Dawn broke after a long night.
To be precise, the sun was just beginning to rise, casting a faint light across the horizon.
“Hah…”
I finished my morning training routine, letting the crisp dawn air cool my body.
I washed myself not just to rinse away the sweat, but to cleanse something deeper, something intangible.
It was a testament to how unsettled I felt.
“…What the hell am I supposed to do?”
The events of the previous night weighed heavily on my mind.
—Please, kill me.
The Amwang had shown up unexpectedly, explaining the curse that plagued him and begging me to end his life.
And yet, in the end, I didn’t kill him.
“Ugh…”
If someone were to ask why, the answer was simple.
‘How could I just kill someone because they asked me to?’
It wasn’t fear of killing.
How could I still be afraid of something like that at this point?
It wasn’t even because I felt any particular attachment to the Amwang .
There was no bond between us, no reason for me to spare him out of sentimentality.
If I had to name a reason, it was just that it didn’t feel right.
I understood his wishes, his curse, and the torment he endured—but something about killing him left me uneasy.
Maybe it was the curse that bound him, or maybe it was the fact that I’d become a dragon. I couldn’t be sure.
Still…
‘I can’t let him go just like that.’
It wasn’t just the unease—it was also the sense that I couldn’t simply dismiss him.
‘He wants something from me.’
The Amwang ’s desire was clear: he wanted his curse lifted.
Whether it was through liberation or death, that was his wish.
And the first thought that crossed my mind upon hearing this?
‘Can I use this?’
Disgustingly enough, that was what I thought.
Considering the Amwang ’s value, it was impossible not to.
Moreover…
‘I need to know more about myself.’
The Amwang seemed to understand more about dragons than I did.
His cursed blood granted him powers he referred to as “divine authority.”
‘Was that the power he used in Shinryong Hall ?’
Not only had he annihilated the Black Dragon Sword , but he had also killed me hundreds of times during training. That power—it hadn’t been martial arts.
‘So it wasn’t a martial technique.’
That was why I hadn’t understood it. It wasn’t something conventional like martial arts or formations.
‘If it’s some kind of otherworldly power, that makes more sense.’
In that case…
‘Can I use it too?’
If I could wield such power now that I was no longer human, that would be welcome news.
I lacked the strength to handle everything alone—any additional power would be invaluable.
But before that…
‘What the hell even is a dragon?’
I needed to figure that out first.
The Amwang ’s curse seemed to be tied to the Blood Demon, and the Blood Demon appeared to be a dragon.
‘The Dragon Emperor.’
I recalled the Blood Energy’s claim, referring to the Blood Demon as the Dragon Emperor.
If that was true, then the Blood Demon was indeed a dragon.
And that led me to another thought.
‘Then… what about Mother?’
Remembering my father’s reaction, it became clear that my mother was not human either.
He had called her a calamity, so I had always known she wasn’t human.
‘…Could she be a dragon too?’
It seemed likely. My father’s words, seeing my transformation and thinking of her, fit the pattern.
If the Blood Demon was a dragon, and my mother was a dragon too…
“…Is everything people call a calamity just a dragon?”
If that was the case, then my current transformation into a dragon could be seen as the calamity finally fulfilling itself.
“Ugh…”
The more I pieced things together, the worse the conclusion seemed.
“…Damn it.”
No matter how I looked at it, the end result was the same: I was beginning to resemble the very calamity I sought to prevent.
And the more I understood, the clearer it became.
It was infuriating.
“I should’ve just stayed out of all this and lived quietly in the mountains.”
If I had stuck to my original plan—to gather what I needed and retreat to solitude—none of this would have happened.
Why had I chosen to save the world, only to end up like this?
It was absurd.
‘I tried to stop the Blood Catastrophe, and now I’ve become a calamity myself.’
What a joke.
Well, I wasn’t officially a calamity yet, so perhaps there was still hope?
‘Yeah, right. Who am I kidding?’
Even I knew it was a delusional hope.
I was grasping at straws, trying to deny what was becoming increasingly obvious.
‘If I’m the calamity, then what about the Cheonma ?’
The one responsible for the Blood Catastrophe was the Cheonma .
Knowing that, I had been working tirelessly to prevent the catastrophe in the future.
If I turned out to be the calamity instead, everything would stop making sense.
That one inconsistency was the only reason I couldn’t fully accept the truth, no matter how many signs pointed to it.
“…Noya, do you have any insight?”
I called out to Noya, desperate for answers.
But…
[…]…
There was no response.
“Hm…”
I didn’t think he was ignoring me on purpose. I had a sense of what was going on.
