TCBW C5

Chapter 5

“Correct — an incurable disease. An incurable disease that is, in truth, a curse.

A punishment for coveting and taking something that belongs not to man — that Yeouiju.

Just as our ancestor, stricken with that illness that rotted away his limbs, perished, my father, too, died the same way.

As no amount of gold could cure the Founder’s illness, so too did we summon doctors famed across the world for their genius, yet none could cure my father’s disease.”

It was true — just as Chairman Lee said, the late grandfather’s mansion had always seen a steady coming and going of various physicians.

Though Dowoon had never once heard that there had been any improvement, he remembered the endless procession of so‑called “renowned doctors” from different countries — and how, about a year before his grandfather’s death, even they had stopped visiting entirely.

At the time, Dowoon had never been told what illness his grandfather had suffered from, but he could recall the sight after the man’s final breath was drawn.

Or, to be more exact — the grotesque, inhuman condition of that body at the end, so hideous it still stood vivid in his memory.

And if that had not been a disease, but a curse as Chairman Lee claimed?

Then, perhaps, that horrible state made a certain kind of sense.

Was that truly the fate of a cursed man? The thought crept in, unbidden.

“Father.”

Yet to him, it was still an illness — nothing more.

Even if it could not be cured, even if no cause could be found — Lee Jong‑cheol, his grandfather, had been ill.

Dowoon’s voice was low, as if to cut short a foolish story, but Chairman Lee continued as though he hadn’t heard a word.

“But… there was a way.”

“Father.”

“When the Founder realized his illness was a curse, he went to the shaman of Mount Unbang. And she told him: take in the one given to you from Mount Unbang in marriage, and offer up the child born of that union as a sacrifice.

If you give up your own child, then for your generation — that is, you and Dohyun — the curse will be broken. You will not fall ill.”

The words spilled from Chairman Lee with the smooth speed of a man reciting a rap verse — as if he had practiced them for years, decades, solely to deliver them now.

“My generation? You mean to say…”

Dowoon’s half‑muttered thought was met with a confirming nod.

“Yes. Just as wealth and honor are passed down, so too is the curse of an incurable disease carried in our bloodline.”

“Then why have you never once spoken of this illness until now?”

“…I was waiting for the right time.”

The right time?

Dowoon was at a loss for words.

What “time” could possibly justify this?

And if he had succumbed to this so‑called curse earlier in life, then what?

Before he could ask, Chairman Lee spoke again.

“And as to why it must be you — Dohyun’s frail body could never endure it. That’s why. Do you understand now?”

Understand? Impossible.

Every part of this was steeped in unease.

Dowoon could not even decide where or how to begin pressing him for answers.

He had a mind to ask whether Chairman Lee himself had once offered up his own child as a sacrifice, among a hundred other questions — but he set them all aside for the moment.

Because despite the brusque, dismissive air on his father’s face, his coarse hands were trembling — trembling like those of a man afraid.

It was something Dowoon had never seen before, and it made him frown.

One moment, the man seemed like a calculating manipulator, invoking the memory of his father’s grotesque death to issue a carefully measured warning, a veiled threat.

The next, his words painted the image of someone truly mad.

“You will have to teach your child the same thing — to prevent the curse from appearing in the next generation. But… that’s not entirely a bad thing.”

Chairman Lee looked into his son’s eyes with those words, and patted the back of his hand. Dowoon could feel the sweat seeping from that rough palm.

Then, in his other hand, Chairman Lee slowly lifted the contract toward him, placing it right in front of him.

“Now — surely this is enough for you to make your decision?”

“…”

The furrow in Dowoon’s brow did not ease.

Dragons, Yeouiju, incurable diseases, curses — and now he was to sign a contract? Was there no end to this outrageous coercion?

Yet Chairman Lee’s expression was more serious than ever.

“You have only two choices.”

“…”

“Accept my deal and offer up the child born of your aegbaji wife as a sacrifice, or… die slowly and horribly, like my father before me.”

Inwardly, Dowoon let out a laugh. It was absurd.

All the talk dressed up as logic was just a thin veneer over a crude threat: gain everything and survive on the back of your child’s death, or waste away under a curse.

“I’ll be going now.”

“There is nothing in that contract that will harm you — read it, check it for yourself. Even if this is the madness of a man gone senile, a contract is still a contract. What I give you will be yours. I’ll never take it back.”

“…”

“And if you truly cannot believe it, if ‘curse’ and ‘dragon’ and ‘Yeouiju’ all sound to you like the nonsense of a madman… then go. Go and see for yourself.”

“…”

“There is something real there. Once you see it, you will believe me.”

Tok.

Recalling the day he had received that unreal proposition from Chairman Lee, Dowoon walked on aimlessly through the mist — until he suddenly rammed his shoulder into a slick, blackened tree trunk and snapped out of the memory.

He had wandered too far without realizing it.

He rubbed at his forehead absently before turning to look for Hae‑eon, who had been following behind.

But all he saw was an even denser wall of pale mist; there was no sign of Hae‑eon anywhere.

“Choi—”

He had just begun to softly call the man’s name, thinking his ever‑present shadow might have fallen behind, when an icy prickle raced up his spine. Instantly, his mouth closed of its own accord.

In that same moment, through the fog in the far distance, something unknown came hurtling toward him at great speed.

A bird?

No, not a bird.

They were cutting through the air toward him, but could not be mistaken for any bird.

They had long white tails — pure white forms whose essence was almost impossible to imagine. If anything, they resembled streaks of mysterious, sacred light.

The shining things brushed past him in an instant, vanishing somewhere beyond his back.

In their wake came a wind so strong it could be called fierce.

Dowoon turned instinctively, seeking to glimpse what they truly were.

But what he faced was not the answer to that mystery — it was something else entirely.

Through the mist, looming in stately grandeur, stood a massive gate and, stretching seemingly without end, a high wall of stone.

A moment ago, there had been nothing there.

And yet, in the heartbeat it had taken him to turn around, something as grand as a mountain had manifested close enough that he could feel its presence against his skin.

“…”

For an ordinary person, it might have been enough to scream themselves hoarse, or collapse unconscious on the spot.

Instead, Dowoon calmly reached out toward the wall, as though testing the surface of an invisible barrier.

For him, the priority was to determine whether this fantastical sight before him was genuine or simply some elaborate hallucination.

The moment the cold, rough texture of weathered stone met his palm, he knew it was real — and accepted it as such.

At the same time, he recalled that if this was reality, then even Chairman Lee’s ridiculous tale could not be dismissed as mere nonsense.

“Ah!”

Just then, a frantic cry burst forth.

As Dowoon was about to sink back into thought, a dark shadow fell over his head.

By reflex, he reached up and caught the falling object that had dropped from the top of the wall.

From flying lights to shifting walls, and now… a person falling from above.

A short while earlier — in the rear courtyard of the shrine.

Crushed beneath the weight of the many ceremonial layers worn for the wedding, Suhoe could barely move without Unhyo’s support. He sat heavily on the dry, weather‑roughened wooden porch.

“My lord Suhoe, the ceremony will begin very soon. Please do not move from here. Wait in this place.”

Speaking firmly, Unhyo turned to retrieve Suhoe’s shoes — yet hesitated, turning back to add one more thing.

There was an unspoken sorrow in his eyes.