Chapter 116
Chapter 116
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 116
Chapter Title: Teachings for the Disciple (7)
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…Different.
That was the first thought that crossed the Saintess's mind as she gazed at Yeomyeong in the vision.
It wasn't her first time seeing him drenched in blood.
She had witnessed it in Manchuria, and even at the academy—him covered in blood and gore.
Yet, even though he was equally soaked in blood, the Yeomyeong in the vision felt somehow different from the current one.
Was it the longer hair, or his slightly taller frame? No, it wasn't that.
His eyes… Yes, it was his eyes.
They were unmistakably the same golden irises as the current Yeomyeong's, but the emotions they held were entirely different.
A gloomy depth that seemed to suck her in.
Just that gaze alone made the future Yeomyeong feel like a completely different person from the present one.
‘…Ugh.’
After staring at the future Yeomyeong for a long while, the Saintess averted her eyes. If she looked even a moment longer, something inside her might break.
The moment she turned away from the future like that, Yeomyeong asked.
“Is this future exactly when? Three years from now? Two years?”
His voice was cold, unlike his usual tone. The Saintess stammered in response.
“I'm not sure exactly… but probably around one or two years from now…?”
“…Shorter than I thought.”
With that sentiment, Yeomyeong turned on his heel.
Was he heading to Seti? No, ignoring both the future Seti and the current Saintess, he climbed the steps of the National Assembly building where flames still lingered.
The Saintess glanced at the future Seti, then followed behind Yeomyeong.
“…”
As she climbed the stairs, she looked back. Beyond the collapsed wall, the burning National Assembly Library… no, the entire burning Yeouido came into view.
A city engulfed in flames beneath thick black smoke… It was a scene straight out of a hell described in the scriptures.
‘All this, done by Yeomyeong and Seti alone? The whole city? No, there must be other forces involved…’
As her doubts deepened, Yeomyeong pulled ahead. The Saintess hurriedly followed him up the stairs.
Yeomyeong stopped at the entrance to the main assembly hall on the fourth floor.
“…”
Still silent, he pushed open the half-destroyed door and entered the chamber.
The moment they stepped inside, a thick stench of blood assaulted their noses.
Frowning slightly, they surveyed the devastated interior of the chamber.
The ceiling, once boasting 365 grand bulbs, was now riddled with holes like it had been bombed, and the hundreds of seats where assembly members once sat lay shattered and scattered everywhere.
“My, my God…”
The Saintess, entering late, covered her mouth at the sight.
More precisely, she trembled at the corpses filling the chamber.
“Five Gods…”
The bodies strewn about had all met the same fate—each one bisected clean in half.
It wasn't her first time seeing corpses, yet the Saintess couldn't stop shaking.
Out of fear? No. Even with her limited knowledge, she could tell what had killed them.
Comet Sword. A martial art only Yeomyeong and Prea Khan could wield.
But Prea Khan hadn't used Comet Sword at all since obtaining the holy sword, so the one who killed these people was clearly…
‘Why?’
Swallowing the question that wouldn't leave her lips, the Saintess stared at Yeomyeong's back.
He showed no particular reaction even as he looked at the corpses clearly created by his future self.
He simply silently took in the scene covered in blood and dust.
The blood-scented silence stretched on for a moment.
“…Saintess.”
Yeomyeong spoke. The Saintess jolted her head up once more.
“Y-Yeah?”
“Do you remember what I said right before fighting the dragon in Manchuria…?”
“…”
The Saintess nodded.
How could she forget? The words about having something he absolutely had to do, so he couldn't risk his life.
To be honest, she remembered that entire day when he said it.
His back as he left, saying he had something to do.
Yet he returned and faced the dragon with her—his courage.
Even after slaying the dragon and the demon, he didn't boast, merely letting out a small sigh—his face.
All those memories overlapped with the man before her.
Cheon Yeomyeong.
Staring blankly at him, the Saintess asked.
“Is this… what you meant back then, the thing you absolutely had to do?”
“Not exactly, but similar.”
“…Similar?”
“Yeah. If things had gone according to the original plan… I would've used a more ‘elegant method’ than this. Looks like the plan failed, though.”
…Elegant method?
Perhaps because of the corpses around them, the Saintess smelled blood so thick from that word it made her nose ache.
“…Why?”
A single word packed with countless questions. Why, you, Seti, why?
“…”
Yeomyeong didn't answer. The Saintess clenched her fists and trembled.
How did it come to this? The future she wanted to share with him wasn't like this.
“Yeomyeong, tell me. Why… why does seeing this future not faze you at all?”
“…”
“Are you really… dreaming of a massacre like this?”
Even though she asked, the Saintess didn't want to hear the answer.
If Yeomyeong said ‘yes,’ she wouldn't be able to bear it.
But Yeomyeong silently gazed at her for a moment, then suddenly extended his hand.
The Saintess looked back and forth between his palm and his face, then unconsciously placed her hand over his.
Yeomyeong's hand, callused and rough.
