The Mercenary Massacre
I quickly unleashed my Voodoo Magic. Then I drew a Spell Circle. My hand trembled, distorting the circle's shape over and over. I usually kept my composure, but right now, that was damn near impossible. Still, I managed to draw it somehow. Mid-level Restoration Spell. That should be more than enough to heal the wound. Honestly, even a low-level one might've done the trick, but I wanted to be absolutely sure.
As the misty spell touched the hole in Kang Ji-a's arm, the wound began to knit itself closed bit by bit.
"Ha Su-yeong, grab a wet cloth. And contact my uncle. Lee Jin-seong, executive. You know him, right?"
"Uh... yeah, got it!"
Ha Su-yeong rushed back from the bathroom with the cloth. I wiped the blood from Kang Ji-a's arm. I warmed some water and fed it to her; only then did color return to her deathly pale face.
For now, I carried her to my room and laid her on the bed.
"...Thank you. Cult... Leader..."
"What the hell happened? I only heard you were heading to the Gyeongsang Order to deliver a message."
I pressed her, but Kang Ji-a didn't open up easily. She didn't seem too weak to speak—it felt like there was another reason she couldn't say it.
I was pissed. But yelling wouldn't change a thing. I clenched my fist to swallow my anger. My nails dug into my palm, drawing blood.
"Tell me. There's nothing you need to hide from me."
"...The Romanica Church... dispatched a Holy Knight Order... to suppress—no... massacre Yuk Eun-hyeong's mercenary band."
"What's the situation?"
"There've been a few battles... Two-thirds of the mercenary base is already occupied by the Holy Knights."
It was a hopeless situation. Kang Ji-a didn't say it outright, but it sounded like they'd lost every fight and been forced to surrender their bases.
It made sense. Yuk Eun-hyeong's mercenaries were few in number—not even elite few, just plain few. Without him, the individual fighters were subpar. Meanwhile, the Romanica Holy Knight Order had numbers beyond counting.
That was why she said "massacre" instead of "suppression." There was zero chance Yuk's band could beat them in open combat.
"The wound... probably from a stray bullet in the crossfire. They weren't aiming for me."
"How do you know?"
"Common sense. No reason to target me specifically."
"Yeah? Then I guess it's fine if I accidentally kill you too."
Creak!
Right then, the door burst open. My uncle rushed in, drenched in cold sweat that soaked his hair and clothes. He glanced at Kang Ji-a on the bed, then at me.
"What the hell's going on?"
"Noona went to support the Gyeongsang Order and got shot."
"...Shot? Wait, the Gyeongsang Order...?"
Uncle furrowed his brow, like he had an inkling. Then he smacked his forehead and continued.
"...Yuk Eun-hyeong. The mercenaries... That suppression op—was that the place?"
"Uncle, do you know where the Gyeongsang Order is?"
"Yeah. But getting there now won't be easy. Roads are probably blocked. No—definitely blocked."
Uncle wiped the sweat beading on his forehead with his collar. That's when Kang Ji-a grabbed my arm with her trembling hand. She blinked slowly and spoke.
"...You shouldn't go. Yuk Eun-hyeong doesn't want you there either, Cult Leader."
"Why?"
"If you show up... it'll play right into the Papal Court's hands. He wanted you to abandon the Gyeongsang Order."
"We can abandon the Gyeongsang Order."
"Ugh, wait, Cult Leader...!"
I gripped her arm tightly. It was so thin and fragile. A bullet had torn through this tiny arm. The thought made my heart race wildly, my breath shorten. My vision blurred white. I rubbed my eyes and pressed on.
"But I have to go. Not for the Order—for you, Noona."
I released her arm, stood, and continued.
"Ha Su-yeong, look after Noona. Contact me if anything happens at the chapel. Handle what you can on your own."
"O-okay."
"Uncle, guide me to the Gyeongsang Order by car. How long will it take?"
"...No, think about it—there's no way to get there. Even if we make it close..."
"We'll go by sea. The Order and Yuk's base are on the coast."
"What? But we can't get a boat now, and crossing the sea..."
"We can."
I eyed my uncle and continued.
"No boat. But we can cross the sea."
"..."
I grabbed my staff and mask. I'd probably need to hide my face.
"Let's go."
"Fuck... how did it come to this...? Fine."
Uncle nodded and went on.
"I got nothing to say about this. What the hell did we do wrong...?"
Sadness and rage dripped clearly from his voice.
Clack.
On a well-worn xiangqi board stained dark from years of use, a long-haired man moved a piece. Plenty of onlookers crowded around, but none spoke. Only the alternating clacks of pieces being placed by the long-haired man and the old fellow echoed repeatedly.
