The guard’s abdomen was slashed open in a long, deep gash. The guard clutched the wound with his arm, staggered in bewilderment, and then dropped to his knees right there.
Screams erupted from all around.
“The prisoner has seized a weapon!”
“Catch him!”
Several soldiers rushed him simultaneously.
Shin Yigyeom paid them no mind, parrying the sword of the guard who lunged at him and driving one step in deep.
A long sword is a threat at distance, but the closer the range, the more sluggish its movements become. Finding the gap where the armor did not overlap, Shin Yigyeom drove the blade into the guard’s ribs.
A short grunt grazed his ear. Hot blood poured over the back of his hand, and from his left palm, pain beyond imagination surged upward. It felt as though the wound that had barely closed was tearing open again.
That agony pierced through his shoulder in an instant. His vision flashed white momentarily and his knees nearly buckled — but Shin Yigyeom refused to release the sword to the very end. If anything, he gripped it harder.
It did not matter if flesh was torn away or bones were broken. Compared to the humiliating moment of his great-grandfather’s grave being dug up as Wi Saheon looked down on it with arrogance, his own body breaking apart was nothing at all.
As the guard collapsed coughing blood, the scene erupted into chaos in an instant.
The cavalry hastily mounted their horses, the soldiers of the Ministry of Punishment drew their weapons, and the Baekah followers screamed at the blood pooling from the bodies that had fallen to the ground.
None of those sounds reached Shin Yigyeom’s ears properly. Only the sound of his own heart pounding as though it would burst rang at his temples.
“Hah — ha….”
Shin Yigyeom raised his head, gripping the blood-dripping long sword with both hands. Beyond the crowd of people, he fixed his gaze squarely on Wi Saheon standing at the high ground and twisted the corner of his mouth. As if to ask — are you watching this.
“Seize that man!”
The Deputy Commander shouted.
Shin Yigyeom, who under normal physical condition could have cut down every soldier who touched that grave and more, was swiftly overpowered by the guards.
They forced him down with overwhelming strength.
Wi Saheon descended from the hill slowly. With each step his military boots pressed into the wet earth, sunken footprints trailed behind him, leaving a track.
There was no urgency in his stride. The wind blew and the hem of his dark-colored coat flipped up once, wide, then slowly settled back down.
The Baekah followers, the officials at the scene, and the cavalry gripping their reins all followed with their eyes the direction in which he walked.
Shin Yigyeom, forced to his knees, also caught his breath and stared directly at Wi Saheon from the front.
At last, Wi Saheon came to a stop before the guards surrounding Shin Yigyeom.
The soldier captain overseeing the surveillance rushed forward and dropped to one knee.
“Grand Bureau Chief, sir, I am deeply sorry. I failed to—”
Thwack. Before he could even finish his sentence, a military boot connected squarely with his chest and sent the soldier captain staggering backward. He hit the ground on his back and expelled all the air from his lungs at once.
“Get up.”
Wi Saheon did not so much as blink.
The soldier captain clutched his ribs and rose, lurching. The moment he had barely righted his posture—
Thud. This time a military boot came flying into his side. The soldier captain’s body crumpled once more. He was given no time even to cry out.
Wi Saheon walked leisurely toward him. His shadow fell across the soldier captain’s terror-stricken face.
“How many were there?”
The soldier captain looked up at Wi Saheon, gasping painfully.
“P— pardon?”
“The surveillance detail.”
“S— si… six men, sir.”
“Six.”
Wi Saheon repeated it briefly. The soldier captain was momentarily confused by his blank expression, as though he were simply counting a number.
“Six men.”
Wi Saheon seized the soldier captain by the collar with one hand and hauled him upright.
“And you let a single prisoner slip — one who was bound in rope?”
The moment the words ended, his fist drove into the soldier captain’s solar plexus.
Hunched over with his head hanging, the soldier captain’s saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth. Trying to keep his balance, he drove his knees into the ground and crumpled. He fell face-first into the dirt and let out a violent fit of coughing.
A faint sound of horror went through the watching crowd. Someone covered their mouth and turned away. But there was no one who could intervene or step forward.
“The man who calls himself the soldier captain of Gamsimwon. Nearly ruined the imperial plan because he couldn’t keep watch over a single prisoner.”
“I am s— so sorry, sir.”
The soldier captain’s shoulders trembled visibly. A faint flicker of disappointment passed through Wi Saheon’s eyes as he looked down at this.
