Unleashed Dog, Shackles of Subordination
The product of sorcery from the Age of Glory. A binding created by an emperor who doubted the loyalty of his knights. That wicked spell still carries its legacy across the ages.
“Your dragon blood has been confirmed. Well, I’ll be damned. Never thought I’d live to see someone with dragon blood in my lifetime.”
A dark basement. A damp stench clung to the air. So did this old man’s ugly greed.
“But kid, I’ve already paid upfront. If you don’t settle the debt like this, I’m going to get very angry. I might even burn your house down in a fit of rage.”
“Don’t make empty threats. I’ll keep the promise.”
“Sure, sure. They all say that. But how can I trust you? Right?”
“…What are you trying to say?”
“That’s why I’ve prepared something to build trust between us.”
The old man known as Shylock was a capable one. Even as the branch head of an information guild, finding a sorcerer who could actually perform the Shackles of Subordination couldn’t have been easy. But the shackles were still just sorcery in the end—a conditional pact carried out with the sorcerer as witness. I had to find the gap in it and carve out the smallest possible path to freedom.
“I, Shylock Scrooge, desire your obedience, master of dragon blood. In exchange for that obedience, state what you desire.”
He claimed it was an exchange, but sorcery was never fair to begin with. It was a cheap trick to swindle the spirits that governed the world’s will. So I would only ask for the smallest greed possible.
“The safety of my loved ones, and respect for my convictions. Yeah… that was it.”
“Auto-hunting? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Shylock, the scales of sorcery deem this reasonable.”
“Fine. I accept. But don’t even think about trying anything stupid.”
Obedience was submission. I would live on as that puppet. What emotions could a tool possibly have?
The sorcery smeared a hazy film over wounded feelings and buried the guilt deep underground. Only thick, stale dust piled on top, and I couldn’t bring myself to look beneath it.
There was a day like that.
Shylock had wanted to saddle a family with debt through their own internal feud. As usual, beneath the moonlight, he slid a knife across the throat of one of the heirs. While I washed the blade in a babbling brook, a small child approached me.
“Brother… do you have a knife?”
“A knife? Did your mother say she needed one?”
“No. I need it. Can you lend me one?”
“What for?”
“My dad died. I’m going to get revenge.”
I understood. This was the nine-year-old son of the man I had killed today. I remembered seeing his portrait.
“I’ll give you the knife, but how about you wait until you’re a little bigger to take revenge?”
“Why?”
“You don’t even know who to get revenge on. And you’re too weak. Come find me in Zachsen in ten years. I’ll help you then.”
“Okay.”
The next day I saw the child’s corpse at the castle gate. They said he was the blood relative of a traitor. The boy’s blood-filled pupils stared back at me.
This memory is mine.
There was a day like this, too.
It must have been my first mission. I killed a gambler—one who had been cheating people. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of cheating a noble, and that was the end of him. I only learned later that he had a bedridden old mother. When I visited his house after the fact, all I found was a lonely corpse who had died in solitude.
What felt strange was how little it shook me. So I buried her myself. So that someday I wouldn’t regret it.
The corpse crawls out of the grave and asks me, “Is that all?”
It is looking at me.
Run. Run. Run.
Where? Anywhere!
But why am I running?
I don’t even know!
Late at night, beneath the moonlight, I ran and ran. When the sun rose I hid. I couldn’t bear to look at that bright sun, so I hid. I dug out a small shelter beneath the roots of a large tree and rested there.
This was the proper life of a vampire. If I sat there blankly staring at bright light, I would feel something wriggling upward without fear. A larva. No—the touch of the dead. To devour prey. No, to judge me.
Why are you running? It’s all in the past anyway. Is it really that important?
Right. It’s all ancient history now.
“Shut up.”
Why hadn’t I realized it? Why had I turned away from it? Hundreds, thousands of times. The one who fed the blade with blood and took lives was me. A game? An illusion shown by an anomaly? Don’t make me laugh.
I lifted my trembling hands and covered my face. I breathed evenly. One, two. A sudden thought made me dig my fingers into my face and try to rip the skin off. When the skin refused to tear, I felt relieved and slapped my own cheek hard. It stung.
I recalled Rebecca, now fully grown. All the bickering we did in that house. Back then she refused to listen and caused me so much trouble.
I recalled Shylock’s wrinkled face. That hateful bastard. That filthy child abuser. His greed had no limits.
One by one I recalled the people who had passed through my life.
This place… is another reality. Not the twenty years buried inside two thousand, but a new twenty years belonging to a different me.
The hand I looked down at was sticky with blood from my torn lip. And I am a monster. Here, too. Even though I wear human skin, how could my ugly true nature be hidden?
Lee Han is me. I am Lee Han. So both of us must be hideous.
Run. Run. If it’s too hard, just go home and rest.
Home. What exactly do I mean by home? The two-story house in a good location in Zachsen? The one with smoke always puffing from the chimney? Rebecca would welcome me back, wouldn’t she?
