I can’t afford to lose it. (4)

“Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“…”

“No, Sahyeong, I understand how you feel, but let’s be realistic – Sasuk is in a worse condition than an ordinary person right now, isn’t he? It wouldn’t be surprising if he couldn’t make it through tomorrow.”

“…”

“And yet… can someone who can’t even hold a brush properly really handle all that work?”

At that moment, Yoon Jong, who had remained silent, turned and looked at Jo Geol. The weight of his gaze made Jo Geol flinch and fall silent.

Yoon Jong bit his lip slightly before he spoke.

“So, can you tell Sasuk to stop and rest? Knowing how he feels?”

“…I could, but he wouldn’t listen anyway.”

At Jo Geol’s grumble, Yoon Jong let out a deep sigh. It seemed Jo Geol still hadn’t fully grasped the situation. He didn’t yet understand what it meant for Baek Cheon to be finished as a swordsman .

Yoon Jong tightened the grip on the book in his hands repeatedly, revealing his unsettled state of mind. Eventually, this caught Jo Geol’s attention.

“But, Sahyeong.”

“What?”

“What’s that you’ve been holding? You’ve had it in your hand since we left the office, but you don’t seem to be looking at it or anything.”

Yoon Jong glanced down at the book in his hand. It was a plain book without a title. 

“…Sasuk gave it to me.”

“Huh? Sasuk did?”

“Yes.”

Yoon Jong’s eyes darkened as he forced himself to speak words that were difficult to say.

“It’s the register of Hwasan’s disciples.”

“What?”

“And… it contains Hwasan’s rules and the responsibilities that the senior disciple of Hwasan must uphold.”

Jo Geol narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“But how…?”

“He must have prepared it beforehand, knowing what might happen. It also includes his reflections from his time as Vice Sect Leader and some final instructions.”

At that moment, Jo Geol’s face flushed with emotion, and his voice rose in agitation.

“What…! Why would he give that to you, Sahyeong?”

“…”

“And why did you accept it? Do you even understand what it means?”

“Geol-ah.”

“Are you out of your mind? Did you leave your sense in your soup to eat? A man who might not see tomorrow handed you that, and you just accepted it and started fiddling with it like it was nothing? You…”

“Do you think I wanted to take it, you idiot!” 

Yoon Jong snapped back, his voice harsh. But Jo Geol wasn’t listening. He sprang to his feet.

“Give it to me.”

“…What are you going to do?”

“What do you think? I’ll go and throw it right back in Sasuk’s face!”

“…”

“How can he just hand over the position of Hwasan’s Vice Sect Leader like it’s nothing? He deserves to be reprimanded for three days and nights straight!”

“Sit down.”

“Sahyeong!”

“I said, sit down!”

Yoon Jong finally lost his temper and shouted. Jo Geol clenched his teeth but reluctantly plopped back down, though his folded arms and sullen expression made it clear he was still far from being convinced.

Yoon Jong let out a deep sigh before speaking to him in a more measured tone.

“Geol.”

“This was going to happen eventually, wasn’t it?”

“…”

“Everyone knew that Sasuk was going to lose his martial arts! It just happened a bit sooner than we expected, that’s all.”

Jo Geol’s frustration stemmed from this:

“What is all this? Why is everyone looking at Sasuk like that? Martial arts – are they really that important? Does Sasuk have no value if he can’t wield a sword anymore? I didn’t respect him because he was stronger than me!”

“Keep your voice down. People can hear you outside.”

“To hell with it! Let them listen! Have I said anything wrong?”

Bang!

In his rage, Jo Geol slammed his fist on the small table beside him. The teacups toppled over from the force, spilling tea onto the floor.

As Yoon Jong watched the tea trickle down the table, he closed his eyes tightly.

The future you anticipate and the reality that comes crashing down are entirely different. No matter how much you prepare, they can never be the same.

“Anyway, I can’t accept this. Sasuk is…”

“Geol. This was Sasuk’s decision.”

“Sahyeong!”

“And… do you really think that’s the best path for Sasuk? On the battlefield…”

“To hell with that, do you think I’m an idiot? If I have to, I’ll carry him there myself!”

“And what about Sasuk’s feelings?”

Jo Geol finally fell silent at those words.

