After Gwak Junghan’s words, silence filled the room.
At some point, Lee Jaeyoung’s hand slipped down again, as if he had lost consciousness once more. Sehyun tucked his hand gently back under the blanket, then brushed the boy’s hair and spoke.
“…Please look at me for a moment, Village Chief.”
“Calls me whatever he wants, and now I’m the chief, huh….”
Grumbling, Kim Gapjun groaned and got up first to step outside. Everyone’s eyes followed Sehyun. After stroking Lee Jaeyoung’s hair a few more times, Sehyun rose to his feet. Before leaving, he made sure to ask the healer:
“Sorry, but could you use your skill just a little longer, please?”
“Yes, don’t worry.”
The healer gave him a hesitant smile. Sehyun turned his back to it, closed the door, and stepped out of the hut. The village chief was sitting heavily on the steps outside. Sehyun went down one step and sat beside him.
“Look at this damn house—tiny as a snot drop.”
“That one, Mr. Pithecus built it.”
“Why’d you leave out the ‘Australo’? You should call it together, huh?”
Kim Gapjun snorted dismissively. Sehyun chuckled faintly at that, leaned back, and looked up at the dim sky heavy with fog.
“I can’t forgive those people. If we end up in the same squad again, I might kill them all.”
“Don’t worry about that, you bastard. I’ll separate you myself.”
Beside him, Kim Gapjun pulled out something wrapped in a leaf and started chewing on it. It looked like a substitute for tobacco, though without any noticeable effect.
“You should be careful about the person next to you, though.”
“I know, you brat.”
“You’re pretty sharp, huh.”
“Heh, I’ve gone down because of that bastard more than once. The moment I decided to quit, this crap happens again….”
Sehyun glanced at him, then untied a small pouch from his belt and handed it over. Kim Gapjun silently accepted it.
“Seven pieces. You’ll know what the other three are for.”
“Just say what you need to say, you bastard. Stop dragging it out.”
Sehyun’s eyes sank deep. He had something to do tonight. He was still tired, his emotions tangled and raw, but it had to be tonight. After seeing Jaeyoung like that, there was no way he could sleep.
“…I’m going somewhere for a bit. Quietly… I’ll go quietly, so just pretend you didn’t see anything.”
“…You planning to come back alive?”
“…I have to. I’ve got to see Jaeyoung wake up, see Baek Dohyun get back to his home, eat the fish Gwak Junghan caught… and get nagged by Mr. Pithecus, too. Oh, and Yoon Jeha’s there as well.”
“Cut the nonsense and just make sure you come back alive, you hear?”
“I’ll go tonight.”
“Ah, I didn’t hear nothin’! You go or don’t, do what you want! Damn kid, always a bother.”
With that, Kim Gapjun stood up abruptly and walked off with his hands behind his back, still muttering.
“If you don’t come back, I’ll shrink that damn house even smaller! I’ll make sure you sleep standing up, you hear me!”
His shouting faded into the fog, and once his silhouette disappeared into the mist, Sehyun finally rose. He headed in the opposite direction from the hut.
Toward the training ground—more precisely, the weapon forge.
A small lantern lit above the forge indicated someone was inside. Sehyun glanced at it, then knocked and opened the door.
The moment he stepped inside, a wave of heat hit him. A man holding tongs froze, surprised. It was Yoon Jeha—the same man who had crafted Sehyun’s crossbow.
“Se… Sehyun-nim?”
“Just Sehyun is fine.”
Yoon Jeha looked like he had been crying. His guilt-ridden face twisted as he saw Sehyun, on the verge of tears again.
“I’m sorry. Really… I don’t even know what to say. If… if only I could’ve made a better weapon, your comrade wouldn’t have ended up like that… I’m so sorry.”
His shoulders drooped, voice trembling. Sehyun’s gaze moved to the iron vat where molten metal was being poured. Judging by the shape, it was a crossbow—this time, forged from metal instead of wood. His blacksmith skill must have leveled up.
“No. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it back alive. And why are you blaming yourself anyway? The ones who should feel guilty don’t even reflect on what they did.”
