Chapter 1643
So, are you enjoying this? (2)
"…Enjoying this, you say?"
His blood ran cold.
Even though he had resolved not to retreat no matter how Jang Ilso reacted—
even though he believed Jang Ilso would never truly bare hostility toward him—
That single sentence chilled him to the bone.
"Gamyeong."
It was a name he had heard countless times.
A voice he had listened to for years.
Yet the resonance carried in it now was unmistakably different. If anyone could sense it, Ho Gamyeong could.
"What do you mean by that?"
Jang Ilso's gaze tightened around him.
But Ho Gamyeong did not step back.
"I mean it literally. I'm asking whether you're enjoying this, Ryeonju."
"Ho Gamyeong."
Jang Ilso's voice rose—only slightly.
But the weight of it thickened the air at once.
Jang Ilso stared at him for a long moment, then dragged a hand down his face. Long fingers pressed against his features in clear irritation.
"Did you come at dawn just to ask something so meaningless?"
"Is it meaningless?"
Ho Gamyeong asked calmly.
Between Jang Ilso's fingers, eyes gleamed like a feral wolf's.
"Gamyeong-ah…"
"It may sound trivial to you now, Ryeonju. But to me, it isn't."
"…Haha."
Jang Ilso laughed, incredulous.
"You think my happiness matters more than the urgency of the situation?"
"Yes."
The answer was firm.
So firm that it left no room—not even the width of a needle—for compromise.
Jang Ilso's eyes narrowed.
"Is that the conclusion your cold, rational mind reached?"
"…"
"Hm? Gamyeong? Is that what your brilliant head decided? That at a moment like this, instead of enduring pressure, I should chase pleasure like a pig?"
Disappointment flickered faintly in his eyes.
Disappointment.
The eyes that once held nothing but trust now carried it.
Ho Gamyeong did not falter.
"You called it pressure?"
"…"
"When I first joined you, you said I was about to experience hell."
Jang Ilso nodded faintly.
"That was true. It was hell. But knowing that, I chose to follow you."
Ho Gamyeong's voice remained steady.
"But do you remember what I said back then?"
"You told me to take it easy."
"No."
Ho Gamyeong shook his head.
"I said that being with you might be hell—but it would at least be fun."
Jang Ilso fell silent.
"That wasn't because of who I am," Ho Gamyeong continued, biting his lip lightly.
"It was because of who you were."
Back then—
"You laughed even in hell. You mocked enemies while bleeding."
His gaze hardened.
"But can you still do that now?"
Jang Ilso glared at him.
Not because he refused to answer—
but because he could not.
He already knew.
Someone like Jang Ilso could never fail to understand what was being pointed at. If he truly hadn't sensed it, he wouldn't be reacting like this.
"So?"
Jang Ilso bared his teeth, sharp and white.
"What if I say I'm not enjoying it? What then? Do you want me to smile? Or drown myself in drink?"
Ho Gamyeong let out a small sigh.
This conversation confirmed it.
That day.
The memory even Ho Gamyeong feared dreaming about—
Jang Ilso had never escaped it either.
"If there's an enemy, you fight."
"…"
"If brute force fails, you scheme. If schemes fail, you poison, dig traps, take hostages—lick their boots if you must."
Jang Ilso's face grew colder.
"That's the Paegun I know."
"…"
"The man who never searched for excuses. Who fought to win, and if he couldn't, laughed it off and moved on."
Ho Gamyeong's voice sharpened.
"That is Paegun. That is Jang Ilso."
"Ho Gamyeong!"
Jang Ilso finally shouted.
Ho Gamyeong shouted back, desperate but unwavering.
"What did you see that made you stop resisting? How did Paegun Jang Ilso lose the will to fight and turn away?"
Crash.
The bottle in Jang Ilso's hand shattered.
Liquor spilled down his fingers, its sharp scent spreading through the room.
Silence fell.
A brutal, icy line cut between them.
"…You talk well."
Jang Ilso brushed the liquor from his hand.
"What you see and what I see are different."
"Ryeonju."
"If you had felt what I felt, you wouldn't speak so easily."
"Is that so?"
A faint light flickered in Ho Gamyeong's eyes.
"So until now, you've only fought enemies you believed were manageable."
Jang Ilso froze.
Slowly, his gaze—sharp as a viper's—locked onto Ho Gamyeong.
"What did you just say?"
"Am I wrong?"
"Gamyeong-ah."
A chilling aura spilled from Jang Ilso.
"There are lines that must not be crossed."
"No."
Ho Gamyeong shook his head.
"You crossed it first, Ryeonju."
Jang Ilso smiled darkly.
"Go on. Let's see how far you'll push this."
"Did Paegun ever abandon a fight because the enemy was unbeatable?"
"No. I find a way. But if there is no way, what then? Should I charge blindly and be crushed?"
"Is there truly no way?"
"…"
"If the chance is one percent, you seize that one percent."
Ho Gamyeong's voice rang clear.
"That is Maninbang's way. Paegun's way. Your way."
"So now you—!"
"Join hands with the Just Sects."
Jang Ilso froze completely.
Silence pooled again.
"What… did you say?"
"Join forces with those bastards."
"…Ha."
Jang Ilso laughed hollowly.
"You think that makes sense?"
"If there's a common enemy, yes. History proves it."
Jang Ilso said nothing.
"If the odds are too low, you raise them. That's your method. And right now, an alliance is the most effective way."
Jang Ilso's eyes twitched.
But something else flickered in Ho Gamyeong's gaze.
The aversion on Jang Ilso's face wasn't mere discomfort.
It was revulsion.
The kind reserved for insects… or snakes.
Finally, Jang Ilso pressed his temples.
"That's absurd."
"Ryeonju."
"You're talking like you're dreaming."
Jang Ilso chuckled.
"They'd never believe me. And even if they did—do you think they'd stand beside me?"
"…"
"Hatred outweighs reason. Some would rather die than see me live."
He sneered.
"An ally you can't control is worse than an enemy."
"That's strange."
"…Strange?"
"You say you'd never ally with them."
Ho Gamyeong smiled faintly.
"But haven't you already?"
"…"
"In Hangzhou—you fought beside them."
Jang Ilso stiffened.
"What's different now? The situation? Or…"
Ho Gamyeong's smile turned colder.
"Have you changed?"
Jang Ilso stood abruptly.
Ho Gamyeong did not retreat.
"Say it again."
"Have you changed, Ryeonju?"
Their gazes collided.
Boiling fury against immovable resolve.
For the first time—
their steps, once perfectly aligned, were just slightly—
but unmistakably—
out of sync.