The sensation from his fingertips was warm. Warm like the previous Saintess's hand.
“Saintess.”
“…Yeah.”
“Do you trust me?”
“…”
It wasn't the question or answer she wanted.
Yet even so, she felt relief from those words.
“…I trust you.”
A soft whisper escaped the Saintess's lips.
“I trust the Yeomyeong who fought the dragon to save people in Manchuria he didn't even know.”
Her voice and pronunciation were as reverent as reciting scripture.
“I trust the Yeomyeong who stood at the front to protect his classmates and fought the terrorists. And…”
“…”
“…I trust the Yeomyeong that Seti likes.”
With that, the Saintess bowed her head deeply.
She no longer had the courage to look at Yeomyeong's face.
Yeomyeong watched her like that and pondered for a moment.
He wasn't some oblivious rom-com protagonist fool. He vaguely understood what thoughts had led her to say this.
But understanding and accepting were entirely different matters.
This pure-hearted… no, the Saintess bearing a weight utterly different from his—taking on her feelings as well was too much when his own future was so uncertain.
‘…Should I kill her?’
As always, the simplest solution came to mind, but it vanished into his subconscious just as quickly.
A foolish thought. Killing the Saintess—how would he handle the storm afterward?
And above all… he lacked the confidence to kill her. It wasn't a question of physical possibility.
Snapping her neck or stabbing her chest. Just thinking about it made his skin crawl.
Would his inner dung beetle be different? He couldn't be sure.
In the end, the agonizing continued endlessly. An even longer silence.
Just as the Saintess slightly lifted her head, Yeomyeong spoke again.
“…Honestly, I got complacent.”
“…”
“Since you said you couldn't see me or Seti in your visions all this time. I thought you wouldn't notice. Or rather, I hoped you wouldn't.”
He gripped her hand tightly and added.
“…Now that it's come to this, if I ask you to pretend you don't know, can you?”
“Not without knowing why… No.”
As expected. Yeomyeong gave a wry smile, took her hand, and left the chamber.
The Saintess let out sounds like “Huh? Huh?” as she was pulled along for a moment.
He and the Saintess sat side by side on the rubble of the collapsed ceiling outside the chamber, using it as a chair. It was the least blood-scented spot.
“You okay? It's… gonna be a long story.”
“…Persuasion is always long.”
“And… I can't tell you everything right here. Especially not about Seti.”
“…”
“Still… wanna hear it?”
“…Yeah.”
The Saintess nodded, and Yeomyeong slowly began to speak.
The long tale started in the back alleys of Incheon, with the story of a certain janitor.
***
The Saintess did not condone murder.
That was the teaching she had learned her whole life. Love peace, respect all life.
But that didn't mean she rejected vengeance.
The red god of struggle she served, Lord Redox, affirmed vengeance through doctrine and arms.
Thus… the Saintess could affirm Yeomyeong's vengeance too.
The tale of the dung beetle becoming Cheon Yeomyeong, the janitor becoming a superhuman—his vengeance within that story was utterly justified, no matter how she thought about it.
Reflecting now, it all felt like fate.
Gifting Yeomyeong Lord Redox's relic in Manchuria was no coincidence.
Giving the symbol of red struggle to a vengeful man—the two were fated from the start…
‘…Nonsense.’
The Saintess cut off her thoughts. It was an absurd excuse.
An excuse born from wanting to side with Yeomyeong and Seti.
The vengeance they planned to exact had long deviated from Lord Redox's teachings.
Killing every Korean government official involved with the Cleanup Guild and necromancers.
How many would that be?
Easily dozens, perhaps hundreds.
That wasn't vengeance—it was a massacre.
Even if it was an evil doomsday cult behind it, it was wrong.
As a Saintess and as a friend, she had a duty to stop them.
She needed to persuade them right now and guide them to the right path.
Even if it meant being hated by them… She had to. She must…
‘…I don't want to.’
She didn't want to.
What did she care what happened to those Korean government scum who joined hands with necromancers?
To her, Cheon Yeomyeong right before her eyes and her friend Hong Seti were a hundred, a thousand times more precious than those villains.
If she could, she wanted to help them.
No… perhaps using the Saintess's power to help was the right thing.
Think about it—rather than letting innocents get hurt like in the vision…
Helping them pick off only the guilty ones—wasn't that truly what a Saintess should do?
Yes, become their accomplice outright. Then, beyond friends…
‘…Stop!’
The Saintess clasped her hands in prayer and steadied her shaking heart.
To be swayed by temptation and forget a lifetime's teachings—what disgrace was this?
‘Saintess, what should I do?’
She thought of another Saintess she knew—precisely, the previous one.
Not her birth mother who everyone in the Holy Kingdom hated, but the other mother who raised her.
The one who survived two great wars and wrote living legends alongside the ‘Border White’—what would she say in this moment?
The Saintess desperately recalled her words, but what surfaced in her mind was an entirely different voice.
—The Saintess must not love individuals.
The High Archbishop, that old man, habitually saying it as he confined her to the temple.
