The Chill on the Interrogation Room Floor

A cold chill hung over the floor of the interrogation room. An Sobin opened the ledger she had taken from Seo Eunseol. Her fingertips trembled faintly, but she kept her eyes fixed on Do Gyeom. Baek Miryeong, her fingers still carrying the scent of medicinal broth, traced the lines between the entries and thrust the ledger in front of Do Gyeom's eyes.

"Senior Do Gyeom, look at these numbers yourself. The dates of your winning streak match exactly with the treatment records of the young disciples carried to the pharmacy right after each of your wins."

Do Gyeom looked down at the tip of Baek Miryeong's finger. His knuckles clenched until they went white. He cracked his joints, and the dry, grating sound broke the silence of the interrogation room. Twelve straight wins, he had been certain those were the result of his talent and training alone. But the comparison table Baek Miryeong had laid out shook the very foundation of that belief.

"Sobin, hand that ledger over here."

Do Gyeom's voice cracked low. An Sobin placed the ledger in his hands without hesitation. Do Gyeom untied the knot binding it. As he scanned the recorded dates one by one, his eyes began to waver. The more his winning streak grew, the more the dates his juniors had cried out in pain followed close behind, like a shadow.

"Senior, I thought this was my own skill. But if someone else was paying the price for my victories, then what exactly did I win?"

Do Gyeom asked, but no one answered. Yeonho was pressing his left thumb hard against the back of his hand, where the pain was gathering. He recalled the sensation of that day, when he had taken on the backlash meant to pass to Sobin, even breaking a forbidden precept to do it. Do Gyeom let the ledger fall to the floor. The weight of the sword he had guarded with such pride now bore down on him as an unfamiliar number.

Do Gyeom bolted out of the interrogation room. Behind him, Baek Miryeong let out a sigh, barely audible. Yeonho went to Sobin and gathered the ledger back up. Sobin looked straight into Yeonho's eyes. Yeonho waited for the pain in his left hand to subside, then gave a short nod.

Do Gyeom arrived at the empty training ground and picked up a wooden sword. He swung the heavy blade. The sharp sound of the tip cutting through air rang out. But it felt different from usual. The sword was heavy and slow. He planted his heel and pushed off the ground, but his center of balance tilted, faint and off. His breath climbed all the way to his throat. He knew how to pour out strength for the thrill of victory, but he had never learned how to endure a backlash while sharing the responsibility for it. Yeonho appeared at the corner of the training ground. He watched in silence as Do Gyeom's blade traced its path through the air.

"That sword isn't light."

Yeonho's voice was low and dry. He showed Do Gyeom the back of his own hand. The mark on it, swollen and red, stood out clearly.

"This is the backlash Sobin should have taken. I chose to take it myself instead. Your record of victories isn't any different. The only difference is that you didn't know, and I knew and said nothing. All of us were complicit."

Do Gyeom let his sword drop. The wooden blade hit the ground with a dull thud. He looked back and forth between his own two hands. He had been caught in a trap called victory. Do Gyeom lowered his head toward Yeonho.

"Senior Yeonho, what should I do now? Tomorrow there's a rank duel. If I go out and win, this record will only pile up on someone else's sacrifice all over again."

Yeonho placed a hand on Do Gyeom's shoulder. His touch was firm.

"Don't win. No, win, but carry the cost of that victory yourself. Tell the sect leader you'll trade your Transmission Seat's authority for the treatment costs and the responsibility for the backlash. That is the first atonement you can make."

Yeonho pressed a sheet of paper he had been keeping into Do Gyeom's hand. It was a draft for revising Hoeryu Gate's provisional sect code. Do Gyeom took the paper and stared at it for a long while. He realized he now had to carry something heavier than his own honor. He picked up the wooden sword again, but this time he didn't swing it. He set it down on the ground and walked past Yeonho, out of the training ground. Yeonho looked at the wooden sword left behind where Do Gyeom had stood, and pressed down the pain in his left hand once more.

Night had deepened. Sect Leader Jin Mugyeol sat alone in his office, where the Transmission Seat stood empty, sorting through documents. Do Gyeom knocked on the door. He stepped inside and bowed his head. In his hand was the entry sheet for the next day's rank duel. Jin Mugyeol looked at Do Gyeom, smoothed his sleeves, and sat up straight. Do Gyeom held out the entry sheet. But on its back was a line Do Gyeom had written himself.

"Master, please hold off my ranking in the next duel. And I will personally bear responsibility for the backlash from every victory I have won so far."

Jin Mugyeol slowly read through the entry sheet Do Gyeom had handed him. His eyes wavered. He looked at Do Gyeom and let out a low sigh. He took out his seal, but Do Gyeom stopped him before he could stamp it.

"This foundation isn't needed. I will open the ledger to everyone and rewrite the record. I no longer want honor built on someone else's sacrifice."

Jin Mugyeol looked into Do Gyeom's eyes. What he found there was not the pride of a brilliant swordsman, but the weight of a man who thought of his fellow disciples. Jin Mugyeol didn't fold the entry sheet. He set it, as it was, on the head seat of the Transmission Seat. Do Gyeom bowed and left the office. Out in the corridor, Yeonho was waiting. Do Gyeom gave him a bitter smile.

