At Amon’s calm explanation, Sunhwa’s first reaction was bewilderment.
She looked at Amon with disbelief, as if she had just heard a tale about a den of demons.
“Such a demonic place actually exists?”
“From our perspective, East Asia is unusually livable.”
China, dominated by the corporations of Gupa Ilbang and the Four Great Houses.
Japan, ruled by a single corporation that had essentially declared itself a shogunate.
Joseon, where the royal family maintained a dictatorship through the military.
Just from the description, it sounded like a dystopia where democracy was discarded, and human rights were trampled upon.
Yet, ironically, compared to the Western world, these countries were better places to live.
“So, Sunhwa, you don’t have to feel so guilty. Even if you have no place in Joseon, the Western world has plenty of opportunities.”
‘Whistleblower?’
That was nothing.
In the West, where executives frequently betrayed their companies and fled for money, Sunhwa’s whistleblowing wouldn’t even be a controversy.
The only things that mattered were skill and capital.
And in that sense, Sunhwa possessed swordsmanship skills that any corporation would covet.
‘She was even the ace assassin of Gyeomgye.’
From what he heard, before she was exiled, she had been an elite even within Gyeomgye.
In American terms, she was equivalent to something like HOD, meaning every company would be eager to recruit her.
However, it seemed that Sunhwa perceived his words differently.
“…That wasn’t meant to be comforting, was it?”
To her, it sounded as if he were saying that hell awaited beyond Joseon.
Realizing he had unintentionally raised a wall in her heart, Amon hurried to correct her misunderstanding.
“It’s not like that. I’m just letting you know that this is an option.”
“I still love my homeland.”
“I understand.”
“That’s an unexpected answer.”
“Did you think I would say something else?”
“I thought Westerners wouldn’t understand what this feels like.”
“Not everyone is the same.”
Amon gave her a gentle smile.
“At least it seems like you’re feeling a bit better now.”
“So that was meant as comfort.”
“Not intentionally, but I suppose so.”
“So, what were we talking about again?”
“Originally, I was going to help you return to Gyeomgye… but judging by what you said, you don’t seem interested.”
“That’s right. I’ve already let go of that attachment.”
Seeing the complete lack of hesitation on her face, Amon accepted her words.
“Then is there anything else I can help with?”
“Well, there is something, but first, let me ask you one thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why are you helping us?”
At her question, Amon raised an eyebrow and answered honestly.
“I have a small ability. I can see beyond the material world and perceive the essence of souls. And I noticed something strange about the souls of all Joseon people.”
“Specifically, how are they strange?”
“Their hearts are all connected by something like strings or chains. But you and Seonu don’t have them.”
“Oh, that.”
Contrary to Amon’s expectation that she would take time to figure it out, the answer came immediately.
“My brother and I never got the PIB implanted.”
“PIB?”
“Personal Identification Biochip. Shortened to PIB.”
She answered in awkward English.
Hearing a new term, Amon mentally filed it away and focused on her explanation.
“In Joseon, as soon as you’re born, a chip is implanted that sends genetic information, fingerprints, name, family relations, and more to the government in real time.”
“Wow…”
“To people who value freedom like you, it must seem stifling, but it’s not all bad.”
“I see.”
Amon acted as if he was hearing about it for the first time and was amazed.
But inwardly, he remained indifferent.
‘What? That’s just an extreme version of South Korea’s resident registration system.’
Of course, it was much stricter than South Korea’s, but thanks to that memory, he had no trouble understanding the concept.
However, perhaps misunderstanding Amon’s expression, she began extolling the benefits of PIB.
“PIB is really convenient. You can make payments easily, share your location with acquaintances effortlessly….”
Beyond that, she explained how PIB made crime detection far easier than in foreign countries, significantly improving public safety.
In short, giving up freedom meant gaining security.
“I understand.”
Although Amon had already grasped everything, he pretended to understand just now to avoid further explanations.
At any rate, thanks to her explanation, he had uncovered the mystery of the “strings” or “chains.”
“So, the reason you two don’t have those connections is…”
“Because our family is a traitorous one. We survived thanks to a deal with the Uigeumbu, but officially, we’re considered dead.”
“So they removed your PIB?”
“Yeah.”
Amon briefly questioned the government’s decision but soon understood its reasoning.
This was the result of the dilemma between suspicion and trust.
Since society operated under collective punishment, she needed to face some kind of penalty.
But at the same time, she had reported the rebellion before it started, proving her personal loyalty.
Thus, the government had to reward her as a loyal subject.
The problem was that she was from a family that had conspired against the state.
Because of that, her sincerity would always be in doubt—it could be interpreted as a choice made for survival or personal gain.
In other words, she had not earned complete trust.
“So this was both a punishment and a reward.”
As a reward, they granted her freedom and an opportunity to erase her past identity.
As a punishment, they branded her as an untrustworthy person.
Sunhwa was impressed by Amon’s quick analysis.
“Are you really American? Why do you understand this so fast? Now that I think about it, your Joseon language is fluent too.”
“I have my reasons.”
As always, Amon brushed it off lightly.
“Then my curiosity is satisfied. But since a deal is a deal, tell me what you need help with.”
“Oh? A verbal promise isn’t enough for me to trust you.”
“You’re such a staunch Confucianist, yet you don’t trust me?”
“You’re a Westerner.”
“Ah.”
Amon chuckled bitterly and pulled out an electronic contract.
Amon manipulated the tablet one step at a time, and she watched in fascination.
