Chapter Text
Blood. Blood on his hands.
His long, bony fingers were wound around a long sword which was stained with red. The intricate carving of the metal handle pressed into his palms, causing crimson marks to etch into his skin. The blade was so cold, so heavy.
Yet, there was a sense of familiarity.
His fingers traced across two characters engraved onto the blade. He recognised the words.
This was his sword.
Seonghwa raised his head, and his eyes met the gaze of the man in front of him. The blade was pierced through his torso, but yet, rather than agony, there was an incomprehensible complexity in the eyes of the man. A small smile played on his lips - an expression that sent shivers down Seonghwa’s spine.
He knew this man.
The man edged backwards, his feet stepping past the precarious fringes of the cliff. Seonghwa tried to lurch forward, but it was as if his feet were glued to the spot. It was as if he was paralysed - immobilised on the treacherous cliff, frozen in the embers of the moment when the man’s fingers slipped past his.
A blood-curdling shriek tore through the cold wind - a voice he could hardly recognise as his own.
“Hongjoong!”
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“Hongjoong!”
With a jolt, Seonghwa sat bolt upright on his bed, his back drenched with sweat as his black locks clung to his forehead. Blinking and shaking his head several times, he tried to calm his frenzied breathing, but the images from his nightmare still played like a broken record, repeating again and again and inundating his already-muddled mind.
It was this dream again. The dream that he should be used to by now.
Seonghwa raised his hands that were decorated with multiple cuts and calluses. It was a pair of hands inured to violence, a pair of hands that never wobbled even when he was confronting the worst of enemies.
The same pair of hands was trembling now.
It was him. It was him again.
The man who had left him three years ago was still haunting his dreams.
Suddenly, the door of his bedroom flung open, jolting Seonghwa from his reverie.
“Hyung?”
Sunlight streamed into the room as the man who had just entered took long, quick strides to Seonghwa’s bedside. Seonghwa squinted, raising a hand to block the rays of light from shining into his eyes. Even from the voice alone, he could tell that it was San, one of his closest friends and one of the colonels of the Hwa Kingdom’s imperial army - the army that Seonghwa was the vice-general of.
“Hyung, there’s no time to lose-” Seeing the strange expression playing on Seonghwa’s face, San cut himself off abruptly. Sighing, he sat down beside Seonghwa and patted his shoulder lightly. “Hyung, are you having the same nightmare about…” San trailed off again, scanning his friend’s face worriedly. San knew that the vice-general of the Hwa Kingdom was someone who hardly showed his emotions or his fears, but at this moment, he seemed so fragile.
Seonghwa shook his head, tossing his blanket to the side numbly. “I’m fine. We can’t be late to the parade.”
“But hyung-”
Seonghwa raised his voice slightly. “I said I’m fine.”
San kept silent this time, knowing not to probe his friend anymore. “If that’s so, come quickly once you’re dressed. We need to reach the Hwa Tower before the afternoon sun reaches its highest point.” Behind him, the morning sun had risen fully, its light pouring into the room. “We can’t let the king and the people wait.” With that, he exited the room, leaving behind only the reverberating echo of the closing door.
In the darkest corner of the room hung the colossal skeleton of Seonghwa’s armour. A ray of sunlight was cast over it, accentuating its wraith-like presence.
In front of the slightly dusty mirror, Seonghwa pulled on his armour with practised precision. As he secured the heavy plated mail around his torso and fixed his shoulder guards, the metal plates embedded onto the armour were cold to the touch, but nonetheless, it was a familiar coldness.
Or rather, it had to be familiar.
Seonghwa had first entered the imperial army when he was a mere teenager. He learnt the hefty responsibility of those who donned the imperial armour before many of his older counterparts. The headgear, like a mask, rendered one faceless, identity-less. The plated mail protected yet incarcerated every soldier in a cage that would be stained with the blood of their enemies and perhaps, even their own counterparts. Seonghwa should be desensitised to the expectations of a soldier - infallible, unwavering and even, heartless.
Every soldier in the Hwa imperial army looked up to their vice-general because they thought he was someone like that. After all, it was said that he had killed his own best friend, the then-General Kim Hongjoong and the most powerful black magic sorcerer in Hwa Kingdom’s history, with his bare hands.
It was said that on that fateful night, Park Seonghwa had stabbed his childhood friend, pushing him down to the most dangerous abyss in the kingdom.
Some had said that he had been so revolted by his ex-friend that he had subsequently rejected to take over his role, and for three whole years, he had left the post of the kingdom’s general empty.
However, there were things that people did not know.
They did not know that three years after Hongjoong’s death, Seonghwa would still be haunted by his face in his dreams.
That on this very day, Seonghwa would feel the weight of his armour more than any sense of pride.
It was the third anniversary of Hongjoong’s death.
Every year on this day, the entire kingdom would celebrate the death of the man who they deemed the biggest betrayer of the kingdom - the imperial army general who turned his back on honour and righteousness and warped into a monster on the battlefield. The kingdom would applaud Vice-general Park for putting aside brotherhood and friendship, killing his own best friend for the better good of the country. The fanfare of the city was so exuberant, so extravagant.
But it only made Seonghwa’s skin crawl. It made his blood curdle in disgust.
He hated how it ate him inside out, hollowing him out. Just like the empty stare of the man in the mirror who was currently gazing back at him, his stare blank, red vessels colouring the sclera of his eyes.