Yoon Jeha fell silent. When Sehyun stepped closer, his broad shoulders flinched.
“This might sound shameless… but I’d like to ask you for another favor, if that’s all right.”
“O-of course! If it’s something I can do, I’ll help—absolutely!”
“Then I’d like another crossbow. But this time, just one arrow—attach about six meters of rope to the end of the fletching. It can be heavy. Make the arrowhead a hook shape so it can latch onto walls or gaps. Make the firing strength as powerful as possible… ten of them, if you can. Is that doable?”
From the moment Sehyun finished speaking, Yoon Jeha was already moving. He sat before the vat, fingers twitching in the air as he scrolled through invisible menus, eyes darting from side to side as if comparing multiple schematics.
Once done, his face hardened with determination, and he began working fast.
“Ten of them… it’ll take about an hour.”
“So it’s possible, then. If there’s rope left over, could you also make a single fifty-meter rope with just a hook attached?”
“Yes, I’ll do my best. Please rest for a while, Sehyun.”
“I’ll check the first one and then go to the training ground.”
Keeping his distance so as not to interrupt, Sehyun watched Yoon Jeha move quickly between tools—testing the tension of pre-twisted rope, selecting molds, pouring molten metal, hammering, shaping. After about twenty minutes, the first crossbow was finished.
It was heavy and solid, built exactly to Sehyun’s specifications. Four sturdy hooks formed the tip, and below it was a reel packed with coiled rope. Forged from steel, it weighed more than usual, but for an improvised design, it was excellent.
“I’ll take this one first. Please finish the rest within forty minutes.”
“Yes, I can do that. Once the first one’s done, the next go faster.”
Sehyun nodded silently, took the crossbow, and went toward the training ground. He needed to restore his aim and sense of distance.
Just need to get the feel for it.
Only then could he save Lee Jaeyoung.
Suppressing stray thoughts, Sehyun practiced relentlessly for forty minutes, aiming and shooting without rest. Thanks to the training ground’s effects, his fatigue and injuries were recovering little by little.
As every second ticked away, the door suddenly opened. Turning his head, Sehyun saw Yoon Jeha standing there, drenched in sweat and holding another crossbow.
Yoon Jeha handed it to him with renewed determination.
“All done, Sehyun. The quality isn’t great, but I made some so that the rope can be reeled back if needed.”
“Thank you, Jeha.”
Sehyun stored both the crossbow he’d been using and the one Yoon Jeha gave him in his inventory, then returned to the forge to collect the rest.
“Is there… anything else you need?”
“No. This is more than enough.”
“…Where are you going?”
“I’m not going. I’m coming back.”
Sehyun’s calm tone made Yoon Jeha look up sharply. His trembling eyes asked if it was dangerous. Sehyun only smiled faintly instead of answering, and stepped out of the training hall.
By now, the sun had long since set—it was deep into dawn.
There was no better time to infiltrate.
“I’ll come back safely. Then… let’s have breakfast together.”
Before leaving, Sehyun left that short promise behind. Yoon Jeha could only nod fervently. With the image of his tearful face behind him, Sehyun turned away.
Next, he headed to the cooking area near the well, where meals were prepared. There, he picked up a few black hoods used by the cooking crew and crossed the misty, silent road toward the village gate.
Someone was waiting there. A towering man with fins on his back—Gwak Junghan.
Sehyun walked past him without a word. Gwak Junghan didn’t try to stop him. Instead, in a calm voice heavy with restraint, he asked,
“Is there nothing I can do to help?”
“No. Just wait for me here, Gwak Junghan.”
At Sehyun’s composed reply, Gwak Junghan closed his eyes and nodded quietly. Sehyun passed him again and headed out of the village. The forest beyond was even denser with fog, the air eerie and cold.
Pushing through the mist, he finally saw them ahead—three Portals glowing faintly at a fork in the path.
Sehyun stepped decisively toward the leftmost Portal.
When he reached out his hand, the surface rippled outward in smooth waves. His fingertips hesitated for only an instant.
Then, closing his eyes, Sehyun stepped slowly into the Portal’s pull.
The harsh cold of the outside vanished, replaced by a strange, soothing warmth.