“A young Imoogi, is it? The Hwang-ryong won’t look kindly on this matter.”
Hallakung immediately saw through Su-min’s true form. At his cold tone, Su-min, who had been quietly watching from a distance, flinched.
“Ah… please, let me off. I was just punished not too long ago.”
Su-min muttered with a sulky tone. Hallakung stroked his chin with a thoughtful “hmph.” His prim expression made it clear he wasn’t inclined to show leniency.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
Hae-hyun fussed over Jae-ha, checking him from head to toe. His eyes brimmed with worry, trembling slightly. Considering that the sunbae he’d been enjoying the festival with had suddenly been dragged into the Underworld, of course he’d be shaken. Jae-ha nodded and gave his shoulder a reassuring pat.
If anything, Jae-ha himself was fine—the real concern was Hae-hyun, who had suddenly appeared in an explosion. While sneaking glances to see if he was injured, Jae-ha’s eyes landed on something.
To be exact, the memento box in Hae-hyun’s hand.
“You actually brought the whole thing?”
“…I didn’t have time to think.”
Hae-hyun awkwardly hid it behind his back, looking embarrassed.
But Hallakung wasn’t about to let them enjoy their reunion. His icy gaze swept across the devastated field. To restore it would take centuries, perhaps longer. It pained him, but he decided to turn it into an opportunity. His expression shifted as he crossed his arms.
“Those who dared harm the flower fields of Seo-cheon should be cast into hell and left to rot for three thousand years.”
“Three thousand years?”
The number slipped out of Jae-ha before he realized it. Humanity’s history had barely stretched past two thousand years—three thousand was so far back it felt like Gojoseon. It was an unfathomable span of time.
Hallakung gave him a sly look.
“Yes. They’ll be sent through all eighty-nine hells. Bound and beaten with iron rods until their flesh bursts, devoured alive by wolves and birds in blue flames, dropped into fields where blades sprout like grass, their bodies shredded into ribbons.”
The imagery was so vivid Jae-ha winced. Imagining Hae-hyun and Su-min enduring such torment made him sick to his stomach.
“Still, this Hallakung may show mercy.”
While Jae-ha grimaced, Hae-hyun and Su-min only blinked in confusion. Despite his small stature—barely reaching Jae-ha’s chest—the boy carried an aura that demanded attention.
“There is one condition.”
His gaze locked on Jae-ha. And Jae-ha understood instantly. The meaning was too clear to miss.
For some reason, Hallakung wanted Seo Jae-ha’s cooperation.
And with Hae-hyun caught up in the bargain, Jae-ha had no choice. He couldn’t possibly let them be torn apart for three thousand years.
“Then at least let my sunbae go.”
Unaware of the details, Hae-hyun was the first to protest.
“He’s right. Hyung is basically a civilian. It’s too dangerous.”
Su-min agreed, but Hallakung scoffed in disbelief.
“What danger could come to one bearing the aura of the Cheonrok? I’d wager he’s the safest among us.”
“He was dragged here against his will! He’s the victim. Why should he have to clean up Seo-cheon’s mess just to go home? Seo-cheon should be taking responsibility, not piling its filth on him—”
Hae-hyun voiced the very argument Jae-ha hadn’t had the chance to say. Hallakung’s eyes narrowed at his sharp words, but instead of refuting, he smoothly redirected.
“So you’re saying you two don’t mind going to hell?”
“Hell’s hell, and sunbae’s sunbae.”
“No, hell’s not on the table either. What are you even talking about?”
Jae-ha cut in sharply. Like hell he was going to leave them behind.
“Hallakung-nim, this isn’t the human realm. You’re expecting too much from two humans and an Imoogi, aren’t you?”
Su-min asked uneasily. Technically speaking, all three of them—Su-min, Hae-hyun, and Jae-ha—belonged to the human world. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t know the Underworld better than its own guardians. Surely Hallakung could handle it far more efficiently himself.
Yet, for some reason, Hallakung was adamant about Jae-ha. Even in terms of ability, Su-min or Hae-hyun would have been the obvious choices.
“My intuition is sharp. I inherited it from my father. This one is the key.”
Hallakung’s voice was steady—neither arrogant nor boastful, just the plain truth. His unyielding tone made it clear he wouldn’t bend.
Suspicious as it sounded, they had no alternatives. Jae-ha sighed.
“…I’ll hear you out.”
Hallakung’s expression softened slightly.
“It’s a long story. Walk with me.”
Following his lead, the three walked down a wide path through the flower fields. A cluster of child spirits scurried after them, only to be pushed aside by Hae-hyun, who guarded Jae-ha like a shield. The little ones, shoved back, made exaggeratedly wounded faces, bickering with him as the ruined land fell behind and the breathtaking fields opened once more.
Up close, the flowers revealed strange, otherworldly traits. Some petals glowed faintly, others had stamens that writhed like worms. There were blossoms with teeth, with eyes, even some that dropped snowflakes from their petals. While Jae-ha stared in fascination, Hallakung began.
“Some time ago, thieves began slipping into our flower fields.”
The flower fields of Seo-cheon were one of the Underworld’s rarest treasures, a place of beauty unmatched in such a grim world. But entry was tightly restricted. The vast meadows brimmed with unique, precious species coveted by many.
Naturally, Sala Doryeong—Hallakung’s father and caretaker of the fields—was especially vigilant about thieves. Known for his sharp instincts and strict temperament, he had caught countless trespassers before. But one day, he found flowers with their heads snapped clean off, leaving only bare stems. Peace was broken. The thieves had returned.
“Sleep Flowers are especially difficult to raise. Enraged, Father swore to catch the culprit, even staking out the fields at night.”
After several nights of keeping watch near the Sleep Flower patch, Sala Doryeong finally glimpsed the thief’s back.
But he failed to catch them. Just as he tried, the thief struck him in the side, sending him rolling. The child spirits, drawn by his cries, found him writhing on the ground in pain.
“We were the ones who found him!”
“Doryeong-nim was hurting so badly. We were worried.”
The little spirits, having finally managed to cling to Jae-ha’s hands despite Hae-hyun’s defenses, chirped proudly. Hallakung glanced at them, and the coldness in his eyes softened into something almost fond, like an older brother watching over mischievous siblings.
The child spirits who helped tend the fields were children who had died young and come to the Underworld. Their role required purity, so they remained unchanged, never growing, no matter how many centuries passed.
To them, it was simple: if you’re hurt, you need to be healed.
At that time, an honored guest happened to be staying in Seo-cheon.
“That was the Cheonrok. He was Father’s friend.”
No one in existence was unaware of the Cheonrok’s healing powers. The spirits rushed to the guesthouse, begging him to heal Sala Doryeong.
The Cheonrok, preparing to leave on a trip, was at first startled to hear his friend was injured. But when he learned it was just a single blow, he scoffed.
“Serves him right. He ought to learn some caution.”
With that cold remark, he was ready to leave anyway. But the children, desperate, clung to him in tears. So the Cheonrok came up with a trick.
“If you can beat me in a game, I’ll go heal him right away.”
“And if we lose?”
“Then you’ll have to wait until I return.”
The children, disheartened, nodded. But there was no way they could beat him. The Cheonrok, born restless, endlessly wandering between realms and indulging in every kind of revelry, was far too clever and experienced.
In the end, all three of them lost. Laughing heartily, the Cheonrok departed from Seo-cheon.