As Seonghwa shook his head numbly, the man in the reflection mirrored his action just as mechanically.
This was not the day for reminiscing about a past he could never go back to.
For someone who would never return.
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“Selling jeon for only 500 won! A special offer for the celebration!”
“No, no. Come to my shop! We are only selling it for 400 won!”
“Gentleman, would you try this? No? Lady, would you try this?”
Voices rang out, adding to the hustle and bustle as shopkeepers and customers alike navigated around the busy streets which were bursting at the seams.
“Ah hyung! What are we doing here? I want to go home!” Jung Wooyoung, a child of mere five years of age, tugged onto his older brother’s sleeve.
“Wooyoung ah, we have to beat everyone to enter the capital to catch the main parade!” Yeosang, Wooyoung’s brother who was two years older, chided him.
“Why is the whole world so worked up over this...this celebration?” Wooyoung trailed off, his brows drawn together in puzzlement as his bright eyes surveyed the busy crowd. At his height, he could only see between the legs of everyone else.
Yeosang rolled his eyes. “Today marks three years since Vice-general Park killed Kim Hongjoong, the most powerful black magic sorcerer in our kingdom’s history.”
Wooyoung’s eyes lit up. “Black magic sorcerer? That sounds cool! I want to be one!”
Yeosang immediately covered his little brother’s mouth. “Shh, Wooyoung! Don’t let anyone hear you say that! Black magic is banned in our kingdom, and anyone who practises such dark powers has to be-” He paused, dragging his thumb across his neck to signify being sliced across the throat before continuing, “...killed. That was what happened to Kim Hongjoong.”
Wooyoung shivered in fear, unconsciously squeezing his brother’s hand tightly. After pondering for a moment, curiosity filled his gleaming eyes and he asked again, “Wait hyung, why does our kingdom not have a general?”
Yeosang quickly covered Wooyoung’s mouth again. “Wooyoung! Be careful what you say!” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, and spoke with his words muffled by his brother’s hand. “Haw do I knowphf whafft to say anfd whaft not to say?”
Yeosang looked around their surroundings, making sure no one was listening to them before stuffing a piece of dumpling into his brother’s mouth. He continued, “Kim Hongjoong was the general before he died, and Vice-general Park was his partner on the battlefield. In fact, they were childhood best friends.”
“Best friends? Then why did Vice-general Park kill his best friend?” Wooyoung asked while chewing, his mouth full of dumplings.
“Don’t speak while eating,” Yeosang wiped at his brother’s mouth with a handkerchief. Then, dropping his voice to sound like he was telling a ghost story, Yeosang continued, “Three years ago, there was a terrifying month when widespread murders took place all over the kingdom. The victims were all killed by black magic as their souls were all sucked out of their bodies when they died. Throughout the month, black rain poured from the skies, and so people dubbed this month The Black Month.”
Wooyoung frowned. “What has this got to do with Kim Hongjoong?”
“Shh, I’m not done with the story!” Yeosang chided. “Later, the then-General Kim went ballistic during a major battle with the Yoo Kingdom, the kingdom most well-versed in black magic, and accidentally revealed his dark powers. He killed many soldiers that day - even men from our kingdom. So people concluded that he must have gone crazy.”
Wooyoung chewed quietly, wondering why his brother knew so much about such gossip but not anything else.
Yeosang raised a brow at his brother’s quiet demeanour, then continued, “After Kim Hongjoong lost control of his powers, black rain showered the battlefield. Do you know where black rain originates from?”
As expected, Wooyoung shook his head.
“Before the whole Kim Hongjoong fiasco, the only kingdom in the world that had black rain pour from the skies was the Yoo Kingdom because black magic warps the natural order of the world. So, everyone put one and one together and guessed that Kim Hongjoong must have been the one who committed the mass murders during The Black Month. After the king ordered his men to capture Kim Hongjoong, Vice-general Park stabbed and pushed him off the Hwa Cliff.”
Pausing, he tapped his chin and said thoughtfully, “His body was never found after that. He must have shattered into pieces falling from that height, though.”
Wooyoung shuddered at the violent story. Then, his brows drew together as if he was struck with a sudden thought. Lowering his voice in case he would be scolded by his brother again, he asked, “But hyung, why is black magic bad?”
Upon hearing this, Yeosang immediately knocked his brother on the head. “Jung Wooyoung! Of course it’s bad! Do you know how black magic sorcerers gain their powers? They maintain their powers by drawing out the souls from their victims when they are still alive! They often suffer backlash from their own magic, and may lose control of their own powers. That must have been what happened to Kim Hongjoong on the battlefield.”
Wooyoung snuggled closer to his brother. “Hyung! I don’t want to be a black magic sorcerer anymore! I don’t want to be kidnapped by one!”
Laughing, Yeosang patted his brother’s head gently. “As long as you behave and stop running around, nothing will happen to you.”
“But...hyung. I’m still scared!” Wooyoung cried as his hyung started to walk faster, leaving him behind.
Turning around, Yeosang laughed. “If you don’t walk faster, you may be caught! Who knows?” Pulling his younger brother in the direction of the main parade, he thought for a moment before deciding to scare his cowardly brother once more.
“Maybe Kim Hongjoong never died and would return today!”