Chapter 12
Chapter 12: Even Now, When I Close My Eyes, I Dream of That Time.
[Participant Number 1074 Kim Moo-young, Participant Number 0014 Jo Seong-hwan. Sparring begins]
A dazzling training ground I'd never laid eyes on since birth. A short greeting under the bright lights, followed by the start of the spar. My opponent's gaze, glaring at me as if I were ridiculous. The moment our swords clashed, that gaze turned to panic.
And then.
Schwick—!
Blood spraying toward the sky. My right arm falling along the trail of blood. Followed by the horrific pain and sense of loss.
“Arrrghhhh—!”
“Stop the spar! Stop the spar—!”
The one who severed my arm was the son of the renowned noble house, the Pungyang Jo Clan. He claimed my sword had been aimed at his throat, so he'd used aura to cut off my arm.
It was a lie.
But it didn't matter.
“How did you manage the exam to let that lowly scum shove a sword at our boy—!”
His hysterical parents slapped the examiner's cheek right there and screamed. I was disqualified without a chance to protest.
First reason: a rightless anti-Japanese had nearly harmed a noble heir.
Second: with my right arm gone, I failed to achieve the Royal Guard's most important virtue, the “purity of the flesh.”
“……This won't do.”
“W-what do you mean it won't do?”
I demanded compensation for the accident during the exam, but the administrative support center counselor shoved my documents into the shredder like they were a nuisance. Without even opening the cover.
“It's stated in the Joseon Constitution: ‘No compensation shall be paid to those without Joseon citizenship.’”
“C-citizenship was applied for long ago! Residency period is sufficient, all qualifications met! It's just the issuance that's……!”
“Doesn't matter, you didn't get it issued, right? Or do you have your citizenship card?”
“……!”
You're the one handling my citizenship review.
The words rose to my throat, but I swallowed them. Even a low-level court official—nothing to gain by touching that.
“Business done? Get out. Next—!”
The counselor cut off interest in me like there was no more to see.
“Tch, that retarded anti-Japanese bastard wasting my time with his crap.”
That mutter came just as I was leaving the counseling room.
Born and lived my whole life in this country called Joseon. Yet to Joseon, I was merely a foreigner.
—...Now, the youngest qualifier in this Royal Guard enlistment exam! Young master Jo Seong-hwan of the prestigious noble Pungyang Jo Clan! Welcome, young master!
—Nice to meet you.
Leaving the resident center empty-handed, a familiar face appeared on the holographic screen in the sky.
—First, congratulations on the youngest Royal Guard enlistment! The competition was fierce, I heard! Any advice or encouragement for those preparing?
—Haha, you're hyping me up, it's embarrassing. Actually, there's no special secret to passing.
Jo Seong-hwan. The face of the guy who cut off my arm.
—Fight fair and square. Pour all your strength without shame. That's it.
—Ooooh—!
The reporter's exclamation drew cheers echoing across Hanseong.
Was the tightness in my chest the pain from the severed arm, or self-loathing?
“Oppa?”
Back home, hugging my young sister, I vowed. With dreams and talent lost, she was my last hope. I'd make her a Joseon citizen. I wouldn't let her live as a lowly anti-Japanese like me. Absolutely not.
No matter what it took……!
“Hey, Kim Moo-young!”
“?!”
My eyes snapped open at the voice calling my name.
“Anesthesia still lingering, it seems. Can't regain senses on time……”
“Nerve network status? No issues, right?”
The first people I saw upon opening my eyes: senior bodyguard Seo Tae-woong. And the boy looking at me with an inscrutable expression.
Kim Chang-un, the fool of the Andong Kim Clan. The boy who pulled me from the slums.
“Y-Young… master……”
“If you're lucid, get up. Transplant's done.”
Transplant.
Those words cleared my head. Moo-young sat up from the medical device.
Whirr—!
With an alien mechanical sound, a black-gleaming right arm appeared.
A prosthetic made of black special alloy. A 1st-grade new model, fully disassembled and modified for strength assistance and durability—a simple model.
But most astonishing was the precision of the modifications by the maker. Not just gripping a sword—every hand motion possible, suitable even for daily life.
The sensation of my long-lost right arm felt vividly clear now.
“Hoo, didn't know you'd go this far.”
“On par with official factories. No, considering precision……”
“Beyond that. Why's a tech like that rotting in the lowest layer?”
While Tae-woong and Chang-un spoke, Moo-young's gaze stayed fixed on his new right arm. The arm lost that day. The arm severed by a noble's sword, greeting him in a new form.
