Dokja gently stroked his stomach, which was now covered by the illusion of the relic given by Sooyoung. He stared at his reflection in the dark glass window, imagining the small life growing inside.
'Yoo Joonghyuk's child?' Dokja whispered softly. He fell silent for a moment before a small laugh, sounding bitter yet firm, escaped his lips. "No. This is my child. Only mine."
. . .
Meanwhile, in the human world, the festivities of the Emperor's birthday party began to reach their climax. The great hall of the palace was filled with the laughter of nobles and the incredibly strong aroma of wine. Yoo Joonghyuk stood in the corner of the room, his shadow lengthening under the light of the crystal lamps that had begun to dim.
His sharp eyes continued to monitor his targets one by one. He ensured that Anthony and the Emperor had drained their glasses of wine, which had been mixed with the poison he had so neatly prepared. After seeing the last glass emptied, Joonghyuk could finally breathe a long sigh of relief. The burden on his shoulders lifted slightly; the wheel of death for them had now fully turned.
The party slowly ended as the night grew deeper. Guests began to disperse with slightly staggering steps due to intoxication.
. . .
Anthony stood on the high balcony of the cathedral, looking down at the crowd of his congregation prostrating below in full devotion. The cold night wind fluttered his papal robes embroidered with gold thread, but he did not feel it. On his holy-looking face, a thin, very satisfied smile appeared—the smile of a winner who had just placed his final piece.
He raised his hand, offering a blessing that was met with a thunderous murmur of prayers.
"Victory is in sight," Anthony said with a voice that sounded so authoritative in the ears of the congregation. "God has given us the strongest weapon. Before long, darkness will perish completely. We have succeeded in bringing the light to our side."
In his mind, he was not referring to God, but to Yoo Joonghyuk. Anthony felt he had successfully tamed the most feared man on the continent. To him, Joonghyuk was merely a war dog hungry for the Demon King's destruction, and Anthony was the owner of his leash. He had already devised thousands of scenarios in his head—how he would use Joonghyuk's sword to behead the Demon King, and how after that, he would eliminate Joonghyuk so he could rule without rival.
After the sermon session ended, Anthony stepped into his dimly lit private room. A holy knight was already kneeling there, waiting for him with head bowed.
"Tell me," Anthony said while pouring wine into his golden chalice. "How is the report from the border region? Are there any signs of that demon bastard or traces of suspicious power?"
The knight did not dare look up. "Reporting, Your Holiness. The knights and priests we sent to the snowy border reported that there were no signs of life at all. The area around there is completely silent. We have combed through to the innermost boundary, but the result is nil. No foreign mana, no intruders."
Anthony sipped his wine, letting the red liquid moisten his throat which felt a bit dry. "Good. Let them continue to watch. If the border is quiet, it means the Demon King is hiding in fear inside his hole like a rat."
He laughed softly, a laugh that sounded hoarse and strange. He also did not realize that the dryness in his throat was not due to thirst, but the first sign that the poison in his body was beginning to work to destroy his sanity from within.
"Immediately prepare the cleansing ceremony for next week," Anthony ordered with eyes that flashed madly. "We will infiltrate the demon territory directly and behead him together."
That night, after his subordinates left the cathedral, the silence that fell felt very heavy and gripping. Inside his magnificent room, Anthony was still sitting in front of the mirror, but he began to feel something was wrong. His body felt light, but his head began to ring softly like the sound of insect wings that would not stop.
The effects of the poison planted by Joonghyuk began to show its fangs. The poison did not attack the physical body harshly; instead, it seeped into the nervous system like a thin mist creeping slowly. Anthony began to feel a distortion in his vision. The shadows of the candlelight on the walls looked like black hands trying to reach for his robes.
'Did I drink too much?' Anthony muttered while massaging his temples. He tried to focus, but every time he blinked, his face in the mirror seemed to shift slightly, as if his skin wanted to peel away from his facial bones.
Meanwhile, in another part of the palace, the Emperor was experiencing an effect that was far more humiliating. The poison given to him was formulated to strip him of his dignity as a ruler. The Emperor began to feel an extraordinary heat, an abnormal intoxication that burned away his common sense.
Back in Anthony's room, the Pope suddenly heard a small laugh from the dark corner of the room. He turned quickly, but there was no one there. "Who is that?!" Anthony screamed, his voice pitching high. Under the influence of the poison, Anthony began to see black stains on his holy white walls—stains that looked like blood flowing slowly—while in the distance, he could hear the Emperor's increasingly mad screams in the palace corridors.
The night that should have been a victory celebration for them slowly turned into the beginning of a disgusting circus of death.
. . .
The atmosphere in the palace courtyard grew quieter as the horse carriages of the noble guests disappeared. Yoo Joonghyuk stood firmly in front of his still-parked carriage. With a very polite and careful movement, he extended his large hand to help Lee Seolhwa climb the steps of the carriage.
Seolhwa looked into Joonghyuk's eyes for a moment, giving a small nod signifying that her role for the night had been perfectly completed. Once Seolhwa was seated safely inside, Joonghyuk did not immediately follow.
He stopped at the threshold of the carriage door, then slowly turned his body. His sharp eyes stared toward the magnificent imperial palace standing haughtily under the moonlight. From a distance, the palace lights were still shining brightly, but Joonghyuk knew that behind those high walls, the seeds of destruction were beginning to sprout. He felt as if he could smell the rot that would soon consume everyone inside.
Joonghyuk took a long breath, 'Finally everything is finished, Kim Dokja,' he thought in his heart. That name echoed in his head, bringing a bit of a tightness that was far more painful than any war wound. To him, the destruction of Anthony and the Emperor was merely a prerequisite. A prerequisite so that this world would become a place worthy for him to return to with the man he loved.