“Yes. Doing that might bring you some comfort and satisfaction. But what about Sasuk? Imagine him, someone who can no longer use martial arts, joining a battlefield where every person counts, all while being protected by you. Have you ever thought about what that would mean to him?”

Jo Geol couldn’t respond. He just clenched his fists tighter and tighter.

Yoon Jong ran a weary hand over his haggard face, feeling a burden that words couldn’t fully express.

“This is just… preparation. You know as well as I do that Sasuk isn’t someone who would easily let go of everything.”

This was true. When Baek Cheon handed over the book, he had said something similar.

But both Yoon Jong and Jo Geol understood how much was hidden behind that word, ‘preparation.’

– In truth, I think I’m a bit late. This is something I should have done sooner.

Recalling Baek Cheon’s words, Yoon Jong unconsciously clenched his fist.

‘But Sasuk… for me, it’s still too soon.’

No matter how deeply he sighed, his heart only sank further, like a stone descending into the unfathomable depths of a dark lake.

❀ ❀ ❀

Tap.

Baek Cheon stared blankly at the brush that had fallen to the floor. It had slipped from his hand through the loosened bandages.

He watched the brush in a daze as the lamplight flickered repeatedly. Finally, he forced himself to rise.

Throb!

A searing pain, as if a blade were tearing through his entire body, surged through him. He staggered momentarily but managed to steady himself, clenching his teeth so hard they nearly cracked. It was the only way to endure the pain.

Drip.

A bead of sweat that had collected on his chin fell to the floor.

Throb! Throb!

He knew instinctively that this pain would never go away.

Just as Tang Gunak had said, his body was like a cracked vessel, clumsily pieced back together. No matter how much he might recover, as long as the cracks remained, this pain would be his lifelong companion.

With all his remaining strength, Baek Cheon extended his half-unbandaged hand.

He raised his arm and reached out to grasp the brush.

What had once been a simple, unconscious action now felt more difficult than executing the most complex martial arts technique.

His fingers, trembling like the branches of a dried aspen, finally touched the brush.

Tap.

But cruelly, the brush rolled even farther away from him.

“…”

Baek Cheon stared blankly at the scene.

‘Is it really okay without martial arts?’

He had been half-serious when he thought that. He had prepared himself mentally. He had promised himself countless times that even if he lost all his martial arts skills, he wouldn’t become a useless person.

But…

“Heh…”

He hadn’t imagined that he would become this much of a wreck, beyond merely losing his martial arts.

With a thud, Baek Cheon collapsed to the floor as if his legs had given out beneath him. A bitter, almost mad laughter escaped from his lips.

What could he do now?

He had imagined a life without being able to wield a sword. But a life where he couldn’t even hold a brush?

Could he bear a life where he needed help just to breathe, to live? Had he really prepared himself for all of this?

Finally, the words he had tried so hard not to think about slipped out.

“A burden…”

He had prepared himself for death. He had thought that alone was enough to be noble.

But maybe Baek Cheon had underestimated life, not death. He had naively believed that death would be the greatest suffering he could face.

What could he do? What should he do?

Baek Cheon slowly crawled towards the brush, inching forward, dragging himself across the ground. The pain surged through him, as if dozens of daggers were simultaneously stabbing into his flesh, but this physical agony was nothing compared to the torment his mind was enduring.

With all the strength left in his frail, branch-like arm, he finally managed to grasp the brush.

Slide.

But it slipped from his fingers almost immediately, falling once again.

He refused to give up and reached for the brush again. His movements were weaker than those of an infant, yet his face was drenched in sweat from the effort.

“…Grab it.”

But it wouldn’t stay in his hand.

“Just grab it…”

Hadn’t he always believed with unwavering conviction that there was nothing hard work couldn’t achieve? That as long as he didn’t give up, there was nothing he couldn’t overcome? Even if he failed, he believed that his will would carry on. He had held onto that belief more firmly than anyone else.

But what was left now?

Could he overcome this with effort? Was there any victory to be found here? And more importantly, what kind of will could he preserve through this pitiful struggle?

“Grab it, damn it!”

Thud.

But the brush, and his hand, refused to obey him to the very end.

Baek Cheon silently lowered his gaze. The bandages and the floor were now smeared with ink, a chaotic mess.

