TBML 25

“Ah!”

That single cry was all Yeon managed as he plummeted into the very trap he had dug for the black tiger. From above, the pit hadn’t seemed so deep. But once falling, the descent felt like dropping from the earth into the underworld itself. Was it that time had slowed, or had he truly fallen that far?

Tensing his body in preparation for the impact, Yeon couldn’t shake the thought of how long he was falling. His senses were indeed playing tricks on him, but the pit was, in truth, quite deep.

Tigers are excellent jumpers—not merely swift runners, but beasts that could leap over boulders and trees. A trap meant to catch such a creature had to be deep. Deep enough that once fallen, it could never climb out.

When he finally struck the uneven bottom, a dull thud rang out—thump—followed by a sharp wave of pain. The breath was knocked clean from him as his entire body slammed into the earth. The only solace was that, unlike when he had rolled down the slope fleeing the leopard, he hadn’t lost consciousness this time.

Face-down in the dirt, Yeon writhed like a dying fish out of water, gasping soundlessly. His left arm, shoulder, ribs, side, even down to his hip—everything that had hit the ground screamed with pain, as if that entire half of his body had forgotten how to breathe.

“Ghh…”

Groaning through gritted teeth, he twisted and rolled in agony before finally, after some time, managing to push himself halfway up. His arm throbbed mercilessly. Every breath sent jolts through his chest, back, ribs, side, and shoulder. His entire left side burned, and worst of all, he couldn’t even twitch his left arm.

First the ankle, now the arm… Pathetic. But now was no time for shame or self-pity. What mattered more was the tiger still somewhere above.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Yeon forced his battered body upright. His hip gave a sickening creak, but at least he could stand on both feet, perhaps thanks to the full-body collision with the earth having absorbed the worst of the shock.

He lifted his head and looked up.

Above the wide, round rim of the pit, the sky was shockingly clear and bright. Sunlight poured through the opening, forcing him to squint.

As his eyes adjusted to the glare, a black shape wavered into focus. He blinked—and there it was.

A massive tiger’s head, silhouetted at the top of the pit, gazing down at him. The instant their eyes met—those golden, unblinking eyes staring into him—a memory surfaced in Yeon’s mind. Words once spoken by his old master, a veteran hunter:

“Tch. There are tigers you can catch, and tigers you don’t.”

Only now did he understand what the old man had meant. The kind of tiger you don’t catch—one like this. A being that felt more like a spirit than a beast.

As he stared up at the black tiger, calmly watching him from above, Yeon realized he’d been outwitted by his own scheme. The tiger had let him believe it was following his plan. It had played along with his clumsy baiting, not because it was fooled—but because it chose to.

Those amber eyes seemed to say, “I’ve been dancing to your tune, haven’t I?”

The realization came too late, but once it did, everything fell into place.

The tiger’s traces that circled him so persistently. That fleeting moment when their eyes had met as it fled. The way it had bounded slowly, almost playfully, like a child playing hide-and-seek with him. All of it.

So this is why they call it the Mountain Lord.

The black tiger loomed above him. Yeon, unaware, had dared to think he could catch it. He had basked in the illusion that everything was going according to his plan. If tigers could laugh, this one would’ve been rolling on the ground, clutching its belly.

Mouth agape, dazed, Yeon looked up again. The tiger’s jaws parted.

Its lip twitched, and for a terrifying moment, it looked like it was laughing at him.

A shiver ran down his spine.

If I climb out… will it maul me to death?

No—before even worrying about that, could he climb out at all? Not with this arm.

He tried to gauge the pit’s depth. From where he stood, looking up at the tiger above, the distance was dizzying. The sudden rush made him instinctively raise his left hand to his forehead.

“Ah—!”

Pain shot through him. His arm rebelled violently, a searing bolt of agony paralyzing even his fingers. This time, it was surely broken. Badly.

Panting, Yeon tried to draw quick, sharp breaths to test his ribs.

He recalled the hunter who had been gored by a boar—how a broken rib had pierced his lung, and with every wheezing breath, he had edged closer to death.

It hurt, yes, but he could still breathe. So perhaps he wasn’t at death’s door just yet.

Rather than wallowing in pain, Yeon focused instead on how to escape the pit—and catch the black tiger that stared down at him with such maddening amusement.

Driven by that thought, he gritted his teeth and hurled himself around the pit, leaping, climbing, throwing himself against the wall. He grabbed a broken bow stave that had fallen with him and tried using it like a hatchet, stabbing it into the wall for leverage.

