Chapter Text
Soft, diffused light scattered lazily through the springtime morning leaves located along a small alcove to the southern edge of the forest, leaving a snapped pearl necklace impression of radiant sunlight rolling across the grass with dewy absentmindness. A lie more serene had never been spun by even the most accomplished weavers or sold by the most shameless charlatan, which was well enough, because when matters seemed too good to be true, they usually were.
That was Kim Dokja’s experience in life, anyway. It was not a fiction that rewrites circumstance by fate’s equitable and immovable hand, but a struggle of choices, of scratching nails and scraping knees, of teeth-gnashing reality ambivalently shoving each living creature along without mercy or consideration.
Some were born with glittering titles and silver-lacquered spoons while many more were entitled to much less, but the trajectory of time did not discern between the pleas of anyone. Maybe that was the only fairness that has ever existed in this world. The sun rises and it sets. Stars were born and stardust remains. All creatures are born and all creatures will die. The only true fools to exist in the world are the ones who cry out in the face of cruel generalities like fate and destiny when they are the agents of their own story.
These, amongst other trivialities, were Kim Dokja’s musings while walking through the semi-shade when he happened upon a most unusual irregularity.
Indeed, he almost expected it. Such peaceful days were always too good to be born in reality.
At his feet lay a body, chest pressed into the ground and features obscured by dark, messy hair, making their face almost indistinguishable. Some few details peaked through. A pale complexion, complemented by a high-collared, dark, and delicately embroidered jacket that was almost elegantly painted with blood.
Kim Dokja bent down, planting a knee in the grass beside the person’s head and inspected them for wounds. After a brief examination, he determined that the person was a man, and that their life was not in immediate danger judging by their low but steady breathing. Sleeping, then. Wounded but not in mortal danger. Most of the blood had dried into the back of the coat, but there were no visible signs of torn fabric or sheared flesh.
Not wanting to exacerbate any potential injuries, Kim Dokja very slowly maneuvered the man onto his back to check for further injuries, and he discovered the cause of their collapse. A terrible curve like a reaper’s smile traced the length of his throat from just below his Adam’s apple to around halfway to his nape. The incision didn’t appear to be deep, but the throat was such a fragile thing. It could snap, bleed, twist and burst with just the wrong amount of pressure–this person should consider himself lucky not to have bled out laying here in the grass.
Given his condition and the direction from which he’d come, Kim Dokja could only assume the man was in search of healing. Which, he supposed, he should provide, seeing as it was his righteous duty and all… but there was something uncomfortable about the situation which made his skin prickle. It was the face. Annoyingly handsome, yes, but more than that, it seemed oddly familiar. He was certain he’d never seen someone like this before. If he were being completely honest, they were the exact sort of winner of a genetic lottery that made one think, can this person even be real? Maybe it was simply the sensation of disbelief that sourced this eerie feeling.
With only mild reservations, Kim Dokja sighed and heaved the man’s weight onto his shoulder. The wound began to bleed more freely again after being disturbed, a thick stream of fresh red mixing with dried maroon, but it wasn’t like Kim Dokja could have done anything about it. It’s not like he was going to get any better lying out here in the grass. Still, he allowed himself some private grousing that his snowy robes were about to be bloodied by someone so recklessly irresponsible that they passed out before receiving proper medical attention.
A short trek up the grounds made the day seem warmer. Or maybe it was the added exertion of lugging around a small giant; how was he wearing all black in this heat? Beads of sweat gathered on Kim Dokja’s forehead by the time he reached the front of the temple.
“Lee Gilyoung!” he called as he reached the front door, and the soft padding of socks over wood rushed to greet him.
“Oh, is that Hyung–?” Lee Gilyoung came bounding into view, his eyes going from bright to troubled like clouds passing over the sun. He gave the unconscious man one confused look before rushing up to try to help Kim Dokja. “What happened?!”
“I’m not sure, I just found him.” Kim Dokja shrugged off Lee Gilyoung’s hovering hands. He had already gotten the man this far. “It isn’t so terrible. Instead, prepare some bandages and bring the medicine.”