Last night, when the Amwang spoke of his cursed bloodline, Noya had been visibly shaken.
[…How could this happen…]
He had muttered those words, trembling in either lamentation or shock, before disappearing entirely.
It wasn’t like before, when he had fallen into a deep slumber.
This time, I thought, he just needed time to process.
The idea that the Blood Demon had cursed Yeon Ilcheon’s bloodline must have hit him hard.
I couldn’t blame him—I was curious too.
‘What exactly happened back then?’
Yeon Ilcheon, the man who had sealed the Blood Demon and vanished, was recorded in history as a hero.
And yet, his descendants lived monstrous lives under the curse of the Blood Demon .
‘Serve the dragon.’
The words of the curse were beyond absurd.
You couldn’t even die to escape it. You had to either pass it on to your descendants or have a dragon lift the curse.
‘What a miserable fate.’
How unbearable must it have been for the Amwang to beg for death as a form of salvation?
I couldn’t fully understand.
But even so…
‘I can’t let the Amwang die just like that.’
Even if he wished for death to escape his torment, I couldn’t grant it.
‘I’m sorry, but my own situation isn’t easy either.’
In this increasingly chaotic mess, the Amwang was too valuable a piece to lose.
And if he needed something from me…
‘…I’ll make use of him.’
Opportunities like this didn’t come often.
This was my favorite kind of situation—a useful person with a request, easy to manage and discard.
“...Tsk.”
Yet, despite my practical reasoning, an unpleasant feeling churned within me.
—Please, kill me.
The memory of his voice, his face—the desperation in his expression unlike his usual stoic demeanor—it lingered in my mind.
How detestable it was to torment someone who sought death, not life.
I knew all too well what it was like to suffer in that way.
After all, in my past life, I had lived it myself.
The emotions I understood all too well were the very ones I most wanted to avoid exploiting.
Yet, knowing this didn’t change the situation.
I couldn’t afford to think about such matters when there were so many things I needed to protect.
“…Damn it, seriously.”
Just recalling it all made my temper flare.
Not because I was angry at the situation itself.
But because I was disgusted with myself for manipulating someone else’s pain so readily.
******************
"You're here."
Right after finishing my wash, I went straight to Poison King's quarters.
Looking at the visibly thinner Poison King, I spoke with a smile.
"You’re not looking well at all."
He had never been a robust figure, but neither was he frail. Yet in just a day, he had noticeably wasted away.
Just one day...
It must have been a grueling time.
Perhaps realizing this himself, Poison King gave a bitter smile and said,
"...There’s been a lot on my plate."
The weight in his words was palpable, perhaps because I understood his situation so well.
"That smile doesn’t look like a real smile."
And how could it be?
An elder had died.
Not just Elder Il, either.
When word of Elder Il’s assassination reached them, Elders Sam and Sa had attempted to flee but were captured by a nameless martial artist.
Who that martial artist was, I didn’t even need to guess.
"…You’ve been busy, haven’t you?"
It must have been Father. He had said he’d clean everything up, and it seemed he really had.
He hadn’t come home all night—clearly, he’d been keeping himself busy.
So Poison King’s state likely stemmed from that very reason.
"The death of an elder is just the beginning."
An elder’s position in a sect isn’t just a title.
Each elder oversees their own faction within the family. The larger the family, the greater the scale of their influence.
If three elders of a prestigious family died, what would happen to the factions they managed?
"They scatter and collapse."
While the head of the family, the patriarch, technically holds ultimate authority, the reality is never so simple.
Even if the patriarch commands loyalty, it’s nearly impossible to prevent factions from forming around the elders directly above.
Take the Namgung family, for example.
The elders' council had grown so powerful that even the Sword King struggled to wield his authority as patriarch.
"…Our family only avoids that because of Father."
The Gu family is a unique exception, but the Tang Clan is not.
Even if their elders weren’t as dominant as those of the Namgung family, they still held considerable power.
The void left by the elders’ deaths was bound to be a major issue.
"It’s not really Poison King’s fault, but..."
It wasn’t fair to blame him for the elders bringing about their own demise.
"Still, he seems to lack both the time and strength to seize control of the situation."
The circumstances were far from ideal. Managing even one faction would be challenging, but he had three to deal with at once.
"And on top of that, there are other problems."
The Tang Clan was already teetering on the edge, and now this. Poison King’s appearance was no surprise.
Which is why it felt odd.
Despite everything, here he was, sitting in his quarters instead of running himself ragged outside.
"You must have plenty to do. Why are you here?"
"I knew you’d come eventually."
"…Huh?"
His words made me tilt my head.
He knew I’d come?
"I don’t recall saying I’d be here today."