He tried everything he could think of—but no matter what, he remained where he was.

Even with two working arms, escape would’ve been nearly impossible. With only one, it was hopeless.

The more he flailed and failed, the more despair crept into his expression, seeping across his face like ink in water.

Though it was only early winter, Yeon was drenched in sweat from his desperate attempts to scale the pit walls. He had rolled through the dirt so many times that his face was now as soiled and ragged as his spirit.

The more he thrashed and clawed at the walls, the more he was forced to confront the cruel truth: he could not escape this death trap alone. Unless someone—be it a passerby or one of the mountain folk who had once dug this pit—happened to stumble upon it, he would die here. And barring a miracle, no such thing would happen.

“Ah… aaah!”

Yeon hurled the broken bow stave aside and clapped his right hand over his mouth. He had clawed at the wall so fiercely that his nails had torn off, leaving his fingers caked in blood and dirt. His mouth and nose were filled with the gritty taste of soil and the iron tang of blood.

It was over. Everything was over. He had fallen into a pit no one would ever find, and it was all ending here in vain.

With a dull thud, he slumped to the floor of the pit, legs giving out beneath him. Realizing the full weight of his situation, he found it too absurd to even cry—only a hollow laugh came out.

It wasn’t the tiger that had bewitched him. It was money. He’d been completely ensnared by greed and had willingly leapt into his own grave. Just days ago, he’d begged the heavens to spare his life, promising to repent. But now here he was again, chasing after coin with no thought to the cost. If this wasn’t a punishment, what was?

“…Ha. Haha. Mother.”

He laughed like a madman, crumpled on the floor of the pit. The first image that floated to his mind, as he thought of dying like this, was his ailing mother, whom he had left behind in that cold room.

It had been four days since he left. Was Du-soe taking good care of her? If Yeon didn’t return in a few more days, what would become of her? Was she even still alive?

It was all over. Truly, everything had come to an end.

He scoffed at the thought of ginseng. Even if he had caught the black tiger, there was no guarantee he could actually use it. Once the money he left behind ran out, not even Du-soe would be able to care for his mother any longer. The physician who pretended concern would surely bolt the door shut the moment they lacked coin. No one would step forward to help—they’d only click their tongues and move on.

And when she finally passed, and Yeon never came home, people would say the same thing they always did: raise a child, and they’ll only break your heart. He’d be scorned as the worst of the unfilial.

“All so meaningless. Everything… it’s all for nothing.”

He laughed again, muttering to himself like a man whose mind had gone.

“Mother… you raised a fool. A true idiot. Where did you pick up such a worthless son?”

Even blaming others now seemed meaningless. Could he blame his poor, ignorant parents for borrowing money from Byun despite their illness? Or the black tiger, who hadn’t even tried to kill him but had merely played with him before letting him fall into this pit? What good would blaming anyone do?

It was all his fault.

His fault for being abandoned that freezing winter.

His fault for posturing like a proud man when he had neither skill nor wealth.

His fault for being too ashamed to stay in the village.

His fault for chasing money, thinking he could catch a tiger alone.

He was exactly what people called him—a cursed wretch, a stubborn fool. He had killed not only his father and mother, but himself too.

He knew it was an exaggeration, but accepting it brought a strange sense of peace. Like laying down after a long, grueling day, curling into the warm floorboards beside the fire. Let them call him a wretch who abandoned his ailing mother. He would soon abandon the world in turn. What did it matter now?

Whether by his own will or not, the time had come for him to lay down the crushing weight of life.

Why had he fought so hard, so desperately denying it all this time?

He gave up on escaping the pit and rested his cheek on the earth. He curled onto his side, clutching his injured arm with the other, and thought of something distant—of being in his mother’s arms as she stroked his hair, back in a time now nearly forgotten.

Curled up like that, he wished someone would stroke his head and say, “Yeon, you’ve done well.” He wanted to fall asleep to that warmth and never again open his eyes to this cruel world. A world where there were no wagging fingers, no sick mother, no Du-soe telling him to run.

The deep pit, oddly enough, was warm. The ground was hard, yes, but soft where it touched his cheek. There was no wind, only a faint warmth rising up from the earth itself.

Yeon slowly blinked. He had barely slept in four days, his belly filled only with water, scouring the mountain like a beast. His whole body ached, but more than the pain, it was the exhaustion that weighed on him now.

As sleep heavy as stone settled over his eyes, Yeon’s consciousness sank—deep, deep, like the very pit that had swallowed him.