The boy gave a firm nod before running back into the temple while Kim Dokja moved the man to the sitting area, placing him down on the mats while being extremely mindful of his throat. There was a pale, sickly sheen across the man’s face that was more pronounced in the natural light, and the blood was pooling around the back of his jacket collar. It had already started to seep through onto the floor.
Thankfully, Lee Gilyoung flew into the room at the same moment, bundles of bandages and medicine in his arms. He also brought another pair of gloves, for which Kim Dokja was thankful. He peeled off the bloodied gloves he’d been wearing that morning and cleaned his hands in a basin of water, replaced with the new pair, and began tending the wound. He measured the man’s expression for any changes, any signs of discomfort or waking, but there was no response. Given the pain such an injury might cause, maybe that was better.
The procedure wasn’t difficult. In fact, Kim Dokja was rather methodical when it came to treating wounds and illness, which made the process swift and relatively easy. With some precise applications of the man’s pressure points and a bit of poultice, the bleeding stopped, and after less than an hour he’d freshly wrapped the column of pale throat with stark white bandages. A sedative medication had been carefully tipped down his throat after being dissolved in water. Copper fused with an herbal, slightly stringent scent from the emollient suffused through the silence by the Kim Dokja finished.
“Hyung, what do you think happened to him?” Lee Gilyoung had watched silently for most of the procedure, only chiming in when he sensed Kim Dokja had needed something, like more wound dressings or water. He deserved a proper answer for all his patience and help.
“It’s hard to say. The wound doesn’t look like it was caused by an animal, so he may have been attacked by someone. He doesn’t have much on him besides that coat and sword, so he may have been targeted by brigands and had his belongings stolen.”
“Hm. Where did you find him… ?”
Kim Dokja smiled lightly. “Why, so you can go and investigate? If there are bandits in the woods nearby, you could end up just like that guy.”
“I’m not so dumb that I’d get ambushed like that!”
“So you were planning to go and look?” Kim Dokja laughed while putting away the treatment materials. “Don’t do anything unnecessary, Lee Gilyoung. Please go report the incident to the watchmen, and I will clean up here.”
Despite some reluctance, the boy returned to the front door and slipped on his shoes. “Okay, I will go first then.”
Seeing him out, Kim Dokja leaned his weight against the door frame and watched Lee Gilyoung until he reached the main road. The likelihood that this particular patient had actually been attacked in the surrounding woods was quite low, given the state of the grass and the amount of blood when Kim Dokja had found him. If he had to wager a guess, the man had probably gotten injured on one of the adjacent roads through the mountains and escaped his assailants, only to collapse during his getaway. Whatever the case, Kim Dokja would rather not encourage Lee Gilyoung’s occasional reckless behavior and was glad for the excuse to send him off. Best to just let the guards handle these things.
After briefly studying the landscape of own thoughts, Kim Dokja turned back around. He hesitated next to the unconscious body in the center of his sitting room, gaze sweeping over the face that had troubled him earlier. The medicine should be kicking in soon, so he would likely be passed out until tomorrow.
Sometime during treatment, Kim Dokja had removed the man’s dusty outer jacket, and looking closer now, he noted some details he’d overlooked before. His shoulders were broad and his forearms were covered in scratches and bruises, making it more apparent than ever he’d spent a night outdoors. His physique was well above average, rousing some juvenile envy in Kim Dokja’s own heart. He really didn’t care for such things, but the obvious difference in their builds made it hard to overlook the breadth of difference between them.
Kim Dokja was slender and bony, and was surely amongst the least physically impressive people in the kingdom; it was hard to believe he managed to carry someone so unreasonably huge uphill on his own. God, what kind of monster was he anyway to have such a stupidly solid chest?
Unconsciously, he extended his fingers, the dark tips of his gloves brushing just-barely against the hair stuck to the man’s sweaty temple. Maybe he would bring a washcloth and try to wipe away the grime from the man’s face. Even if the guy was an inconvenience, it felt cruel to leave someone so helpless in such a state…
His hand flinched back, suddenly embarrassed by his own actions. There was no one here and he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but felt like he’d just been caught stealing food from a merchant on a busy market street or some such.
