That Damn Missable Face
The warriors dispatched to Sichuan had returned.
The battle had dragged on longer than expected. For the exhausted fighters, worn down by endless skirmishes with the unorthodox sects, the grueling march back in early winter felt like forced labor.
But the moment they arrived at Wuhuan, the capital of Hubei Province...
“Waaaaah! It’s the Murim Alliance warriors!”
“They’ve upheld the justice of the rivers and lakes!”
“Warriors! I want to join the Murim Alliance too!”
Their slumped shoulders, weighed down by heavy packs, straightened at the sight of the massive crowds waiting from the city gates to catch a glimpse of the returning heroes. Children offered food. Women handed over letters. Even drunkards thrust out cups of liquor to the passing warriors.
Countless people praised them for their victory over the Blood Cult, filling the void carved in their hearts by the brutal war with a swelling sense of fulfillment. Veterans who had long served in the Murim Alliance and weathered many battles helped the greenhorns—fresh from their first taste of combat—enjoy the welcome without reservation.
“Don’t be shy, idiot—go grab that letter!”
“Take whatever the kids give you. It’ll be a good memory for them too.”
“No booze! You’ve still got the final debrief ahead.”
The rookies, still reeling from the horrors and aftermath of their debut war, followed their seniors’ lead in a daze. One fumbled a letter and had it snatched back. Others got plastered from the drunkards’ cups. They laughed at their comrades’ antics, then teased them mercilessly to keep the mirth going, louder and more exaggerated than usual—as if the nightmare of war had never happened. Like people desperately turning toward joy to shut out reality, they embraced the adulation with fervor.
In the Murim Alliance’s grand training grounds, the warriors from Sichuan stood in formation.
On the platform above sat the Alliance elders, with the Murim Alliance Leader at the center, scanning the valiant faces of his fighters one by one. Then, he unleashed a slow, resonant lion’s roar.
I cannot evaluate your achievements with mere words of "well done."
As members receiving stipends from the Alliance, we cannot pawn your lives. Your voluntary participation was thus profoundly noble. Some bear irrecoverable wounds; others never returned from that hellish land. Though lives are said to be dictated by heaven, blaming the skies for man-made strife strikes me as utter irresponsibility.
Every survivor here has lost someone. The title of "valiant warrior" is but a tattered rag draped over the corpses and blood of comrades. Knowing this, their steps homeward—victory in hand—were unbearably heavy. Their louder laughter amid the cheers was their way of seeking meaning.
Thus, your sacrifices are profoundly noble. War profits no one, yet it always inflicts harm—spreading faster among the weak than the strong.
Your victory proves more than your existence! Remember: you’ve safeguarded the peace of all who dwell in the rivers and lakes and the world beyond. With my deepest sincerity, I thank you for returning alive. Thank you for protecting the realm.
Hyeok Mu-gang bowed his head and clasped his hands in salute. The warriors, heads lowered, returned the gesture and roared in unison.
“““Glory to the Leader!”””
Their synchronized shout shook the Murim Alliance. Moments later, Hyeok Mu-gang raised his head with a smile.
Tonight, we’ve prepared a feast in your honor. I hope it eases your war-weary souls.
No sooner had he finished than cheers filled the Alliance.
“““Waaaaah!”””
This time, it was no forced cry—pure, heartfelt elation.
“……Walk faster, will you?”
Maeng Ju-won’s lips puffed out at the Mantongbu officer’s urging.
“Didn’t you hear the Alliance Leader? I’m one of the noble sacrificers who returned from the front.”
“……I know.”
“Then I deserve to enjoy the feast too!”
The officer sighed deeply.
“You think I don’t want to—urk!”
Maeng Ju-won suddenly wrapped an arm around the officer’s neck, thrashing wildly.
“That’s right! You couldn’t find me! And you had to report it!”
“Gaaah……!”
The officer flailed, clawing at his arm and screaming.
“Guh…… But the Chief Strategist said where I’d be, hack…… How am I supposed to pretend I don’t knoooow!”
“……Isn’t the Chief Strategist scary? Am I not?”
“Urk, of course you’re scary too…… But the Chief Strategist is, guh……! Even you fear him!!”
“…….”
Maeng Ju-won tightened his grip. The officer shrieked as if his neck might snap.
“St-stop!!!”
“……Sigh.”
Releasing him at last, Maeng Ju-won rubbed his temples.
“That busy?”
“Cough, ugh…… I’m going insane.”
“Hah…… Knew it.”
He’d deliberately stayed with the rear guard to wrap things up and return late. But the Mantongbu’s furious order to send him back immediately had the Sichuan branch chief shoving him into the lead group, trembling. Even amid battles, after, and on the road home, work never stopped. He hadn’t escaped the life of a clung-to doll.
“We’re truly sorry. We know you were the busiest on the front lines.”
The officer’s darkened eyelids betrayed layers of fatigue.
“But we’re dying here too. Especially the Chief Strategist.”
“…….”
“We haven’t slept a full two hours a day this past month. He hasn’t left Mantongbu once.”
The officer looked on the verge of tears.
“I’ll push for long leave once this ends! But right now, without you, we can’t handle the Sichuan remnants or the returnees properly.”
Maeng Ju-won sighed long.
“……Fine.”
“Pardon?”
“I said fine! Let’s go!”
“I-I’ll lead the way.”
The officer’s steps wobbled. How exhausted was he? Maeng Ju-won had at least kept his sleep during the war—not by choice, but necessity; lit barracks at night drew enemy fire. These guys had no such limits, yet he’d foolishly demanded a day off. He felt childish.