The elder stared at the board with wrinkled eyes for a long moment. Sweat beaded at his temples. Finally, he squeezed his eyes shut and sighed deeply.
"...I lose. I surrender."
"A shame. Shall I give you a handicap?"
"Nah, no need. It's not a board one handicap turns around."
The old man fingered the pieces as if reviewing the game, but soon gave up even that and bowed his head.
"...Even starting over from the beginning, I don't think I'd win."
"I see... Thank you for the game. It was enjoyable."
"Same here."
The elder shook the long-haired man's hand and stood. The other onlookers drifted away one by one. Only one remained: bright yellow hair, bronze skin, narrow-slitted eyes. Ma Yu-hyeon.
He waited for the long-haired man to speak first, but the man just stared silently at the board.
Tap, tap.
Growing impatient, Ma Yu-hyeon rapped the board like knocking. Only then did the man look up. He stared blankly at Ma Yu-hyeon, then smirked, lifting one corner of his mouth.
"Long time no see, Yu-hyeon. What's up?"
"Yeah, been a while, hyung. Just dropped by to chat. Got time?"
"Plenty."
The man nodded. Ma Yu-hyeon sat across from him. The man cleared the scattered pieces into their box, then pulled out a chessboard and a go stone container from the ground.
"Sitting and talking feels lame. Wanna play something? Chess, go? Gomoku's fine too."
"Egg battle?"
"Nah, not strategic enough."
"Dissing egg battle. It has its own strategy. Whatever, chess it is."
"Chess is great. Deep history."
As he spoke, the man set up the chessboard and placed the pieces with practiced ease. Not the work of a casual player.
Ma Yu-hyeon alternated glances between the neatly arrayed pieces and the long-haired man.
The man's name was Yeon. Single name, no family name—parents unknown. Officially 21, but actual age unclear. He too had been a papal candidate. And one of the few chosen by angels, just like Ma Yu-hyeon.
"There, all set. Black or white?"
Yeon finished setup and asked. His tone was soft, his smile unwavering.
Ma Yu-hyeon stroked his chin thoughtfully before replying.
"Which is better? White?"
"White has first move, so it's considered slightly advantageous."
"White then. I start?"
Clack.
Ma Yu-hyeon moved a piece. Yeon followed.
Clack, clack.
In the silence, only the sounds of pieces rang out. Ma Yu-hyeon pondered each move at length, while Yeon placed his without hesitation. In the blink of an eye, the game tilted against Ma Yu-hyeon.
"I think I know why you came. The Voodoo Cult, right?"
Clack.
Yeon broke the long silence, moving a piece as he casually probed.
Ma Yu-hyeon scratched his brow and chuckled.
"How'd you guess? Creepy."
"Timing. They're suppressing a Voodoo mercenary band right now. And you've been on missionary travels."
"Wasn't just here for that... but yeah, spot on."
Clack.
Ma Yu-hyeon moved. Yeon stared at the board intently. An odd play. For the first time, the unflinching Yeon furrowed his brow in thought.
Ma Yu-hyeon watched him steadily and spoke.
"What do you think of this mercenary suppression?"
"Rash."
Clack.
Yeon moved after deliberating. Ma Yu-hyeon couldn't read it—didn't even register as clever or anything.
He glared at the board like he could bore through it, pondering. Yeon continued.
"Looks like they used the Trinita Holy Knights to win public favor... but will it work? People have forgotten the Voodoo Cult. A stunt like this won't sell a suppression as anything but a massacre."
"What would you have done?"
"Dug into dBP Corporation."
"Why dBP out of nowhere? They're not even problematic."
"Papal forces rely too much on their holy artifacts. dBP knows it and is starting to leverage that. Time to check 'em—investigate while keeping them in line."
"No pretext for that."
"Rumors link heretics—Voodoo, Satanists—to dBP. From that early-year Florence incident with Bae Seong-hyeon, right?"
"Rumors enough for justification?"
"Justification's easy to fabricate. Tax audit or whatever. The point is the investigation itself. Once the Papal Court probes dBP, the public connects it to those rumors."
"...Naturally reins them in."
"Exactly. Talk's cheap, though. That's why I can say it."
"True, lots to consider."
Clack.
Ma Yu-hyeon placed his piece after much thought.
"Above all, you don't suppress mercenaries like this. Especially not when Voodoo's involved."
Yeon moved immediately and continued.
"...The Cult Leader will come. And the fallout will hit Romanica. The Papal Court. Guaranteed."
Yeon said it with his smile intact.
(To be continued...)