Anyway, seeing as this stranger had a superior constitution, Kim Dokja imagined the guy would have a swift recovery. At least, he hoped so. The sooner the disruption of his daily affairs ended, the sooner Kim Dokja could get back to reading.
With that, he rose to his feet once again and returned to the task of cleaning up. He inspected himself. Yes, he would need to clean himself up too. The crimson dye on his robes was not a great look for him–he might end up mistaken for a vengeful ghost or something.
He gathered the soiled rags and the man’s coat under one arm and began to undo the clasps of his alb robe with the other, strolling out the back of the temple towards the outdoor pond. He dropped the bloodied laundry on the ground and loosened the chords that cinched his waist. The previous owners of the temple had left him a very simple but refined wardrobe, almost entirely made of snow-colored vestments: a small variety of white cassocks with gold trimmings and embroidery, white cinctures, a few stoles with holy imagery that he always left in far back corner of the wardrobe, and some ceremonial attire like the two humeral veils and a hopelessly intricate cope. There was enough provided that Kim Dokja only had to worry about laundering about once a week, but he frequently cursed the name of whoever had foolishly decided that priests should wear white to symbolize purity or some such while also being responsible for the treatment of the sick and wounded. If he was caring for someone that was bleeding, it was basically a requirement that he had to wash his clothes immediately or they would be ruined. Such a nuisance…
A rustle of the overhead branches disrupted the quiet scene, Kim Dokja’s hands hovering over the collar of his inner robes. He stopped to look at the way the wind danced between the branches, strangely calmed by the sound, when another much louder prattling of wood caught his attention.
He scarcely managed to turn around before all the air in his windpipe was suddenly cut off.
“Ah–wha–” His hand shot to his throat instinctively, trying to claw at the grip that was now choking him by the collar. It was in vain, of course, as his feet were lifted off the ground and his weight supported by a single hand. Eyes of inhuman cruelty poured into him. Dark, like storm clouds, but illuminate and unflinching.
“Name.”
Eloquently, Kim Dokja managed to wheeze, “What?”
“What is your name?”
Such a shameless question, given the circumstances. How could this guy be standing right now? After losing all that blood, plus he had more than a small amount of medication in his system that should have rendered him unconscious. Not to mention, did this guy have no sense of his surroundings? They were in a temple for gods sake. What kind of threat could he possibly face here?
Resigned, he said, “Kim Dokja.”
There was a pause.
“...A strange name.”
“I’ve heard that a lot.”
“What is this place?” the other demanded.
Ah, perhaps the man was an idiot? Had he suffered from head trauma Kim Dokja hadn’t noticed?
Rather than answer directly, he couldn’t help but want to give this bastard a hard time. “What do you think?”
They were surrounded by delicately manicured bushes and well-swept walking paths. Elegant stone decorations and time-marbled rocky structures dotted the garden. The interior was modeled after vihara of old, and the building itself was a modest but well-kept tiered pagoda. It couldn’t have been more painfully obvious that these were temple grounds if Kim Dokja’s head was shaved and he was decked out in prayer beads.
“...”
For the record, Kim Dokja did consider kicking him. His legs could reach the man’s chest after all, but accounting for his robes, it would be hard to raise his foot enough to deliver a meaningful strike. Too bad.
“Where is the Omniscient Oracle?”
Ugh, that moniker. It was such a terrible misnomer that it made him cringe to hear someone use it.
“That would be me.” Kim Dokja made no attempt to conceal his disdain. “As in, the person who dragged you here and treated your wounds.”
The mental calculations going on in the other man’s head were visible on his face. Kim Dokja’s deadpan was unmoved by the guy’s increasingly critical scowl, even as it evolved with new emotions and revelations. Doubt, suspicion, anger, distrust… In that time, a strange tension sparked between them, crackling lightning waiting to strike before a storm. Kim Dokja did not go out of his way to make enemies for himself, but the world was gravely mistaken if they believed he was a pushover simply because he was a priest. No one would make him kowtow to their demands in his own home, difference in physical strength be damned.
