367. Invisible Undercurrents (7)
If I were to speak of my connection to Geum Taejong from my past life, it was, as usual, nothing more than a one-sided memory. One might even question if it could truly be called a connection at all. After all, I'd only ever seen his name once on the list of fallen warriors from the Sichuan Blood Massacre.
Nor had anything changed in this life to forge a bond between us. We were little more than distant acquaintances.
So, tracing back our "connection" meant sifting through fragments of memory.
The first recollection was from when I'd tossed my academy pass at the main gate. It was Geum Taejong, grumbling as he watched the scene.
What the hell, why's he showing off like that.
The second was at the entrance banquet, when I showed up in robes embroidered with the word "Top."
What a disgraceful sight.
The third came after returning from Sichuan, his eyes blazing as he glared at me.
Acting all high and mighty.
The fourth was when I pulled the academy students out of the Jegal clan's geomunjinbeop. Unlike before, he approached me for the first time and muttered,
……You'll die soon enough.
The fifth.
The commander shouldn't be out front, I told you……
He was closer than ever before. The guy who always stared at me with a stiff face smiled for the first time and said,
……I'm just taking a short break. Can't drink if I'm too worn out.
Seeing his first smile—and realizing it was on his dying face—was a cruel joke.
"……."
That's why I couldn't understand it. Geum Taejong and I hadn't been close enough for that. Hell, hadn't he always disliked me?
And yet.
Hey, from now on…… don't step up front. The captain's important…… so……
He'd taken a sword strike meant for me. The satisfied smile as he died was an unsolved mystery.
"……and so, our Ilhakmun has decided to use this incident as……."
The words of the Ilhakmun leader, Song Jusaeng, droned on, but I could barely hear them. My eyes were fixed on Geum Taeseon, her lips still pouting in that sullen expression.
"Jin Gongja? Jin Gongja?"
Realizing I'd zoned out, Song Jusaeng furrowed his brow.
"Are you listening to me?"
His eyes slanted upward in clear irritation. Even as he bowed his head, he strained to glare at me, creating an odd angle.
This humble posture of his wasn't genuine.
In my past life, around this time, Ilhakmun had crushed the rising Cheonmokjang—a group secretly practicing sorcery—and expanded greatly, claiming a seat among the 108 Peaks.
Later, Ilhakmun grew so powerful and renowned that an old madman who insulted them in Murim Alliance territory was beaten to death by thugs.
I gazed at Song Jusaeng, still lightly bowing his head. Perhaps his sharpness—bringing the families here to subtly pressure them over his disciple's unjust death—was what allowed Ilhakmun to flourish like that.
"……."
I sifted through memory fragments, reviewing his words again. Then I nodded.
"Of course. I've definitely included Ilhakmun's contributions in the report. No need to worry."
Only then did Song Jusaeng's expression soften.
"That's a relief. One might say nitpicking merits in such a situation is meaningless, but for a death to have meaning……."
I cut him off. I understood his feelings, but that didn't make others' deaths any lighter.
"Sect Leader. Why not save that talk for later?"
As I glanced at Geum Taejong's family, he nodded as if he'd realized something. No, he seemed pleased and continued.
"Taejong's family hasn't been home in weeks because of this. If their merits aren't recognized……."
I felt bad for Geum Taeseon. Kids might not understand the world then, but vague memories like that scar later.
I gave him the answer to shut him up.
"Understood. I'll submit an additional report, so don't worry."
"Oh! Thank you. Now their resentment can finally be eased."
Song Jusaeng headed toward his sect members. They'd been whispering quietly, but now their shoulders shook as if holding back laughter.
The child still wore a pouty face, unable to see her brother. The middle-aged couple behind her kept their heads down—fear or resentment, I couldn't read their expressions.
I never confirmed if what the Ilhakmun leader wanted was what the family desired too.
Unknowingly, my fists clenched tight.
"I probably can't keep that promise."
I approached Geum Taeseon and spoke, but the child stared off without moving.
"Sorry."
I left those small words and walked away.
The first investigation team dispatched to Mukrim had returned. In their hands were a few enemy weapons and the remains of some academy students.
The bereaved families, who'd been staying at the Murim Alliance for weeks, wailed upon seeing the remains.
Those clinging to last hopes received final confirmation of their deaths.
Those who got remains back were the fortunate ones.
"Our son……! Wasn't our son there?!"
"Where's Beomgwon?! He definitely went with them!"
Most families received no remains.
"There were many traces of Hwagol Mountain." But tales of Hwagol Mountain weren't shared with those without remains, leaving them to cling to faint hopes that their loved ones might still be alive somewhere.
