“Am I… dead?”
Jae-ha muttered in disbelief. No, this had to be a scam. How could they grab him without even giving him a chance to run? His life hadn’t been especially full of regrets, but objectively, he hadn’t lived long at all—and to think it ended like this was just absurd.
“Dead?”
“Did you die?”
“You’re not dead though.”
The children crowding around him tilted their heads, responding even to his muttering. They looked about ten years old, but their voices sounded almost too innocent. …Or was that just normal for their age? He didn’t spend time around kids, so he couldn’t tell.
“Where is this place? And why did you bring me here?”
When Jae-ha pushed himself up, their heads turned in unison. Looking around, he realized he was inside a hanok. And unlike Hae-hyun’s place, which had modern touches mixed in, this one was the real deal.
The children, too, were dressed in traditional clothes—silken robes embroidered with silver, glossy sashes, norigae ornaments, and long braids coiled with hairpins. They looked more like miniature princesses than anything else. Standing among them in his modern clothes, Jae-ha felt jarringly out of place.
Still, judging by their voices and their number, they were clearly connected to those wax-doll brats who had badgered him to play earlier.
“You lost the game.”
“You promised you’d fix it if you lost.”
“That’s right. You promised.”
Unbelievable. Not only had they dragged him here, but they were shameless about it too.
“Ha……”
Jae-ha shut his eyes, then opened them again. Actually… maybe this wasn’t so bad. When they were in wax form, he couldn’t get a single word out of them. At least here, they could talk—and he could finally demand to know why they went through all this trouble to kidnap him.
“Alright. About that promise.”
“Hm?”
“What promise? When did I ever make one with you?”
At his question, the three children blinked their wide eyes. Then their brows furrowed like little pine needles.
“Are you pretending not to know?”
“Coward! You promised!”
“You said you’d be right back!”
“Liar! Lying is bad!”
“No, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Even when he told the truth, they seemed convinced he was feigning ignorance, their baby faces screwed up into fierce little glares. Not that it was threatening in the least….
“You’re Cheonrok.”
“You can’t pretend not to remember.”
“Not fair.”
Not fair? He was the one who didn’t know what was going on. Jae-ha grimaced.
“I’m not Cheonrok.”
“Not Cheonrok? Liar.”
“But you’ve got the same blood.”
“And the same aura.”
“I’m really not. I just inherited it faintly. I’m only a descendant. And my aura’s weak, right?”
“…Well, that’s true.”
“Does Cheonrok have a kid?”
The children stared at him, suddenly unsure. If they admitted they’d dragged the wrong person here, he’d smack them, kids or not. His life had been stolen for this nonsense.
“You really aren’t him? Then you can’t heal?”
“I can’t heal anyone.”
“But you’ve got Cheonrok’s aura.”
“Having it doesn’t mean I can use it. I’m a weakling.”
He said it with a touch of self-mockery, but the children exchanged panicked glances, blinking faster and faster as if that would solve anything.
“…Then what do we do?”
“You’re asking me? Do you want me to scold you?”
His sharp tone made them shrink back, sneaking anxious looks at him with wide, watery eyes.
“Cheonrok promised he’d heal our young master, but he never came.”
“So we kept waiting, and waiting, but he never came.”
“Our young master needs to be healed.”
So Cheonrok had promised these kids something ages ago—then ditched them. Wonderful. His ancestor was a liar and a scam artist. That was something he could’ve gone his whole life without knowing.
“Either way, I can’t heal. It’s not that I won’t—it’s that I can’t. Can you send me back? You grabbed the wrong person.”
He slipped in his hopeful request, but the children only tilted their heads blankly.
“The human realm? You can’t go back there now.”
“It took us so much just to get here.”
“Yeah! And it’s weak now, all mixed up.”
“We didn’t like it. Better not to go.”
These little brats…. Were they joking? Jae-ha’s fist clenched on its own.
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Live here.”
“Yeah! It’s big here.”
Their bright, thoughtless replies made Jae-ha’s smile turn sharp.
“You’re really not going to give me a straight answer?”
“…W-we can’t anymore….”
“We used up all our strength….”
Wide-eyed, the kids even hiccupped as they mumbled.
“Ah, but Hallakung-nim can do it!”
“Yeah, Hallakung-nim can!”
“Hallakung?”
That name rang a bell. Jae-ha blinked. He hadn’t expected to actually meet the very figure Hae-hyun’s parents, the Guardian Agency chief, and Hae-ryeong had cursed so passionately.
Which meant this had to be Seo-cheon—the realm humans could only enter with a Guardian Talisman.
He was experiencing another world in real time, yet it didn’t feel real. And was he even dead? His body didn’t feel like it. Jae-ha flexed his fingers one by one—they moved perfectly fine. Honestly, it felt like if he just walked back to campus, everything would be normal again.
Should’ve carried the Guardian Talisman… Even if he didn’t know how to use it, just having it would’ve helped. He regretted it now, but the talisman wasn’t about to magically appear from the bag he’d left at home.
Anyway, whoever this Hallakung was, he was clearly stronger than these kids. Having gained at least one useful fact about Seo-cheon, Jae-ha stood fully.
“Then take me to him.”
He stepped out into a wide wooden floor, a daecheong maru, bordered by a low railing. Beyond lay the open outdoors. He walked forward as if to step outside—then froze. For once, awe softened his usually blank face.
“Wow……”
Under the full moon stretched an endless field of flowers.
The blooms stretched all the way to the horizon, each different in size, shape, and color. Yet instead of looking gaudy or chaotic, the scene felt harmonious. When the night wind swept through, the entire field rippled like waves, dancing like a living rainbow.
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
“Not so bad, right? Want us to show you around?”
“See, you can just live here.”
The children clustered around him with proud little faces, puffing their chests. Their heads bumped against his thighs as they craned up at him, eyes shining. For once, their eagerness didn’t feel annoying. With a faint smile, Jae-ha simply patted their heads. The view was too overwhelming—enough to soften anyone’s heart.
“Who walks on the maru with shoes on?”
A new voice spoke from the opposite side of where Jae-ha had entered.
He turned to see a boy, maybe middle school age, standing there. Not as young as the others, but still a child.
And he was in socks.
Glancing down, Jae-ha realized the other kids were barefoot too.
“…My apologies.”
The boy looked younger than Jae-ha, but his presence carried an odd authority that naturally drew out politeness. Half-dazed, Jae-ha bent to remove his shoes before suddenly hesitating.
Wait—why was he apologizing? He’d been kidnapped with his shoes on. Still, wearing shoes on a maru was rude. Torn between his inner Korean etiquette and his victimized indignation, he froze. Meanwhile, the children chirped brightly:
“Hallakung-nim!”
“We were just on our way to see you!”
Hallakung? Jae-ha’s gaze returned to the boy.
The short-haired boy had a sharp, cool aura. Half-lidded eyes with upturned corners, a neatly sculpted nose—he looked almost like a doll.
His attire was simpler than the children’s, but up close the fabric reeked of wealth. Judging by both his title and the way he carried himself, he clearly held a high position here.
“These children were rude.”
“Yes, a bit.”
“……”
At Jae-ha’s curt reply, one of the boy’s brows twitched upward, but he quickly regained his composure and nodded calmly.
“Welcome to Seo-cheon. I am Hallakung, overseer of this place. And you are…?”