—Like the previous Saintess, you must give equal love to all believers. That is the duty of a Saintess.
Memories of days spent locked in the prayer room without a single peer friend, honing prayers and holy blessings day after day.
—Do not yield to loneliness. Better loneliness than the pain of betraying faith.
Recalling up to there, the Saintess slightly opened her eyes and glanced sideways.
There sat Yeomyeong.
With his usual calm expression, he silently waited for her answer.
Depending on what she said, their relationship would change greatly.
Just maintaining the current one filled her with happiness, but perhaps… it could advance further.
Or become worse than strangers.
‘…I don't want that.’
To find the answer, the Saintess closed her eyes again and delved inward.
She strained to recall the previous Saintess's words.
But for some reason, not a single one came to mind.
What rose was only one thing: the previous Saintess's regret-filled face, lonely as she guarded her room.
‘Saintess, why… did you regret?’
The moment that question arose, the Saintess suddenly overlapped herself with the previous Saintess's image.
A lonely life where, except for the one day a week meeting ordinary believers, only ever-present priests and power-hungry ones begging for visions visited.
A life aging alone without friends or lovers—that was the life the High Archbishop endlessly praised… faithful to faith.
The Saintess was already half-living that life.
Once her academy days—the first and last rebellion—ended, she would live that way forever.
She had steeled herself for it… but why, at this moment, did it all feel so alien?
The life she had accepted as natural now felt so unjust and repulsive.
‘…I.’
I don't want to live like that.
The moment that thought surfaced, the High Archbishop's words replayed in her mind once more.
—The Saintess must not love individuals.
No sooner had the words ended than the Saintess tried to steady her shaking heart. Or so she tried.
“Saintess?”
But hearing Yeomyeong call her… her heart acted on its own.
—The Saintess must not love individuals.
Her face burned, her chest felt like it would burst. No matter what the High Archbishop blabbered in her head, it didn't matter.
“Yeomyeong, I've… made up my mind.”
“…Took you quite a while, huh? Whatever you decided, I'll respect it.”
The Saintess swallowed secretly and gripped his hand tightly.
Then, what came from her lips next exceeded Yeomyeong's expectations.
“I'll… help with your vengeance.”
“…Help? Not just pretend you don't know?”
Yeomyeong narrowed his eyes in incomprehension. Seeing it, the Saintess added by way of excuse.
“Pretend I don't know? What do you take me for? If I help, you won't kill innocents like in this vision, right?”
It was sophistry, but the Saintess didn't care.
Crossing the line took but an instant, and she had already crossed it.
“Trust me, I'll… become your accomplice.”
“…”
“I-If you want, you can even use my political position. You know? I'm the Saintess.”
The Saintess was glad for her eyepatch.
If Yeomyeong could see her eyes, he might pierce through the desire within.
“Why no answer? Don't… want it?”
“No, it's not that, just… too unexpected.”
“…The best outcome, right?”
The Saintess suddenly wondered how Yeomyeong would have reacted if she had tried to stop his vengeance.
Disappointed? Angry? Or… tried to silence her somehow?
Well, no need to know now.
Whatever reaction, it wouldn't be more precious than the smile on Yeomyeong's face before her now.
“Yeah, exactly. The best outcome.”
***
Waking from the vision was no different from waking from any other dream.
Mana surged, senses flickered, body spun dizzily.
Yeomyeong calmly restored his senses as usual, but the Saintess was different.
It was her first time entering a vision with someone else, and above all, waking while holding someone's hand.
Thanks to that, the moment the Saintess awoke from the vision, she staggered, lost balance, and pulled him toward her.
The next instant, lounge chairs and tables clattered in chaos as the two tumbled to the floor.
The Saintess hit the floor first, Yeomyeong atop her.
Fortunately or unfortunately, Yeomyeong regained balance at the last second, so their bodies didn't touch.
“…You okay?”
Yeomyeong asked worriedly. The Saintess nodded instead of answering.
The two rose immediately. Or tried to.
But the next moment, the lounge door burst open, and a massive crow entered.
“What the hell, how long are you… uh…?”
Yeomyeong, the Saintess, and Corbus all lost their words at once.
A secluded lounge no one visited, a man and woman lying on the floor holding hands.
Before the brief silence could settle, Yeomyeong spoke.
“Corbus, wait, this is…”
“…Sorry. I lacked tact.”
But before Yeomyeong could make excuses, Corbus slammed the door shut.
Their reactions to the closed door were polar opposites. Yeomyeong sighed and shook his head; the Saintess couldn't lift her flushed face.
“S-Sorry…”
“…It's fine, nothing to apologize for.”
Only then did the two dust themselves off and stand.
As they awkwardly tried to leave the lounge, the door opened again.
It was Corbus once more.
“Sorry, but as your master, I must say this.”
Ignoring their bewilderment, she clacked her beak.
“…Use protection thoroughly.”
No sooner had she said it than Yeomyeong and the Saintess hurled chairs at her almost simultaneously.
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