[CYM] 23 – True Appearance

Silently, her mother sealed the young demons, not burning them slowly with fire but tearing their flesh with wind so quickly they had no time to feel pain.

“Mother.”

Her mother was on the ground, weeping. She knelt and trembled pitifully, just like the child that had begged for its life moments before.

“What is all this chaos?” she exclaimed.

“Oh, Master, what a monstrous and bizarre event this is. To think that demons would appear in Muritmaegol, a place protected by the deity of the Soru River!” The village chief led the crowd that had been pushed outside the gates as they poured back in like beans through a colander. Some supported the master, while others helped her mother.

She turned her back on the commotion and remembered the strange thing she had seen at the young master’s pavilion, running towards it, feeling a faint demonic energy.

“Could it be...?” she thought.

“Young master!”

The place was in utter disarray, as if stepping into a different dimension, standing out amidst the chaos with the late spring scenery shining brilliantly.

There lay the young master, dressed in a purple robe, as gracefully still as a boat floating on the river, amidst the blood-red cherry blossom petals scattered across the grand hall’s floor that resembled a bridge of pink clouds.

His long eyelashes drooped over his still face. There was blood on his pale cheek, as if something had scratched him, and around him, different demons than before were salivating with their claws poised.

“Young master, please come back to your senses!” she urged.

The feeble sound of his breath, devoid of vitality, made her uneasy. She grabbed a thick shard that lay nearby. With that insignificant weapon, she pushed aside the shoulder of a crawling demon and jabbed its forehead.

When she roughly pulled the tile shard from the demon’s neck, black blood poured out, and its head wobbled disgustingly. The face, still wearing a grotesque smile, fell and rolled near her feet, causing her to close her eyes tightly in horror.

“Ugh...”

“Are you coming to?” she asked as she heard a faint sound.

A slender, delicate hand as white as a branch reached out and gently touched her heel. She quickly grabbed the young master’s hand, which flailed as if desperately searching for something.

His eyes, previously closed, opened like bellflowers. His lips were the colour of peonies, and his eyes were a deep blue, contrasting with his pale skin, reminiscent of the rising dusk moon. She was momentarily startled by the unfamiliar face.

“Thank goodness you’re not injured.”

The young man frowned slightly, his crescent-shaped brows looking more expressive than any she had seen in paintings, almost eliciting a casual exclamation of admiration from her.

“It’s dangerous, so please take refuge inside and don’t move.”

“You? What about you?” asked the young master, his understanding of the situation slow to catch up, almost as if he mistook this dire situation for a whimsical game, curiously surveying his surroundings.

“The demons are trying to eat us,” she explained.

“Let’s hide together,” he suggested, reaching out his hand as if inviting her to a game of hide-and-seek, a maddening prospect.

“These creatures are malevolent monsters. I can save myself, but I’m not yet skilled enough to protect you as well...”

At that moment, the decapitated demon regained its vigour, and now three of them charged at once.

It was a do-or-die situation. She decided to trust in herself, having unconsciously achieved something earlier. When she had thrown the wooden sword to protect her mother from the demon, the force that propelled it was more than just her own strength; she had felt a wisp of wind guiding her arm, albeit weakly.

“If you want to protect something, I will lend you strength,” as if the gods, despite her refusal of divine possession, were offering their help. It was a strange situation, but since they were offering assistance, she had to try.

“Please step aside for a moment.”

She picked up a sharp piece of wood and slashed down diagonally at the shadow looming above her in mid-air.

The wood she threw was no mere stick floating on water; a heavy wind enveloped her arm and supported the back of her hand connected to the wood. It didn’t direct her where to throw, but it provided enough force to shatter the skulls of the demons that had come too close.

Bang!

The sight was so unbelievable that she was stunned. It was hard to tell if what she had thrown was a plank or a spear. The wood piece pierced the bodies of the demons haphazardly, and they disintegrated in mid-air, unable to resurrect a second time.

Their complete annihilation was less her own will and more the whims of a deity manipulating her arm. Her entire arm trembled with the single swing.