"You didn’t have to. A young master like you? It’s just the sort of thing you’d do."
"...Well."
I don’t know what people see in me, but they sure seem to predict my actions accurately.
Annoyingly so.
"So, you were waiting for me?"
"...I had my reasons—some thanks to express and a few questions to ask."
I crossed my arms at that.
Thanks weren’t necessary, but his mention of questions put me on edge.
"You want to ask something?"
"I hear my daughter collapsed while speaking with you."
"..."
I immediately uncrossed my arms.
Damn it.
"…There were circumstances…"
"I’m not here to scold you, so relax."
"Oh, good. That’s a relief."
"..."
Maybe my cheerful reaction was the problem, because Poison King’s expression twisted slightly.
...Why’s he looking at me like that? He said it wasn’t a big deal.
"...That was just a jest. Now, onto the main matter."
"There’s more?"
So he wasn’t just curious about Tang So-yeol.
What else could it be?
I squinted slightly as I observed Poison King.
Then, smoothly, he retrieved something from his robe.
"Hmm?"
It was a Dokcheon Pill.
It looked like the very one I had given him. Why pull it out now?
"Young Master Gu."
"Yes?"
Poison King spoke.
"I know you have more of these Dokcheon Pills."
"...!"
His words made my eyes widen.
How does he know?
Had I mentioned having more?
I couldn’t recall, but surely I wouldn’t have said that.
I know myself well.
I might hoard such a treasure for myself, but I’d never admit to having more.
So how had he figured it out?
I stared at him in confusion, searching for an explanation.
"Haha."
Poison King suddenly burst into laughter.
What’s with him now?
Had he lost his mind?
"I was just testing you. Seems you really do have more."
"...?"
His words left me dumbfounded.
Damn it.
I sighed, realizing the truth.
He hadn’t lost his mind. I had.
Maybe it was the flood of information I’d received the previous day.
That’s one way to excuse it, but no.
It was just my own carelessness.
"Tch. Should I give it back?"
Now that denial was pointless, I spoke as if confessing.
"You don’t look thrilled about the idea."
"Oh, you caught that?"
My blatant tone only made Poison King’s expression stranger.
Not that it mattered.
If he demanded it back, I’d return it.
After all, it belonged to the Tang Clan in the first place.
"...Even if Tang Jemoon gave it to me."
Still, if Poison King asked, I’d hand it over.
Of course, I’d planned to keep it hidden, but damn it, here I was getting caught.
"...Maybe I could stash three pills away?"
Even as I pondered, Poison King spoke again.
"If you need them, you can keep them all."
"Excuse me?"
He said I could keep them all.
Those words froze my thoughts.
What?
I stared at Poison King, stunned.
He would just give them to me?
"...?"
I locked eyes with him, trying to process the situation.
Should I feel grateful for his generosity?
Relieved that I didn’t have to give them back?
Or just happy at the unexpected fortune?
No. None of those.
What I felt was a chill.
My gaze unknowingly turned cold.
As I stared at Poison King with icy eyes, he reacted.
"…Ah, I see. I acted too hastily. It seems we’ve both made mistakes."
Just as he had uncovered my secret, I had discovered something about him.
"What is it?"
My voice was low, cold, carrying over to him.
A slip-up in haste.
That’s what he himself had just admitted.
He should not have been so quick to offer the Dokcheon Pills.
If he had, he should have been more subtle about it.
Had he done so, I wouldn’t have noticed the strange intent behind his words.
But he hadn’t, and I did.
"What are you planning?"
There was something.
The ease with which he offered the Dokcheon Pills revealed that much.
"Young Master Gu."
Thankfully, it seemed he had no intention of hiding it from me.
Or perhaps he was simply too weary to bother.
I leaned toward the latter.
To confirm it, Poison King spoke with a tired face.
"In the near future, the Martial Alliance will make a public announcement."
"…What kind of announcement?"
A public announcement? About what?
"Surely you don’t mean they’ll expose the Tang Clan’s scandal?"
Did they really write everything down and send it to the Martial Alliance?
I raised the question, but,
"No, that’s not it."
Poison King dismissed the idea.
"...It’s not?"
I nodded slightly, reassured.
No matter how dire the situation, he wouldn’t have gone that far.
As I was about to relax,
"The announcement will be that the Tang Clan is being removed from the Four Great Clans."
"...?"
His words left me stunned.
What did I just hear?
I couldn’t make sense of it.
I heard it clearly, yet it defied comprehension.
I asked him directly.
"Lord Tang…"
"Speak."
"Have you taken something…? Something strong?"
"..."
His brows furrowed deeply at my question.