Those Who Stand Before Death (2)
Tororruk! Tororrorruk!
In the silent room, the only sound was the dice rolling.
Suddenly, the breathing of each King grew ragged. The dice had begun to slow.
The rolling dice came to a stop.
“Jin I-gang. It's a one!”
Yul Han-cheon shouted.
“Ugh!”
Namgung Won-mu grimaced. The one was his.
“How would you like to proceed? Will you insert it yourself, or…?”
“I'll do it myself.”
“Understood.”
Yul Han-cheon pushed the Devil Sword Barrel and the Life-and-Death Sword in front of Namgung Won-mu.
“Wrap the mouthpiece in the silk I gave you,” Jin I-gang said.
Namgung Won-mu looked at him.
“If you keep that thing pressed against the inside of your mouth, every stray thought in the world comes crawling in. You're going to experience every liquid that leaks out of your own body. A whole new world, truly. And since someone else has to use it after you, I figured we might as well keep it clean.”
“I see.”
Namgung Won-mu wrapped the mouthpiece in silk.
“Now just call out your number and open wide.”
“…….”
Namgung Won-mu glared at the Devil Sword Barrel.
The odds of the Devil firing were a mere one in ten. One chance in ten. The probability of survival was nine times higher than the probability of death. With odds nine times in his favor, he should have felt at ease.
But he didn't.
He could hear his heart pounding, his lower abdomen had gone cold, and he desperately needed to piss. The arm meant to lift the Life-and-Death Sword felt a thousand pounds heavy.
It was only one chance in ten — but at the end of that one chance lay death.
Do I even have to do this? I could just walk away.
The urge to give up surged up out of nowhere.
No. If I quit now, they'll all sneer — a man who couldn't even push a sword into a hole dares to dream of becoming Emperor.
“Shove it in!”
Jin I-gang barked.
Yul Han-cheon grabbed the Devil Sword Barrel.
“I said I'd do it myself, you bastard!”
Namgung Won-mu roared.
“Could you maybe think of the people waiting, hm?”
“Damn it!”
Namgung Won-mu glared at Jin I-gang.
“Shove it in, you son of a bitch!”
Jin I-gang bellowed.
“Fine.”
Namgung Won-mu pushed the mouthpiece into his mouth.
“Feel the cold of the Devil Sword Barrel against your lips. Then you'll understand just how cruel this world really is,” Jin I-gang said, watching him.
Namgung Won-mu pulled the barrel toward himself with all his strength. The mouthpiece jammed into his throat until he could barely breathe.
“Magnificent.”
Jin I-gang grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. Then he turned to Yul Han-cheon.
“The Life-and-Death Sword!”
“The contestant himself should—”
“Can't you see his hands shaking? If he thrusts it properly he lives, but a trembling hand could stab the wrong hole and kill him. Or the opposite, I suppose.”
Yul Han-cheon looked at Namgung Won-mu's hands.
Jin I-gang was right. The two hands gripping the Devil Sword Barrel were shaking like leaves in the wind.
Yul Han-cheon picked up one of the Life-and-Death Swords.
“Don't push it all the way in — just seat it lightly.”
Yul Han-cheon looked at Jin I-gang.
“It only counts as suicide if he pushes it in with his own hand. If you push it and he dies, that's murder. The Namgung Clan might even send assassins after you.”
Yul Han-cheon slid a Life-and-Death Sword halfway into the first hole.
“Now it is yours to push, Great King.”
“Ah…!”
Namgung Won-mu nodded. He stretched out his left hand and gripped the sword. The hand holding it trembled pitifully.
I'll do it!
Namgung Won-mu bit down hard on the mouthpiece.
Then he put his strength into his left hand.
Click!
The instant he heard the lock release, he felt the blood drain downward through his body. Astonishingly, the moment he felt death, he had grown erect.
“Haaah!”
A deep sigh escaped his lips.
He had used no internal energy, barely any strength at all, yet his face was drenched in sweat.
Namgung Won-mu hastily spat out the mouthpiece.
Then he slumped, head drooping beside his chair.
“Ugh!”
He retched up everything that had been sitting in his stomach.
