Chapter 388. The Pursuit — A Needless Death 2
So even here, men killed their own subordinates to save themselves.
Youngwoo had thought such things belonged only to Seonchun Pass in Goryeo.
He had thought the injustice and ugliness he had witnessed there were part of his own fate alone.
Something that happened only in a foolish land ruled by incompetent men.
But it was everywhere.
He did not necessarily need a confession.
The truth was already plain enough.
The reason he still needed to make the man confess in his own words was so the matter could be dealt with openly, before everyone.
That way, Youngwoo would not become a murderer.
That way, he would not become violence itself.
That way, the blade would not be the expression of private anger, but punishment for a crime brought into the open.
But did it truly have to be that way?
Could the deeds of a man willing to do anything to become king be handled according to the ordinary ethics of daily life?
While one waited for procedure, gathered testimony, forced out a confession, and bound everything beneath the name of law, the man would kill someone else.
He would cut off loose ends.
Burn documents.
Burn bodies.
Erase witnesses.
Was that not already what he was doing?
The novice was dead.
Gi Mincheol was dead.
And now the body had been thrown onto the fire.
The man was clearing his path one person at a time.
At the end of that path would be a throne.
Youngwoo stared at the burning pile of wood.
Black smoke rose from the snowfield into the sky.
The idea of dealing with things properly, through society and its rules, suddenly felt very far away.
Procedure had meaning when people still behaved like people.
Did the same rules have to apply to someone who wore a human face and tore at others like a beast?
Drawing the sword would be easy.
One step forward.
One stroke across the neck.
Finished.
Whatever confusion followed would simply become another problem.
But from that moment onward, Youngwoo would become the very thing he had been trying to guard against.
Where was the line between a man who killed to become king and a man who killed to stop him?
He could say their purposes were different.
But blood spilled from a dead man did not care about such distinctions.
Youngwoo clenched his teeth.
For now, he still needed the confession.
For now, the crime had to be exposed before everyone.
They had to see what kind of man he was.
What he had done.
Whom he had killed.
And if, even after that, nothing changed—
if law and procedure still shielded him, if fear sealed everyone's mouths, if another child died—
then Youngwoo could draw his sword.
No.
Then he would have to.
A wail suddenly broke out from one side.
"Mincheol! Mincheol…"
It was Gi Mincheol's family.
They seemed to have received word of the death only moments ago and had come running before there was even time to prepare for mourning.
A woman whose hair had not even been properly tied stumbled through the snow and collapsed, while several others who appeared to be family hurried after her.
They had already disposed of him during the night.
Apparently, they had not even properly informed his family.
They had given them no time to identify the body.
No time to see his face one last time.
No chance to prepare a funeral.
They had not merely silenced the dead man.
They had silenced the mouths of those who should have mourned him as well.
Even the right to grieve had been taken from them.
Youngwoo watched them through the flames.
The cries of the family collapsed into the snow and scattered together with the black smoke.
Whatever kind of man Gi Mincheol had been, to someone he had been a son.
A husband.
A father.
Those people knew nothing of the crime or what had led to it.
They could only kneel before a body turning to ash and cry out his name.
Youngwoo's gaze grew colder.
This was not a hurried funeral.
This was the disposal of a death.
They were burning the evidence.
Burning the procedure.
Burning even the family's grief along with it.
Youngwoo turned away, then stopped.
He walked toward the family.
Before the fire, he bent his knees slightly and bowed his head.
"Please accept my condolences. May the deceased rest in peace."
The weeping woman lifted her wet face.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Yi Youngwoo."
The woman looked up at him through her tears.
Only after hearing the name did recognition seem to dawn on her.
"Ah… the hero of this war… But my child… what happened to my child…?"
My child.
Youngwoo stopped breathing for a moment.
Gi Mincheol had been a fully grown military officer.
But to this woman, he was still her child.
She had loved him long enough for a grown man to remain a child in her eyes.
Youngwoo spoke quietly.
"Yesterday, a novice monk from the temple where I am staying died. I was told this man had been the first to discover him, so I came to speak with him. Then today, I was told that he too had died. It is deeply unfortunate."
The woman asked through her sobs,
"Did my child do something wrong?"
Youngwoo shook his head.
"I do not believe he did."
Her face twisted again.
She did not seem to understand the full meaning of his words.
But she appeared to understand at least one thing—
he was not calling her son a criminal.
Youngwoo took a silver ingot from inside his clothes and carefully set it down.
"Please use this toward the funeral expenses."
The woman stared at the silver with trembling hands.
Youngwoo said nothing more.
If he continued, he felt as though he would begin explaining their grief back to them.
Grief did not need explanation.
It needed to be allowed to remain where it was.
He bowed his head once more and turned away.
Behind him, the woman called out again.
"Mincheol…"
The flames continued to rise.
And over the snowfield, black smoke climbed into the sky.