Chapter 35.1

Chapter 35.1

Unlike the grotesque noises made by the *Sagwi*, the man’s voice was natural and clear, as if it belonged to an ordinary human. Yet, faint traces of the refined intonation characteristic of aristocrats—those who had spent their lives ruling over others—colored his speech.

“Grrk—krkrrk—”

The *Sagwi* let out an unpleasant sound, its body twisting as if responding to the man.

This only deepened the man’s already furrowed brow into a scowl of disdain.

“The Goblin King’s hound?”

“Krkrrk—.”

“You fool. How many times must I tell you to conceal your presence and keep your head down near the goblin’s territory?”

Beneath the contempt in his tone and gaze, there was a sharp clarity of irritation and anger, spurred by this new, unwelcome topic.

Goblins, known for their mastery of warding off evil spirits, were among the most fearsome predators of ghosts. Many reckless or lost *Sagwi* wandering nearby would inadvertently trespass into the goblin’s domain, only to be utterly annihilated, not even a fragment of their soul surviving the encounter.

Yet the man, defiant and unbothered, had established his base near the mountain that bordered the Goblin King’s territory.

That wasn’t all. He had distributed his power among lesser spirits, turning them into his eyes, ears, hands, and feet, allowing him to dominate the region around Daeyasan as he waited.

Because that woman would return. She would come back to this land, seeking the remnants of the old fortress steeped in blood and resentment…

“Grrrk—krk—grrrk—”

At that moment, the *Sagwi*’s guttural noises pulled the man from his thoughts. He listened to its garbled report but tilted his head slightly, as though doubting what he’d heard.

“…A woman you’ve never seen before?”

“Krkrrk—grrrrr—”

The *Sagwi* replied with more unintelligible sounds.

The man, a mixture of curiosity and suspicion on his face, bent halfway down. With pale hands, he grabbed the *Sagwi*’s arm, its wrist severed below the joint.

Then, lowering his unnervingly human-like face, he leaned so close it was as though his nose was about to touch the wound.

Hssssss… haaaa…

He inhaled deeply and exhaled, drawing in the black aura clinging to the *Sagwi*’s wrist. The dark energy swirled into his body, then seeped back out of his mouth.

A faint frown tugged at his brow.

The smell of unnervingly clean, crisp wind. The repugnant scent of a *Seong-su*—a sacred beast. And the faintly sweet fragrance of a human.

Was it his imagination? Among those odors, the human scent seemed strangely familiar, as though he’d encountered it somewhere before.

“Summon all the wandering spirits I’ve sent out.”

After a brief moment of deliberation, the man straightened up, briskly brushing the creases from his coat.

His gaze, cold enough to chill the spine, cut sharply past the *Sagwi*, toward the shadowed expanse of the dimly lit mountain.

“I must see this for myself.”

***

Ara had another strange dream.

A dream where she was aware it was a dream, one that felt like stepping into the past rather than the present, as though she had become the protagonist of a historical drama. It was the same dreamscape she had experienced last time.

But something was different this time.

For one, the clothes she wore in the dream had changed. When she flicked her wrist, crimson sleeves so long they completely covered her hands fluttered, unlike the soft lavender ones from before.

Last time, no matter how much effort she exerted, she couldn’t so much as twitch a finger. Now, she could move her wrists and other parts of her body freely, with no hint of the oppressive restraint she had previously felt.

The scenery around her was also different.

Instead of a battlefield, Ara found herself sitting in a garden. Ancient buildings with golden-tiled roofs and pavilions blended harmoniously with the expansive green lawn. To one side of the garden, a polished pond rimmed with smooth stones glistened prettily.

—How beautiful…

Swinging her feet absentmindedly while perched on a chair, Ara let out a quiet murmur of admiration before tilting her head in puzzlement.

The legs dangling under the embroidered skirt were far too short. Shorter not just than her legs in the waking world, but even shorter than the ones she remembered from her last dream.

Frowning slightly, Ara gripped the armrests of the chair and hopped off. Her hands quickly ran over her body from head to knees before she suddenly bolted toward the pond in the distance.

The delicate silk shoes, adorned with tiny flowers at their tips, came to an abrupt stop in front of the pebbled edge of the pond. Catching her breath, Ara leaned forward, peering at the shimmering reflection cast on the sunlit water.

– What the… I’m really just a kid?

The girl in the reflection was unmistakably a child—a young girl, barely seven or eight years old, even with a generous estimate.

• Did I step into this child’s dream?

The thought struck her immediately. After all, the face in the water bore no resemblance to her own as a child.