“Throw it!”
Jin I-gang said.
“The number one will not come up again.”
Yul Han-cheon dropped the dice into the barrel and shook it. Once it had gathered enough speed, he hurled it. The dice landed on the board and rolled on and on.
The group watched in held breath. The dice rolled for a long while, bounced off the wall, and stopped.
“We should be gambling on this number too. But there's no money.”
Jin I-gang smacked his lips.
“Hah!”
A groan escaped Dang Chwi-ryeo's lips.
One and two — a total of three. It was her number. The Devil Sword Barrel and a single Life-and-Death Sword were placed before her. Dang Chwi-ryeo wrapped the mouthpiece in silk with a stiff face. That was when her hands began to shake.
“Call your number and open your mouth, please,” Yul Han-cheon said.
“Three!”
Dang Chwi-ryeo said it curtly and opened her mouth. But her lips parted barely enough for a single finger.
“You must open wider. The mouthpiece won't fit like that.”
“Fine.”
Dang Chwi-ryeo opened her mouth wide.
As if he had been waiting, Yul Han-cheon pushed the mouthpiece in.
“Kk!”
Dang Chwi-ryeo's eyes went wide.
Yul Han-cheon seated a Life-and-Death Sword only halfway into the third hole and stepped back. Dang Chwi-ryeo gripped the sword. The hand holding it trembled violently.
Why am I doing this…?
Her mind went white.
That is…?
A vision appeared — a young child playing in a grassy field. The girl grew up fast. She learned the martial arts, became a woman, even fell in love with a man. There were scenes of her crying, and scenes of her laughing brightly.
That's me…
“Do it!”
“Hah!”
At the shout, her hand tightened without her willing it.
Thud!
The Life-and-Death Sword slid in.
Click!
“Aaagh!”
She screamed with the mouthpiece still clenched between her teeth.
Then she hastily yanked the Devil Sword Barrel out.
“I… I lived….”
In that instant, warmth spread below her.
But Dang Chwi-ryeo didn't realize it was urine. She simply stared blankly ahead. Yul Han-cheon untied her blindfold and carried the Devil Sword Barrel, now holding two Life-and-Death Swords, back to the center.
“I will throw.”
Drorrorrorruk! Drorrorrorruk!
The sound of dice rattling inside the barrel rose up. It sounded like a song sung by the Grim Reaper himself.
Thud!
Once again the group watched in silence.
Eight holes remained. One of them was a passage to death; the other seven were paths to life.
Who would be chosen this time?
The dice slowed, then stopped.
“Kul.”
Gul Han-so snorted with laughter. The next turn was his.
Yul Han-cheon brought the Devil Sword Barrel and the Life-and-Death Sword to Gul Han-so. With a calm face, Gul Han-so wrapped the mouthpiece in cloth. Then he gazed slowly over each number on the barrel.
“I'll take five.”
His voice was calm, his face composed — but beneath the table, Gul Han-so's legs were trembling.
As if to hide his fear, he clenched the Devil Sword Barrel tight.
“That thing won't break, will it?”
Jin I-gang asked, pointing at the barrel.
“It's made of iron. Nothing of the sort will happen.”
“Still, seems worth a warning?”
“Understood. Please don't grip it too hard, for the sake of the next contestant,” Yul Han-cheon said.
But Gul Han-so didn't hear him.
Yul Han-cheon repeated himself, lacing a touch of internal energy into his voice.
“Ah — understood.”
Only then did Gul Han-so nod and open his mouth wide. As if afraid Gul Han-so might change his mind, Yul Han-cheon quickly pushed the mouthpiece in.
“Installation complete.”
Jin I-gang grinned.
“I don't think this is the time to be laughing?”
Dang Chwi-ryeo said, looking at him. Now that her own turn had passed, her face looked relaxed.
“You peed yourself.”
“…….”
Dang Chwi-ryeo lowered her head.
Good heavens.
Her face twisted. Head still bowed, she glanced left and right.
“Everyone's about the same, so there's no need to be embarrassed. Just think of it as a rite of passage.”
“A rite of passage?”
Dang Chwi-ryeo raised her head and looked at Jin I-gang.