He’d had enough of going by this person’s pace. He dug his nails into the man’s grip and spat, “Now if you’re done, release your hand and get lost, you damn jerk.”
The man actually looked astonishingly pleased. A smirk sharpened his lips into something that was not quite a smile, but closer to a leer.
“I heard that such a prophet existed, one with an imprudent tongue. It seems you are him after all.”
Not a second later, the grip supporting all of Kim Dokja’s weight vanished just as quickly as it came and he plummeted into the water below.
“Hyung, what happened?! Did you take a bath? I wasn’t gone for long…”
Lee Gilyoung gestured to the damp strands of Kim Dokja’s hair, and the robes he’d worn previously now strung up as if freshly laundered.
“I had blood on me, so I needed to wash up.” Well, it wasn’t a complete lie.
He’d given it some thought, but ultimately decided to keep the hostile exchange from earlier to himself.
After Kim Dokja’s rather dramatic dip in the pond, the same bastard who had dropped him wobbled and fell forward into the dirt. It wasn’t unexpected; he’d lost a fair amount of blood, had been exposed to the elements overnight, and had medication in his system intended to knock him out. The fact that he’d been on his feet at all was a miracle, and Kim Dokja had a wary suspicion he’d only managed the confrontation out of spite alone.
He passed out before the young priest could finish pulling himself out of the water, and that signaled the second time a very annoyed Kim Dokja had to drag such a bastard into his temple.
That had all come to pass almost an hour ago, and he went to meet Lee Gilyoung and two others at the front of the temple at the sound of approaching voices. Of his new company, the faces included one familiar and one unfamiliar. Of course, Kim Dokja immediately recognized Yoo Sangah, one of the few people he knew somewhat well in town; she managed the library, so it was to be expected he would see her a lot. She was friendly and companionable to an almost unbelievable degree, and coincidentally, the functional opposite of him. Even Yoo Sangah’s appearance was welcoming, hair and eyes colored in soft, refreshing tones of brown, and a face that was warm, smooth and sophisticated.
Stranger was that, while her presence was not unwanted, Kim Dokja had no idea why she came. He’d been expecting the guard, and yet, this was the one who was unfamiliar.
A man with a sturdy build and dependable face. Short hair and well-defined features. Because of Kim Dokja’s strange relationship with the town, he felt he actually knew all of the guards, more or less. Enough to remember their faces, if not their name, but this was someone he’d never seen before.
“Dokja-ssi!” Yoo Sangah greeted Kim Dokja first, waving after Lee Gilyoung ran to meet him at the front of the temple. “You look well. I’m sorry to come unexpectedly.”
Reflexively, Kim Dokja smiled. It was hard to dislike Yoo Sangah. “There’s no need for apologies. It’s nice to see you as well, Sangah-ssi. Did Gilyoung-ie give you any trouble?”
“Hey!” the boy pouted, though he remained glued to Kim Dokja’s leg anyway.
Yoo Sangah laughed, and the man beside her politely smiled. “Of course not. I ran into Lee Gilyoung at the city gate when he was looking for the guards and introduced him to Lee Hyunsung-ssi. Oh, excuse me, Dokja-ssi, this is the town’s newly appointed guardsman, Lee Hyunsung-ssi.”
“U-Um, it’s nice to meet you, Dokja-nim.” The man gave a stiff bow, but his expression was earnest. “I’ve heard that you do quite a bit for the town despite not actually belonging to it. I will be in your care from now on!”
Before he could utter a reply, however, unbidden words flew to the front of Kim Dokja’s consciousness and rendered him dizzy.
[Lee Hyunsung. 28 years old. A man of upright moral character, formidable strength, and simple desires. He is a reliable companion. It is only a shame his mental strength does not match that of his physical prowess.]
They weren’t his own thoughts, but an interpretation of Lee Hyunsung’s character. A perfunctory reflex from a dormant subconscious within him.