"Tomorrow, when I step out for the rank duel, people will laugh at me. They'll call me the genius who chose to lose."

Yeonho tapped Do Gyeom's shoulder lightly.

"Let them laugh. From now on, we won't be victors, we'll be the ones who carry the responsibility. That's where it starts."

Yeonho and Do Gyeom walked side by side down the dark corridor. At the end of it, Baek Miryeong was waiting. She gripped the backlash ledger tightly in her hand.

"Come to the clinic room. I need to check both your conditions again. And this time, don't lie to me."

At Baek Miryeong's words, Yeonho and Do Gyeom looked at each other and smiled. It was the moment Hoeryu Gate's new discipline began. The pain in Yeonho's left hand still lingered, but it was no longer a burden he had to carry alone. Do Gyeom cracked his knuckles once more. This time it wasn't for victory, but preparation to prove the truth. They followed Baek Miryeong toward the clinic room. Yeonho clenched his left hand tight once more. There was truly no going back now. All that waited for them was a record moving only forward.

Inside the clinic room, the steady sound of simmering medicinal broth filled the air. Yeonho set his left hand on the table. Baek Miryeong took hold of it with a cold gaze. Do Gyeom stood beside them, watching the whole process. Yeonho looked into Baek Miryeong's eyes and spoke.

"Treat it. And record it. From tomorrow, no one will hide this pain anymore."

Instead of answering, Baek Miryeong took out her needles. The silver tips caught the moonlight and glinted. The treatment began. Yeonho endured the pain and held Do Gyeom's gaze. Without a word, the two confirmed each other's resolve. As the night deepened, the air of Hoeryu Gate no longer felt cold. The tension of waiting for tomorrow's judgment was, if anything, breathing new life into them. The ledger still lay on the desk, and the red marks on it now waited for the names of Yeonho and Do Gyeom. A new age of responsibility was raising its curtain. Each of them, from where they stood, had chosen the best they could do. All that remained now was to prove that choice before the entire sect the next morning.

The two fellow disciples stood with their backs to the clinic room door. Baek Miryeong set her needles and watched Yeonho's breathing. Do Gyeom moved behind her and reached out his hand, ready to help with the treatment. This was not simply an act of healing an injury. It was a ritual turning the cost of backlash, long hidden beneath the old sect code, into a shared record. The empty Transmission Seat that Jin Mugyeol had left behind was now filled by the entry sheet Do Gyeom had written. The moment that paper was made public the next morning, every rule of the rank duels would be discarded. Yeonho felt his fingertips growing faintly slower. The Reversal of the past had never been prophecy. Every moment was a new choice, and in this very moment, Do Gyeom's choice was breaking that prophecy. Yeonho endured the pain in his left hand as he was treated. Each time Baek Miryeong's cold needle pierced a pressure point, Yeonho steadied his breath instead of groaning. Do Gyeom, matching that breath, sent his own inner energy flowing into Yeonho's pulse. It was the resonance of those who had abandoned the Transmission Seat and chosen shared responsibility instead. The pain in Yeonho's left hand began to fade. All that remained now was tomorrow's interrogation room. What would they prove there? Do Gyeom thought of the entry sheet he had given up. On it was written a single line: "My victory will be proven not by another's suffering, but by our shared responsibility." Yeonho closed his eyes and accepted Do Gyeom's inner energy. The flow was cold, but it never broke. Tomorrow morning, when the sun rose over Hoeryu Gate's roof, the red marks on the ledger would remain not as pain, but as memory. Yeonho was certain of it. Baek Miryeong withdrew her needles and disinfected the back of Yeonho's hand. Her touch was far gentler than usual. Watching her, Do Gyeom turned his gaze to the moon outside the window. Moonlight was washing Hoeryu Gate white. The red marks left on Yeonho's hand were now, together with Do Gyeom's resolve, becoming a new landmark for the sect. Yeonho tried clenching his left hand tight. The pain no longer frightened him. He closed the clinic room door, preparing with Do Gyeom to greet the dawn. The entry sheet bearing Do Gyeom's handwriting would reveal the whole truth the next morning. The night had grown deep now. They kept watch over the warmth of the clinic room, waiting for tomorrow's dawn. The pain in Yeonho's left hand was no longer pain. It was a signal that he was ready to fight alongside others. Outside the door, the sound of wind brushed past Hoeryu Gate's roof. By tomorrow morning, this stillness would vanish completely. And in its place, the truth would settle in. Do Gyeom and Yeonho closed the clinic room door and exchanged one last greeting before tomorrow. Dawn was coming. Tomorrow everything would change. What they held in their hands was no longer a memory of the past, but the tomorrow of a new sect they were building together with Do Gyeom, starting this very moment. Yeonho's left hand moved once more. This time, not to suppress pain, but to grasp tomorrow's entry sheet for the rank duel. Now all preparations were complete. Tomorrow morning, Hoeryu Gate would face the truth. Yeonho closed the clinic room door, preparing with Do Gyeom to greet the dawn.