WHAT IT'S LIKE TO DIE

I woke up sweating, my eyes misty and heart aching, gasping for air in the suffocating darkness of my room. The hour candle implied that it was 3 a.m., a familiar hour that felt like a cruel reminder of my restless nights.

For three years, I had been haunted by the same dream. Now, thirteen years on, nothing had changed, and I rarely spoke of it. It struck me as ironic how the faces in my dreams appeared so vivid, yet upon waking, they slipped away like shadows, fading into the recesses of my mind.

I glanced at my ring finger, the golden glow of a phantom ring dimming, a silent witness to the turmoil within me. I had long suspected it was connected to the weight I carried.

A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

"Come in," I murmured, and my younger brother appeared, his expression sombre.

"Hyungnim?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"Another nightmare?" I probed gently.

"Yes," he confirmed, sliding into the room. I gestured for him to join me. I had grown accustomed to being the strong one, the reliable brother, especially when our parents were preoccupied. Suyang looked to me for comfort, and in that moment, I felt a flicker of purpose.

He nestled under the covers, and I wrapped my arms around him tightly. "It's okay," I whispered. "It was just a bad dream." The reassurance felt hollow, but I pressed on.

"It has to be more than that," I thought, stroking his hair. For a few precious minutes, we existed in a cocoon of warmth, a fleeting escape from the long, haunting night. It was a rare and beautiful feeling—to protect someone, to have a presence that brought him solace. In his innocence, I found a moment of peace, and before I realized it, I drifted back into a deep slumber.

The morning sun poured through the window, saffron rays illuminating the room. I gently extricated myself from Suyang's embrace, careful not to disturb his peaceful sleep. I joined my mother in the kitchen, where the comforting scent of breakfast filled the air, a stark contrast to the shadows of the night before.

"You're up late," she muttered, her voice laced with a hint of concern.

"Suyang slept over," I replied, prompting a small smirk from her.

"It's good to see he relies on you," she murmured, covering the cooking pot before sitting down, a deep sigh escaping her lips.

"What's the matter?" I asked, sensing the weight of her thoughts.

"You're too young..."

"To understand?" I interjected, a flicker of disappointment crossing my face.

"Yes," she asserted firmly, her disappointment echoing in the silence.

"Father came back yesterday. I heard you both quarreling about the payment." Her gaze turned sharp for an instant, lips pursed, tears glimmering in her eyes.

"Is this about the war?" I pressed, my confidence rising as I sensed her emotional walls begin to crumble.

"Sixty-six Demon Pillars still survive. Your father wants to join the SCOUT DISPATCH into the Outlands to study them. The Imperial Government of Tumu insists on delaying military wages due to concerning movements on the dark continent. Your father believes this is the fastest way to secure sustenance pay for us over the next three months, since Scout families are entitled to that," she explained, her voice trembling with tension.

"There have been two hundred forty-seven failed crusades on the Dark Continent. With all sixty-six Demonic Pillars located there, it must be crawling with dark creatures—not to mention dark matter," I countered, urgency creeping into my tone.

"Your father insisted."

"There are more capable generals and elite warriors. Sending him to the East is practically a death sentence," I retorted, anger surging within me.

"You know how stubborn your father can be. Unlike those other generals, we are descendants of the Sin Blood Clan. They'd sacrifice us all to save themselves," my mother pointed out, her words heavy with truth.

My fury simmered, but I couldn't direct it at her. I knew my father well enough. Though he possessed a warm heart, he often lacked wisdom. Born into the Clan of Commons, he had worked tirelessly to hone his physique and martial arts skills, striving to join the Peacekeepers—an elite Imperial force devoted to protecting the Western Continent from demonic invasions for the past ten thousand years. It had played a role in the campaign to destroy the ninety-nine Demonic Pillars that had descended upon the HARYU CONTINENT.

Yet, despite being humanity's last hope against demons and otherworldly horrors, my father was a descendant of the Sin Blood Clan, the lowest of the four Universal Clans. We were common people, born without a halo, and thus we could never cultivate or gain control of supernatural abilities. Our limitations in martial practice were purely physical, our lifespans short. We were treated like slaves, with few paths available—crafting weapons, mixing medicines, or joining the army, the latter being the only route to a decent wage.

As time and regimes shifted, change became the only constant. Exceptions grew rare, and our numbers swelled, leading to reduced pensions and salaries for warriors. The supply of fighters exceeded demand, and payments fluctuated based on the risks of expeditions, missions, and crusades. Despite the rise of martial communes alongside the Four Cardinal Sects, our usefulness felt increasingly limited.