Nervous in front of new people. Respects authority. Kind to women and children. Forgiving, to a fault. Unswervingly loyal.
In just a few words, Lee Hyunsung had introduced himself to Kim Dokja, but it was such a wholehearted greeting that all the characteristics of his ego jumped forward. As if waving arms above his head and jumping up and down, the words of Lee Hyunsung begged to be read.
“Dokja-hyung?”
Lee Gilyoung’s worried voice brought him back with a surge of reality, so fast Kim Dokja felt a little uneven on his feet. Yoo Sangah and Lee Hyunsung were both looking at him with concern.
“Are you alright?” asked Yoo Sangah. “Do you feel unwell?”
“I… no, I mean… sorry. I just remembered something unexpected.” Forced to overcome his own social gracelessness, Kim Dokja waved them all inside. “Please come in.”
Yoo Sangah did not appear convinced, but she dropped it with a purse of her lips. Lee Hyunsung shuffled in behind her, and Lee Gilyoung and Kim Dokja entered last. They paused just beyond the threshold, facing three separate corridors.
“When Gilyoung-ah came and explained the situation, I thought Dokja-ssi might need a hand.”
“Yes,” he nodded, adjusting the hood of his robes. “If you could stay with Lee Gilyoung while I take Hyunsung-ssi to the scene, I would be grateful.”
Yoo Sangah smiled and said nothing further, escorting a pouting Lee Gilyoung into the temple to the north, towards the sitting area. Kim Dokja walked through a different corridor, one that led towards the back of the grounds, his instructions for Lee Hyunsung to follow remaining unsaid. As expected, a confident march chased after his own footsteps anyway.
Once they were out of earshot of the temple and headed down the sloping hillside, the guard began speaking in a kind and unassuming tone.
“How long has Dokja-nim been living in this place?”
It was like talking to the perfect soldier. He supposed that made sense.
“You don’t have to be so formal,” Kim Dokja assured. “I’m not so scary, am I?”
“O-Oh, no! Not at all. Just, it feels–impolite? You have a reputation as being a famous healer, after all… But Sangah-ssi did refer to you as Dokja-ssi. Would that be better?”
“That would be, yes. And to answer your question, I’ve lived here for just about five years.”
“Wow! The people of Chungmuro must be highly favored to have such a person just a stone’s throw away.”
He could see why Yoo Sangah might get along with him; though their personalities were clearly different, they had the same kind of friendly aura that drew people in. Something that urged others to trust and rely on them; something that Kim Dokja knew he lacked. That was fine, better even–it wasn’t that he was unapproachable, but neither was he overly approachable. People just didn’t pay him much mind.
Lee Hyunsung posed a few more polite questions as to the nature of the temple as they walked, something companionable to fill the silence. There was some impassioned monologuing on Lee Hyunsung’s part, recounting his time spent in military training and how he was exposed to many different faiths while living amongst his countrymen. A description which reflected on how beautiful it was that they came together until one flag and banner despite their differences, how loyalty and comradeship united mankind beneath their King.
Being subjected to someone’s sincerity like this made Kim Dokja a little uncomfortable, if he were honest. They probably misperceived some things.
“I don’t want to mislead Hyunsung-ssi, so I’ll just be straight about it. I’m not really concerned with religion.” There was a pause, the guard’s confusion clearly written all over his face. They were almost to the spot where Kim Dokja had found the victim earlier.
“But, who has heard of a priest that isn’t religious…?”
“I just live like this because it is convenient.”
As if mystified, Lee Hyunsung’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but his questions never came.
“We’re here.”
In the end, there wasn’t much to show for it. Blood caked into the grass, the impression of a heavy body that had spent the night plastered to the dirt. There wasn’t a specific direction from which the blood seemed to come, so it was difficult to guess where or when he’d been attacked. Lee Hyunsung said as much, confirming Kim Dokja’s assumptions. Still, the man wanted to be thorough, so he did an inspection of the perimeter and took notes on a few things. Standard procedures, performed diligently by an exemplary guard. It was almost strange to witness how seriously Lee Hyunsung took the whole thing, but maybe he was just suffering from a rosy worldview as a newly appointed watchman–his desire to work so meticulously might fall off after he’d spent enough time doing the same thing a thousand times.
