DEB 14

“You cannot enter right now!”

“Master Juan. Please get a permit before you enter!”

“Good grief, these brats are so troublesome… Ah, can I go in now?”

“I said no!”

“Master Juan. Please have mercy on us. If you go in like this, we’re all dead. Our heads will roll!”

“Do I care? Move aside!” 

With a loud crash, the door broke down, and a man with red hair made his appearance. Jiwook, who had guessed this would happen from the noisy commotion outside, stared indifferently at what was probably the seventieth broken door.

What’s the point of having a door when that bastard broke it every time he visits?

“I’m so sorry! Guild Master!”

“We tried to stop him, but you know, with his strength…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

The guild members were terrified and glanced at Jiwook as the rogue forcefully broke through the door. Used to such occurrences, Jiwook waved them off and looked disapprovingly at the intruder, kicking aside the broken door as he entered.

“…Have you forgotten what manners are?”

To the question laced with faint contempt, the red-haired man smirked and casually sat on Jiwook’s desk.

“That’s my line. The kid who just left your room, he’s one of ours.”

“He got caught, so he’s yours now.” 

“Ruthless.”

The man, seemingly regretful but smiling broadly, swung his legs back and forth under the desk. Humming a tune, Jiwook who had been sorting through documents, spoke up.

“Why are you here?”

“I was curious because the guy who’s supposed to report to me ran straight to you instead. So, what do you say? Is it Yasha or not?”

“Those who know nothing about Yasha wouldn’t be able to tell if it’s him or not.”

“Vina. I’m asking for your judgment.”

Despite the playful tone, his narrowed eyes looked quite menacing. It was a laugh filled with the intent that if he didn’t like the answer, he might turn the Blue Flame guild upside down.

Feeling a sudden rush of fatigue, Jiwook rubbed his eyes. 

Having such a person leading the guild is why the Ash Guild constantly had accidents. From the start, he wasn’t cut out to lead anyone or lead any organization, let alone create a guild.

Picking only the brutally strong and rolling them through so-called training every day made the guild strong on the outside but a mess inside, belying its reputation as the number one guild in the country. It wasn’t for no reason that there was a spy from his guild hidden in the Ash Guild.

Well, he’s the one who founded the Ash Guild with the intention of looking for information on Yasha, so he won’t even pretend to listen to this criticism.

No matter how you look at it, this was Yasha’s mistake.

Jiwook, thinking that Yasha had no eye for disciples since he had brought in such an asshole, put his glasses back on and shared his conclusion.

“It’s still unclear.”

“Still?”

Ash, the red-haired man, lazily smiled at the suggestion to wait for new information or evidence before making any judgments about whether he was Yasha or not. 

Jiwook clicked his tongue at Ash, who was smiling with a seemingly gentle and benevolent but deceitful smile. It was a talent to be able to smile like that, smooth and seemingly kind but with ulterior motives behind it.

“Then there’s a possibility, right? That’s enough for now. I’ll take action myself.”

“Take action yourself?”

Ash laughed heartily and said that it was a secret and jumped out the window, waving his hand, before Jiwook could stop him. Swallowing his astonishment as Ash disappeared without giving him a chance to intervene, Jiwook fiddled with his knuckles with a sullen expression.

“Yasha, why did you bring in someone like that?”

He couldn’t understand why Yasha would take in a disciple who failed to understand everything, no matter how clearly it was explained. He couldn’t believe he and that man was a fellow disciple with one master. Fiddling with the mark on the back of his hand, a symbol of the power Yasha had left behind, yielded no answers either.

Used to such situations, Jiwook bowed his head, and then returned to his work in the now quiet office.

Rustle.

The sound of paper turning quietly filled the room. 

The night was deepening.

***

Thud.

Wobble, wobble, the figure that had been standing precariously soon collapsed powerlessly, turning into a mushy pile of mud on the ground.

“Oh, another failure.”

The man with long black hair calmly acknowledged his failure and brushed off the dirt on the ground with an indifferent face. Dirt smeared over his fingers, long and straight like those of a pianist.

“What was the problem…”

The man, lost in thought as he looked down at the dirt, soon went into a storehouse and came out with a large box.

Upon opening the tape-sealed box, something shaped like a person inside revealed itself. It was merely a doll imitating a person, made of dirt and hence ochre-colored.

