Amhyanghoe (2)
“…So what does Amhyanghoe actually do?”
Lee Chae-young tossed the question out. More than any real urge to understand the organization hunting her, pure curiosity about a name she was hearing for the first time drove her.
From the passenger seat, Choi Yeon answered while knotting a wire around the hilt of a short blade.
“They’re the only A-class criminal syndicate in the Chungcheong region.”
“More precisely, Amhyanghoe became the only one after wiping out every other outfit. The Jeokryeohui barely scraped by as a rival, if I remember right,” added Kim Jaesang, who was driving.
“If Pakator rules the surface, Amhyanghoe rules the underworld.”
“So they’re the top villains of Chungcheong? Top guild, then top bad guys…”
Lee Chae-young let out an awkward little laugh. How had she ended up on the wanted lists of both the light and the dark in the span of an hour? An hour ago she never would have imagined it.
Choi Yeon yanked the wire taut on the dagger hilt and looked ahead.
“Amhyanghoe.”
As if on cue, the car eased off the gas. Daejeoncheon West Road in front of Samcheon Bridge was under a traffic lockdown. No other vehicles were in sight—only four or five traffic marshals standing around.
Every face was a stranger.
“…Looks like even Amhyanghoe wants to keep the body count down.”
“Figured as much. Still… that right there is a tiger’s mouth if I ever saw one. Yeon. Last chance to turn around.”
“I have to get off work.”
“…Right. Ain’t nothin’ more important than that to you.”
Chief Kim Jaesang shook his head. The car picked up speed again. The disguised Amhyanghoe members made no move to stop them. That didn’t mean they weren’t watching. As the car slid quietly past, every single one of them tracked it with their eyes.
Lee Chae-young swallowed hard against the rising tension.
“This car’s fitted with a C-class shield.”
“……?”
“Meaning you don’t need to worry. Unless they dump B-class magic on us, it won’t even flinch.”
“Honestly… that just made me more nervous. In movies, right after someone says something like that, the other side always uses B-class magic. Or chucks a mana bomb.”
“Haha. No way. On a bridge? They’d never—”
“…….”
“…Probably? I think?”
Choi Yeon wasn’t entirely sure. The more he thought about it, the more tempting the idea sounded. An A-class-rated criminal syndicate might just pull something like that.
A mana bomb… a mana bomb…
“…Even if they did, you’d be fine.”
“Fine?”
“I’ll protect you, Lee Chae-young.”
“Oh.”
“Our chief will. Driving the Dongdae car that hits zero-to-sixty in four-point-five seconds.”
“Oh?”
Lee Chae-young’s head tilted. In a moment like that, wasn’t he supposed to be the one promising to protect her? The chief had to be thinking the same thing.
“Ghk.”
A choked sound came from the driver’s seat as the car stopped. The quiet vehicle made no noise even as it halted.
“Ain’t that Song Jong-in?”
Contrary to her expectations, something entirely different burst from Chief Kim Jaesang’s mouth. His brow furrowed as his gaze locked onto the figure standing mid-bridge. Song Jong-in was staring down at the bottle in his hand. The bangs half-covering his eyes made it hard to be certain, but the tilt of his head suggested as much.
“Where’s the real branch manager, and why’s that bastard standin’ there? Power already shifted that fast?”
“Someone you know?”
“Huh? Yeon, you don’t know Song Jong-in? The Chungcheong Sword Ghost?”
“Hmm… nothing’s ringing a bell. Maybe I heard the name and forgot.”
“Time sure does fly…”
Chief Kim Jaesang muttered with a sigh. The bitter smile at the corner of his mouth carried a strange, weary emptiness.
“He was a B-class hunter. Once got called the next top blade of Chungcheong.”
“Then what’s a guy like that doing in Amhyanghoe?”
“Don’t know. Disappeared about ten years back. Today’s the first I’ve seen him since…”
“Why’d he go dark?”
“I know the reason, but I don’t reckon they’re gonna give us time for a leisurely stroll down memory lane.”
Chief Kim Jaesang changed the subject. A flicker of regret crossed his face, but there was no time to ask. A dozen Amhyanghoe members were already walking toward them, weapons drawn.
Choi Yeon unlatched the door and stepped out. Before closing it, he looked back at Lee Chae-young in the rear seat.