Without looking back, Joonghyuk boarded the carriage and closed the door with a steady thud. The carriage began to move, piercing the darkness of the night, leaving behind the palace that was now heading toward its own ruin. Inside the dark carriage, Joonghyuk only stared blankly out the window, his hand unconsciously touching the spot where the tattoo on his hip used to be.
After traveling in a heavy silence, the carriage finally stopped in front of Joonghyuk and Seolhwa's private residence. Joonghyuk descended first, then again extended his hand to help Seolhwa. They walked side by side into the house, still maintaining the charade of a harmonious engaged couple until the main door closed firmly behind them.
Seolhwa removed her fur coat and looked at Joonghyuk, who appeared so tired yet remained upright. "Would you like to have a glass of wine with me to celebrate tonight's success, Joonghyuk-ssi?"
Joonghyuk nodded slowly. "I will join you. I need to change my clothes first."
Seolhwa smiled understandingly and stepped toward the living room, while Joonghyuk walked toward his room upstairs. Inside the dimly lit room, he found Uriel already waiting in the shadows of the window, ready to give her final report.
"Uriel," Joonghyuk greeted while removing his black gloves. "How is the condition at the border? Is my protective magic there still stable?"
Uriel nodded firmly, her eyes flashing with joy. "Very safe, Commander. Not a single cathedral knight has managed to penetrate the one-kilometer radius of that house. They are just circling like headless flies."
Joonghyuk breathed a sigh of relief. However, Uriel did not leave immediately. She pulled out a small envelope that looked a bit messy, as if written in a hurry but with great effort.
"This. Young Lady Mia sent this via messenger bird tonight. This is the first time she has written a letter to you, Captain," Uriel said while handing it over.
Joonghyuk was stunned for a moment. He received the letter with slightly stiff hands. There was a look of genuine surprise on his face; Mia usually only sent short messages through servants or merely sent her regards. Opening the letter, Joonghyuk read his sister's handwriting, which was still stiff but clearly legible.
'Oppa, Biyoo and I are fine. The snow is falling very heavily, but this house feels warm. Oh, and the Ahjussi came again today. He looked paler than usual, so I gave him hot chocolate. Do not stay there too long, Oppa. Biyoo misses you, and I do too.'
Joonghyuk furrowed his brow deeply, staring at the letter once more before finally pushing away the thoughts disrupting his concentration. He turned to Uriel, who was still standing waiting for the next command.
"Go, Uriel. Join Hyunsung. Ensure he meets no obstacles in carrying out the second stage of the plan at the military barracks," Joonghyuk ordered with a heavy voice.
Uriel nodded obediently, her body slowly fading into the shadows and disappearing from the room. Once completely alone, Joonghyuk took off his fancy robes and replaced them with a simple white shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and comfortable black trousers. He took a long breath, trying to neutralize his emotions before stepping toward the lounge.
There, Seolhwa was already waiting. She had changed her heavy party dress into simple casual clothes that made her look much more relaxed. She sat on the velvet sofa, sipping a bit of wine from her glass. As Joonghyuk entered the room, Seolhwa put down her glass and smiled to welcome him.
"Sit down, Joonghyuk-ssi," Seolhwa said while beginning to pour wine into the empty glass on the table.
Joonghyuk sat opposite Seolhwa, but just as he was about to reach for his glass, Seolhwa immediately stood up. With a calm yet familiar movement, she moved from her original position and sat right next to Joonghyuk.
"Tonight was very long, wasn't it?" Seolhwa asked, her voice sounding soft yet maintaining their professional distance behind the physical proximity. "How do you feel now that the poison has started working?"
Joonghyuk took the wine glass offered by Seolhwa, feeling the coldness of the glass in his palm. "This is just the beginning. I will not be at ease until everything is truly crumbled into dust."
Even though Seolhwa sat quite close to him, Joonghyuk's thoughts reflexively compared this atmosphere to the peace described by Mia in her letter. There was a sense of emptiness that not even the best wine could fill as long as he was not in the same place as that man—his lover.
"You seem very tense," Seolhwa commented while staring at the side of Joonghyuk's face. "Did the letter from Mia give you unexpected news?"
Joonghyuk fell silent for a moment, then downed his wine in one breath. "Mia said there is an adventurer who frequently visits. She said that person is not dangerous."
However, Joonghyuk immediately shook his head, trying to banish the image of Dokja from his mind. Seolhwa, noticing Joonghyuk's unease, did not ask further. Instead, she took a long breath and leaned her back against the sofa. Her usually calm facial expression changed, radiating emotions she had kept tightly suppressed until now.
"Finally..." Seolhwa murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "Finally I can feel at peace. Thinking that I no longer have to see that Emperor's face... it feels like a heavy weight is about to be lifted from my chest."
Seolhwa drank her wine with a significant gulp. Her face began to flush slightly due to the influence of the alcohol and the emotional overflow of relief. To her, this disguise had been an extraordinary mental torment—having to smile in front of disgusting men who had destroyed many lives.
She poured more wine into her glass until it was almost full, then raised the glass toward Joonghyuk.
"For the world that will soon be clean," Seolhwa said with a sharp yet weary gaze. Joonghyuk stared at his glass for a moment, then raised it. 'Ting!' The sound of their glasses clinking rang loudly in the silent room.
"For their destruction," Joonghyuk replied shortly.
They both drank in silence, enjoying the rest of the night which felt lighter yet full of anticipation. Seolhwa occasionally gave directions regarding what medical steps she would take if chaos broke out at the palace tomorrow morning, while Joonghyuk listened to her while staring at the burning fireplace. Behind the redness of Seolhwa's face and Joonghyuk's calmness, both knew that tomorrow's dawn would bring a storm that would leave nothing of the old empire behind.
