored in the chance my suggestion might wear off, binding the messenger's wrists and shoulders together. The habit of a woman who trusted knots more than magic.
The interrogation. Levran first.
Levran's eyes opened. He raised his head and looked at Helga. Then at me. Then at his own bound hands. Despair was carved into his face.
"Levran. Ten years. That's how long it's been since you joined my order."
"Instructor Helga... I..."
"I've no interest in excuses. Do-hyun. Look into this man's memories."
"Yes."
I laid my hands on both his temples. Levran twisted against it, but bound as he was, there was no resisting to be had. [Memory Reading], level 3 — the version with both depth and range expanded.
The memories came flooding in like a rising tide.
...Two years ago. A tavern on the outskirts of the Capital. Levran drinking alone. Passed over for promotion — he'd applied for a knight instructorship, and Helga had gotten it. That was when a demonkin agent wearing a human face had sidled up to him. "You seem dissatisfied. We can help with that.""The price?""Nothing but a little information, now and then." Grievance and ambition. Humanity's most ordinary weakness.
...Two years of deliveries. The order's patrol routes, once a month. The palace guard rotation timetable. Current troop strength. The weaknesses, habits, and family connections of key knights. The Queen's procession schedule, three times. The roster of knights dispatched to the front line.
Fuck. At that scale, nearly everything about the kingdom's knight order had already leaked. A betrayal of obsessive, meticulous thoroughness.
...Recent meetings. He'd passed along the false intelligence I'd planted, word for word. The demons' response: "Good intelligence. We will incorporate it into our operation plans." They'd swallowed the bait whole. Fucking beautiful.
...His pay: fifty gold a month. Three times an adjutant's salary. Plus the "promise of an instructorship" — empty words that if the demons seized the kingdom, they'd seat him in the Knight Commander's chair. The order itself would cease to exist if the kingdom fell, and Levran had believed it anyway. Sincerely.
I pulled my hands away. Sweat had beaded on my forehead. Sifting through two years of memories was no light labor even at level 3.
"I've seen everything."
"..."
"Two years of patrol routes, guard rotations, troop strength, personal files on key knights, three royal processions, the frontline dispatch roster. All of it — leaked."
Helga's face went rigid. The demonkin had heard every word of it too.
"Levran. How many knights do you think died because of the information you sold?"
"..."
"Arnon. Too."
For the first time, her voice trembled.
"The battle where Arnon died. The defensive line broke because the demons knew our patrol routes."
"Instructor, that—"
"Silence."
One word, and Levran's mouth shut.
Proof would be difficult. But the likelihood was high — and Helga had sensed it on instinct.
"...He goes to the royal dungeon. He will stand trial. And when the trial ends, I volunteer as executioner."
Helga chose to hand him to the court without ever letting go of the urge to cut him down. What was needed now wasn't vengeance. It was everything he had leaked.
The messenger's interrogation. This was the part that actually mattered.
"Your name?"
"...Lila."
"Lila. You're with demon intelligence?"
"I have no need to tell you."
Yellow eyes shot daggers at me. The voice was sharp, but her legs were shaking. The instinctive wariness of a human who had her trussed up like game.
Stubborn. I could have interrogated her with [Suggestion], but at level 3 there was a more efficient road.
[Emotion Manipulation]. The reverse application of the ability I'd used on Helga just last night, when I planted that morning sensation in her. It touches emotion itself to create a state where telling them is nothing at all. It doesn't forcibly break memory or will — it strips away the resistance attached to the act.
I laid a hand on Lila's forehead.
"What are you doing!"
"Hold still."
A demonkin's mind is built a little differently from a human's. More layers, thicker walls. But [Emotion Manipulation] at level 3 works on the outside of those walls — a method that melts hesitation rather than hostility.
The resistant surface of her emotions came loose, slick and easy. Lila's yellow eyes blinked. Two seconds. Three.
"Lila. Tell me about demon intelligence."
"...There's hardly anything worth telling."
"The structure of your intelligence service. The list of spies you've planted in this kingdom. The next operation."
Lila opened her mouth. More naturally than before.
"The service is three and a half squads. Squad One handles capital infiltration. Squad Two disrupts the front line. Squad Three handles assassination."
Helga looked at me. Surprised. I was a little surprised myself.
"I'm Squad One. I manage the embedded spies in the capital. Levran and three others."
"Three others?"
"One maid in the palace. One clerk in the merchants' guild. And..."