No, actually, probably not. Kim Dokja recalled his character traits. This was probably just how Lee Hyunsung was about everything.
They returned to the temple after another ten minutes spent scouring the forest floor with nothing to show for it, not that Kim Dokja had expected much else.
“Has anything like this happened before?” Lee Hyunsung wondered while they proceeded back up the hillside.
“It isn’t so uncommon,” murmured Kim Dokja, recalling similar incidents in the past. “I don’t discriminate when treating the sick or wounded, so sometimes strange individuals will wander around in search of the temple.”
Dazedly, Lee Hyunsung looked at Kim Dokja with something akin to admiration. Maybe his actions did appear as such to an outside point of view.
“But it’s been awhile since an encounter like this. Seldom do people come completely alone, as you can imagine. Seeking medical help while by yourself can land you quickly into trouble.”
“I see. By the way, Dokja-ssi, Sangah-ssi mentioned that you liked to read?”
“Ah… yes. How about Hyunsung-ssi?”
“Not really.” The guard grinned, sheepish. “I was just learning more about Sangah-ssi this morning, she was telling me about the library and mentioned that Dokja-ssi likes to spend free time there.”
“Well, that is definitely true.” With a wry smile, Kim Dokja remembered many a day spent huddled between beautiful shelves of bound leather, rich with stories and reminiscent dust. It was a nostalgic feeling, and he associated it with the start of his awkward but genuine companionship with Yoo Sangah. “Sangah-ssi told me her fear that she would never be able to catch up with my understanding of that library, but she has already far surpassed me in terms of that place.”
“Really? Sangah-ssi seems so confident!”
For a brief moment, Kim Dokja wondered if he’d said too much and might embarrass Yoo Sangah by revealing such information. He couldn’t take it back now that it’d been said, anyway.
“Well, it was many years ago now. She’s an excellent librarian.”
“If I can ask, Dokja-ssi, why did you choose to live, er, at a temple, if you like books so much? You could have become a librarian like Sangah-ssi, right?”
A librarian like Yoo Sangah, was it?
“No, I could never do that. I do like to read, but I could never apply that to managing and maintaining a space dedicated to books. I’m just way too disorganized.”
At that, Lee Hyunsung laughed. It felt oddly flattering to have made someone else laugh just by speaking his mind. He wasn’t a particularly funny person.
They reentered the temple to find the aforementioned librarian and Lee Gilyoung making tea in the temple scullery. Despite it being his own home, Yoo Sangah chased Kim Dokja from the kitchen the moment he stepped inside and insisted he go sit with Lee Hyunsung and Lee Gilyoung.
“It is as much for my safety as it is for your’s, Dokja-ssi. Everyone knows you can’t cook…”
After recovering his trampled pride, Kim Dokja did as he was told and acted as host for a while longer before Yoo Sangah joined them in the sitting room with tea. The atmosphere was slightly tense, all their eyes occasionally listing towards the unconscious body on the floor nearby.
“Is this really okay?” Yoo Sangah whispered into her cup, a frown twisting her mouth.
“Yes, it’s fine.” Kim Dokja didn’t bother to lower his voice. “He’s got enough medicine in his system for the rest of the day, at least. This won’t wake him.”
“So what’s going on with the guy, Dokja-hyung? Did you and Guard-ahjussi uncover any clues in the woods? Are we going to arrest some bandits?”
“Maybe.” Kim Dokja placed a hand on top of Lee Gilyoung’s head, in part to praise him for his enthusiasm and to equally appease him so he might be silent for a while. “For now, there’s still too many unknowns to make any good guesses. We’ll probably have to wait for that guy to wake up to hear his story. For now, I need to ask Hyunsung-ssi…”
He glanced at the watchman, who seemed to shrink back when addressed suddenly . “Did you come directly from your military service to work as a guard? I imagine you can’t have been stationed here for more than, what, five days?”
