I’ll say this much for certain — in the current situation, there’s no reason to believe that speaking the truth would lead to any favorable outcome. Edwin Winter had explicitly branded Yuan a criminal. And once that stigma was stamped onto him, desperately trying to clear his name might only come across as deception — an attempt to slip through the net of the law.
Thinking of the torrent of condemnation and the even harsher pressure that would follow for Yihyeon, he couldn’t even be sure that speaking up was the right thing to do.
Either way, Yihyeon lacked the means to deal with this situation on his own. He wanted to prove he wasn’t Yuan, but no one would believe him — and he had no desire to impersonate Yuan and steal his place, either.
Then what did it matter how he came across to others?
Yihyeon tried to push himself upright, but his body refused to obey. He sank back down onto the cot. The makeshift bed was nothing more than a cot layered with a thick piece of cloth, but to Yihyeon, who had survived years in brutal conditions, even this felt like a comfort.
“What’s going to happen to me?”
Edwin had said he was being taken somewhere. He didn’t know exactly where. If there was no immediate way to prove he wasn’t Yuan, then at the very least he needed to get a clear picture of the situation.
Laurent, who had been hovering near him with visible hesitation, scanned the surroundings before finally answering.
“You’ll be taken to the imperial capital. And then you’ll stand trial.”
“What exactly are the charges?”
“That’s……”
“Laurent!”
Just then, someone called Laurent’s name from outside the tent. Laurent startled and scrambled to his feet, muttering that he’d be gone for just a moment, then dashed out. Through the half-drawn canvas, a middle-aged man in the same uniform as Laurent glanced once at Yihyeon before turning to scold Laurent.
“Did you forget your orders? Don’t make contact without authorization until Edwin’s instructions come down.”
“I apologize. There were some things I was a bit worried about, and I couldn’t help myself……”
“Is this about the wounds?”
“It’s more on the… psychological side……”
“There’s no need to tend to that. Focus on the wounds, and handle only the necessary measures for the rest. Understood?”
“……Yes.”
Laurent kept his head bowed until his superior’s footsteps had completely faded. Only after the man was gone did Laurent carefully lift his head and look back at Yihyeon — but after a long, hesitant pause, all he could manage was a small bow before hurrying out of the space.
Left alone with Laurent gone, Yihyeon rested his head against the makeshift pillow and let out a slow breath. Being alone was probably better.
He needed time to organize his thoughts.
Yihyeon closed his eyes and sorted through everything that had happened up to this point. His circumstances hadn’t changed from before he lost consciousness. He had survived — shamelessly — and was now standing in Yuan’s place, within Yuan’s world.
Simply because he was stronger than Yuan. Yihyeon, who had no attachment to life whatsoever, had displaced Yuan — a man who had fought desperately to survive so he could return to the people he loved.
Even the air felt heavy as Yihyeon breathed it in, as though it were pressing down on his body. He had been flung into a reality too overwhelming to bear. And with that realization came a weight he had never felt before — a mental burden that settled over him like a shroud.
Yihyeon murmured, staring up at the ceiling.
“What am I supposed to do from here?”
Yuan. Here, in this place where I’ve taken your spot — what exactly am I meant to do?
What do I live for? What am I supposed to do?
The fact of having survived alone was already this unbearable — he couldn’t begin to understand why someone like him had ended up setting foot on this unfamiliar land. What possible worth did he have.
Like a body without will, Yihyeon’s consciousness sank endlessly into a pitch-black swamp. Within that darkness, a thousand thoughts swirled like murky paint bleeding into each other, tormenting him.
A crushing sense of doubt crashed over his mind — yet paradoxically, not every thought led to despair.
Yihyeon found himself remembering a conversation he’d once had with Yuan.
“What will you do when you return?”
It had been a question out of nowhere. Perhaps because Yuan had a sense of purpose more single-minded than anyone. It felt as though Yuan had noticed that Yihyeon’s fists did nothing more than mechanically strike down enemy after enemy.
At first, Yihyeon hadn’t fully understood what Yuan meant. So Yuan asked again.
“I was asking if there’s anything you’d like to do once you get back.”
“……I’m not sure.”
Something he wanted to do. It was probably asking whether, like Yuan, he had something he wanted to accomplish once he returned. So he answered honestly.
“Unlike you, I don’t have much. When I go back, I’ll probably live the same kind of life I do now. After some recovery time, I’ll follow whatever orders are given and protect the country again. That’s what I’m supposed to do.”
