Anxiety began to creep into her heart, tightening around it like a choking grip.
Should I really stay here waiting for him… when he went in and no one knows?
Mariana kept shaking her leg restlessly, her patience drained to emptiness.
Rora, after the long time that had passed with no sign of his return, began to feel it too.
Something terrible is coming because of him.
"He truly never stops getting himself into trouble," she muttered aloud.
Mariana nodded in agreement.
Meanwhile, Haniul was running through the forest, Jin-ho slung across his back, completely unconscious.
Damn this miserable life. Fighting him is easier than drinking water—
but this… this responsibility is crushing me.
Just once, I wish someone would appear so we can find help.
He shouted in frustration.
Then—
an arrow flew in from the left, striking the bear that had been chasing them.
Haniul didn't hesitate. He rushed toward the direction the arrow came from.
There had to be someone there.
But—of all people—why did Songjin have to be the one to appear?
"This is the last thing I need," he muttered.
Songjin stepped forward, panic etched deeply across his face.
The moment he saw Jin-ho on Haniul's back, his heart trembled and shattered into a thousand pieces within a second.
What he had feared most… had happened.
He wanted to ask questions, but his body betrayed him the moment he saw Jin-ho in that state.
A dark cloud gathered in his mind—as if he had already accepted that Jin-ho was dead.
Haniul snapped him out of it by shouting, kicking his foot toward him.
"I'll get him out of the forest—keep that pile of fur away from me!"
Songjin nodded quickly, raised his bow and arrow, and ordered him to hurry.
Haniul grabbed the dagger from Jin-ho's pocket and tossed it to Songjin, then slid his hands back under Jin-ho's legs to keep him from slipping.
"Move! Don't just stand there, idiot!"
Haniul yelled as he sprinted forward.
He had wanted to be the one to deliver Jin-ho safely and return to the competition—but after thinking it through, Songjin didn't know the forest as well as he did.
That would only make Jin-ho suffer longer.
The exit was close. Ending this now was better than continuing their rivalry.
After all, they were dealing with a bear three times their combined size.
---
Every second felt like a lifetime to Mariana and Rora.
They had stood up, intending to inform the duke that Jin-ho had entered the forest and hadn't returned.
Their bodies trembled, and despite trying to suppress it, their fear was clearly visible.
Then they heard a voice calling from afar.
"Brother!"
Mariana asked in confusion as she moved forward with Rora toward the sound.
Neither of them could deny that they had feared this moment.
And what they dreaded came true.
They found him—panting, carrying Jin-ho, and saying urgently,
"Rora, go inside and tell Kristina to call the physician!"
Rora ran off at once, while Haniul hurried forward, Mariana placing her hand on Jin-ho's back, her voice trembling.
"What happened?"
He answered with clear irritation.
"He was bitten by a venomous snake in the forest."
His face looked like that of a dead man.
Mariana heard her heart pounding violently in her ears—
like a war drum sounding on an ordinary day.
Inside the palace, Rora led the physician to Jin-ho's room.
They followed, burdened with silent guilt.
In the end, a mere servant had passed through ten guards stationed at the forest entrance.
Were they just decorations… or blind?
Once Jin-ho was laid down, his body appeared ghostly pale—completely drained of color.
The physician examined him closely.
His cold skin, rigid muscles, reddened eyes—all signs that the venom had begun spreading deeper.
His breathing was calmer than it had been in the forest.
That brought a small sense of relief… though it still sent chills through them.
The physician turned to Rora, speaking calmly—or trying to.
"Is there any substance he's allergic to… or strongly dislikes the smell of?"
Rora thought for a moment before answering hesitantly.
"Olive oil. He clearly can't stand its smell."
The physician brought olive oil close to Jin-ho's nose, almost forcing him to inhale it.
Moments later, his body reacted.
Meanwhile, the assistants were drying the bite wound.
Jin-ho began to move, turning his head away, as if the smell robbed him of the little oxygen he could still draw in.
The physician mixed olive oil with wormwood in a small cup.
Then he crushed garlic and burdock together, creating a paste to draw the venom from the wound and applied it directly.
Jin-ho jerked his foot in pain.
It burned—like fire pressed against his skin.