Time continued to roll on without mercy. Under the dim lights of the room, the wine bottle on the table had run dry, leaving a suffocating silence. Seolhwa, a figure who usually stood with unshakable grace, finally succumbed to soul-weariness and the burning influence of alcohol. Her head slumped weakly onto Joonghyuk's shoulder before her consciousness slowly faded into a heavy intoxication.
Joonghyuk let out a long sigh. He tried to support the woman's body, but because Seolhwa was so unsteady, he decided to lift her in a bridal style carry. His footsteps sounded firm yet cautious as he walked down the corridor toward Seolhwa's room.
When Joonghyuk arrived and was about to lay her down on the bed, Seolhwa instead tightened her arms around his neck. She refused to be let go. Joonghyuk's body was forced downward, bringing their faces only inches apart above the pillow. Seolhwa opened her weary, bloodshot eyes, staring at Joonghyuk with a gaze that was both broken and longing.
"Joonghyuk-ssi... do I... still have a chance?" Seolhwa whispered faintly. Her voice trembled, carrying the weight of a question she had kept for centuries.
"Seolhwa, let go," Joonghyuk's voice was low, giving a command that was usually undeniable.
However, Seolhwa's grip grew even stronger. She pulled the collar of Joonghyuk's white shirt, forcing the man to remain within her private space. "Do you not remember? The day I declared these feelings to you... six hundred years ago?"
Seolhwa smiled bitterly, "I was so happy when you remembered me, when you entrusted everything to me... stay here, Joonghyuk... I love you."
Seolhwa continued to ramble, her fingers clutching the fabric of Joonghyuk's shirt as if the man were her only anchor in a collapsing world. In an alcohol-fueled desperation, she pulled Joonghyuk's face closer and landed a kiss on his lips. A kiss that tasted bitter with long-buried pain.
Joonghyuk did not move. He did not reciprocate. His face remained as cold as ice, as if the kiss were merely a meaningless brush of wind. The kiss ended when Seolhwa's grip gradually loosened. Her breathing became regular and her eyes closed tightly as she finally collapsed into a deep sleep.
Joonghyuk stood frozen for several moments. He slowly straightened his body, tidying his now-rumpled shirt. He ran a hand through his black hair in frustration, a rare gesture showing the unease behind his flat mask. Without a word, he turned and stepped out, closing the bedroom door very quietly as if not wanting to wake the memories that had just been stirred.
In the silent corridor, Joonghyuk wiped his lips with the back of his hand, his gaze looking empty.
It was true... he remembered the past, 600 years ago, when Lee Seolhwa had indeed pursued him persistently. He had not expected that after hundreds of years, those feelings would still remain, yet Joonghyuk also lacked the ability to return Seolhwa's feelings. For him, the space in his heart was already full, filled with one name. One name that had the right to occupy it: Kim Dokja.
Only him.
However, amidst that silence, Joonghyuk's memory suddenly shifted to the contents of Mia's letter. He remembered the term 'Ahjussi' and the description of the man who appeared pale.
Joonghyuk narrowed his eyes sharply. He just realized something strange. Uriel always reported that his magic veil was secure and that no human could approach. If Uriel did not report any intruders, it meant that person possessed strength equal to or even higher than his own to pass through the seal undetected.
'Pale... and able to pass through my veil without a sound...'
Joonghyuk's heart beat faster as a rough conclusion appeared in his mind.
'Is it you, Kim Dokja?' he thought.
Joonghyuk's fist tightened. If that figure truly was Kim Dokja, his heart might be slightly eased, but his wary side screamed loudly. What if it wasn't Dokja? What if there was another much more dangerous entity capable of penetrating his magic veil without triggering Uriel's warning? He had been truly careless.
That thought made Joonghyuk feel uneasy. He could not leave Mia and Biyoo in danger even for one more night. With long, firm strides, he immediately hurried to his own room. Once inside, he locked the door tightly so that no servants or Seolhwa would notice his departure.
Joonghyuk concentrated his mana, drawing energy from the core of his power to perform long-distance teleportation toward the coordinates of the house at the border. The air inside the room vibrated violently before his figure finally disappeared in the blink of an eye.
. . .
A second later, Joonghyuk set foot on the thick snow. The cold border wind immediately swept across his face, but he did not care. He immediately stepped into the house, his hand already prepared on the hilt of his sword.
However, the atmosphere inside the house was very quiet. There were no remnants of threatening foreign mana. Joonghyuk walked toward the center room and saw Yoo Mia sleeping on the sofa with a thick blanket, while in the cradle not far away, Biyoo was sleeping very peacefully.
Joonghyuk found no one there. The room was empty of any foreign presence. He checked every corner of the house with his sharp eyes, but all that remained was the warm scent of firewood and a slight lingering aroma of chocolate from a glass that had been washed clean in the kitchen.
He stood still in the middle of the room, staring at his sister who looked so calm in her sleep. Although he found no one, his suspicion did not simply vanish.
"Is it really you, Kim Dokja?" Joonghyuk whispered softly, his voice nearly drowned out by the roar of the snow wind outside the window.
Mia, who was asleep on the sofa, suddenly woke up sensing the change in temperature when the door opened briefly. Once she opened her eyes and saw a tall figure standing in the middle of the room with a dark and wary expression, she froze for a moment before her eyes widened.
"Oppa?"
Mia immediately threw off her blanket and ran toward her brother. Regardless of her sleepiness or Joonghyuk's intimidating face, she immediately hugged the man's waist tightly. This was the first time they had met in person after six months of Joonghyuk disappearing on his dangerous undercover mission.
"Oppa! You really came!" Mia exclaimed with a hushed voice so as not to wake Biyoo.
Joonghyuk, who had been so tense with sword in hand, gradually began to relax. He let out a long sigh and placed his large hand on top of Mia's head, stroking his sister's hair awkwardly yet affectionately.