Which meant Jin I-gang had been through it himself. Suddenly she remembered that he had ordered liquor before the game began.
“So this isn't your first time?” she asked.
“Who knows.”
Jin I-gang shrugged.
Click!
“……Kuaaaaagh!”
A monstrous cry burst from Gul Han-so's throat.
“Missed a good show there.”
Jin I-gang frowned at Dang Chwi-ryeo. The look on his face made it plain: it's your fault I missed it.
“You can still look.”
Dang Chwi-ryeo pointed her chin at Gul Han-so. Jin I-gang turned his head. Gul Han-so's face was flushed red, and drool, snot, sweat, and tears were streaming down from the corners of his mouth.
“I will throw.”
“That sound will start to feel like the Grim Reaper's voice.”
The dice were thrown again, and this time Ji Yak-ran was chosen.
“How did you get over it?” Ji Yak-ran asked as she wrapped the mouthpiece in cloth.
“You think I went through it?”
“Somehow I think you did. A lot, too. That's why you ordered the Cheondo liquor in advance, isn't it?”
“I didn't.”
Jin I-gang shook his head.
“Liar.”
“Shouldn't you be focusing on your own turn right now?”
“Just give me one glass of that.”
“Liquor?”
“You've been sipping alone this whole time, haven't you?”
“I'm a terrible coward.”
“……?”
“I don't think I could do this without a little liquid courage.”
“Hmph.”
Ji Yak-ran shot him a sidelong glance.
“Well, ghosts who die eating look good even in death, so drink up.”
Jin I-gang smirked, poured liquor into an iced glass, and brought it over to her.
“I'll take four.”
Ji Yak-ran wrapped the mouthpiece in cloth, then slid a Life-and-Death Sword halfway into the fourth hole.
Then she looked at Jin I-gang again.
“No last words?”
“Pfft!”
She snorted, downed the liquor, and opened her mouth wide. As soon as she did, Yul Han-cheon pushed the mouthpiece in.
Thud!
Without a moment's hesitation, she pushed the Life-and-Death Sword in.
Click!
She stared straight at Jin I-gang and waited.
This time too, the Devil did not fire. Ji Yak-ran pulled out the mouthpiece, unwound the cloth, and set it aside.
“Why were you looking at me?” Jin I-gang asked.
“One of my wishes is to die with my eyes open, watching the world.”
Yul Han-cheon dropped the dice back in and shook it again.
This time it was Heonwon Byeok.
Her state was much like the others', but she survived. Her choice was the eighth hole.
Five holes remained now. The odds of death had risen to two in ten.
“I will throw.”
Yul Han-cheon dropped the dice in and shook it.
The five who had already finished watched with easy faces, the four who remained glared at the dice with faces frozen stiff, and Jin I-gang tipped his glass with a blank expression.
“It's a ten.”
When the dice stopped, Yul Han-cheon announced.
“Bullshit.”
A curse spilled from Heonwon Man-so's lips. The ten was his.
Yul Han-cheon brought the Devil Sword Barrel and a single Life-and-Death Sword and set them before Heonwon Man-so.
“I….”
Heonwon Man-so glared at the barrel. The moment his number had been called, his lower abdomen had begun to ache, and now the urge was overwhelming. If he didn't relieve himself right now, he felt he would burst.
He looked at the five who had finished before him.
If he stopped here, he would be laughed at for the rest of his life, and he would have to give up the throne as well.
Then….
—You worthless fool! Now I see you clearly. You were never more than that small a vessel to begin with.
“Nine.”
Heonwon Man-so shouted, as if in a fit.
Yul Han-cheon seated a Life-and-Death Sword halfway into the ninth hole.
Heonwon Man-so opened his mouth wide.
“I'm the kind of man who does it too. I'm the kind of man who does it too….”
Just then, the mouthpiece slid in.
The instant its tip touched his throat, a flood burst loose below.
“I….”
Heonwon Man-so shoved the sword in without mercy.
Click!
“Uwaaaaaaaaah!”
Heonwon Man-so let out a harrowing scream.
“He's losing his mind.”
Jin I-gang snorted with laughter.
