Free Web NovelThe blueprint for bringing down the Office of Narye had been finished long ago.
The design he had carried in his head for years now lacked only the final touch to bring the dragon to life. It was a plan laid with meticulous care, without a hair’s breadth of error.
Only one thing remained.
To paint in the eyes.
Once the dragon finally gained its eyes, it would wake from its deep sleep, shake the earth to its foundations, and soar into the sky.
But that one task alone lay outside Yoon Taehee’s reach, and so he needed the right person for it.
Whenever he had to borrow someone’s hand, Yoon Taehee usually preferred to entrust the work to ghosts rather than humans.
This time, however, was an exception.
The gatekeeper who would open the curtain on the grand finale had to be human.
Because that gate lay deep inside the Office of Narye itself.
And the only people allowed inside the Office of Narye were Naja.
That was precisely why he had needed to find a gifted person who could become his successor.
This was not the kind of work he could hand to just anyone.
He needed a capable piece on the board.
One wrong move and everything he had built until now could collapse at once.
So it could not be a Naja of the Office of Narye.
It had to be someone who would belong only to him.
Someone loyal only to him.
His Naja.
The boy, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere, had seized Yoon Taehee’s attention in an instant.
A boy whose identity no one knew.
A young face dulled by the inertia of too many passing years.
At a glance, Taehee recognized the weariness and listlessness that had swallowed him whole.
At first, the boy had been no more than a target.
But at some point, Yoon Taehee began to feel a faint, strange heat rising in him from nowhere he could name.
It was curiosity.
And he knew perfectly well that curiosity was the first sign that desire was beginning to take root.
He knew very well how to handle human beings.
Treat them well, or frighten them.
Yoon Taehee was skilled at putting on a smile.
But the boy had peeled away that gentle, courteous disguise with absurd ease.
From the moment the boy realized he was a Naja, he refused every approach.
He showed tremendous hostility and did not even leave room for conversation.
So Taehee gave up cleanly and revised his goal.
He did not need the boy to become his Naja.
It would be enough if he simply never became the Office of Narye’s Naja.
Taehee thought it would not be a bad thing if the boy became a Naja for his own sake.
He had barely managed to pry open a crack and breathe a sense of danger into him.
Threats.
Persuasion.
The second-best plan had been a relationship in which each of them used the other and moved for his own advantage.
But now all of it had become useless.
With this, your threat is void, you fucking bastard.
At that moment, Yoon Taehee had felt a strange thrill.
The closer he moved toward the boy, the farther the boy fled, and the board Taehee had so carefully arranged kept overturning again and again.
He thought he should stop now.
That it was a shame, but there was nothing to be done.
That he ought to retreat wisely.
Just as Lee Youngshin had said, gifted people were everywhere....
He knew that in his head.
But still.
“I wish it were you.”
Yoon Taehee met the boy’s eyes with a clear, unwavering gaze.
“The one who’d join me in this rebellion.”
In the darkness, the boy’s eyes slowly widened.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Good question. This is the sort of thing I’m really not supposed to say....”
Murmuring to himself, Yoon Taehee smiled faintly.
It felt as though he kept getting dragged along by some unseen pull.
There was nothing to be gained by confessing that he meant to destroy the Office of Narye.
If anything, it was the same as exposing his own weakness with his own hands.
No one knew that better than Yoon Taehee himself.
He wanted the boy.
But whether he could trust him was a completely different question.
Yoon Taehee had never trusted humans to begin with.
“I think getting hit by you must’ve done something to my head.”
He tapped his temple lightly with one finger and lowered his head.
The mind of a planner—the mind that always calculated what came after, thought ahead, measured every move—had been numb ever since earlier.
After a brief silence, Yoon Taehee let out a crooked little laugh and said,
“Then make it even.”
Jaegyeom frowned, as if asking what the hell that was supposed to mean.
“I’ve handed you my weakness. So protect me.”
Whether he was failing to read the situation or simply incapable of reading it, Yoon Taehee was shameless beyond belief at a moment like this.
But Jaegyeom was not soft enough to be taken in so easily.
He would not be fooled again.
“You really do play with people to the very end.”
Having recovered his composure, Jaegyeom shot back in a low voice.
“You’re saying kidnapping Mesan wasn’t your doing? Fine. I’ll believe that. But so what? Were you that bitter about being misunderstood? You stood there doing nothing the whole time, and now you think I’m supposed to buy it because you show up at the end, cut yourself loose from the rest, and pretend to draw a line?”
With steady eyes, Yoon Taehee answered,
“I didn’t have a choice if I didn’t want to draw suspicion.”
