( A Spin-off Chapter—Flashback )
The world was drowning in war when Choi GunWoo, only seventeen, stumbled through the burning ruins of his battalion.
His uniform clung to him—torn, soaked with blood and river water.
His breath wheezed shallowly as he dragged himself across the stones of a forest stream.
"Help… someone…"
His voice cracked.
Then his body collapsed into the cold river.
The last thing he saw was the blurred silhouette of a man:
A tall figure.
Broad shoulders.
Eyes the color of green jade.
And then darkness took him.
GunWoo awoke to the soft glow of lantern fire.
A warm cloth lay on his forehead.
The air smelled of pine needles and herbs.
He tried to sit up—but gentle, firm hands pushed him back down.
"Easy, child."
GunWoo blinked until the figure came into focus.
A man in his late thirties or early forties.
Long hair tied back.
Clothes woven in cream and deep blue.
A calm strength radiated from him.
And those eyes—green, ancient, wise.
"My name is Moon Jihwan," the man said softly.
"You were found by the river. Half-dead."
GunWoo looked around.
The room was built from wood and stone, decorated with hand-carved motifs. Outside the door, he could hear the laughter of children, the calling of women, the crackle of cooking fires.
"Is this… a village?"
"A hidden one," Jihwan answered. "On the slopes of Mount Seonghyeol. Only a few know of our existence."
He paused, observing the boy.
"You are safe here."
GunWoo's eyes softened with relief.
"Thank you… thank you for saving me."
Jihwan smiled faintly.
"You were barely breathing. The mountain spared you."
He caught GunWoo's trembling hand.
"Young one… what is your name?"
GunWoo swallowed.
"Choi… Choi GunWoo."
"A good name," Jihwan murmured. "Then rest, GunWoo. When you regain your strength, let us see what kind of soul you carry."
GunWoo's wounds healed slowly.
Days turned to weeks, then months.
The villagers grew fond of him—not because he was strong, but because of the gentle magic in his hands.
He picked up a leaf and played melodies.
He found a stick and struck soft rhythms against a pot.
He sketched faces in the dirt.
He painted portraits using berries and mud.
Children followed him everywhere.
"GunWoo-hyung! Draw me next!"
"No, me first!"
Even the elders laughed.
Jihwan watched him with quiet amusement.
"You bring color to a place that has known too much silence," he said one evening.
GunWoo blushed.
"I just… like making people smile."
Jihwan placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You are not a warrior, GunWoo.
You are an artist.
And this village needed someone like you."
GunWoo felt warmth swell in his chest.
He had never felt so accepted.
But one day… duty called.
A soldier rode into the outskirts of the forest, seeking survivors from GunWoo's battalion.
GunWoo froze when he heard the name of his commanding general.
He had to go back.
Jihwan's jaw tightened—but he did not stop him.
"You may leave," he said quietly.
"But promise me something."
GunWoo's eyes met his.
"Promise that you will return. This village… this mountain… will always welcome you."
GunWoo swallowed hard, tears burning his eyes.
"I promise, Master Jihwan. I'll come back."
Jihwan nodded.
"Then go with our blessing."
GunWoo bowed deeply—
And left.
He returned two years later.
But the moment he stepped into the valley…
His heart shattered.
The village was ash.
Blackened huts.
Collapsed beams.
Scorched earth.
Dead trees.
Dry rivers.
Silence.
GunWoo dropped to his knees.
"No… no… what happened…"
Footsteps echoed behind him.
He spun—hand trembling on the dagger he carried.
"Who's there?!"
A lone figure walked out from the shadows:
Older.
Battered.
Bleeding from a deep cut on his arm.
But still standing.
Moon Jihwan.
"Gun… Woo…"
GunWoo ran to him, tears flowing.
"Master Jihwan! What happened? Where is everyone?!"
Jihwan's voice trembled.
"We were attacked… Japanese soldiers… they discovered the mountain.
They came for… the Jade Stone."
GunWoo froze.
"The stone… it's real?"
Jihwan nodded, pain twisting his face.
"The Immortality Stone.
A sacred jade gifted by the mountain's deity.
It heals wounds, protects the body… but demands a price."
His breath shook.
"They stole it, killed almost all of my sons, my wife, my people."
GunWoo's heart twisted.
"And… your daughters?"
Jihwan closed his eyes.
"One survived.
My youngest.
I sent her away before the attack.
She is somewhere in the city… if the spirits were kind."
GunWoo held his arm as tears shook them both.
"I never should have left… I promised I'd return…"
"You are here now," Jihwan whispered.
"And you can do something they could not."
GunWoo lifted his head.
"What do you need me to do?"
Jihwan reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny shard of glowing green jade.
The last fragment.
"This was once part of the stone.
Take it… Find the rest… Bring it back."
GunWoo stared at it.
"Why me?"
Jihwan smiled weakly.
"Because you have an artist's soul, a pure heart, and the deity listens to hearts like yours."
GunWoo tightened his fist over the fragment.
"I swear… I'll bring it back. I'll restore your village, Master Jihwan—even if it kills me."
Jihwan placed a hand on the young boy's cheek.
"I believe you, GunWoo."
The mission nearly killed him.
GunWoo infiltrated the Japanese camp, dodged fire, suffered injuries, and risked death again and again.
But he never stopped—not until the stone was in his shaking hands again.
He returned to the ruins, breathless.
"Master Jihwan… I did it… I have it—"
But Jihwan stopped him with a raised hand.
His eyes were hollow.
"I cannot keep it anymore.
The deity has judged mankind.
No one must find this stone again."
The ground trembled.
The earth began to crack.
A deep rumble echoed across Mount Seonghyeol.
Jihwan's voice lowered to a whisper.
"The stone will be buried… hidden forever.
Only a river shall remain."
"Master—!"
The stone sank into the earth.
The ground swallowed it whole.
Moments later—
Water burst from the soil, flowing upward, forming a stream, then a river—restoring life to the land.
GunWoo stared, breath stolen.
"It's… gone."
Jihwan nodded.
"And now the world will be spared from its power."
He took GunWoo's hand.
"Keep the fragment, GunWoo.
Forge it into something you can carry.
Let it guide you.
Let it protect you."
GunWoo trembled.
"Master… what about you? What will you do now?"
Jihwan looked at the river.
"I will disappear from the world's eyes.
But one day, GunWoo…"
He looked at the boy with a father's affection.
"One day… from my bloodline… and yours… the Moon Tribe will rise again.
Fate will bring them together."
GunWoo's throat tightened.
"Master Jihwan…"
Jihwan squeezed his shoulder.
"Go, live, create, and protect what must be protected."
GunWoo bowed—deeply, painfully.
"I will never forget you."
"And I you, GunWoo."
They parted—not with magic, not with vanishing light—but with the heartbreaking silence of two men bound by destiny.
Everything else happened in quiet, steady years.
GunWoo kept every scroll, every map, every drawing, every record of the tribe and the stone.
He forged a hard metal chest and buried it where only his descendants could find it.
He carved a special keyhole.
And from the jade fragment he still carried, he crafted a pendant—at the same time, a key.
A silver sword with angel wings, the green jade fragment embedded at its center.
He engraved the back:
C.G.W.
He wore it through every war.
And he survived them all.
He believed it was fate.
DISCLAIMER:
This chapter is a work of full fiction.
All characters, events, tribes, places, and legends described here are entirely imagined by the author.
They are NOT part of real history or real cultural records.