OGHOU C19

Chapter 19

The ominous premonition became reality.

He knew the name Sehwa, the very name heard in the dream. How much did he know? Had he approached from the start with knowledge in hand? It felt like being blindsided.

“I asked if it’s true.”

In a situation this dangerous—having been poisoned and not even knowing his own past—he couldn’t simply admit it. First, deny everything and draw out what the other man knew.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It is, though. Yoo Sehwa, your real name.”

“You must be mistaken. If you tell me who you’re looking for, I can try to help find—”

“So you’re going to pretend not to know?”

Songwon folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, a cold sneer tugging at his lips.

“Then keep pretending. There’s plenty of time. The night is long.”

Was he saying he wouldn’t let him leave until he talked? Cheongyeon swallowed hard.

“Shall we keep watching until you change your mind?”

He turned, gazing out the window; his eyes widened as if something interesting had caught his attention.

“We have volunteers.”

Following his pointing finger, Cheongyeon saw two figures standing there, just as he said. One was a man with a thick, bushy beard; the other a plain-looking man in black.

“Isn’t it fascinating? That there are people who’ll stake even their lives for a measly bit of money.”

“Not fascinating in the least.”

Songwon glanced at him, then turned back.

How to get out of this? If he admitted to being Sehwa, there was no telling what would happen next.

He had said there was something hidden, hadn’t he? Was this all to find that? Were there others besides this man searching for it?

With a stifled sigh, Cheongyeon stared out the window again. He had no idea what to do.

“One of those two is actually my plant.”

Songwon spoke abruptly.

“I placed a man there, told him to join when the most valuable prize came up. The bearded one is mine.”

“You’re playing with human lives.”

“Mm, strictly speaking, no. I don’t know what the prize will be, but I am tipped off about the manner of the wager. I know which is the tonic and which is the poison. So he won’t die.”

Now it was rigged on top of everything else. Absurd.

“Why do this? You have more than enough money.”

“There’s still such a thing as greed.”

“And you won’t step in yourself?”

“There’s still such a thing as face.”

Cheongyeon gave up on talking to him and shifted his gaze to the other contestant—the one who had likely stepped up, ignorant of everything, to wager his life.

The man in black looked to be in his mid-thirties, solidly built. As Cheongyeon studied his face, a strange doubt arose.

He was ordinary—too ordinary. If he’d been among the crowd, one might not have noticed him at all. There was not a single distinctive feature to seize on. Cheongyeon felt he had never seen anyone so utterly plain.

Perhaps the man felt the stare; he lifted his head. His gaze turned toward the window where Cheongyeon sat.

‘Oh, our eyes met…’

Neither looked away. Silently, they stared. The look in the man’s eyes felt oddly familiar.

‘Could he be…’

“Then let’s begin the second wager. Each of you, choose one bowl from the table. Martial force is not permitted.”

At the host’s words, the two men stood before the table.

Contrary to expectations of a scuffle, the choice was made in an instant. The man Songwon had planted immediately picked up one bowl, and the man in black, without complaint, took the other.

“Will the choice prove to be the tonic—or the poison? Very well, you who chose first, bottoms up!”

The crowd buzzed. When the bearded man started drinking the black liquid without hesitation, the murmurs turned to cheers.

“My word, he’s really drinking it. Even with his life on the line, he’s unruffled.”

“A true man, a real man.”

Real man, indeed. This was a set-up. As he thought this, Cheongyeon watched closely for any change in the man’s expression.

After gulping it down, the man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and allowed a slight smile. It was the confident smile of a victor.

As expected, it had been the tonic.

“Are you satisfied now?”

Cheongyeon snapped at Songwon, who wore a pleased smile.

“For now. But we should see it through.”

So he had to see the other drink poison and die—that was it. Astonishing that a man like this had hidden his true nature for so long. Cheongyeon resolved never to trust his own judgment of people again.

The host turned to the man in black.

“Next, you—huh?”

Everyone was startled at once. The man in black, with not a moment’s hesitation, drank from the bowl that clearly held poison.

He set the bowl down. Half remained. If this were normal, he should already be collapsing, vomiting blood—but he stood straight, face untroubled.

“How can he drink that and still be standing? Wasn’t it deadly poison?”

