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Chapter 3
Soha nodded and scanned the surroundings for energy.
The ghostly aura that had been so sharp and distinct vanished as though it had never existed.
‘Did it disappear?’
Then she realized—there was a strong aura swirling around the boy who clung so tightly to her.
“Do you carry a gwigoo?”
“Gwigoo?”
The boy tilted his head, puzzled, then his eyes suddenly widened as though he had remembered something.
“That’s right! I have a gwigoo that can destroy evil spirits!”
With a triumphant gesture, the boy pulled a dagger from his robes. Its hilt was set with a crimson jewel, radiating a sharp and potent energy. Soha’s expression darkened.
“A gwigoo may hold great power, but it also summons spirits.”
“W-what! Isn’t it supposed to be a weapon that slays them?”
“It can cut a ghost, yes. But its aura is steeped in yin energy, so—”
She trailed off, noticing the blank, confused look on the boy’s face.
“…It’s dangerous.”
“Aagh!”
At the simple word dangerous, the boy flinched so violently he dropped the dagger.
“So that’s why the thing was chasing me?”
When Soha nodded, his face turned pale, even in the dark.
“This was listed in the treasury as a treasure? No wonder I got tricked!”
“That’s probably why it was hidden away—because it’s not meant to be touched lightly.”
“Do you think saying that makes the situation any better?” the boy shouted, his voice shrill. From his tone, and how casually he spoke of treasuries and treasures, Soha guessed he must be the son of some noble family.
At least, she thought with a flicker of relief, he didn’t seem like someone from the Black Tortoise Clan.
Soha glanced down at the boy’s hand clutching tightly at the hem of her sleeve. The desperation in his grip made it impossible to push him away.
“Why are you in such a dangerous place?”
“I’m running away.”
“Running? Are you being chased by ghosts too?”
“…By something worse.”
Not mere ghosts—she was running from a cruel fate itself.
For a moment, Soha debated how to shake this pampered child off and continue on her own. Drawing attention now could expose her to the slavers.
‘He can’t be more than ten…’
Even if she herself had returned to a nine-year-old’s body, her mind carried the twenty years of her past life. Leaving a child alone here felt impossible.
“Pick the gwigoo back up. Leave it here, and it’ll only bring disaster.”
“I-I’m not scared, you know,” the boy muttered, edging behind her while nervously kicking at the dagger with his toe. His trembling hands betrayed him.
Soha sighed and picked up the dagger herself. A chilling sting spread through her fingertips. It was clearly more dangerous—or more sacred—than it looked.
“Fine! You clearly know more than me. You keep it for now!”
Soha frowned. Entrusting such an item to anyone so carelessly was foolish.
“I’ll hold onto it, but only to return it to its rightful owner later. If something like this happens again—”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just because I look like this doesn’t mean I’m stupid!”
His hands shook, yet his voice rang proud. Soha studied him with faint wonder. He had the air of someone who had never once known true shadows.
“Let’s retrace your steps. We’ll find your path again.”
The boy nodded, finally willing to listen. Soha began backtracking along the trail. He followed close, watching her sidelong until he finally spoke.
“My name’s Geum Ihwan.”
Soha didn’t answer, intent on studying the footprints. Still, in her head, she considered what his surname implied.
“What’s your name?”
It was a simple question. Yet she could not bring herself to answer.
“You’re cold,” Ihwan muttered, pouting. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll just call you Nobody.”
“Call me whatever you like.”
“Your tone’s weird. You sound too old. How old are you—nine? Ten?”
“Think whatever you want.”
“You don’t tell me anything,” he grumbled.
Soha thought, A child like him must have grown up surrounded by warmth and kindness. Even the smallest silence makes him uneasy.
“This isn’t the time for laughter. What matters is surviving long enough to meet your family again.”
“Are you looking for your family too?”
“…My family is already dead.”
The boy froze. His little hand finally slipped away from her sleeve.
Soha didn’t care. Sympathy from others always turned sour in the end.
“You… you’re okay with that?”
“It was long ago. I hardly remember.”
The truth was, those ten years had dulled her grief. Or rather, she had forced it deep down. Painful memories were harder to bear than a harsh reality.
Sometimes hope itself was crueler than tragedy.
The boy fell silent and simply followed. After a while, he suddenly caught her wrist. Startled, she turned.
“…I’m sorry.”
When was the last time anyone had said that to her?
Soha blinked, taken aback by the boy’s sincerity. Especially when none of it had been his fault.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Let’s just find the path.”
Even so, Ihwan smiled, relieved she wasn’t angry.
“Do you always talk so stiffly?”
“Do I?”
Her stiff tone had hardened in the Black Tortoise household, where warmth was pointless.
“You don’t sound like a kid at all.”
His jest cut close to the truth.
“Here’s where the tracks end,” she murmured.
“That’s because I fell from up there,” he pointed.
“You didn’t get hurt?”
He stared at her, wide-eyed. “Are you… worried about me?”
That was when he noticed she hadn’t shaken his hand off.
“Maybe you are kind,” he whispered.
She ignored him, examining the slope—until a voice rang out.
“Damn it! She can’t have gone far!”
The slaver’s harsh voice echoed from the distance.
“Shh.”
Soha pressed a finger to her lips, silencing Ihwan. He bit his lip, eyes wide.
“That man is after me,” she whispered.
Together, they ducked behind a boulder as torchlight flickered nearby.
Soha’s hands shook. Memories of captivity threatened to paralyze her. But then—warmth spread across her hand.
Ihwan’s small hand covered hers. She looked up into his steady gaze.
He nodded and motioned with his eyes toward the opposite direction.
‘Run?’
He nodded again. Soha carefully turned her steps to flee.