“You didn’t get the procedure? If you had, you could just send electronic documents directly.”
“I’m the type who avoids procedures.”
“Is retro making a comeback among Westerners without me knowing…?”
“There aren’t many like me and my girlfriend in the whole world.”
Even the senior priests of the Vatican underwent implant procedures, making Amon a rare case.
While exchanging such casual conversation, Amon handed over the contract.
“Alright. State your terms and sign the contract.”
She got straight to the point.
“My younger brother said he’s joining something called the Hunt Legion. Do you know what that is?”
“What a coincidence. That’s exactly why I came to Joseon. Is the entire Gyeomgye participating?”
“Well, the court put in a request because it could turn the whole country into a ghost-infested hell.”
“Hmm… Is that so?”
Amon tilted his head.
Of course, the Hunt Legion was dangerous.
Spirits meant to haunt the world for a year would flood into a single region, possessing anything they could. It was, without a doubt, a catastrophe.
‘But what was the need for the Gyeomgye?’
‘If it were paladins or exorcist priests, sure, but the Gyeomgye?’
They didn’t seem particularly useful.
Still, the court must have been worried about the possible emergence of a cursed blade or an entity, so they reached out to the Gyeomgye.
Amon wasn’t the only one feeling uneasy—Sunhwa seemed just as unsettled.
“Something feels off, right? That’s why I need your help.”
The Gyeomgye wouldn’t accept her, and the court would never allow her participation.
Originally, she had planned to ask Amon to protect her younger brother.
But now…
“I’ve changed my mind. You said you came from the Vatican to take part in this, right? Take me with you. Let me protect my brother myself.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“You don’t trust my skills?”
“I haven’t seen them.”
“When I was possessed by the cursed blade—that wasn’t even half of what I can do.”
“Is that so?”
He still didn’t seem convinced.
Perhaps his attitude bruised her pride because she furrowed her brows and said, “Fine. Then let’s head to the training ground.”
“Now? At this hour?”
“Obviously, tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t mind doing it now.”
“No, you’re not fine. You have a girlfriend, don’t you? I don’t know how things are in the West, but in Joseon, people don’t look kindly on a taken man hanging around another woman late into the night.”
“That’s perceived similarly in the West.”
“Anyway, let’s meet tomorrow morning. I’m tired.”
“Understood.”
“Hurry back before your girlfriend gets the wrong idea.”
She practically chased Amon out.
“Well, your girlfriend is really pretty. Honestly, I doubt she’d suspect you of cheating with someone like me.”
“???”
Amon was momentarily confused by her sudden self-deprecation.
“Is that supposed to be some kind of black comedy, or are you serious?”
Normally, he would have taken it as a joke, but something about the faint sorrow in her voice made him ask.
She seemed puzzled by his question.
“What are you trying to say?”
“You don’t actually believe you’re unattractive, do you? I’m American, so I’m still getting used to Joseon’s way of speaking—”
“Oh, that part? You don’t have to worry about it. I got this burn when I killed my parents. That was a long time ago. I’ve long since accepted that I’m ugly.”
“???”
***
Amon once again examined her closely with a look of pure confusion.
Only then did he notice the part of her face hidden beneath her left side’s curtain of hair.
Beneath that veil of hair, a burn scar stretched across the corner of her eye.
‘So that’s what it was.’
He hadn’t noticed during their fight because she let her hair fall like a vengeful spirit.
He hadn’t noticed during their second meeting because they had talked under the dim light of the moon in a dark room.
And before that, she had always hidden it behind her hair.
Even now, despite seeing the scar, Amon didn’t think her appearance was unattractive.
‘She’s still beautiful, though.’
Her natural beauty was so striking that the scar felt more like an accent than a flaw.
In the hyper-Confucian society of Joseon, it might be considered a blemish on a marriage prospect.
But Amon was a Westerner.
He didn’t care about that.
Besides, a man’s instincts weren’t bound by culture or religion.
‘Even with a scar, she’s still—’
“Ahem.”
Amon forced himself to stop that train of thought and refocused on the woman in front of him.
“Sunhwa, you are beautiful.”
“You don’t need to flatter me.”
“I don’t lie.”
Amon chuckled and borrowed a machine from her hospital room.
Beep, beep.
His heart rate fluctuated around 160.
“I think it’s because I’m alone in a dimly lit room with such a beautiful woman.”
And truthfully, Amon’s heart was pounding.
He had a girlfriend, of course, but it was a man’s unfortunate nature to feel flustered in front of an attractive woman.
This was a fundamental instinct, an unfortunate consequence of Adam eating the forbidden fruit.
As long as he didn’t act on it, there was nothing wrong with feeling a little thrill.
So, to boost Sunhwa’s confidence, he showed her his heart rate.
She stared blankly at the device, then let out a small chuckle.
“You’re quite the amusing man. Keep your tail wagging for your girlfriend, though.”
“You don’t have to worry. One day, someone will recognize your charm.”
If he asked people in a bustling city to line up for a chance to date her, the queue would probably stretch for miles.
Just as Amon was thinking that, Sunhwa placed her hand on his back and pushed him out of the room.
“Get out. I’m tired. Just make sure you show up on time tomorrow.”
Amon nodded and left the hospital room without resistance.
After sending him away, Sunhwa returned to her bed.
She let out a deep sigh and muttered, “What a strange guy.”
Yet, despite her words, the corners of her lips lifted—just a little.
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