“Lee Chae-young. Left or right?”
“What? Where did that come from?”
“Pick one. Which side?”
“…Left?”
“Nice.”
“I’m takin’ the right.”
“I didn’t ask you, Chief.”
“The right, I sa—”
The door shut with a decisive thunk, cutting him off. Choi Yeon walked forward and addressed the approaching Amhyanghoe members.
“Choi Yeon, Seonhwa Dongdae Hunter. I’m currently on official duty, and you are obstructing that duty.”
Footsteps answered him—steady, unstopping.
He’d expected as much. Choi Yeon gave a single nod.
“Come any closer and I’ll treat it as interference with public duties and open fire.”
Footfalls rang across the bridge.
Choi Yeon’s hands moved like a hammer striking a nail. Throwing daggers left his coat and flew.
“Ugh…!”
A single groan rose. Six daggers thrown; one grunt. Even that came from a man whose clothes were already stained red with blood.
The man whose body had locked up from the paralytic smeared on the blades dropped to his knees. Fury twisted the face behind gritted teeth.
They’re not surprised?
Choi Yeon realized Amhyanghoe had already done their homework on him.
Boots pounded the bridge. Having gauged that the poison was stronger than expected, the Amhyanghoe members dropped all pretense of composure.
So did Choi Yeon. Recognizing that simple dagger throws wouldn’t hold them, he drew the wire-rigged short blade and spun it.
Whoom, whoom!
He flung the short blade at the lead runner. The weapon had changed from dagger to short sword, but the speed was the same—the Amhyanghoe member dodged it easily.
Or would have, if not for what came next.
Wire Shift
The short blade reversed direction midair. It punched into the upper back of the Amhyanghoe member, then tore free; he collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut. The same toxin from the daggers coated the short blade. The remaining members clocked it instantly.
“Hup!”
While the short blade was still returning, one of the faster Amhyanghoe members reached Choi Yeon. A sword flashed upward; Choi Yeon slipped aside. Looking at the empty space where his side had been, he flung the short blade again—not to stab the man in front of him.
“Ugh…?”
A groan of pain and confusion burst out—not from the man right in front of him, but from somewhere else. Another Amhyanghoe member had gone down.
The fighter before him went wide-eyed. Insulted at being ignored, he exhaled hard through his nose and attacked with renewed ferocity. Every time his sword swept through the air, the short blade flew somewhere else and wrenched another groan free.
Watching his comrades fall, the Amhyanghoe member only swung harder. He was on a leash even though no leash existed.
“…Why’s he fighting like that?”
Kang I-jun muttered in bewilderment from the sidelines. He couldn’t make sense of Choi Yeon leaving the enemy right in front of him alone while systematically dropping everyone else first.
Song Jong-in scratched his beard with a bottle cap—still doing its proper job, for the moment—and answered.
“He’s usin’ the fella as cover.”
“Sir?”
“Look. That one’s so worked up swingin’ his sword the rest can’t even get close.”
“……!”
“I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve never seen a stunt this absurd. Is that a hunter or a circus act?”
“…I’ll handle him myself.”
“Nah. I’ll do it.”
Song Jong-in clamped a hand on Kang I-jun’s shoulder as the man started forward.
“Branch Manager, personally?”
“…Kid. What’s the point of stallin’? Choi Heeseok might show up. Then we’ll be starin’ at the roof for real.”
“Ah… apologies. Our inadequacy—”
“Enough, enough.”
Song Jong-in shoved the bottle into Kang I-jun’s hands and walked out. He swayed like a drunk, but unlike the others, his footsteps made no sound.
Steel whispered free of its scabbard, the edge cold and sharp. Invisible threads parted cleanly under the cut.
Watching Amhyanghoe fall back in perfect unison, Choi Yeon reeled in the short blade. In the space of a breath, the only Amhyanghoe member still standing alone could be counted on one hand.
“Well now. Pleasure meetin’ ya, Squinty Junior.”
Whoom, whoom…
Choi Yeon kept the wire spinning, ready to fling the short blade at any moment. A B-class hunter once called the Sword Ghost. Giving up range for free would be suicide.
“Junior don’t look too happy to see me.”
“I have to face a senior once known as the Sword Ghost. Why would I be happy?”