Suppressing the welling emotions took more effort than expected.
“……Ah!”
But the感動 was brief. Shaking off the anesthesia, Moo-young quickly checked his account.
“What're you doing?”
“One moment, Young Master. First, the payment……”
No time for admiration. A latest 1st-grade prosthetic at black market price, security removed, fully disassembled, modified, reassembled. Easily over five times the standard price.
With interest, it'll be harder. Need to check bank loans before today ends……
But then.
“Payment? What payment?”
Chang-un asked as if it didn't make sense.
“Obviously, the prosthetic you provided……”
“Pfft, that's what it was.”
Chang-un waved his hand dismissively.
“No need.”
“……Pardon?”
Moo-young couldn't believe his ears at Chang-un's words.
“Not like a gift from our first meeting—it's a tool for your work. Not stupid enough to charge for that.”
“No, Young Master! Already received too much, if you keep……”
“Too much? Who are you to decide?”
Cutting Moo-young off, Chang-un said with a hardened expression.
“Moo-young. You're my bodyguard. Right?”
“Y-yes.”
“Who you fight, who you kill, where you go, what you do—I decide. Right?”
“Y-yes……”
“Exactly. So.”
Chang-un looked at Moo-young's prosthetic shoulder.
“Whether this arm is too much for you—I decide.”
Moo-young's shoulders tensed at Chang-un's humorless voice.
“I judged you'd produce more than worth with this arm now. Invested because I saw the value.”
“Then, I……!”
“So what do you do? Reject it saying my judgment's wrong and run? After coming this far?”
Grabbing the tense shoulder, Chang-un said.
“One thing: bloom your talent.”
“……!”
“And show utility with it. Not just what I expect—beyond.”
For a long time. Something forgotten for ages awakened. The elation of recognized potential. The ambition to rise and meet the expectation. Dreams and hopes abandoned when the arm was severed—they returned to place.
“So quit the chatter and check it.”
Any foreign feel vs old body? Functions to add? Say now. Don't whine later—wastes time.
As Chang-un relaxed his expression.
“……Huh?”
Drip.
Drip.
Something blocked burst. Tears flowed from Moo-young's eyes.
“Hey, Tae-woong. What's with him? Crying suddenly? Prosthetic aftereffect? Then return it now……”
“I'll repay.”
Repay? What?
Chang-un looked baffled at the tear-streaked but resolute Moo-young.
“I'll definitely repay. What you've bestowed on me. On me and my sister. Never forget.”
“……”
No matter what it took. Whatever it took.
“I'll repay everything you've given me. Definitely… definitely……!”
“……Jeez, what was that about.”
Finally understanding, Chang-un smirked.
“Of course you will.”
Only a week left until the audience ceremony.
Meaning, a week until “that incident” on the day—and my plan to match it.
“Fuu.”
Moo-young's prosthetic ready, Tae-woong gathering clan intel. All possible prep done, yet I sat at the computer rechecking the plan.
No matter how tight the plan, real situations are unpredictable.
“'Repay me,' huh……”
Clan supply routes. Invited clans and companies. While cramming data, I recalled today's events and chuckled.
'I'll definitely repay you, Kim Chang-un.'
Moo-young's words first brought past life memories.
Empty right sleeve. Left arm hugging dead sister's corpse.
'What you did to me and Ha-young. Won't let it slide!'
'No matter what…'
'Whatever it takes…!'
'I'll drag you and all you Sedao to hell, not one spared…!'
“Didn't expect to hear that again.”
I did the opposite to him, yet same words back. Ironic.
Lost in sentiment recalling Moo-young, briefly.
Knock knock.
Door knock.
“Guest this late? For me?”
Tae-woong and Moo-young out for prep. Tilted head, opened door.
“Whoa, shit—scared me.”
I jolted back seeing the figure.
“……”
Black visor where face should be. Clean limbs, no prosthetics. Distinct uniform.
Recognized instantly. Palace maid from the Inner Palace Bureau.
“……”
She bowed silently.
I knew why immediately.
“Audience ceremony near, sent attendant?”
“……”
She bowed affirmatively.
I sighed faintly.
Poor mutes. Frustrating as ever.
But then.
“Hm?”
Narrowed eyes at what she offered.
“Letter? Not even from main house—to me?”
No answer. Just staring, urging me to take.
Even knowing why, can't speak.
Scratched head, took the letter.
Letter at this timing—who?
Not in past life. Head complicated.
But then.
“……Hah.”
Unfolded, disbelieving laugh.
Center of paper.
A grinning Hahoe mask face drawn there.