A brief hitch — deeper clearance, friction where the secret ran darker.
"And the last one?"
"...One more inside the knight order itself. A rookie knight posted within the last six months. I don't know the name. Only the leader of Squad One does."
Helga's eyes narrowed.
"Who."
"I don't know. Only the Squad One leader knows."
"And the Squad One leader is?"
"...Me."
Only after the words were out did Lila clamp a hand over her own mouth. Instinct, arriving late. But it was already too late.
Not a mere courier — the squad leader in overall command of capital infiltration. A prize of a prisoner.
"The next operation?"
"An attack during the Queen's procession next month. Lure her onto the western route, then ambush."
"Force size?"
"Thirty. Elite. All drawn from Squad Two."
"Their commander?"
"A demon called Barha. Deputy leader of Squad Two. Deadly with a bow, and he casts magic too. A master of human disguise — he could walk straight through the city gates."
"And... tonight. A sealed warehouse on the capital's outskirts. Squad Three is running a separate operation."
Helga's eyes narrowed to blades.
"Tonight?"
"Yes. Squad Three. Assassination. One of the kingdom's summoned heroes. The target is Korean. Fire attribute."
My heart skipped a beat.
Korean. Fire attribute. Summoned. As far as I knew, only one person alive fit that combination of words.
Tae-hyun. That crazy bastard.
"...Park Tae-hyun."
"I don't know any names. Command only handed down the target list. Tonight at midnight. Second floor of the warehouse. The lure is a fake combat-engineer distress signal."
Goddamn it all. A fake distress call — and a male summoner comes sprinting straight in. That was Tae-hyun's style. That same temperament from his rampage. Fire first, thinking later. Even after I'd calmed him with hypnosis, the streak itself had never left.
"Lila. Is there a cancellation signal?"
"No. One-way broadcast. Straight from the Squad Three leader. Outside my authority."
"Operation start time?"
"Midnight."
I checked the time. 11:45.
Fifteen minutes. Even at a horse's full gallop, the capital's outskirts were twenty minutes away. Already too late.
My mind went blank white, then boiled over. Cover twenty minutes of distance in fifteen? Fucked-up arithmetic. My legs moved anyway — ahead of the math.
"Instructor Helga."
"Go."
One word. No explanation needed.
"Lend me a horse. The fastest one you have."
"Take mine. She's the fastest."
"Lila and Levran?"
"I'll bind them and escort them to the royal dungeon myself. You go take care of that boy — Tae-hyun — first."
"Thank you."
The night wind slapped my face.
Helga's horse was every bit as fast as she'd promised. The mane lashed like a whip; hooves tore clods out of the earth. Da-dum, da-dum. My heart beat in time with the hoofbeats.
Please. Please, just once. A man without a scrap of faith, begging someone — anyone — without even knowing to whom. Don't let me be late. Just this once, don't let me be too late.
The capital's outskirts. 12:10.
Too late.
The instant the sealed warehouse came into view, a second-floor window flashed red. Boom. An explosion. Fire bloomed outward.
[Flame Sword]. Tae-hyun's skill.
He was alive.
"Tae-hyun!"
My own shout sounded foreign even to my own ears. I leapt off the horse and kicked the warehouse door in.
Ground floor. Empty. No — not empty. Three women in knight-order uniforms were huddled against the far wall. One clutched her right arm — red hair, worn long. Another shielded her — blonde curls. The third had black hair cropped short. All of them young. Early to mid-twenties.
The moment I saw them, my mind began to turn. Wasn't Karin's squad supposed to be at the front? But there was no time for doubts like that now.
"Get out of here!"
"Wh-who are you..."
"The Royal Psychologist. Kang Do-hyun. Quickly."
"Tae-hyun's still up there..."
The red-haired woman pointed at the ceiling. Another explosion tore through the floor above. The wooden rafters shuddered; dust poured down.
"I'm going up. No — you three get out first."
"But he..."
"I'll bring Tae-hyun down myself. If you stay in here, he can't come down."
Cold words. But true. If the reason Tae-hyun was fighting up there was to protect these three, then the simple fact that they were still inside the warehouse meant he could never come down.
The red-haired woman bit her lip. One beat. Then—
"...Understood. We're going. Please save him."
Fast decision. The product of knight-order training.
The blonde supported the black-haired woman, the redhead took point, and the three of them ran for the warehouse door. The instant they were clear, I grabbed the ladder to the second floor.
I climbed.