“Heh heh… That was a long time ago. These days I’m just a drunk.”
“I doubt that.”
Choi Yeon denied it at once. The presence rolling off the man in front of him was nothing like a mere drunk’s. In pure presence alone, he outclassed Yang Dae-geun by several levels.
“Junior. Just askin’ on the off chance—any chance you’d just hand the young lady over?”
“How about you step aside instead, Senior? I could offer you a very expensive bottle in return.”
“Temptin’. If it weren’t orders from above, I might’ve taken you up on it.”
“…….”
“Well then… reckon that means we gotta fight.”
“Unfortunately.”
“If we’d met somewhere else I’d have given you a few free moves… but this is Seonhwa-dong. Can’t do that here. You understand?”
“Of course.”
Choi Yeon nodded. The remark was as good as an admission that Song Jong-in would struggle against Choi Heeseok—which meant Choi Yeon figured he could handle this himself.
As if to crush that thought underfoot, Song Jong-in kicked off the ground. At the same instant Choi Yeon flung the short blade.
Klang!
An instant before the point could bury itself between Song Jong-in’s brows, his sword batted it aside. The Amhyanghoe members couldn’t even track the exchange with their eyes. It was the same style of attack they’d already seen—yet the speed was entirely different.
Only then did they realize Choi Yeon had not been fighting seriously.
Could I have blocked that blade the way the Branch Manager just did?
Probably not.
Someone ground their teeth on a thick, bitter defeat.
Wire Shift
The deflected short blade whipped back toward Song Jong-in. It didn’t land.
“Saw that one already!”
He simply cocked his head hard to the right and let it sail past. Choi Yeon had expected that. The short blade, after clearing the space where the head had been, snapped back into Choi Yeon’s hand faster than Song Jong-in could close.
Reverse-gripping the short blade, Choi Yeon looked at Song Jong-in—already right in front of him. Left foot stepping forward, right hand drawing back.
Chamhon — Soul Slash
Song Jong-in’s sword shot forward.
BOOM!
The sound of empty air being punched open rolled across the bridge. Smiles bloomed on Amhyanghoe lips by pure reflex. Just like always, they thought, their Branch Manager had punched straight through his opponent in a single stroke.
They were wrong.
“…Squinty Junior. What the hell are you?”
Song Jong-in’s blade never reached Choi Yeon. It fell short by a single inch—not enough to pierce the shoulder.
“Choi Yeon.”
Choi Yeon answered with shameless ease.
“Heh—I already know the name!”
“Do you? You keep calling me Squinty, so I figured you didn’t.”
Song Jong-in withdrew his left foot and his sword.
“How’d you dodge that cut? At your speed, Junior, that shouldn’t have been possible.”
“Who knows? Maybe because you’re drunk?”
“Tch. I ain’t so soused I’d misjudge the range…”
“Funny, because you reek of booze. Did you skip drinking it and just splash it on yourself?”
“Heh heh…”
Song Jong-in let out a foolish little laugh. The tip of the sword he’d withdrawn swung back toward Choi Yeon.
“Fine. Whether it’s the liquor or because our Squinty Junior’s that good—let’s find out. I won’t hold back this time.”
“You were holding back? If I hadn’t dodged, that would’ve gone through my shoulder.”
“That’s right. The shoulder.”
Not the heart, yeah?
The voice settled low across the bridge. As if chasing it, Song Jong-in’s body dropped and his blade swept—trying to cut down the very sound of his own words.
Choi Yeon lifted his right leg at once and cleared the cut. In that same instant he saw Song Jong-in’s fully exposed back.
Bring it down now?
…No. That would put a hole through my gut.
He yanked the raised leg back hard and retreated.
BOOM!
The sword punched empty air. If he’d taken the opening for a counter, his stomach would have been run through.
There was no time to feel safe. Song Jong-in’s blade came hunting for Choi Yeon in a relentless storm. The whistle of steel carried outward; every time it did, Amhyanghoe faces twisted. Their Branch Manager—who always punched through opponents in a single stroke—couldn’t even land a cut. It was impossible to believe.
That bastard… is really a C-class hunter?
Disbelief and shock spread. In the time it took for the two of them to trade places, Song Jong-in figured out why his blade kept missing.