We knew little of the Outlands or the Dark Continent. The stories that reached us—often exaggerated tales from war veterans and elders who had ventured to the Borderlands—shaped our perceptions. The Imperial Government imposed strict controls on information about the Demon Clan, aiming to stave off insecurity. Yet, we clung to our beliefs: the Cardinal Guardians would protect us, the Cardinal Sects would stand by, and sometimes, the communes would fight alongside us. What mattered was the distance between us and the demons.

A few minutes later, my brother emerged from his bedroom and made his way to the table.

"I'll go pick today's herbs from Old Man Dan," I said, grabbing a basket nearby. I kissed Suyang's forehead before stepping out, but he grasped my hand, as if in protest.

"Hyung?"

"I'll be back," I assured him. "We'll play together." He released my hand reluctantly, and I smiled to reassure him.

Unlike me, Suyang had been born with a serious condition. From a young age, he battled THE FROST HEART DISEASE, his body perpetually colder than it should be due to a heat deficiency. We relied on third-grade herbs to provide him with warmth, but even their effects faded after six hours.

Old Man Dan had been a steadfast presence in our lives since he left the Imperial Capital for Pyeongcheon. Renowned as both a physician and an alchemist, he provided us with second-grade herbs, more effective for Suyang's needs.

With a heart as kind as his skills were renowned, he was affectionately known as "The One-Eyed Man," his left eye clouded by a white film. While I often grumbled about being the one to collect herbs each week, there was a thrill in the task. If he wasn't too busy, he would share a few books with me, offering glimpses into the world of alchemy, igniting a spark of curiosity in my heart.

As I skipped through the bustling streets of the village market, greeting vendors who knew me perhaps too well, I climbed the narrow, winding path to the hill. The sound of breaking objects drew my attention from the entrance of Old Man Dan's compound.

I rushed inside, and as I had feared, I found the unruly children of the Blue Blood Clan wreaking havoc. Their turquoise and white robes, adorned with silver patterns, were unmistakable, especially the golden bells jingling from the slightly taller ringleader. Without thinking, I hurled my basket at him.

I struck him hard enough to catch his attention, which startled his two minions.

"Look, if it isn't the little pig," one of them taunted.

"Why not mess with someone your own size?" I shot back, my voice steady despite the laughter that followed.

"And who are you, the old man's apprentice?" another sneered.

"Run, Saya," Old Man Dan's voice urged from somewhere within.

"Aren't you afraid to die?" the ringleader stepped closer, his golden eyes glinting with malice, exuding an intimidating aura.

I remained unmoved, standing my ground.

"You're a descendant of the Sin Blood—worthless slaves. What do you think you can do to me? You can't even defend yourself," he challenged, his contempt palpable.

"Is that how highly you think of yourself? Instead of protecting the weak and practicing kindness, you act like a demon," I replied, my heart pounding.

His fierce gaze faltered for a moment.

"If being a Blue Blood means being heartless like you, then I want nothing to do with it. You're just pests, no different from demons. Is this how your parents raised you?" The words slipped out before I could hold them back.

At my provocation, he snapped. I had been eyeing the small bottle of blister powder since I entered, its pungent scent lingering in the air. As he lunged at me in fury, I dodged, leaping a few steps away. In that instant, I grabbed the bottle, opened it, and poured the contents into the air, letting the powder swirl like a ghostly mist around us.

His subordinates rushed to shield him, but it was too late. His cries echoed through the compound as blisters erupted across his skin in an instant. I was already by Old Man Dan's side when one of the minions turned to face me, fury burning in his eyes. I refused to let it intimidate me.

"You'll regret this," he spat before they seized their young master and dragged him away, leaving us in a heavy silence.

"Are you alright?" I asked, concern flooding my voice as I helped Old Man Dan to his feet.

"You shouldn't have done that," he muttered, the weight of his disappointment clear.

Anger surged within me, and he sensed it.

"He's definitely a high-ranking member of the Blue Blood Clan," he observed.

"Still," I replied, my resolve unwavering. "With all their power and influence, bullying the weak isn't something they should do. Besides, you're a Red Blood Clan descendant."

"A degenerate," he murmured, bitterness lacing his words. I found him pitiful, especially given the way his leg had been crippled.

He began to restore order in the aftermath of the chaos, yet his calm demeanor in the face of such injustice intrigued me.

"Aren't you angry?" I pressed.

"The world doesn't always sympathize with the weak," he replied quietly.

"Then what's so good about it?" I asked, frustration coloring my tone.