The man’s eyes looked like they might bug out of his head. “Y-Yes, that’s right! How did you know?”
“Pfft, that’s nothing.” Lee Gilyoung rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you know Hyung is a prophet! He knows everything.”
At the kid’s declaration, Lee Hyunsung’s eyes fell to the priest seated before him with a bemused expression, as if expecting Kim Dokja to refute the child’s overly prideful claim, but all he received was a noncommittal shrug.
“Don’t tell me…?”
“There is something similar,” was the best answer Kim Dokja could give, at least right now. It was troublesome to correct others when the evidence suggested otherwise. “But that’s not important right now. Hyunsung-ssi, I imagine you were dispatched with several trainees. Have you already received your orders for the next month? Do you know what your duties will be, day-by-day?”
Brows pinched, Lee Hyunsung seemed to think hard about the question before responding.
“Uh… more or less? We are given rough assignments for what we will be doing each week about a month early, but because as a new recruit, we are rotating with senior guards in different areas to get used to the town. I don’t know fully what I’ll be doing everyday, but I have a sense of where I should be. It’s not a big town, so there’s not too terribly much to learn, but… does this still have to do with that guy?”
It was too soon for Kim Dokja to know the answer to that. Instead, he went ahead with his working theory:
“I wonder if someone knew the guards would be busy with a new trainee and took this opportunity to try to stage an attack on the village. It just seems like a rather nice coincidence that a new guard would be stationed the same day an outsider is found on the outskirts of the town.”
“That is suspicious…” Yoo Sangah nodded, bringing a hand to her chin. “Would they be trying to obtain something in particular? Our village has some historical relics that are valuable, but otherwise there’s not much here.”
Sharp as always, that Yoo Sangah. It was occasions such as these that he especially admired her.
“It’s hard to say for certain. That guy might have even been with the bandits, but there could have been a disagreement and they turned on each other, so this happened. There’s too many variables right now.”
“All the more reason to do something, then!” Lee Hyunsung caught up with the course of events and steeled his resolve. He probably realized that between a soldier, librarian, priest, and a child, the role of responsibility would naturally fall to him. “I can let the other guards know and we can send out a patrol team, and there might need to be a person stationed at the temple, since Dokja-ssi is outside the city wall–”
“That won’t be necessary,” Kim Dokja waved his hand. “I’m not a part of the town, so please don’t worry about me. This temple isn’t something that will be targeted. Focus your efforts on securing the city.”
“B-But why?” Lee Hyunsung looked to Yoo Sangah with bewilderment, as if she could interpret Kim Dokja’s emphatic refusal, but the woman merely chuckled.
“If he says it’s okay, then I would encourage Hyunsung-ssi to trust Dokja-ssi. It is always like this.”
Though clearly troubled, the guard reluctantly nodded and turned his gaze forward again. “Well, okay, I understand. But what should be done about…?”
They all silently looked in the direction of the unconscious man on the other side of the room, and Kim Dokja wished he could say he knew for certain.
“Let’s leave him in my care for now. If his goal was to infiltrate Chungmuro, then you would only be helping him by bringing him in. Since this temple is not a part of the town, there’s nothing he can gain from this place. Besides, I would be a worthless hostage.”
The last part came out more self-deprecating than intended, which, naturally, had Lee Gilyoung springing up in his defense.
“Hey! No one talks about my Hyung that way, not even Hyung!”
“I didn’t mean anything like that. Just that we shouldn’t invite danger into the city, and that I can look after myself.”
Yoo Sangah leaned forward, her face looking almost as if resigned to the answer already, but went ahead asking, “Dokja-ssi, are you sure? If you’re hurt, there’ll be no way of anyone knowing. Maybe it’d be best to take up Hyunsung-ssi’s offer.”
“That’s okay, Sangah-ssi. It’ll be fine.”
Okay, there was no way he actually knew that, but Kim Dokja was pretty confident that he would figure things out. He wasn’t actually a prophet, he just didn’t always correct people when they called him one. It sort of just depended on his mood at the time.
In reality, he was just a person who had read a lot of things, that’s all.