Those with remains versus those without—which was luckier? Impossible to say.
In any case, the funeral proceeded. They'd considered survivors but couldn't delay indefinitely, so it went as scheduled.
Academy students donned officer robes months early. No one showed excitement at wearing the coveted Murim Alliance uniforms.
Coffins—some with bodies, others empty—lined the grand training grounds as the ceremony unfolded.
Most students had recovered from injuries, yet they sobbed in pain. Those sobs spread to bereaved families and sect brothers watching the funeral.
It was the grandest ceremony ever, drawing mourners from across the land to the Alliance.
"Today, we remember those who gave their lives for peace in the gangho. Their deaths will nourish history, influencing generations as a firm foundation……."
All praised the fallen students as "heroes," but no families were moved. They simply couldn't hide their grief at the final confirmation they'd never see them again.
Thus, the funeral ended. The Mukrim dead were registered as Alliance members, then as meritorious heroes before the ink dried.
I reserved Songhwagak—one of Muhwan's three great taverns—through Haomen. Months after promising drinks post-mission, I was finally fulfilling it.
"Eldest senior brother, why Songhwagak? Should we book somewhere quieter now?"
"Too quiet wouldn't do."
"Ah……."
Arriving early and sipping, Sahwal-dan members trickled in one by one.
"Captain's really going all out, huh?"
"Can we handle this? He won't ditch us and run later, right? Heh heh."
"Nah…… A guy who didn't run in Mukrim ain't running here."
"You know money scares people more than enemies?"
The lame jokes suggested a good choice. But as more gathered, those idly toying with cups increased.
Sahwal-dan filled floors three to five, yet silence lingered. Noise from one, two, and six provided some cover.
Fortunately, adding quips to the din naturally broke the quiet.
"Where you thinking of applying?"
Someone pondering the future.
"Remember Yang Brewery's second daughter? Wanna confess—how?"
Someone seeking advice.
"Sis, you put powder on or what?"
Even chit-chat flowed.
Ordinary talk passed mundanely for once.
"Oh yeah, that Wang Juppal guy saved for here. Wasted effort."
"……."
Casually, talk turned to the dead.
The speaker and listeners realized what they'd forgotten, shoulders slumping.
No, they'd never forgotten—just averted eyes.
As heavy silence weighed down, someone across snickered.
"Yeah. Missed free booze."
Then beside: "That idiot hated the captain but blew his shot at his wallet!"
"Idiots gonna idiot. Heh heh."
They hurled insults, downing drinks fast. Talk of the dead began.
"Yang Jingeuk claimed Cheongryonggak, but total bullshit, right?"
"With those scores? Lucky for Baekranggak or branch. Ha ha!"
"Says the guy barely scraping by. Worst case, armory?"
"Ooh, genius? But do they take no-skill hacks like me?!"
Pent-up stories burst forth.
Absent friends coated the unconscious with sorrow; routine voids brought massive loss.
Pretending normalcy, they crumbled now, using cups as excuse.
"That guy's pride was sky-high…… ugh……."
Teary sobs erupted at tables. Even scolders teared up.
Denied time to vent, they downed the sweet-bitter liquor relentlessly.
Finally, freely.
The rowdy drinking turned mournful again.
After long, as tears slowed, someone yelled at me.
"Captain, say something!"
"Me?"
"Who else? Some rando?"
"……You seem itching to."
"Tch, busted."
Laughter erupted at the suddenness; the guy blushed crimson and sat.
I tried brushing it off, but eyes turned to me.
Sobs and noise faded; upper-floor students peeked down.
……What is this.
"Hoo."
No choice, I stood.
As words formed—
"……."
Geum Taejong blocking my path flashed.
"……Our comrades died unexpectedly."
Not just him. Other students' deaths surfaced.
"Died so pointlessly……."
Students murmured. This might spark debate.
Past-life Small Justice Squad deaths followed.
"No matter what meaning the Alliance gives death, living beats noble dying."
Tae-eulmun deaths, Alliance deaths surfaced.
Memories flooded like unlocked floodgates.
"Who knows how many more deaths await."
Past words from today-like days. Words with squad.
"More fights than expected, constant life threats."
Blunt, no frills, like us idiots.
"Witness pointless deaths. Days of grief ahead."
Yet comforting, reassuring.
"So…… so……."
I voiced them this life.
"Survive. Desperately."
Hoping it comforted them as it did me.
"For myself…… and those who care for me."
Praying they wouldn't break against the despair ahead.
"Survive."