"I came because I read your letter, Mia," Joonghyuk replied with a voice much softer than usual.
Mia looked up, still not releasing her hug. "I thought you wouldn't come because you were too busy with your business. Why did you come so suddenly in the middle of the night? Did something bad happen?"
Joonghyuk looked toward the snow-covered window, then back at his sister. "Who is the Ahjussi you told me about in the letter, Mia? Where did he go?"
Mia released her hug and sat back down, trying to put on as innocent a face as possible. "He was just a wanderer who happened to be passing by, Oppa. Maybe he got lost because of the blizzard and saw the light from this house. He is not dangerous, really."
Joonghyuk remained silent, staring at his sister with an intense gaze that made Mia a bit flustered. He knew Mia was lying. As the man who set up the magic veil himself, Joonghyuk was very aware that no ordinary wanderer could see or touch this house from the outside world. The veil was designed to mislead anyone he did not permit. However, Joonghyuk chose not to press Mia; he did not want to frighten his sister who had already been under enough pressure for the past six months.
Silence enveloped the room for a moment before Mia suddenly remembered her conversation with Dokja that afternoon. She looked at Joonghyuk with a searching gaze.
"Oppa," Mia called softly. "Actually... is that baby really yours? You came home carrying a baby without explanation, and she looks quite like you."
Joonghyuk, who was watching Biyoo in her cradle, suddenly showed an expression that was very rarely seen. The corner of his lip lifted slightly, forming a very soft, thin smile. He pulled Mia back into his embrace, resting his sister's head on his shoulder.
"You are very curious, hm?" Joonghyuk asked in a teasing tone.
Mia nodded firmly inside his embrace. "Of course! Everyone would wonder if their brother suddenly became a father overnight."
Joonghyuk chuckled softly, his low voice sounding warm in the silent room. "What if it is true? What if Biyoo is indeed my child?"
Mia's eyes widened; she looked up at Joonghyuk with a funny, shocked face. "What?! So it's true?! Who is the mother? Why didn't you bring them here too? Did you actually get someone pregnant in the middle of all this?"
Seeing his sister's panicked reaction, Joonghyuk only laughed a little without giving a definite answer. Joonghyuk's relaxed attitude made Mia finally huff and lean back again.
"Ah, Oppa must be joking," Mia muttered while pouting. "How could a stiff man like you seduce a woman or even a man to have a child this quickly? You must have found her somewhere and felt pity, right?"
Joonghyuk did not deny it; he just continued to stroke Mia's hair. Mia, feeling comfortable, finally fell asleep in her brother's arms, exhausted after releasing the longing held back for half a year. Joonghyuk very carefully moved his sister onto the bed, then walked to the sofa and sat there. In the silence of the border night, accompanied only by the crackling of wood in the fireplace, Joonghyuk drowned in the labyrinth of his own thoughts.
These six months were not just about political disguise. Joonghyuk had succeeded in completing what was impossible for ordinary humans; he had mastered the entire power of the Abyss of Eternity. Now, he stood at the threshold as a demi-god, a half-divine being with understanding beyond the logic of the mortal world.
His gaze was fixed on Biyoo, who was asleep in her cradle. Since first finding this baby, Joonghyuk had concluded that Biyoo was a divine entity. However, there was one fact that continued to trouble his soul, and now, with his new power, that fact felt even more real and confusing.
Based on the laws of nature he knew, a pure god baby would never be able to absorb the mana essence of a demon king. They were two poles that would destroy each other if forced to unite. However, the memory from six months ago was very clear in his head; this baby greedily and naturally absorbed Kim Dokja's mana when they were still together.
There was only one exception in all the ancient records he had ever read: such absorption was only possible if the baby was a demi-god who also possessed a demon bloodline.
Joonghyuk closed his eyes, massaging his throbbing temples. Mia's innocent question earlier—about whether this baby was his—began to swirl in his head. If Biyoo was a god baby, then where did the demon essence come from that made her so synchronous with Kim Dokja?
His logic as a demi-god began to piece together the craziest possibility. If this baby had such a strong attachment to Dokja that they could share essence without rejection, had something happened between Kim Dokja and a divine entity without him realizing?
"Impossible," Joonghyuk whispered to the darkness.
However, the more he thought about it, the more gaps opened up. Joonghyuk clenched his hands on his knees. He felt as if he were standing in front of a large, tightly locked door, and Kim Dokja was the one holding the key. He realized that he did not know Kim Dokja as deeply as he thought, and this god baby named Biyoo was living proof of a great secret still hidden by the Demon King.
He decided he would continue to watch this house more often from the shadows. He wanted to know if Dokja truly was that wanderer. Then Joonghyuk leaned his back against the hard sofa, letting the darkness of the living room envelop his figure, which now radiated a subtle yet pressing aura. His sharp eyes were fixed on Biyoo, but his thoughts drifted far beyond the walls of this house.
Joonghyuk finally took a long breath, trying to release the burden of thoughts that so tightened his chest. He stood up from the sofa, staring at the window where the blizzard outside seemed to be getting fiercer, making the night weather feel much steeper and more gripping than before.
He stepped slowly toward the fireplace that was starting to dim. With a calm movement, he took several logs and added them to the blaze, ensuring that the warmth inside the house would not be lost to keep Mia and Biyoo asleep. The orange light from the fire illuminated his stiff face for a moment before he turned away.
He looked at his sister one more time, ensuring Mia's blanket was tightly covered. No parting words were spoken so as not to disturb the peace of their sleep.
Joonghyuk knew his time here was up. His duties in the capital were not yet fully finished, and the political storm he had started with Seolhwa would reach its peak when dawn arrived. He had to return before daybreak to ensure every chess piece he placed worked according to plan.