Or my small one-room apartment? I renovated it recently so it’s bigger now, but it always comforted me warmly. Oh, Yena’s probably there right now. That kid worries too much. I don’t want to make her anxious for no reason.
And this is Eclipse. Right now I am Lee Han. No—I’ve always been Lee Han. You are me, and I am me.
My home is Zachsen. Let’s move. Let’s hurry back home and rest.
Beneath the sun that had already set, I quickened my steps again. Staggering, stumbling. My shadow danced.
Rebecca was waiting for someone.
The person who had said he would return around this time. As evening passed, the food on the table grew colder and colder. He had left without any clear promise of when he would be back. Just preparing dinner for such a rotten person was already impressive, yet she had gone all the way outside the gate to wait for him.
One hour… two hours. The passersby who had been glancing at her eventually disappeared, and the empty space they left behind filled with chill. The early spring cold snap was the perfect temperature to catch a cold. Yet she stood firm, sniffling, refusing to leave her post. It looked foolish. Stubbornness, obstinacy—negative words could describe it.
But what dwelled in the eyes of the girl staring steadfastly in one direction was conviction. And what that conviction hid was a small trace of anxiety. A branch hanging above her swayed in the cold wind.
Perhaps it was a reward for her faith. A man emerged from the street swallowed by darkness. Black hair, black eyes, and a pale face that contrasted with them. Moonlight cast an unsteady glow over the man’s head.
Only then could Rebecca finally release the tension she had been holding.
“Hello, Rebecca.”
“Welcome back, Lee Han.”
She barely managed to catch Lee Han as he collapsed right in front of her. Her face looked terribly sad.
The familiar ceiling. My second-floor room in Zachsen. Moonlight poured in through the drawn curtains. The bedsheets smelled freshly washed and rustled softly. The fluffy pillow cradled my head generously. The usual sensation felt grotesquely twisted beneath the moonlight. The sheets grew damp and smelled of blood. The pillow turned into a skull and covered my eyes with its hands. I lay within it. The bed swallowed me. Down, down. If no one had caught me, I would have fallen forever.
“Lee Han. Are you awake?”
The fog of drowsiness lifted. My soft, comfortable bed. Rebecca was looking at me with worry.
“Why did you wake me up so noisily?”
Rebecca’s voice didn’t sound good at all. How did I even get home? I had seen the house. Our house. Our safe house. I was mustering the last of my strength when I saw Rebecca watching me from afar. She smiled and waved me over with open arms that looked so warm I tried to hug her back, but then… I must have let my guard down.
I hope she wasn’t too worried.
“Uh… um. Hi, Rebecca?”
Hey, hey. Why are you about to cry?
“Idiot. We already greeted each other earlier.”
Right. We did.
“Tell me. What happened?”
How much does she know? Her face—angry and on the verge of tears—won’t let me lie. I had always known a day like this would come. Behind her as she watched me, the vivid images of her parents rose up.
“Rebecca, remember when we were kids?”
“Yeah.”
“After… your parents passed away…”
“Say it.”
“You said you would forgive me.”
“I did.”
“Then… you don’t hate me anymore?”
Even after all these years, the tension remained. My heart held its breath.
“I still hate you.”
“…”
“If you had never come to our house, if Mom and Dad had given up on you, if you hadn’t left your seat…”
I exhaled slowly. My chest felt heavy and tight. Seeing me like that, Rebecca let out a small laugh.
“But do you know something, Lee Han? The time I’ve lived with you is longer now. You feel more real to me than Mom and Dad. The feeling of liking you has grown bigger than the feeling of hating you.”
“…”
“Lee Han, it looks like you’ve done something similar again.”
“…Yeah.”
“Does it hurt?”
“It hurts enough to kill me.”
“You can’t die. If you die, I die too.”
That’s a bit… Even if I die, you have to keep living.
“Your sin won’t disappear. You’ll have to carry it in your heart for the rest of your life. But don’t say you feel like dying. Live harder instead. Live… and atone. Just like you did for me.”
Rebecca leaned her body against mine.
“I know. It’s because of me, right? I’m sorry. I’ll always stay by your side and atone with you. So even if it’s incredibly hard… still, hold on for me.”
It must have been near dawn. The sunrise that had crept up unnoticed painted the room red for a moment. White hair. Rebecca’s hair, turned pure white, symbolized my original sin. The karma I carried. I had always been a sinner. Saying I wasn’t myself wouldn’t work. Those moments of committing sin, those judgments, those feelings—they all remained perfectly clear in my memory.
This is my memory.
The Lee Han of Zachsen is me.
Let’s stop running.
Rebecca brings her face closer to mine. Her snow-white hair is so clear it accepts the rising sun’s red glow without resistance. Yes—in this moment her hair is not white. It is red.
She whispers.
“I still need you, Lee Han.”
This child says she needs me. Me, who committed such a terrible wrong.
“Thank you.”
This world may not need me, and I may not be able to undo what I’ve already done, but I will do what is right. Just as much as I have sinned in this world… I will atone.
Morning had come.