"Maybe a boy like you gets to fight for me. Maybe you still believe there are things worth saving. Everyone has their battles. You're not the first—your father became a soldier, fighting every day to protect you. But the sad truth is, one day he might not be strong enough to survive. What then?" His gaze fell to the damaged herbs, a sorrowful weight hanging in the air.

I fell into a heavy silence, contemplating his words.

"The only way to survive is to grow strong enough, to surpass every limit known to others until you are feared—feared enough that no one dares to provoke or harm you. If you desire something that isn't yours, others will surrender it to you." His voice deepened, and I sensed the resentment simmering beneath the surface.

The one-eyed man, the limping figure, didn't hate his attackers; he loathed himself even more. I understood why.

"As a Red Blood descendant, at least you had a foundation to cultivate," I thought, bitterness creeping into my mind.

"If only I could prove them wrong as a descendant of the Sin Blood Clan," I murmured, my fists clenched tightly.

"True warriors aren't defined by their limits," Old Man Dan whispered, reaching for the small pendant around his neck—a tiny vial. He handed it to me.

"Drink its contents," he ordered gently.

Hesitantly, I complied, bringing the vial to my lips. A tiny, salty-sweet drop slid down my throat, accompanied by a mild burning sensation. I returned the empty bottle to him.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his gaze searching mine.

"Normal," I replied, confusion furrowing my brow. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face before he brushed it aside.

"Heaven might not be fair to everyone, but unlike me, you still have much to learn. Enjoy your life while you can," he whispered, returning to the counter to gather herbs for my brother.

As I descended the hill, I retraced my steps slowly, lost in thought. Old Man Dan's words lingered in my mind—a mixture of unease and challenge. They were tough, but they didn't leave me. I found myself trying to relate to them, hoping to uncover the strength hidden within.

By the time I arrived home and handed the herbs to my mother, I retreated to my room. I immersed myself in the medicine books Old Man Dan had given me, trying to lose myself in their pages. Absorbed in thought, I didn't notice my mother enter until I felt her warmth as she peered over my shoulder, startling me.

"You're reading alchemy?" she asked, her voice soft.

"I'm not as eager to be a soldier like Father if it means being away from you and Suyang for so long," I muttered, my heart heavy.

She smiled warmly, reaching out to pat my head. I hated that gesture; it made me feel small, and I despised feeling vulnerable more than anything else.

"Mom?" I said, my tone serious, but she remained unfazed.

"Soldiers protect their loved ones," she insisted, though I could see the flicker of concern in her eyes.

"But when was the last time we hung out with Father?" I challenged, my curiosity piqued. "Don't you miss him?" Her expression turned somber.

"He's doing his best for us," she replied, still holding him in high regard. Perhaps our views diverged because I was just a thirteen-year-old boy grappling with the complexities of loyalty and longing.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Suyang walked in, breaking the uneasy silence that had settled between us.

"You're awake?" My mother's surprise was evident.

"I heard strange noises outside," he reported, his voice still laced with sleep.

"What do you mean?" I asked as my mother approached the window, peering outside. Whatever she saw made her instantly shut it tight. She seized Suyang's hand and pulled him toward me.

"Take your brother," she ordered, her voice trembling. Fear gripped me; something was clearly wrong.

"Mom..." I began, but she interrupted, pulling me from my seat and guiding us to the back door.

"Run," she whispered urgently.

"What's happening?" I pressed, panic rising in my chest.

"I can't explain, but you must protect your brother," she said, tears welling in her eyes. Just then, I heard the sound of people breaking into our home. My heart raced as, for the first time, I saw her strike the wall with her fist, creating a hole that revealed an old red sword, which she unsheathed with a fierce determination.

An assassin appeared before us.

"Take your brother and run. Don't look back!" she commanded, launching into action. I had no choice but to grab Suyang's hand, and we charged through the door as she followed.

Our fence, though short, was a few meters taller and provided some cover. Thinking we might be surrounded, I took the path toward the tunnel connecting our home to others in the vicinity.

We emerged onto the main street, which lay empty under the pale glow of the full moon. The light shimmered off the leaves, creating an eerie beauty in the night.

Then I heard an explosion behind us, freezing me in place. My heart raced, curiosity and dread battling within me. Against my better judgment, I turned to see what had happened.

The fifth building from the intersection, beneath the jujube tree where Suyang and I often played, was engulfed in flames. The sight struck me like a blow.

"No," I gasped, air caught in my throat. Suyang looked up at me, wide-eyed and confused.

"Where is Mother?" he asked, struggling to comprehend the chaos unfolding around us.

I nodded, steeling myself.