With one deep breath, Joonghyuk concentrated his power once more. The air around him began to vibrate softly, and in an instant, the tall figure vanished from the room, leaving behind the warmth of the fireplace and the secrets still hanging in the air. He returned to the heart of the cold capital, the place where the destruction of the rulers already waited.
.
.
.
.
The sun had just risen over the capital's sky, but the atmosphere in the streets was already much hotter than the cold air temperature. Newspaper vendors shouted loudly at every street corner, peddling special editions containing the most embarrassing photos in the history of the empire.
On the front page, a photo was clearly displayed of the Emperor looking completely disheveled, without his grand robes, openly flirting on the outer balcony with one of his concubines before dragging the woman inside in front of several eyewitnesses. The Emperor's reputation, which had already been poor, was now completely crushed into dust. The public condemned it harshly; performing such indecent acts on the night of the empire's formation feast was considered a massive insult to the ancestors and the people.
Inside the palace, the Emperor woke up with a head that felt as if it had been struck by a sledgehammer. As soon as he sobered from his intoxication and saw the stack of newspapers brought by his trembling servant, his face turned deathly pale.
"Who... who took this photo?!" the Emperor screamed with a hoarse voice.
However, even though the drunkenness had faded, the poison planted by Joonghyuk was already working at a cellular level. As he tried to stand, he felt his world tilt slightly, and for a moment, he saw the shadow of his concubine transform into a terrifying monster. His sanity began to crack, even as he tried hard to remain looking powerful.
---
Meanwhile, at the Grand Cathedral, Anthony the Pope was sitting in his private room when an aide entered with a terrified face, placing the same newspaper on his golden table.
Anthony saw the photo—the Emperor he supported looked like an animal that had lost its mind. However, what made his heart nearly stop was the article below it, which began to question the Church's role in supervising the morality of their leader.
"That stupid brat!" Anthony growled.
He tried to get up to give orders for all those newspapers to be withdrawn from circulation, but that was when an overwhelming panic attacked him. Anthony's hands began to shake violently. In his eyes, the writing in the newspaper suddenly appeared to crawl like black caterpillars emerging from the paper and sliding onto his hands.
"Get rid of this! Get these caterpillars off my hands!" Anthony screamed while waving his hands wildly in the air, though there was nothing there.
His aides froze, staring at their holy leader who now appeared scared to death of a newspaper. Anthony began to break out in a cold sweat; he felt that everyone in the photo was staring at him and mocking him. The effects of the poison began to eat away at his perceptual nerves, turning panic into acute paranoia.
He knew that if this news spread, his congregation would begin to doubt. His big plan to control the world through the Emperor was now threatened with total failure in just one night.
"Call Yoo Joonghyuk!" Anthony ordered with a high-pitched voice. "Find him! Tell him he must kill all the journalists who printed this trash!"
Anthony did not realize that the man he was calling was currently standing on the balcony of his own residence, calmly sipping tea while watching the destruction he created begin to burn the capital.
Joonghyuk stepped into the private room of the cathedral with steps so calm, contrasting with the chaotic atmosphere of the room. Anthony looked completely disheveled; his papal robes were crooked and his breath was coming fast. Upon seeing Joonghyuk, the Pope immediately lunged toward him, clutching Joonghyuk's sleeve with trembling hands.
"Joonghyuk! You have heard the news, haven't you? That foolish Emperor has destroyed everything!" Anthony screamed with eyes bulging from the increasing paranoia.
He began to ramble, giving nonsensical orders. "You must go to that printing office right now. Burn everything! Kill every eyewitness who saw him last night! We cannot allow our holy reputation to be stained by the madness of a drunken man! And find out who spread this news, I want their heads on a platter!"
Joonghyuk just stood tall, letting Anthony scream right in front of his face. He could see how pathetic the mental condition of the man before him had become. The poison had made Anthony's aura appear like a thick, rotten black mist.
Instead of resisting or showing disgust, Joonghyuk only bowed his head slightly, playing the role of the most loyal and trusted right hand.
"I understand, Your Holiness," Joonghyuk replied with a low, soothing voice, though behind that voice lay deep contempt. "Everything will be handled according to your wishes. I will ensure no more discordant voices are heard by tomorrow morning."
Hearing Joonghyuk's compliance, Anthony appeared slightly calmer. He exhaled in relief, feeling that he still had control over his strongest weapon. "Yes... yes, only you can I trust, Joonghyuk. Go. Clean up all this filth."
Joonghyuk turned and stepped out without arguing a single word. He followed the flow created by Anthony perfectly, letting the Pope feel safe within his own illusion. He would not do anything Anthony ordered; instead, he would allow the chaos to spread even wider while he pretended to be working.
For Joonghyuk, seeing Anthony depend on him as his sanity slowly eroded was a satisfying sight. He only needed to wait a little longer until the poison reached its peak, where Anthony would no longer be able to distinguish between friend and foe.
. . .
The sun had risen high as Joonghyuk stepped out from the cold, incense-scented cathedral corridor. At the end of the path, he saw Lee Seolhwa already standing and waiting. The cool morning wind brushed against the woman's black hair, but her face looked much paler than usual.
Upon noticing Joonghyuk's presence, Seolhwa startled. Her entire body tensed instantly. The memory of last night—of how she rambled, begged for the man not to leave, and her actions that crossed the line—attacked her mind like a painful surge of waves.
"Are you finished?" Seolhwa asked. Her voice sounded stiff; her eyes did not even dare to look directly at Joonghyuk. She was busy smoothing the edge of her robe, which was actually already very neat, just to avoid eye contact.
"Hm," Joonghyuk replied shortly.
The man walked past her without stopping his pace, as if the incident in the room last night had never happened. There was no hesitation, no change in expression. Joonghyuk remained the same man: cold and serious.
Seolhwa was silent for a moment, then hurriedly followed the man's long strides. The burning shame in her chest made every step feel heavy. She desperately wanted to apologize, but seeing how indifferent Joonghyuk was, she felt her words would only sound ridiculous.