Suddenly, he found his own situation absurd.

“Heh…”

He had once overcome rivers of blood on the battlefield, yet here he was, overwhelmed by the sight of mere ink, his sorrow bubbling up, threatening to spill over in sobs.

“Heuu…”

Baek Cheon’s shoulders shook violently. His frail arms, no longer capable of supporting his body, buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor with a thud.

Lying there with his cheek pressed against the cold floor, he stared at the brush that had rolled away.

A sword that could no longer be wielded.

A brush that could no longer be used.

A person who could no longer do anything.

‘Is there any worth left?’

If a person’s life was meant to leave something behind, then his life had already reached its end. Whether it had reached its intended destination or not, he had conveyed what he could.

But then, what was this body that remained here?

Was it nothing more than an empty shell with nothing left to pass on? Should it be called a ghost that had missed its time to disappear? Could there really be any value left in it?

Knock, knock.

In that moment, a knock sounded at the door. Baek Cheon’s eyes instantly filled with fear.

He didn’t want to be seen.

Baek Cheon, who had faced countless enemies and mustered the courage to overcome his fears, now found himself terrified by the thought of someone witnessing his disgrace.

“D-Don’t come in!”

He shouted reflexively, his voice laced with panic as he desperately glanced around.

The floor was a mess, his appearance even worse, a complete wreck. He couldn’t even muster the strength to lift himself off the ground.

“Don’t open the door! Go away! I don’t care who it is, just…!”

It wasn’t a command or a warning – it was a plea. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. It was too miserable, too wretched.

“Please, go away… Please…”

Creaaak.

But despite his desperate voice, the door slowly opened, and someone stepped into the room.

An oppressive silence filled the air.

One person stood, while the other lay on the floor. Baek Cheon, recognizing the stark contrast between their positions, couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh.

If it had been someone else, maybe he could have garnered some sympathy.

If it had been Chung Myung standing there, perhaps he would have even broken down in tears.

Of course, that would have been just as pathetic, but it would have been better than this.

Reality, however, was crueler than he had imagined.

Baek Cheon looked up with a bitter smile at the face that had turned as cold as ice. What crushed him even more was that in this person’s eyes, there wasn’t a hint of mockery – only genuine, seething anger.

“…Dongryong-ah.”

“You…!”

Baek Cheon bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“You…”

“Don’t come near me!”

He shouted at the person who was trying to approach and help him.

“Don’t touch me! Damn it, I said don’t touch me!”

“Dongryong!”

“I told you to get out, Jin Geumryong! Don’t touch me! Don’t you dare touch…”

His voice, filled with rage, began to falter. He couldn’t say anything more. He couldn’t do anything more.

All he could do was bite down on his lips, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape.

As Baek Cheon struggled, Jin Geumryong’s face twisted in a mix of frustration and anger, resembling a fierce demon.

“…Look at you now, you miserable bastard. I told you… I told you this would happen!”

“Shut up!”

Bloodshot eyes glared back at him, filled with fury.

Despite Baek Cheon’s fierce outburst, Jin Geumryong didn’t retaliate with anger. Instead, he took a deep breath and looked at Baek Cheon with resolute eyes.

For a moment, the despair in Baek Cheon’s bloodshot eyes clashed with the cold, simmering fury in Jin Geumryong’s. Then, Jin Geumryong finally spoke.

“Do you want to hold a sword again?”

“…What?”

“I can – no, we can make that happen.”

Baek Cheon blinked in disbelief. Did he really just hear that?

“Abandon Hwasan.”

Jin Geumryong’s voice was as firm as a thunderclap. Baek Cheon’s eyes widened in shock.

“If you leave Hwasan and return to where you truly belong…”

Each word echoed in Baek Cheon’s mind.

“We can help you regain everything. The brilliance you once had.”

Jin Geumryong extended his hand towards Baek Cheon. The gesture was gentle, almost careful.

“Let’s go to Jongnam, Dongryong-ah. You don’t have to endure this suffering any longer.”

Baek Cheon’s eyes filled with a mix of emotions as he stared at Jin Geumryong, then he closed them.

This wasn’t the temptation of a demon. But that only made it more deadly, and therefore more… agonizing.