“What one is sorry for should not have been done in the first place.”
The final military boot drove into the soldier captain’s chest and stamped down hard.
The soldier captain’s body heaved violently, then went limp. Foam-flecked saliva ran from the corners of his mouth, and his limbs twitched intermittently as though convulsing.
Wi Saheon withdrew his gaze without a word. Like a man who had lost interest already.
The Deputy Commander’s face drained to a pale white. If the soldier captain was in that state, then Two could very well be beaten to death by the Grand Bureau Chief right here on the spot.
“…What is the reason for going that far.”
Shin Yigyeom, having barely reined in his scattered mind, stared at Wi Saheon with contempt. If he had been free to move, he would have lunged for his throat — but the reality was that he was a prisoner in bonds.
Wi Saheon, far from even glancing at Shin Yigyeom, walked straight past him as though he were not there at all. He did not regard his very existence as even worthy of being called meaningless noise.
“Continue.”
At his order, the desecration resumed.
The exhumed coffin was placed roughly on the dirt as though thrown down, and the lid was opened. As the remains were exposed, the followers let out cries of anguish.
From Shin Yigyeom’s lips — lips that had been gnawed raw and scabbed over countless times — a thin trace of blood seeped out. The only thing that gave him any solace was the meager sensation of having cut down a few imperial soldiers.
Outside the interrogation room it was very loud. The sound of many feet striking the floor at once rang out, along with the dragging of iron chains.
Shin Yigyeom lifted his slumped head with great effort. He had been undergoing torture for several hours straight since returning from the burial grounds.
His throat burned with thirst, and his mind was hazy. Perhaps because of that, the noise from outside felt as though it were happening inside his own head.
Then the iron door swung open and the guards came flooding in along with the damp air. Shoved in through them and now standing before him was the young member Seventy-Nine.
“Two hyung….”
“…Tch.”
Shin Yigyeom’s lips — the scabs dried and cracked — parted. His eyes, unable to comprehend the situation in which the young member had suddenly appeared, shook violently.
“P— please save me. Two hyung!”
The young member, paralyzed with fear, begged for help from Shin Yigyeom, whose state was even more wretched than his own. To the boy, Two was that kind of person. Someone who would protect him and hold him up no matter the situation.
With both arms pinned, the young member was dragged toward the torture rack and fought back with everything he had — but it was not enough. The feet kicking at the air swung helplessly.
“Ngh…, hah.”
A ragged breath slipped from between Shin Yigyeom’s lips. As he strained against the arms bound behind him, the shackles locking his wrists bit into his flesh and the chains pulled taut.
The young member was immediately laid on the torture rack and bound. When Shin Yigyeom screamed and thrashed, the guards leveled their swords at his throat all at once.
“That child isn’t even fifteen years old. Did you not promise to spare him?!”
Shin Yigyeom’s pale blue eyes blazed like those of a cornered animal. In them was something far denser than rage — fear. The fear that he might lose yet another comrade before his eyes.
“A promise?”
The Deputy Commander’s brow furrowed. He thought back to Wi Saheon dealing with this man, who challenged authority at every turn. The Grand Bureau Chief had made eye contact. Had even personally answered the prisoner’s questions.
That wasn’t the Grand Bureau Chief being lenient — it must have been his particular way of handling this one.
“Are you saying the Dark Bureau made a promise to some common criminal? That never happened, and it never will.”
“Let go of me!”
Thrashing wildly at the chains, Shin Yigyeom lurched and a long sword pressed against his throat, drawing a thin line.
“More to the point — you killed two lives at the burial grounds. Imperial soldiers are state assets.”
“Then kill me instead. Isn’t executing me the answer?!”
“That wouldn’t even begin to be enough. Do you think Baekah lives and imperial lives are worth the same?”
“Aaaargh!”
The young member’s body arched like a bow on the torture rack. The smell of burning flesh as a heated blade scored the skin filled the interrogation room.
The blade moved without hesitation, as though drawing on a blank sheet of paper. A single scream broke off again and again in the young member’s throat.
Shin Yigyeom kept his gaze lowered and murmured.
“…Stop.”
The helpless word reached no one.
Then one slender finger snapped with a dull crack. The boy could not even scream — he just gaped, drawing only hollow, broken gasps.
“I said stop!”
Shin Yigyeom shot to his feet and drove his head into the shoulder of the guard surrounding him.