“Maybe it wasn’t poison? Maybe both were tonic and he lied.”

“Oh, come on. Why would he lie?”

The audience grew noisy, everyone busy judging the bet’s legitimacy. The host climbed onto a chair, waving his arms to get their attention.

“Everyone! Please, calm down.”

“What about the wager?”

“We need a winner!”

Did they truly want to watch someone die of poison? Boos poured out because the result hadn’t been properly decided. The host, sweating profusely, struggled to calm them.

“This is getting interesting,” murmured Songwon, watching.

“I might lose.”

“You sound as if you don’t mind losing.”

“Winning would be preferable, but losing wouldn’t be so bad. There might be a greater harvest tonight.”

“……”

“The item you’ve hidden.”

Cheongyeon clamped his mouth shut.

The crowd’s complaints swelled. Then, someone in the seats shouted,

“Perhaps one of them is resistant to poison. Why not have them switch bowls and drink again?”

That’s right, good idea—voices chimed in. A troubled look flickered across the host’s face, exposed in the middle of a rigged deal with Songwon. The bearded man’s face went deathly pale.

Then the man in black snatched the bearded man’s bowl. Before anyone could grasp what he intended, he lifted it to his lips and emptied the remaining tonic in a single go.

With a click, he set the bowl down; not a drop remained.

“Oh, so the real man was him!”

“Incredible! Hey, you, drink now. What are you waiting for?!”

Under the pouring jeers, the bearded man trembled and looked toward the window where Songwon and Cheongyeon sat. But Songwon ignored him and did nothing.

“I… I forfeit!”

At his ashen-faced declaration, boos erupted again.

Sighing, Cheongyeon glared at Songwon. He wanted to smack that head leisurely sipping tea while pushing a man to this state.

The man who had cried forfeiture tried to flee, and the first floor erupted as others chased him down. Meanwhile, the man in black picked up the prize— the great blade. Casually, as if it were nothing, he wielded it lightly with one hand, spinning it.

His eyes met Cheongyeon’s again. He tapped his own ear with a finger.

“Shall we continue our conversation now?”

Songwon turned to Cheongyeon and spoke.

“Where did you hide it, the item?”

“As I said, I’m not who you’re looking for. I don’t even know what that item is.”

“Ha, so you still don’t remember.”

“If you told me exactly what it is, perhaps it would jog my memory.”

Sparks flew between their gazes across the air. Cheongyeon steeled himself not to lose this battle of wills.

“I can’t tell you what it is—but I can help you remember.”

“Will you feed me a memory-restoring poison this time?”

“There’s no such poison in the world. Perhaps an elixir. But I’ve prepared something better than an elixir.”

“How generous, to give something better than an elixir to this paltry body.”

At Cheongyeon’s refusal to concede even a syllable, Songwon smirked and slipped a hand into his robe.

“Let’s hope it meets your expectations.”

What he pulled out was a sharply gleaming dagger.

“……”

‘This lunatic…’

Caressing the blade’s tip, he looked at Cheongyeon.

“Do you like it?”

“After seeing a massive demonic blade just now, how could that little dagger catch my eye? It’s too small.”

“Really? This fellow seems to like you.”

“I decline.”

“…You’ve got quite a mouth.”

The blade touched his neck. A chill crept over his skin, and his hair felt as if it stood on end. He loathed his limbs, still stiff and useless.

“Where is it.”

At the threatening voice, Cheongyeon squeezed his eyes shut and began counting silently.

Fourteen… fifteen… sixteen…

The moment he reached seventeen, the door—previously shut tight—crashed off its hinges with a bang. Songwon, dagger poised, scowled and shouted,

“Who the hell are you!”

With footsteps unafraid of anything, someone strode boldly across the threshold. That person was—

Footnotes

• “Tail attaching” (꼬리 붙이기): A gambling format in which players “attach” or commit to a position/choice and outcomes are revealed in sequence.

• Tonic vs. deadly poison: A common wuxia trope where opaque liquids conceal life-or-death stakes in a test of nerve, luck, or deceit.

• Demonic blade (마도): A blade imbued with baleful energy accumulated from bloodshed; said to bring glory or ruin depending on its wielder, a frequent motif in martial fantasy.