It was not an excuse.
It was the truth.
That was why he had not been able to openly take anyone’s side.
If he had freed the ginseng child from the very start, or if he had visibly interfered when they were dealing with Jaegyeom, the other Naja would without question have found him suspicious.
Because that would not have been how a Naja behaved.
“Don’t make me laugh.”
Jaegyeom was not enough of a fool to be swayed by the absurd claim that Taehee meant to destroy the Office of Narye.
He had no intention of letting a few words toss him around.
He adjusted his grip on the bowstring.
If all of this had been staged to lure him in—if it was all some performance put on together with his comrades—
Just then, Yoon Taehee abruptly lowered his head.
“Wait... a second.”
Breaking off the conversation, he suddenly began swaying like a drunken man.
At that, Jaegyeom tightened his grip on the string in his hand.
Then Taehee’s body pitched forward.
He stumbled straight into Jaegyeom.
“What are you doing?”
Yoon Taehee’s forehead struck Jaegyeom’s shoulder.
The hard mask hit bone with a dull weight.
Rough breath spilled against his ear.
Jaegyeom flinched and shoved him away.
Yoon Taehee caught hold of Jaegyeom’s clothes.
His hand had gone white, trembling uncontrollably.
“Hah... ngh....”
Groaning, Yoon Taehee clawed wildly at his own chest with his other hand.
It was the injured one, but he seemed too far gone even to feel the pain of the broken fingers.
His bloodied fist crushed the dark gray suit in its grip.
Just as Jaegyeom was about to shove him down hard, Yoon Taehee beat him to it and collapsed at his feet all on his own.
“......”
Jaegyeom looked down at him in silence, his gaze flat.
Yoon Taehee dropped to his knees, braced himself with both arms against the ground, and scratched at the dirt in agony as if trying to claw it up by the fistful.
“What kind of stunt is this now?”
Up until moments ago, Yoon Taehee had seemed perfectly fine.
Now he could not even keep himself together.
Then Taehee brought one of the hands supporting him on the ground up toward his mouth.
The fingertips convulsing there were skinned raw and beaded with blood.
For a moment, it looked as though he was only letting out a faint groan.
Then he began to cough.
“Kh—cough....”
Suddenly, Yoon Taehee vomited blood.
A terrible amount of blood poured from inside the mask.
For an instant, Jaegyeom froze.
He lowered the bow he had aimed at Taehee and took an involuntary step back.
“M-my lord, maybe from the arrow earlier...?”
Mesan said with a sharp intake of breath.
“No. An arrow wound doesn’t make someone cough up blood.”
Jaegyeom pulled the mask from Yoon Taehee’s face.
The neat, handsome features beneath it were twisted with unmistakable pain.
The moment he saw his face, Jaegyeom knew instinctively that this was not an act.
Then why?
“Because he broke the contract.”
At the sudden voice, Jaegyeom’s head snapped up.
Beside him, Mesan jolted in fright and fell onto his backside.
Looking sharply around, Jaegyeom’s gaze lifted to the night sky.
Bima, who had kept itself hidden in the darkness until now, slowly let its shape emerge.
“You didn’t leave? Since when were you there?”
Bima floated lightly in the air.
“How could I possibly leave with such a rare spectacle before my eyes?”
Jaegyeom narrowed his eyes.
“There is no entertainment finer than watching a fight. And when it is none other than the young master himself taking the field in a wager, how could my feet possibly carry me away? I did nothing but watch quietly, so I beg you not to be angry. I have no means of taking you on.”
Its mane swayed softly as Bima spoke.
“What do you mean he broke the contract?”
Fortunately, the boy did not seem inclined to scold Bima for lurking to enjoy the show.
Instead, he changed the subject and asked about what Bima had said.
“I have heard that ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) every Naja bound to the Office of Narye enters into a blood contract. Its terms are these: they are forbidden from harming fellow Naja, or from using ghostly force against them without warning.”
Jaegyeom stared up at Bima.
“And if they break that taboo, I am told they suffer a hideous agony equal to death itself. I do not know the finer details, but that is all I know.”
Jaegyeom’s eyes slowly widened.
“......”
Mesan clapped one hand over his mouth and clenched Jaegyeom’s clothes with the other. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
Jaegyeom turned his head and looked at Yoon Taehee, who was still coughing up blood.
Taehee was enduring it in silence.
There was no way he could have done it without knowing the cost.
For someone who had so casually called it just a trick, he was paying a remarkably brutal price.
It was not that Jaegyeom felt sorry for him.
He did not.
He was simply—
confused.