“You must move.”

With a coaxing murmur, the mannequin-like doll, making a creaking mechanical noise, crawled out of the box. The man with the long black hair momentarily brightened his eyes, but the doll that had barely moved soon collapsed with a thud, turning into dirt again. 

The wig that had been placed on the mannequin fell to the ground, proving to be another failure.

Hmm.

The man with long hair brushed off the fallen wig and held a strand of silvery hair in his hand. 

Rustle. 

After thoroughly fiddling with the hair in his hand, the man sighed deeply.

“…As expected, it’s difficult to imitate without the original material.”

Yasha.

His beloved, resented, and dearly missed master.

It was the hundred and first doll he had created in the image of Yasha, but it had failed this time as well. It was inevitable to fail since not a single strand of Yasha’s hair or a drop of his blood was included. Nevertheless, the man regretted that he hadn’t succeeded even after so many attempts and mockingly recognized the fatal flaw in his creations.

“Well, even if it had succeeded, it wouldn’t have meant much without his face.”

He had managed to shape the body to resemble Yasha’s physique to some extent, but the face was too difficult. No matter how much he sculpted the clay, he couldn’t replicate Yasha’s face, resulting in hundreds of discarded attempts. 

Eventually, he compromised by shaping only the contour of the face without detailing any facial features, so making hundreds more would still result in failures. The man who had avoided facing this reality now accepted it and began cleaning the dark room before sitting down.

“I guess I won’t be able to make any for a while.”

Realizing the truth he had deliberately avoided, both his creative drive and passion cooled off significantly. 

The man leaned back in a rocking chair and stared at the moon beyond the window, his face was pale and his eyes were empty.

Thanks to his excellent vision, the moon, appearing nearly silver, reminded him of someone. Its high placement, lack of color, and particularly its silver hue all reminded him of Yasha. 

Thump. Thump.

The man silently tapped the armrest of the chair and closed his mouth. With every brush of his fingertips against the armrest, old memories surfaced in his mind.

“Moot. If you have nothing to talk to, speaking formally is one way to show minimal respect, so to speak.”

For Moot, a man with few words and not particularly sociable, the kind suggestion from his gentle master was meant to help him avoid making verbal mistakes and earning disdain. 

Moot began using honorific language with everyone, regardless of age. But there wasn’t any remarkable change in his attitude. However, those around Moot somewhat compromised and accepted this level of formality.

The formal language he had learned back then still lingered on his lips, which was his own way of showing respect toward Yasha.

He had accepted his master opinion, and it was also a means to demonstrate that he was still faithfully implementing it.

However, unlike in the past, even when he spoke formally, he didn’t hear Yasha’s praise. The feeling of emptiness lingered, despite trying to fill it by creating dolls that resemble him. It felt like pouring water into a bottomless well.

Knowing that, but feeling like he would go crazy if he stayed still, Moot continued his research, but even that became tiresome.

“…If he was going to disappear like that, he should have left a corpse for me.”

He muttered in a tone of blame and reproach. The man sighed deeply.

He should have left a corpse. If Yasha was going to die like that, if he was going to disappear without a trace, he should have left at least a corpse to make his death clear. And it should have fallen into his hands. 

He thought Yasha had envisioned such a future and granted him the power of death.

However, Yasha’s corpse didn’t remain, and there was nothing left in the man’s hands. All he had was the power Yasha had passed on.

As that power gradually gnawed away at him, the man leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

“Yasha.”

Every day, he felt madness creeping up on him. It was a madness that was difficult to handle alone without the restraint and control Yasha had provided by his side. He was barely holding on now, but he couldn’t measure his own endurance.

It wouldn’t be strange if he went insane in a week. 

Recently, he had been okay for a few days, but…

“Hmm…?”

The man, lost in thought, furrowed his brow. 

Why had he been okay?

Searching for a reason, he soon arrived at one place because it was a rare occurrence.

Mok Huiyun.

The one who had been pointed out by Vina who may or may not be Yasha, and the person he had drunk blood from. 

The only reason he could find was that he had drunk his blood, so the man, whose eyes gradually widened as he pondered, raised the corners of his mouth.

“Aha.”

A soft exclamation burst out in the quiet room.