"Find the kids," I whispered, catching faint voices nearby. As I spotted the flickering lights, I glanced at the hole within the roots of the jujube tree. It wasn't large, but I was certain Suyang could fit.

"Hyung?" he prodded, anxiety evident in his voice.

"She's playing hide and seek," I lied, kneeling to urge him into the hole.

"But it's late at night," he protested.

"Remember what I told you about the perfect way to hide?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

"Count to one hundred before coming out," he replied, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

"I need you to count to one hundred five times," I instructed firmly. "Be as slow as possible, and don't come out until I return." The lights grew brighter, urgency tightening my chest.

He nodded, and I quickly covered the hole with fallen branches before rising to move around the nearest house. It was close to a narrow path leading into the forest, and an idea for a diversion sparked in my mind.

I spotted a large pot and pushed it over, the crash echoing loudly enough to draw my pursuers' attention. I stepped into the wine that spilled across the ground, leaving a trail of footprints leading into the woods.

Without looking back, I ran.

The darkness deepened as I ventured further, the trees blocking out the moonlight, enveloping me in shadows. The silhouettes of the trees loomed, stretching out like silent watchers as I rushed past. I wasn't as afraid as I thought I would be; the real terror lay in the thought of being caught. I hoped Suyang was safe, but with each hurried step, I felt the weight of my small stature. The sound of footsteps drew closer, and I quickened my pace, determined to stay ahead.

I paused, feeling as if the road had come to an end. The dim light of torches flickered, illuminating the shadows around me. "There he is!" one of them shouted, breaking the stillness.

I couldn't surrender—not yet. I forced my way through a thicket of compacted stems, aware that they were only a hundred meters behind me. Just then, my right foot slipped forward faster than I anticipated. I lost my balance and tumbled down into a narrow gorge, landing painfully against the sharp trunk of a tree.

The pain hit me like a shockwave, and I realized my arm was trapped. A jagged branch had pierced through my shoulder, and I cried out, the sound echoing in the stillness. The glow of their torches grew brighter above me as they gathered, their voices drawing closer.

"This is it," I thought, despair creeping in. But then I remembered my mother's words, and a surge of worry for Suyang gripped me. The image of him waiting alone in that hole, counting to one hundred, haunted my mind. It was enough to fuel my resolve.

I bit down on my pain, summoning every ounce of strength I had left. With a fierce determination, I pulled my arm free, tears welling in my eyes as I got to my feet. I could still run; I was certain of that as I heard the assassins begin their descent into the gorge.

I forced myself up the opposite slope, fleeing almost aimlessly. With each step, I felt my energy waning, a dizzying fog settling over me. Sounds began to echo in my mind, blurring the line between reality and exhaustion.

"Keep moving," I urged myself, even as the connection to my feet felt tenuous, as if they might sever from me entirely. Finally, I emerged into the open, halting as the moonlight bathed me once more.

It wasn't just the noises in my head; I could hear the rush of water nearby. The river, a couple of miles from the village, lay in view. It was summer, and the water was low enough for the rocks to protrude, yet even at this shallow depth, the current could be treacherous at night.

As I heard the assassins closing in, I made for the water, wading in despite the weak pressure against my small feet. It was a challenge, but not for one of my pursuers. Before I realized it, he gripped my right shoulder, forcing me to turn.

I met his gaze just as his sword lunged toward my abdomen. Time slowed, the world around me fading into stillness.

And then I saw it—the mark of the Peony, the insignia of the Imperial Commune—right under his wrist. My mind flashed back to earlier that day, the boys' curses ringing in my ears, their threats of retribution for harming their young master.

"It's all my fault," I thought, a heavy weight settling in my chest. Time resumed its relentless pace, and the blade pierced through me.

I couldn't think straight afterward; stars danced in my vision as my life flashed before my eyes. In that moment, all I could focus on were Suyang and my mother.

Resentment surged within me, first toward my father for his absence, then toward myself for meddling in affairs that were beyond my control. Though it may have lasted only seconds, those moments stretched out like an eternity. By the time he withdrew his blade, I felt myself falling into the water, the current pulling me toward the edge of the waterfall.

I was lost, the rush of the wind barely registering on my face as the water cascaded down with me. I braced for impact, knowing the landing could shatter my bones. As I fell, a vivid memory surfaced—one I had dreamt of often, intertwined with fragments of memories I had never known.

"Forgive me, Suyang," I wanted to whisper, but my lips felt numb, unable to form the words. My eyelids grew heavier, the moonlight dimming as it slipped from my view. In that quiet darkness, a thought flickered through my mind: "Is this what death feels like?"