Keeping the venom inside wasn't an option. Forcing him to vomit would help.
The physician tried bringing the cup to Jin-ho's lips, but Jin-ho pulled away.
Not consciously—just a natural human reflex.
The physician pried his mouth open and poured a small amount in.
The taste was unbearable. Nauseating.
The smell clung to his nose, making him cough violently.
He tried to breathe—but couldn't—as the physician forced him to swallow.
Tears streamed down his face as his stomach burned and something hot surged up his throat.
He dragged himself toward the edge of the bed—
and vomited onto the floor.
The sight was disgusting—there was no denying it.
But pity, fear, and concern overwhelmed everyone in the room.
They wanted to share even a fraction of his pain.
Rora regretted deeply letting this fragile soul go alone.
Mariana blamed herself for allowing him to leave despite her intuition.
Haniul watched in silence, uneasy, yet unwilling to leave until he knew Jin-ho—and his sister—would be alright.
Then suddenly—
Jin-ho's body went still.
His breathing slowed.
Shock froze the room.
Time itself seemed to stop.
The physician, however, felt relief.
"He expelled a large amount of the venom," he said. "You can tell by the dark color of what he vomited."
He wrapped the wound carefully and covered Jin-ho with blankets.
"He'll feel intense cold. His body is compensating for the heat released when the venom spread."
"The danger has passed," the physician concluded.
"He'll recover with rest today."
Everyone exhaled at once, the terror finally escaping their chests.
Yet guilt lingered.
A servant of the prince had hovered between life and death—
fragile as a leaf.
How would he look at them when he woke?
Just then—
The duke entered the room.
Unexpected.
And his presence alone sent a wave of internal panic through them all.
> A heavy silence spread through the room,
as if they were all waiting for lightning to strike.
It was a suffocating stillness—one that toyed with their minds,
turning their thoughts into chaos, impossible to arrange clearly.
Yet, unexpectedly, he said nothing.
He simply asked about what had happened,
and they answered him calmly—almost in disbelief.
He then asked that the boy be allowed to rest,
and ordered his son to continue the competition.
Question marks formed in their minds.
How could he say nothing?
No complaints. No shouting.
Not even those usual ugly looks or his cutting words.
— You may leave as well, Rora.
Mariana said this quickly, before the Duke could direct his blame at her.
She knew her father well.
Even if his silence shocked everyone now,
it would eventually explode—on her.
But…
Rora hesitated.
She looked up, only to meet sharp eyes that forced her to bow her head
and leave in anxious silence.
Meanwhile, Haniol returned to the competition.
The image of Jin-ho would not leave his mind,
yet he brushed it aside for now and headed to where he had left Songjin.
Perhaps he was struggling on his own.
He allowed himself a brief moment of arrogance—
thinking the man would never manage to hunt a bear.
But he had overlooked one thing.
Standing before him was the Commander of the Imperial Knights.
This was no joke, and not someone to underestimate.
When he arrived, he found that Songjin had indeed finished,
though he still seemed to be searching for something.
Fine. His respect for him rose—just a little.
Even if his closeness to Jin-ho was strange,
his strength could not be denied.
— So… you dealt with it.
Songjin looked at him, panic flashing across his face.
— How is he? He didn't die… right?
Haniol clicked his tongue and replied with irritation,
— He's dead now, so—
Perhaps he shouldn't have said that.
The expression that crossed Songjin's face was unexpected—
a mixture of grief, guilt, and the urge to break down.
Haniol struck his shoulder twice, snapping him out of it.
— Don't make that face. He's alive. And he's fine.
Now let's finish what we started. Dusk is near,
and we don't yet know who'll win.
Color returned to Songjin's face, as though life itself had rushed back into him.
He shook his head and moved away, gripping the knife buried precisely in the bear's head—
so accurate it looked carefully measured.
Haniol said, genuinely surprised,
— You're not taking it? Where are you going?
Songjin glanced at him from the corner of his eye,
a look that carried quiet gratitude—nothing more.
— Consider it a token of thanks.
Haniol couldn't deny his own desire to hunt the bear,
but he wanted it earned.
So he stepped forward, stopping him—
his hand closing around Songjin's wrist.