The Moonlight Archive sat beneath the Pavilion's west wing, accessible only through a narrow passage carved behind a shrine wall. Few knew of it. Fewer still were permitted entry.
But when Jin Ye-Hwa sent the sealed scroll by night courier, marked with the sigil of the Silver Plum, Sun-Ho knew exactly where to go.
He entered alone.
Torches flickered with pale blue qi, casting gentle shadows across endless shelves. Dust danced in the air like forgotten memories trying to resurface.
At the central table, laid out with a thin sheet of silk, sat the scroll.
He touched it once.
The fabric pulsed faintly, almost warm.
A seal unraveled—old, complex, embedded with emotions rather than simple glyphs. Regret. Grief. Love.
Sun-Ho took a breath and opened it.
---
Past Life Flashback – Before the Final War
A summer field bathed in gold.
The younger Baek Sun-Ho—called Hwan-Seok in that life—stood with a woman whose laughter rang brighter than any bell. Her robes fluttered like wind-washed petals, and her long, obsidian hair was tied with a crimson ribbon.
Her name was Na-Eun.
Not a warrior. Not a sect leader.
A healer. A pacifist. A woman who believed even monsters bled the same.
"You can't fix the world by carving pieces from it," she once told him.
"But sometimes the rot runs too deep," he had answered, coldly.
She cupped his face then, soft hands against sun-hardened skin.
"Then let me stand where the sword would fall."
And she had.
Na-Eun had walked into a battlefield once—between warring clans—to speak peace.
But peace never came.
And when Hwan-Seok arrived too late, her blood had already dried into the grass.
He had razed the valley in grief. Left no survivors.
And in doing so, became the monster he once swore to slay.
---
Moonlight Archive – Present
Sun-Ho's hand trembled over the painting.
Na-Eun's face, now rendered in brush strokes—smiling, alive—stared back at him from the True Hands' record.
They had her image.
Which meant they knew what she meant to him.
They intended to use her.
Or her memory.
He clenched his fist until the scroll crackled.
"Na-Eun…"
---
Outside the Archive
So-Ri waited in the corridor. She hadn't followed him in, but her presence had lingered like a tether.
When the door creaked open and Sun-Ho emerged, she stood quickly.
He looked… hollow.
She stepped closer. "What did you see?"
He didn't speak right away. Just handed her the scroll.
She took one glance—and her throat tightened.
"So she's real," she said quietly. "The woman from the painting."
He nodded. "Na-Eun. From my past life. She wasn't a warrior. She was…"
He stopped himself.
So-Ri waited.
"A healer," he continued. "Someone I failed."
She studied the painting again. "She's beautiful."
A beat passed.
So-Ri added, "You looked at her like… she was the only thing keeping you from breaking."
Sun-Ho met her eyes.
"I did break. After she died."
So-Ri's fingers curled slightly around the edge of the scroll. "Are you afraid they'll use her memory against you?"
"I'm afraid I'll become who I was again."
Silence.
Then, with surprising honesty, So-Ri said, "She meant a lot to you. I understand."
Her voice barely wavered—but there was something sharp just beneath the surface. A breath held too long.
Sun-Ho noticed.
He stepped closer. "So-Ri…"
She looked up.
"I've lived many lives. But this is the only one that matters now."
She blinked.
"Na-Eun taught me mercy. But she's gone. And you…"
He hesitated.
"You've been the reason I didn't vanish this time."
So-Ri's eyes widened slightly, her composure faltering.
"You don't need to say that just to—"
"I'm not."
She searched his face, finding no cracks. Only clarity.
Then, softly, "Good."
He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"I failed Na-Eun because I thought strength meant isolation. I won't make that mistake again."
Her breath caught.
She didn't kiss him.
But she leaned her forehead against his chest, her fan forgotten at her side.
"You'd better not," she whispered.
---
Later – Under the Blossom Tree
Ji-Mun sat with a large scroll splayed across his lap. He looked up as Sun-Ho approached.
"So, secret scrolls and sad expressions. You okay?"
Sun-Ho gave a half-shrug. "Working on it."
"So… are we dealing with necromancy? Illusions? Ghost romance? I'm open-minded."
Sun-Ho sighed. "They're going to use my past to unravel me."
"Already happening," Ji-Mun muttered. "You look like you aged ten years."
A moment passed.
Then Ji-Mun added, "So-Ri looked ready to break kneecaps for you earlier. She really likes you, huh?"
Sun-Ho blinked. "She said that?"
"No. But I know the signs. I've had women try to kill me before. It's… basically the same vibe."
Despite himself, Sun-Ho chuckled.
Ji-Mun stood and stretched. "We'll guard your heart, your back, and your terrible sense of self-preservation. Just don't go ghost-chasing, okay?"
Sun-Ho nodded, a little lighter.
---
Elsewhere – A Quiet Grove
Jin Ye-Hwa stood beside a lotus pond, watching petals fall.
An old monk approached.
"You gave him the scroll," he said.
"Yes," she replied.
"Why?"
She didn't answer right away.
Then, "Because truth is a blade sharper than any sword. And if he is to lead… he must bleed first."
---
End of Chapter 115 – Echoes in the Archive