Choi Yeon was dodging the instant the sword moved. Outstanding reflexes—but something else was more surprising. Reflexes meant nothing if you couldn’t see.
Whoosh!
Song Jong-in cut empty air, as if slicing the inferiority complex standing behind Choi Yeon.
“Those eyes of yours are damn good, Squinty Junior. For how tiny the holes are.”
“…Are you insulting my looks right now?”
“Huh? Technically I’m just statin’ the already-insulted fact, ain’t I? You do have squinty eyes.”
“…….”
“Lord. How’s our junior made it this far without—”
Without his name gettin’ out?
He almost muttered it, then stopped. A spark cracked through his mind.
Why only the Dongdae Chief had come, and not Choi Heeseok. Why a man of Choi Heeseok’s caliber—someone who could hold his own even in Seoul—had stayed a Dongdae hunter.
The reason was obvious.
“Heh… Look at these crafty snakes. Raisin’ a successor in secret, were ya?”
“What?”
“Eh? Don’t tell me you don’t know.”
“……?”
Choi Yeon’s head tipped slightly. Looking at a face that truly didn’t understand, Song Jong-in burst out laughing. He tried to hold it in and failed completely.
How could he not laugh? The kid being groomed as a successor didn’t even know it himself.
“Hah—hahaha! This is a masterpiece! Fine. Let’s see if you’ve got the timber for it.”
“Uh, I think you’ve got a pretty massive misunderstanding going.”
“That so? Looks crystal clear from where I’m standin’.”
“Clear about what, exactly…”
Choi Yeon let the sentence die. Correcting someone who was already convinced of their own delusion was never easy.
Might as well use it.
“…All right. I’ll show you whether I’ve got the timber or not.”
“That’s the spirit. Otherwise, Squinty Junior dies today.”
“Hooo…”
Choi Yeon let out a long breath. The moment every last scrap of air left his lungs—
“……!”
Song Jong-in moved. It was pure protocol—the protocol burned into the mind and body of a hunter who had spent decades going in and out of dungeons.
When you meet a monster you’ve never seen before, fall back at once.
A bead of flustered sweat slid down Song Jong-in’s cheek as he vacated the spot. An unthinkable, almost laughable mistake.
“…You sure about that?”
“What?”
“That’s right in front of our car.”
“What’re you suddenly—”
Song Jong-in never finished the sentence. A car that could hit a hundred kilometers an hour in four-point-five seconds came charging like a bull. He scrambled clear of it. If the first dodge had been protocol burned into muscle, this one was pure survival instinct.
“Have a good day.”
The farewell brushed past Song Jong-in’s ear. He saw Choi Yeon, already latched onto the B-pillar of the speeding car as it shot past.
“You ridiculous bastard! You pour out killing intent like a monster and then run? Heh heh—I ain’t lettin’ you just walk away…!”
Song Jong-in gathered mana into the hand gripping his sword, lining up a ranged strike on the fleeing car. Just as he nearly had enough mana to fire the skill, something round and fist-sized filled his vision.
“…What?”
He recognized it instantly. A thing every hunter got to hold a few times during training, for educational purposes.
In other words—
“You crazy son of a—! You’re throwin’ a mana bomb?!”
Song Jong-in swung and batted the mana bomb aside. After protocol and survival instinct came pure, lightning-fast reflexes.
KA-BOOM!
A violent explosion swallowed Song Jong-in and Samcheon Bridge. If he hadn’t knocked it away, he would have been at the heart of the blast.
Every gaze on the bridge snapped toward the explosion. Amhyanghoe never even thought to stop the car racing past them—not with their Branch Manager caught in the blast.
“Mm. That ought to keep them from chasing.”
Choi Yeon dropped into the passenger seat with a soft thump. The chief, driving with one eye constantly flicking to the rearview mirror and the explosion, bellowed.
“Choi Yeon, you madman…! What the hell were you thinkin’, throwin’ a mana bomb?!”
“Huh? Me?”
“You—you…! I watched you do it with my own two eyes, and you’re gonna play dumb?”
“I’m not playing dumb. Amhyanghoe threw the mana bomb.”
“…What?”
“Chae-young saw it too, right? Amhyanghoe throwing it.”
Saying so, Choi Yeon glanced back. The smile on his face belonged to a mischievous kid.