“I asked about what you want to do.”
“……”
“Surely there’s at least somewhere you’d like to go, or someone you’d like to meet.”
“……Nothing comes to mind right now.”
Nowhere he wanted to go. Once he became a recognizable face, going anywhere became exhausting. Outside of official reports, he didn’t have personal time even with acquaintances — and even when he did, Yihyeon was never the type to warm up easily to others.
At some point, personal contact had all but stopped coming. His network was narrow — more than narrow, it was almost entirely professional. But this wasn’t something unique to Yihyeon alone.
Countless hunters had been crushed under the weight of emotional debt when they lost comrades. Those who endured pushed others away; those who couldn’t gave up the life of a hunter and left.
Yihyeon was a Special Grade hunter, which meant retirement wasn’t an option he could hope for — and so naturally, he took care of himself by growing more distant from those around him.
That was the first time Yuan had looked at Yihyeon with an expression of puzzlement.
As if to say: what exactly are you living for?
After a brief silence, Yuan spoke.
“You need to learn to want more. A life lived like yours — with nothing — is hollow and worthless. You’ll inevitably spend it doing only what you’re told.”
Hollow. Worthless. The moment he heard those words, something ached deep in Yihyeon’s chest. Because it felt like an exact description of his own life. Then Yuan smiled, faintly, and said:
“I want you to find some joy in living — some purpose — for whatever reason.”
“Is that…… your way of telling me to be greedy, like you?”
“If that’s what gives your life meaning. You’re different from me — wanting something won’t drag others down with you. So sometimes, let yourself want more than you should.”
Want more than he should. Yihyeon thought for a moment about whether there was anything he could want. Looking back, he had already been given so much. Ample money and prestige. Even transcendent power, to the point where death held no fear for him. Everyone envied Yihyeon, and he himself had thought that wanting more was a kind of dishonesty.
But if there was one thing he didn’t have that he could allow himself to desire……
For the first time in a long time, Yihyeon thought of something he wanted. It felt embarrassing to conjure it up on the spot, almost forced — yet for some reason, something deep in his chest grew warm.
Yihyeon spoke his desire honestly to Yuan.
“I’d like to meet you again someday.”
He had grown curious about what Yuan’s life would look like.
“I want to see with my own eyes whether you’ve built the life you wanted.”
Yihyeon thought of the life Yuan had never been able to have — a life with family. Whether he’d reconciled with them. Whether, after reconciling, they were living well together, taking care of each other.
He wanted to see those things for himself.
“If I make it back…… I think I’ll spend my days looking forward to that.”
Even if they made it out of this Gate safely, no one could know whether their worlds would ever intersect again the way they had now.
But if he could keep clearing Gates while looking forward to that day — his life might become something a little more meaningful. He would be a small sailboat adrift in a wreckage of meaninglessness, searching for one fragile thread of connection.
“If that’s what makes your life richer……”
For the first time, Yuan broke into a smile that could only be described as tender — almost embarrassing in its warmth — and answered:
“Then I, too, will look forward to that day — once everything is resolved.”
For the first time, something faint but unmistakable passed through Yihyeon’s eyes, which had been sunken in darkness.
“My lord. Yuan has just stabilized, a moment ago.”
While the domain troops finished their preparations to depart, Edwin — who had been inside the tent drafting a letter to be sent to the imperial capital — looked up at his subordinate’s report.
“Only now?”
He had given the order to begin treatment after taking him into custody, and that had been three full hours ago. Given the skill level of the recovery mage attached to the domain troops, a report should have come up at least an hour earlier.
Then Edwin noticed that the subordinate who had come to report was Laurent, and he let out a quiet breath. A 5th Authority recovery mage, hired only about a year ago. The lowest-ranked recovery mage among those attached to the domain troops.
It seems they’ve dumped Yuan’s recovery onto Laurent.
Edwin had personally pronounced Yuan a criminal, so it was only natural that the domain troops — who had held a grudge against Yuan even before this — wouldn’t give him proper treatment. Since no formal verdict had been handed down yet, they’d keep up the bare minimum appearances that befit a noble, but the passive disregard was something even Edwin couldn’t prevent.
Then again, Laurent might actually be better.
Even Edwin couldn’t command the emotions of his troops. Rather than have someone who harbored resentment toward Yuan be neglectful in his treatment, it was better to have Laurent — weaker in ability, perhaps, but honest and giving his best — be the one caring for Yuan.
Laurent answered Edwin’s remark with a faintly awkward expression.