Approaching the main hall housing Mantongbu, the vibe shifted starkly from the relaxed training grounds, where comrades reveled and reunited. Here, it was warzone chaos: disheveled clerks dashed about heedlessly.
Entering Mantongbu, the guiding officer bellowed.
“The Deputy Chief is back!”
The ripple was immediate.
“Huh?!”
“Whoa!”
“D-Deputy Chief!”
All dropped their tasks and swarmed him. Though constant coworkers, this welcome stunned Maeng Ju-won. Some wept, overcome.
“Thank you! Thank you, sir!”
“You’re finally back!”
“Heavens be praised!”
Like parents hearing a child’s safe return? Mantongbu became a sea of tears. Even Maeng Ju-won’s chest tightened at their devotion.
But……
Huh? What’s this?
Amid misty gazes, the guide’s eyelids looked whiter than before.
“Finally! We can go home!”
“Home! I can sleep at home!”
“I’m free!”
They hugged, sobbing, then packed and fled Mantongbu. Stunned, Maeng Ju-won stammered.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
Grabbing his guide: “Quitting for the day, sir!”
……The officer beamed innocently.
Maeng Ju-won sensed something off.
“Q-quitting? You said work’s piled up?”
“You said you’d let us off when you returned.”
“…….”
“See ya!”
The officer’s soot vanished; he left without hesitation, grinning. Maeng Ju-won let out a hollow laugh.
What the hell……
Then, from within emerged Jegal Somyeong—pristine, untouched by a day’s leave.
“You’re back?”
“…….”
“Get to work.”
Only then did Maeng Ju-won realize he’d been played. The damn Mantongbu rats had conspired to sell him out to this demon boss.
“Oh right!”
Heading to his office, Jegal Somyeong turned, patting his shoulder.
“Good work. You’re a true hogang.”
“…….”
“Hm? Why the face?”
Hogang—the fool who sticks their head in a tiger’s mouth? Maeng Ju-won burned to demand why the insult atop his rage, but fury choked him silent.
Jegal Somyeong nodded smugly at the sight.
“Hoh, overwhelmed by the praise?”
……Where had it all gone wrong?
With only the end-term practical evaluation left, I stepped out into Wuhuan’s streets with the academy representatives.
Partly to thank them for their hard work in my absence, but also because……
“Do I even deserve to eat anything?”
Seong Moran, clutching her report card, had slumped for days.
“I should’ve gone into secluded training with Seonhwa……”
Beside her, Geum Pyo hung his head like a criminal.
“Yeah. They say a Mu grade means turtle-head.”
“Who said that?!”
Seong Moran’s venomous glare made Geum Pyo’s finger sneak toward Eunho. She eyed the gulping Eunho, then sighed.
“True…… I’m a turtle-head. Should just hide in my shell.”
We’d come out for air to cheer up the deflated duo. I consoled her.
“Don’t blame yourself too much, Junior Seong Moran. You still have a chance to turn it around.”
“……Sigh.”
She stared at me after her sigh.
“But.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“How are you getting all Gap grades without even attending classes properly?”
Whoa, flames might shoot from her eyes. I shrugged at her veiled killing intent.
“……Uh, good preview and review?”
The academy exams meant little to me. With Mantongbu files and Manseogo’s tomes memorized, low scores would be weirder. But her glare sharpened…… Nah, imagination.
I coughed, averting to the side.
“Right, senior brother? We can still turn it around!”
Geum Pyo beamed. Brainless fool. I flicked his forehead hard.
“You turtle! Don’t ever say you’re from Tae-eul Gate out there. It’s embarrassing!”
“…….”
I ignored his betrayed look and walked on. The bustling market lifted moods; Seong Moran’s steps lightened.
“Unusually crowded today.”
“Probably the low-rank warrior recruitment.”
“Low-rank?”
I nodded.
“Sichuan hit Baekrang-gak and Heukrang-gak hardest.”
“…….”
War’s toll was inevitable, but its concentration felt bitter. “They’ve posted notices for mass hiring.”
One person’s spot easily filled by another—unavoidable, yet bitter. Seong Moran nodded, grasping the crowds.
“That explains it.”
“Yeah. What a great gig.”
“Pardon?”
I hid a wry smile.
“Just mumbling.”
By now, my old Small Justice Squad recruits would be gathering. They’d be culled and refilled through trials, becoming the squad I knew only much later. Their ordeals were etched in my mind. In this second life, should I stop them? They’d cursed their choice nightly.
But was that right? Maybe I dodged judging them.
……Me, thinking of those punks.
Sahyeokryeon, Yaryul Geuk—lately, those ugly mugs haunted me.
Damn Small Justice Squad……
A bittersweet, nostalgic smile tugged my lips unbidden.
Then Eunho’s voice snapped me back.
“Senior brother, table’s ready.”
“Got it.”
As I moved to follow—
Huh?
A familiar face amid the throng froze me. Loathsome, hated, despised. Yet trustworthy at my back, mutual comforters. No doubt—that face.
“S-senior brother!”
Eunho’s call faded into air.
No way…… No way……!
I plunged through the dense crowd with Tae-eul Paeman Sinbo, covering ten zhang before grabbing his shoulder.
Yes—that back shielding me, life risked on the battlefield.
“……Yaryul Jae!”
“Huh?”
The turning man was unmistakably the Yaryul Jae I knew.