Reverse Murder v1c30

“If only there were a mountain village, even a ramshackle one! The floor would be straw mats instead of silk, and you’d see every spider crawling across the rafters…”

They surveyed their surroundings. Near a small cave, waterfall, and lake, the merchants and guards had already set up camp—some with tents, others sprawled by the fire. Jihan and Maki kept their distance, finding a quiet spot near a giant tree. They propped up a makeshift canopy with branches, blocking the wind and the chatter of the traders. Maki lit a fire and started cooking rice.

“…Young Master, may I speak freely?”

Maki hesitated as he tended the flames. Jihan met his gaze over the crackling fire.

“What if you strike first?”

“Strike first?”

“Tell Grand Secretary about the annex master’s… misconduct.”

Jihan’s expression darkened.

“And what should I say? That the eldest son of the Choi clan is nothing but a cum dump for a man eight years his junior? Is that what you want me to confess to my father?”

Maki flinched but pressed on.

“Still, it’s infuriating to just take it! He knows you can’t speak up, so he—”

“You overstep, servant.”

The sharp rebuke silenced Maki. Jihan sighed, taming his irritation.

“There’s no running from this.”

“…”

“It’s my own fault. I was blind with rage… and grabbed the wrong thing.”

“The wrong thing?”

“Remember when I visited that famous blind shaman in the capital? He warned me—I’m cursed with White Tiger Calamity this year. He said I’m the damp wood of early spring, and that bastard is a frostbitten axe. If we clash, I’m the one who’ll splinter.”

Maki pondered this.

“I don’t know much about fate, but… does that mean the annex master was destined to obsess over you?”

“What do you mean?”

“An axe exists to cut wood, doesn’t it?”

Jihan fell silent. He’d never thought of it that way.

***

Then—

A distant thud of hooves vibrated through the ground.

Maki’s head snapped up. At first, it was faint, but the sound grew louder. Jihan’s face paled as he listened intently.

No doubt about it. Horses.

He shot to his feet, gripping a tree as he peered toward the waterfall. The merchants had heard it too—all of them froze, scanning the darkness.

Without hesitation, Jihan grabbed an armful of damp leaves and smothered their fire.

“Young Master, what—?”

“Untie the horses.”

“What?”

“Now!”

Jihan’s ashen face brooked no argument. Panicked, Maki fumbled, but Jihan was already yanking off saddles, sending their supplies crashing to the ground. He slapped the horses’ rumps, sending them galloping into the woods.

As Maki scrambled to gather their scattered belongings, Jihan dragged him into the thick underbrush below the path. In the distance, torches flickered.

“Young Master… could it be bandits?”

“Shh!”

Jihan clamped a hand over Maki’s mouth, pressing him lower. The merchants were just as alarmed—guards drew swords, traders doused fires and hid their goods.

Then the riders appeared.

Two constables and a gang of bounty hunters—a bad sign. When nobles’ servants fled, the Police Bureau and bounty hunters often worked together.

“Damn it…”

“Quiet.”

Maki kept trying to peek, but Jihan held him down, his own breath shallow. His teeth ground together. How the hell did he track me here so fast?

Then, trailing behind the others, one last rider emerged.

Even from a distance, Jihan recognized him instantly.

Seon.

Maki stifled a gasp, covering his own mouth. Jihan pressed himself flatter against the ground, fury and dread coiling in his chest. That persistent bastard—treating me like a runaway slave?

The constables began checking the merchants’ identity tags one by one. Seon dismounted from his black horse, standing out even among the filthy bounty hunters and the so-called “Black Dogs” of the Police Bureau. His pale official robes, edged with silver-gray, fluttered as the jade bead of his hat cord swayed against his chest. A refined smile played on his lips.

“Forgive me for startling you. I’m searching for someone.”

“Who could you possibly be looking for in these mountains?”

“A fair-skinned scholar with delicate features and his short, slightly tanned servant. Have you seen them pass by?”

The merchants exchanged glances, tilting their heads.

“No, we haven’t.”

“They might be in disguise.”

“…Ah. You mean the young monk and the scholar in the blue robe? The monk kept his hat pulled low, so I couldn’t see his face clearly, but his nape was as white as rice paste… And the scholar in the blue robe—he was clean-shaven and small, but he didn’t carry himself like a nobleman… Wait, what the—”

The merchant’s eyes widened as he noticed the horses that had been tethered to the giant tree were gone.

“They were definitely here just a moment ago!”

“With all the commotion from the hooves, we thought bandits were coming—must’ve slipped away in the chaos.”

The bounty hunters moved behind the tree, examining the poles and canopy, the smoldering embers of the fire, and the hoofprints. Seon stepped threateningly toward the merchant.

“When was the last time you saw them?”

“Well… we first met them when we gathered at the foot of the mountain. We’d climbed about five ri before deciding to camp here—so it’s been roughly two sikgyeong. Oh! When I went to relieve myself a gak ago, I saw them lighting a fire behind that tree over there. Yes, a gak ago. No mistake.”

“…”

“The horses are gone too. Must’ve bolted in the confusion.”

The constable approached and reported quietly.

“The horses are heading west, sir.”

“Chase them.”

Seon spun around and mounted his horse without assistance. The constables and bounty hunters followed, turning their horses toward the path where Jihan’s had fled.

“Hyah!”

Jihan, still crouched in the underbrush, watched Seon’s retreating figure—his profile sharp against the fading light. Only when they vanished entirely did he dare to breathe. Maki was the first to peek out, scanning the area. The merchants and guards, now relaxed, chattered among themselves.

“Young Master, I think it’s safe now.”

Maki rubbed his stiff back, grumbling. Jihan stayed low, catching his breath. His heart still raced.

“But now that the horses are gone… what do we do with all these supplies?”

Maki stared gloomily at the bundles they’d tossed into the brush. Jihan pressed his palms into the dirt, crawling out like a wounded animal. His muscles, tense from fear, refused to cooperate. The merchants gaped as he emerged, covered in dirt.

“What in the world were you two doing in there?”

“Some young master came with bounty hunters and turned everything upside down!”

Jihan ignored them, signaling Maki with his eyes. Quick to understand, Maki dug into his inner pocket and pulled out a pouch of gold.

“If those men return, don’t tell them which way we went.”

“…”

“I’d be grateful.”

He pressed a heavy gold ring into the merchant’s palm. The greedy traders’ eyes lit up.

***

By the time they reached Jang-un’s Yuksillyeong Pass, fifteen days had passed since leaving the capital.

The journey had been long and grueling. On good days, they found a villager’s home to stay in; on bad ones, they slept by the fire or in abandoned huts.

Every night, Jihan woke from nightmares.

In his dreams, Seon appeared, swinging an axe into a plum tree. With each strike, blood sprayed in arcs—splattering his cheeks, his neck, the hem of his robe. The whites of Seon’s eyes glowed like embers in the ruins.

Jihan would jolt awake, gasping, his hands groping his waist as if the axe had struck him instead.

Finally, after struggling over the last ridge, they descended westward into a secluded mountain village, thick with broom bushes.

Jihan immediately sought out the village headman.

“Where are you from?”

The man eyed Jihan’s disheveled appearance—his ruined monk’s hat long discarded, his hair tied back in a messy knot, his clothes faded from dew and torn by branches. Only his face remained clean from washing in every stream they passed.

“I’m looking for a secluded house in the mountains. Somewhere not too far from the village, where I can get supplies as needed. A thatched cottage, a tile-roofed house—anything will do, as long as it’s livable.”