Second floor.
Fire. Smoke. And shadow.
Tae-hyun stood with his sword raised. The blade burned red — [Flame Sword]. Three demonkin lay fallen before him. One beheaded. One skewered through the chest. One reduced to ash.
But black smoke was rising from Tae-hyun's left side. Something had punched through his abdomen and out his back. A demon's dark-magic sniping — the kind that hurls spells from long range. While Tae-hyun was cutting down three demons, a fourth had fired out of the darkness.
"...Hyung."
Tae-hyun looked at me. His face was ashen. Sweat streamed from his forehead; blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
"Hyung. You came."
"Tae-hyun."
"The girls. Did they get out?"
"They're out."
"Thank god."
Tae-hyun smiled. A smile his eyes didn't join.
I checked the wound with my eyes. The dark magic had gone clean through his gut, the edges charred black. His pulse was weakening; the bleeding wouldn't stop. Not even reading memories could knit organs back together.
[Mental Interference], level 3. All I had was power that touched the mind.
Thoughts turned fast. [Suggestion] — order him to stay alive? Impossible. Mental interference doesn't work on mortal wounds. [Emotion Manipulation] — plant no pain? Possible. But that was all it was. It was not healing.
My ability could lower a dying man's terror. It could not close a torn-open stomach. I knelt beside Tae-hyun.
"Hyung."
Tae-hyun leaned back against the wall and set the sword beside him. The flame on the blade died slowly.
"Yeah. Tae-hyun."
"Help me sit up a little."
He was already sitting. What he meant was that he wanted to sit more comfortably. I took hold of him and eased him into position against the wall. His body was lighter than it should have been. I could feel the weight draining out of him.
"Hyung. You remember when you calmed me down, back before?"
"I remember."
"After you did that, I got a lot better. Here — in this other world. When I lost my job in Korea and got dragged here, my head was a mess. But thanks to you, I got to live like an actual human being."
"..."
"Thank you."
"Tae-hyun."
"But hyung. What happened today — that's not your fault."
Tae-hyun smiled. Really smiled.
"I'm the one who jumped in. Even if you'd tried to stop me, I'd have jumped in anyway. I was like this in Korea too. Couldn't stand watching someone take a beating at work — I'd throw myself in, and get fired for it."
"I know."
"You know. So. This isn't on you."
The more he told me it wasn't my fault, the more fucking unbearable it became. The bastard telling me it wasn't my fault was dying — and the bastard hearing it got to stay whole, and would carry those words for the rest of his life. Taking comfort I had no right to take.
I cast [Emotion Manipulation], level 3. No pain. I pressed my hand to Tae-hyun's forehead and cut the agony of a mortal wound away at the level of feeling. His body was dying — but his last conversation would be an easy one.
Tae-hyun's expression softened. His breathing turned shallow and even.
"...Hyung. What did you just do?"
"Took the pain away."
"Ah. So that's why it's suddenly easier to breathe. ...Thanks, hyung."
It wasn't treatment. It was lightening the last of the pain. Once his breath had steadied, Tae-hyun gave me the names of the three knights he'd sent down to the first floor.
"Hyung."
"Yeah."
"One favor."
"Name it."
"Those three girls from today. Get them out alive. I already got them out alive — I know. Still. See them safely back to the capital. That's all I want."
"I will."
"My mother and my little sister — they're back in Korea. If you ever make it home someday, make sure you pass along my regards. That's enough."
"...I'll pass them along."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Tae-hyun closed his eyes. The smile stayed at the corner of his mouth.
"Hyung... hyung. I won't forget that you calmed me down."
"...I know. Tae-hyun."
"I just wanted to keep calling you hyung. All the way to the end."
His breathing went shallow. Thinner. Then it stopped.
My fingers found the side of his neck. No pulse.
He was dead.
Twenty-eight years old. He'd lost his job in Korea, been swept along and dragged into this fucked-up world — and in the end, he died right here. The first of the men who fell through with us. The bastard who lit the fire first and thought about it later. The bastard who got fired for throwing himself between strangers and their fists. The bastard who just wanted to call me hyung to the very end.
Tae-hyun's eyes were closed. I never let go of his hand — not until the last of the strength drained out of it.
Then, directly overhead, came the faintest scrape of friction.
Creeeeak.
On the rafters of the burning warehouse. In the darkness, a black bowstring was being drawn once more. And the arrowhead was aimed not at Tae-hyun — but at my heart.