It seemed the adults had hidden the children away beforehand, fearing what might happen. The nanny tightly shut her eyes and pretended not to see the two boys. As she tried to keep walking down, Cheongyeon grabbed her shoulder.
“Ju–just now… someone screamed. Nanny, I’m scared.”
“We have to go too. If we get caught, Aduran won’t let us live.”
Aduran, the ruler of Cheonghwajin, was a devout believer in superstition and always kept an old fortune-teller by his side. The massacre of the Eleventh Continent’s survivors must have been because of one of her prophecies.
Aaagh!
Another scream erupted nearby. Just as the nanny’s trembling legs tried to flee, a man cut through the thick brush with a large blade and found them. He removed the hood of his full-body robe.
“What the—Hwayun?!”
The rough-looking man tilted his head.
“Y–yes! It’s me, Hwayun from the flower shop! Please don’t hurt us!”
“What are you doing here?”
The nanny’s face turned pale as she clutched Cheongyeon tighter.
“I came to pick herbs, but when I heard gunshots, I got scared and tried to go down the mountain.”
“Hm.” The man’s throat rumbled as he stared intently at the nanny and Cheongyeon.
Then, scratching his forehead with the hand that held his blade, he asked,
“No one escaped this way?”
The bush-covered hole nearby was dark enough that no one would notice it unless they looked closely.
“No, no, it’s just us.”
“Ah, Hwayun, I’m really sorry about this.”
“...What?”
The rain lashed down on the nanny and Cheongyeon.
“The boss said to kill all witnesses.”
“I won’t tell anyone! Please, just spare my life. I’m begging you...”
The nanny gently set Cheongyeon down behind her. Terrified, Cheongyeon trembled at the sight of the blood-stained blade in the man’s hand.
Then something whistled through the air.
Thud!
The nanny’s body convulsed violently.
Cheongyeon, clutching her waist, lifted his head. Rain splashed into his wide, tear-filled eyes. The blade that had cut through the brush was now embedded deep in the nanny’s chest.
“N–nanny.”
Their eyes met. Cheongyeon couldn’t believe it. The light that had always shone so warmly in the nanny’s eyes was fading.
Khuek...
Blood spurted from her mouth with a cough. Even with a knife in her heart, she tried to shield Cheongyeon, but soon she collapsed forward—forcing the blade deeper.
“Nanny... nanny!”
Cheongyeon sobbed her name. The man kicked the nanny’s body aside, pulled the blade from her chest, and rested it on his shoulder. Then, looking down at the trembling child clinging to the corpse, he muttered,
“Ha, fuck. Even I think it’s pretty shitty to kill a kid.”
Crouching before Cheongyeon, the man brushed back his rain-soaked hair.
“Hey, kid. I’ll make it quick so it won’t hurt much, okay? Don’t hate me too much.”
He reached for Cheongyeon’s neck. Through his tear-blurred vision, he saw another burst of red.
Khuek!
A hand-sized blade had pierced the man’s throat. He grabbed at his neck, but more blood than rain spilled through his fingers. Staring in shock, he turned toward the one who’d stabbed him.
It was one of the boys who’d been hiding in the bush.
The boy had struck when the man crouched down. His yellow eyes glimmered as he dodged the man’s swinging arm. The other boy drove his knife into the man’s thigh. Still, the man gritted his teeth and tried to stand, desperate to kill at least one of them.
But suddenly, vines rose from the earth and wound tightly around his legs. Spewing blood from his neck, the man collapsed.
The boy with the burning yellow eyes seized the chance and repeatedly stabbed the man’s throat.
They were just children, but their movements were sharp—like beasts lurking in the dark, waiting for the right moment to strike.
While the boys butchered the man, Cheongyeon held the cold body of his nanny and wept silently.
The boy who had stabbed the man first approached him.
[Sorry. That bastard was supposed to be yours to kill.]
It was a language Cheongyeon had never heard before.
He kept shaking his head, muffling his sobs with his hand. If he cried too loudly, Aduran’s men might come.
The boy picked up the large sword the dead man had wielded, then began sawing off his wrist.
When the blade wouldn’t cut cleanly, he stomped on the hand and hacked at it again and again.
Finally, grabbing the hatchet hanging from the man’s belt, he brought it down on the mangled wrist several times until it came off completely.
He held the severed hand out to Cheongyeon.
[Where I come from, taking your enemy’s hand means you’ve avenged yourself. Here, it’s yours.]
Cheongyeon recoiled, trembling, scooting backward on his butt. Worried he might scream, the boy clamped his bloodied hand over his mouth.
[Let’s go. We need to get out before it’s too late.]
At the other boy’s words, the first dropped the hand and pulled his knife from the corpse’s neck. He glanced back at Cheongyeon once, then ran toward the docks.
Even after they left, Cheongyeon clung to the nanny’s body, sobbing.
“Nanny… nanny...”
He had believed they would always be together. They hadn’t had much, but even sleeping side by side in a small room had been happiness enough. And now, the life of the one he loved had been snuffed out by a mere blade.
There was no one left for him now. Clutching the nanny’s blood-soaked shirt, Cheongyeon buried his face in her chest and wailed.
As his grief rippled through Cheonghwajin, the ground beneath the mountain trembled like an earthquake.
Cracks split the earth where he sat, and the rain-soaked roots of trees surged upward all at once.
Dozens of sentient roots crept toward the nanny’s body, wrapping it gently.
They pulled her into the cracked earth. Cheongyeon didn’t try to stop them—just watched through tear-streaked eyes. He had seen the same thing when his mother died.
The plants wiped the nanny’s blood away, returning her flesh to the soil—the beginning and the end of life.
Thick trees bent their trunks to shield Cheongyeon from the pounding rain.
The man’s body, however, met a different fate. The roots constricted tighter and tighter, crushing him until he burst apart. Then, from the ground, a massive vine with a gaping maw sprouted and swallowed the corpse whole, leaving no trace behind.
Cheongyeon cried over the mound of earth that had risen where his nanny lay buried. While he mourned, Aduran’s men, alarmed by the noise, gathered around. But none of them could lay a finger on him.
Vines climbed up their bodies, snapping their bones one by one. The hunters who had killed others now became prey themselves, screaming in terror. Their howls echoed all around, but Cheongyeon never looked back.
Aduran killed my nanny. Aduran… I want him dead.
The burning hatred of the Flower Clan shook all of Cheonghwajin. That day, a colossal tree erupted through the ocean building where Aduran ruled. He was impaled on its trunk and died instantly.
The fortune-teller was crushed beneath a branch and killed on the spot.
Cheongyeon’s deep brown hair turned ashen, and his once soft, tree-like brown eyes faded to a pale, washed-out hue.
The ground quaked as if about to sink into the sea, plunging Cheonghwajin into chaos.
The earth sank further, and the flower shop at the lowest level was swallowed by the rising water.
The vines gathered around unconscious Cheongyeon, lifting his small body and shielding him beneath their canopy so that not a drop of rain could touch him. Through the long years he lay unconscious, the plants nurtured and protected the pillar of Cheonghwajin.
Much later, Cheongyeon would hear that Aduran had died—but he never learned why a giant tree had burst through the ocean building. Most of his memories had been lost from the overwhelming trauma.
As for the two boys from the Eleventh Continent—they escaped Cheonghwajin safely that day, thanks to the chaos.