"Regarding... last night," Seolhwa finally gathered the courage to speak in a very low tone, almost drowned out by the noise in the distance. "I... I was very drunk. I was not fully aware of what I said... or what I did."
Joonghyuk did not turn. His eyes remained fixed straight ahead on the capital streets that were beginning to be chaotic from the newspaper news.
"Forget it. It is not important," Joonghyuk replied in a flat tone that carried no weight at all.
That answer should have been a relief, but for Seolhwa, it felt like a thin cut to her heart. To Joonghyuk, all her outpouring of feelings last night, her tears, and her desperate kiss were just a nuisance not worth remembering.
"Joonghyuk-ssi, I am serious," Seolhwa tried again, though her face now felt very hot from overwhelming shame. "I hope you do not consider that as something that... bothers you."
Joonghyuk stopped his steps abruptly, making Seolhwa almost crash into his sturdy back. The man tilted his head slightly, giving a sharp look that made Seolhwa catch her breath.
"Focus on our plan," Joonghyuk said coldly.
After saying that, he resumed walking, leaving Seolhwa frozen in her place. Joonghyuk truly treated her as if nothing had changed, remaining as a partner in this large, blood-stained plan.
Seolhwa took a long breath, trying to calm her heart which beat fast from the mixture of shame and sting. She saw Joonghyuk's back receding in front of her, remaining firm and cold like ice.
Joonghyuk walked out toward his horse carriage, rubbing his black gloves. Joonghyuk's footsteps echoed along the stone corridor of the cathedral, a heavy and rhythmic sound, as if signaling the approaching seconds of destruction. He did not look back at Seolhwa again; his focus was now entirely on the chessboard he had prepared six months ago.
Behind a large pillar at the outer gate, a sturdy man with a stiff expression had been waiting for him. Lee Hyunsung, the informant who had been moving in the shadows, gave a brief but emphatic salute.
"Next instructions, Captain?" Hyunsung's voice was low, nearly swallowed by the roar of the capital wind that was beginning to carry the scent of riot.
Joonghyuk stopped right beside him, his eyes staring sharply toward the noisy market in the distance. "It is time, Hyunsung. Release all those documents."
Hyunsung nodded in understanding. The documents referred to were the dark records of church corruption they had gathered with great effort—records of holy funds diverted to finance the luxury of bishops, lies to the common people, to Anthony's involvement in illegal slave trade at the border and involvement in selecting the Emperor's concubines. Everything was in those documents.
"Inject this poison into the ears of the people," Joonghyuk continued, his voice sounding cold and merciless. "Do not give them time to think. Ensure every faction, from merchants to the common folk, knows that the man they call holy is actually a rotten person."
"Understood. I will ensure these documents are spread throughout all districts before the sun reaches its peak," Hyunsung replied with firm determination.
Once Hyunsung disappeared into the crowd, Joonghyuk took a deep breath.
Now the atmosphere in the capital began to turn tense. Cathedral knights began to stand on guard with panicked faces, while whispers in coffee shops began to turn into screams of anger.
Anthony, who was now confined within his own luxury, was unaware that the fortress he built with lies was being torn down by the person he trusted most. Every time the Pope screamed calling Joonghyuk's name for protection, he was actually calling the executioner who would behead his power.
Joonghyuk looked toward the sky which was starting to get cloudy, as if the world itself were preparing for a great storm.
'A little more,' he thought. 'After this world collapses, I will return to you, Kim Dokja.'
Four days had passed since the seeds of chaos were first planted, and the capital had now turned into a sea of anger. The news regarding church corruption and its involvement in the sale of slaves and the Emperor's concubines spread by Hyunsung exploded like fire doused with oil. The people who initially only whispered now began to take to the streets, surrounding the golden gates with torches and screams demanding justice. One by one, nobles and priests who felt their names were dragged in began to flee in the darkness of the night, leaving behind the palace which now felt like a sinking ship.
At the center of that storm, the two main pillars of the empire, the Emperor and Pope Anthony, slowly lost their footing. Due to the poison's effect which continued to eat at their nerves, they began to show strange behavior in public. Anthony was often seen screaming at empty walls, and then when it was time to pray, he began to show what he had hidden all along to his congregation, causing public trust to decline drastically. Meanwhile, the Emperor began to give contradictory and nonsensical orders, neglecting all his documents and work for the empire and staying busy partying with his concubines, causing their loyal followers to turn away and eventually change direction.
Joonghyuk observed everything with calm eyes from the shadows. He moved with terrifying precision, ensuring every step of the people's rebellion remained under his control. As the situation reached a boiling point where power had nearly collapsed completely, Joonghyuk decided to play his last card.
. . .
The sky above the palace looked grey, as if the clouds themselves felt sick of the scent of decay emanating from within the high walls. From behind his magnificent bedroom window, the Emperor looked out with sunken eyes and hands that continued to tremble.
The effects of the poison had been minimized thanks to Yoo Joonghyuk bringing the antidote. However, the Emperor, who seemed to have just woken up from a nightmare, had to face the bitter reality before his eyes.
Everything was destroyed; the world he built with blood and tyranny for years collapsed in just a matter of days. He saw his ministers, who usually licked his feet, now fleeing like rats smelling fire. The people who once bowed in fear were now screaming at the gate, demanding his life. He felt as if he were being betrayed by fate itself.
However, every time he looked back, that figure was always there. Yoo Joonghyuk.
The man stood tall in the middle of the chaos, with an expression as cold as ice yet full of an aura of protection. In the eyes of the Emperor who was beginning to despair, Joonghyuk was the only pillar still standing in the middle of the storm. He was the only one who did not leave, the only one who still carried out his orders obediently when everyone else turned away.
Obsessed with restoring his lost glory, the Emperor called Joonghyuk closer. He did not want to die as a loser. He wanted someone strong to rearrange the ruins of his empire.
"Joonghyuk," the Emperor's voice sounded hoarse and full of forced desperation. "Take this."
With a trembling movement, he removed the gold ring with the imperial seal from his finger—the symbol of absolute power that had been passed down for generations. He stared at the ring for a moment before handing it to Joonghyuk. However, the Emperor had not entirely lost his predatory instincts. He pulled out an ancient scroll, the Paper Oath.
"Swear upon this holy paper," the Emperor whispered, his eyes flashing with both hope and threat. "Swear that you will restore the glory of this empire in my name. That you will never betray this throne as long as you still breathe as a human."
The Emperor knew the power of that Paper Oath. If a human violated it, their soul would be torn apart by an eternal curse. This was his last safety net to ensure Joonghyuk remained under his control.
Joonghyuk stared at the paper with an unreadable gaze. He accepted the quill and inscribed his signature without the slightest hesitation. He followed the flow with a terrifying calmness. In the Emperor's eyes, this was his final moment of victory; he felt he had bound the strongest warrior under his feet.
However, behind his cold face, Joonghyuk wanted to laugh.
The Emperor was so naive in his own cleverness. The Paper Oath was indeed an absolute and unbreakable contract, but it had one fatal flaw. The contract could be violated by someone who possessed power exceeding that of a human.
The Emperor did not realize that the man standing before him was no longer an ordinary human. Joonghyuk had surpassed that limit when he mastered the Abyss of Eternity. The Demi-God power flowing in his veins made the human contract nothing more than a blank piece of paper that held no authority over him.
Joonghyuk clenched his hand, which now wore the emperor's ring. He felt the weight of that power, but not to return it to the old man in front of him.
"I swear," Joonghyuk said, his voice echoing in the silent room. "I will ensure this empire finds a fitting end."
The Emperor smiled with satisfaction, unaware that Joonghyuk's words held a much darker meaning. The vacuum of power had been filled, and now Joonghyuk had everything to move the entire army toward the single coordinate he had been aiming for all along.
After the signature dried on the holy paper, the atmosphere inside the room changed drastically. The false warmth Joonghyuk had shown evaporated, replaced by a suffocating cold aura, much denser than the blizzard outside.
Joonghyuk straightened his body, staring at the Emperor with eyes that flashed golden—a sign of divine power he had been hiding all this time. The Emperor, who had just felt victorious, suddenly felt pure terror as Joonghyuk's large hand snatched his neck with unreasonable speed.
"Kkhh! You... how is it possible?" The Emperor choked, his face turning blue as he pointed toward the Paper Oath that should have burned Joonghyuk's heart if there were any intent of betrayal. "That paper...!"
Joonghyuk tightened his grip, lifting the emperor's body until his feet hung in the air. His voice sounded like thunder from the bottom of an abyss.
"What a pity... I am not an ordinary human like you," Joonghyuk whispered right into the emperor's ear.
The torture lasted briefly but painfully. Joonghyuk allowed his mana to tear through the emperor's nervous system, giving him pain that no human had ever felt before, until finally, he slammed the man's head against a pillar until he fell unconscious and helpless. Without mercy, Joonghyuk dragged the body and threw it into the deepest, most secret basement, letting it rot in the darkness before being brought back out to be beheaded and displayed.
Joonghyuk's steps did not stop there. He immediately sped toward the Grand Cathedral using his power, slicing through dimensions with ease.
Inside his private room, Anthony the Pope was still rambling in his madness. Joonghyuk stepped in, grabbed the pope's hair, and forced the man to drink an antidote potion. Slowly, Anthony's eyes began to focus, his sanity returned, but the first thing he saw was the figure of Joonghyuk standing with a drawn sword enveloped in black flames.
"Joonghyuk? What are you doing?" Anthony tried to get up, but he realized he could not move a single muscle.
"I have been waiting for you to wake up, Your Holiness the Pope..." Joonghyuk said coldly. His steps began to draw closer.
The pope started to feel the dangerous mana; his body reacted to the mana that was so dense, wanting to escape immediately. But before Anthony could scream, Joonghyuk touched the Pope's forehead with a finger infused with time-reversing mana. He forced the man's soul to remember the burden of sins from the past. Memory after memory poured in like a flood into Anthony's brain. Memories of 600 years ago, of how he arranged the scenario to separate Joonghyuk and Dokja, of the bloody betrayal he committed for the power of the church.
"Argh! My head! Stop it!" Anthony screamed hysterically, clutching his head.
"I truly did not expect it..." Joonghyuk's voice was full of deep hatred. Without letting the man beg for mercy, Joonghyuk swung his sword cruelly. He did not kill him quickly. He ensured that every cut brought the pain of the millions of lives the church had sacrificed.
Blood began to soak the marble floor that had always been considered holy. Anthony crawled backward, his trembling fingers scratching the floor as memories from hundreds of years ago hit his brain like a sledgehammer. His face, which was originally full of panic, slowly turned into a mad grin. He laughed out loud, a raspy laugh that sounded like the scraping of sandpaper.
"Hahaha! I remember... I remember now!" Anthony looked up, staring at Joonghyuk with wide, bulging eyes. "So it is you... Yoo Joonghyuk, the great First Emperor. The hero who now crawls back from the grave to seek revenge? Truly a pathetic sight."
Joonghyuk did not answer. He swung his sword, cutting Anthony's right wrist in one lightning motion. Fresh blood spurted, soaking the Pope's white robes; the man screamed hysterically but interspersed it with the sound of laughter.
"You think by cutting my hand, you can erase your failure?" Anthony mocked while panting. "Our foolish Emperor... you allowed yourself to be deceived by the Church. And... ah, that beloved Demon King of yours. He truly is a wretched creature, isn't he?"
Hearing Dokja's name mentioned with such a mocking tone, Joonghyuk's jaw tightened. The black aura surrounding his sword grew denser and hotter.
"Shut your mouth," Joonghyuk hissed, his voice containing a promise of a painful death.
"Why? You don't want to hear how stupid you were?" Anthony crawled closer, his face looking hideous with bloodstains. "Do you know why that illegitimate half-demon child died? It was not an accident. The Cathedral had planned it since the baby's first breath. A baby from a demon's womb is a cursed baby. And you, the foolish emperor who brought them to us!"
Joonghyuk's steps stopped. His eyes widened, a rare flash of shock appearing behind his cold gaze. "Baby...?"
"You truly did not know? Hahaha! Incredible!" Anthony shrieked with joy, his laughter sounding very hideous in the middle of the bloody cathedral's silence. "That demon king was carrying your child, Yoo Joonghyuk! That Demon King carried your seed 600 years ago! Haha! Truly delightful, so very stupid."
Joonghyuk froze, his sword trembling in his hand. "What... Impossible... He never said it."
"Of course he didn't say it! He only realized it himself after we got rid of you!" Anthony crawled a little, staring at Joonghyuk with the lowliest mocking look. "But we... we already knew it first through prophecy. We knew of the existence of that half-demon fetus. That is why we got rid of you first, Emperor Yoo."
Anthony coughed blood, but his grin grew wider. "Do you remember the imperial feast night before the betrayal happened? The night you gave a silver chalice containing the best wine to your partner? That's right... that was the poison we prepared. A poison that would rot the seed inside his womb slowly."
A flash of memory hit Joonghyuk. He remembered that night, remembered how he gave the drink to Dokja with his own hands, a sign of affection that the church had apparently twisted into a murder tool.
"You gave that poison to his mouth yourself, you fool!" Anthony screamed with a tone of victory. "Haha! Even you, who were once an emperor, did not use your brain! Pfft—"
The rage that Joonghyuk had never felt in 600 years exploded instantly. The atmosphere inside the room became so heavy that the marble floor beneath their feet shattered into pieces.
"How dare you..." Joonghyuk's voice sounded like a growl from the deepest hell.
"Look at yourself!" Anthony continued to taunt, feeling satisfied because he had succeeded in destroying the mental state of the invincible man. "The great hero who turned out to be nothing but our puppet to slaughter his own flesh and blood. But be at peace, Yoo Joonghyuk! You have found the right place by the god's side!"
Joonghyuk no longer gave the man room to breathe. In one movement driven by pure wrath and soul-burning regret, he swung his black fire sword with full force.
Srak!
Anthony's head was detached from his shoulders, stopping his mad laughter forever. The head rolled on the floor. The Pope died, but because the anger Joonghyuk felt was so massive, the pope died with his body cut into pieces, scattered everywhere.
Yet for Joonghyuk, the sound of that mockery still rang in his ears. He stood frozen in the middle of a pool of blood, staring at his trembling hands. The same hands that had once given that chalice of poison to Dokja without him realizing it.
. . .
The smell of blood and char merged with the piercing cold air. In the middle of that chaos, Joonghyuk stood frozen. The truth he had just heard from Anthony's mouth, about the child he never knew, about the poison he gave with his own hands, tore through the sanity he had so strictly guarded. His ignorance made him so devastated.
Seolhwa, seeing this, stepped forward with a heart broken for the figure before her. She had never seen Joonghyuk look this destroyed. The man no longer looked like an invincible emperor or a cold warrior; he looked like someone in need of an embrace.
"Joonghyuk-ssi," Seolhwa's voice trembled as she finally managed to reach both of Joonghyuk's cheeks.
This time, Joonghyuk did not push her away. He did not issue cold commands or show a sharp gaze. His golden eyes looked empty, as if his soul was trapped in the memory of the imperial feast night six hundred years ago. He allowed Seolhwa's delicate hands to touch his skin stained with blood spatters, seeking even a little warmth to dampen the storm in his head.
Joonghyuk's head slowly slumped, as if the weight of reality was too heavy for his own neck to support. He rested his forehead on Seolhwa's shoulder, a gesture of surrender he had never shown to anyone. Seolhwa could feel the man's heavy and irregular breathing.
"Joonghyuk-ssi... what is wrong with you?" Seolhwa whispered faintly, trying to ask what had actually happened.
Joonghyuk remained silent, but he slowly lifted his face. Their distance was so close that their breaths touched. In the emptiness of his eyes, there was an instinctive urge to seek an escape from the burning pain. Seolhwa stared at him with a gaze full of hurt and affection, slowly bringing her face closer.
The room suddenly went silent. Under the shadows of the burning cathedral, it was as if time stopped turning. Just as their lips were about to touch, a strange vibration split the air.
Zzzzt—!
A very specific mana frequency jolted Joonghyuk's body like an electric shock. It was not mana that attacked, but a vibration that felt cold yet brought an agonizing longing, an energy frequency imprinted deep within the core of Joonghyuk's soul.
Joonghyuk's golden pupils shook violently. He immediately pulled himself away from Seolhwa, causing the woman's hands to fall from his cheeks. The emptiness in his eyes disappeared, replaced by sharp alertness and overflowing emotion.
It was Kim Dokja's energy.
The energy he had been searching for all this time, which he thought had been lost, now appeared exactly at the moment his world had just been destroyed by the reality of their child.
"Joonghyuk-ssi? What is it? Your face—" Seolhwa asked with bated breath, but she knew she had lost the moment entirely.
Without giving an answer, without even looking back, Joonghyuk immediately disappeared from the spot with a powerful explosion of mana, leaving Seolhwa alone in the cold corridor, unaware that the woman was now clenching her fists.
. . .