NOVEL WEB Chapter 13: 13
The air in General Taeyoung's mansion was a taut string, vibrating with the unspoken tension of Min Youngjin's presence. His striking features and quiet, watchful intensity made him a formidable figure, a living embodiment of the novel's looming threat. Jihoon, still reeling from the bloodied handkerchief and Taeyoung's raw fear, moved through his days with a new, desperate resolve. His mission to protect Jaemin from the novel's tragic script was now intertwined with a burgeoning, terrifying hope for his own survival, fueled by Taeyoung's unwavering love and terrifying knowledge of his secret.
Jihoon had meticulously planned Youngjin's initial interactions with Jaemin, ensuring they had ample opportunity to reconnect without the heavy hand of Goryeo politics. He'd arranged for private tea ceremonies in the ancestral garden, citing Jaemin's delicate constitution. He'd even subtly influenced the palace's initial diplomatic meeting schedule, ensuring Youngjin and Jaemin would be present without the King's more overtly manipulative presence for their first few encounters.
He watched them, a hawk's intensity hidden beneath his serene noble demeanor. He saw the genuine relief in Jaemin's eyes when he spoke with Youngjin, the way Youngjin's stern expression softened almost imperceptibly as Jaemin recounted his poems or spoke of Joseon's scenery. The bond was real, a fragile, beautiful thing Jihoon was now desperate to preserve.
But the game was far from over. Jihoon knew the 'betrayal' was born of Goryeo's pressure on Jaemin to sever ties with Joseon for a Goryeo marriage. His job was to make that pressure ineffective, to solidify Jaemin's allegiance to Youngjin and Joseon without triggering Youngjin's darker, possessive tendencies. This was like defusing a bomb he barely understood, armed only with hazy memories from a trashy web novel.
His personal guard, Namhyun and Seokjoon, became his silent conspirators. Their unwavering loyalty, cemented by the banquet and their own quiet love story, was a profound comfort. Namhyun, with his sharp, observant eyes, often noticed Jihoon's subtle distress after a coughing fit before anyone else. Seokjoon, ever practical, would find ways to spirit away the physician for a discreet check-up without alarming the entire household. They were like shadows, always there, always ready, fiercely protective. They knew Jihoon was precious to their General, and that was enough for them.
"Sir," Namhyun murmured one morning, finding Jihoon hunched over an ancient map of Joseon. "You seem… preoccupied. Is the Joseon envoy causing you undue stress?" Jihoon looked up, startled. Namhyun's gaze was knowing, but not prying. "It is merely a complex negotiation," Jihoon replied, forcing a smile. "Their Prince Youngjin is… a formidable mind."
Namhyun nodded slowly, then pointed to a section of the map. "Prince Youngjin is known for his strategic mind, indeed. He often prefers direct, even unconventional, methods. He is also fiercely protective of what he claims as his own." The emphasis on 'claims as his own' was subtle, but it sent a fresh shiver down Jihoon's spine. It was a warning, a confirmation of the darker path Youngjin could take if provoked.
The strain of this constant manipulation, coupled with his persistent illness, began to take a more visible toll. Jihoon's periods of fatigue lengthened, his pallor deepened, and the dreaded cough became a more frequent companion. He learned to lean subtly on Taeyoung more, or discretely excuse himself during long meetings.
Taeyoung, now burdened with the terrifying knowledge of Jihoon's otherworldly origin and fatal illness, became a silent, ever-present shadow of concern. His doting had shifted from charming possessiveness to an almost desperate protectiveness. He'd watch Jihoon across a crowded room, his eyes sharp, picking up on every slight tremor, every hurried breath. He secretly consulted every physician, every shaman, every obscure scholar in Goryeo, describing "a unique ailment brought from a far-off land," searching for any glimmer of a cure. He would often find Jihoon late at night, hunched over scrolls, illuminated by a single lamp, a persistent cough racking his frame.
"Jihoon-ah," Taeyoung would whisper, his voice thick with a raw tenderness, "you must rest. Your life is... precious." He'd gently guide Jihoon to bed, holding him close, his large hand stroking Jihoon's hair, feeling the delicate curve of his spine. Jihoon would often cry silently into Taeyoung's chest, the exhaustion and fear overwhelming him, but finding immense comfort in the General's unwavering presence. He knew Taeyoung was fighting for him, fiercely, desperately, in a way no one ever had. This love, this profound connection, was his anchor in a world that sought to claim him.
One particularly grueling afternoon, during a tense diplomatic banquet attended by both the Goryeo King and Prince Min Youngjin, Jihoon felt his vision swim. The oppressive heat of the hall, the cloying perfumes, and the endless polite chatter were too much. He had just seen Min Youngjin exchange a look of genuine, if wary, tenderness with Jaemin, and it filled him with a surge of desperate hope. He needed to ensure this bond solidified. He needed to keep Jaemin from making a foolish choice. As he turned to leave the hall discreetly, a violent coughing fit seized him. It was worse than any before, a deep, tearing cough that rattled his entire frame. He gasped, stumbled, and then, uncontrollably, blood spurted onto the pristine white silk of his sleeve, a shocking crimson spray against the elegant embroidery.
A gasp rippled through the nearby courtiers. Jihoon felt a sudden, sharp pain, a piercing agony that brought him to his knees. He looked up, dimly aware of the horrified faces, the sudden silence, the swift movement towards him. He saw Taeyoung, his face a mask of primal fury and terror, already lunging forward. He also saw Min Youngjin's eyes, cold and assessing, fixed on him, a flicker of something unreadable, perhaps surprise, passing through them before they quickly masked themselves. And Jaemin, pale and wide-eyed with shock, already half out of his seat.
Before anyone else could react, Taeyoung was by Jihoon's side, his massive body shielding Jihoon from the curious, terrified gazes of the court. He barked orders to Namhyun and Seokjoon, who immediately formed a protective wall, while the physician, who had been discreetly placed near the main hall by Taeyoung, rushed forward. "Get him to his chambers! Now!" Taeyoung roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of the hall. He lifted Jihoon effortlessly into his arms, ignoring the blood staining his own robes, his eyes burning with a desperate intensity. As he carried Jihoon away, he shot a furious, challenging glance towards the King, a silent accusation for the stress placed on his beloved. He didn't care for the spectacle; his world was collapsing.
Jihoon drifted in and out of consciousness for the next day, a blur of bitter tonics, cool cloths, and Taeyoung's constant presence. He felt the General's large hand gripping his, heard his low, whispered words of reassurance. When he finally awoke, fully, the first thing he saw was Taeyoung, slumped in a chair beside his bed, his armor discarded, looking utterly exhausted and vulnerable, his eyes red-rimmed. "Jihoon-ah," Taeyoung breathed, his voice thick with relief. He immediately summoned the physician, who gave a grim report. "The Sir's vitality is severely depleted, General. The cough... it grows more concerning. We have exhausted our usual remedies."
Taeyoung dismissed the physician with a curt nod, his gaze fixed on Jihoon. "You spoke of another world," he began, his voice low, firm, devoid of judgment, "and of an illness... terminal. Tell me everything, my Jihoon. From the very beginning. I will not have you fade away from me."
And so, Jihoon told him. In halting, raspy whispers, he recounted his life in the 21st century, the towering buildings, the flying machines, the bizarre food, the internet, his sister's obsession with The Tale of Two Kingdoms, and his own contempt for its illogical plot. He spoke of his cancer, the bleak prognosis, and the shocking moment of transmigration. He explained the novel's original trajectory for Jaemin and Youngjin, the "betrayal," and the cruel fate that awaited them. He revealed his desperate attempt to derail that tragedy, to secure a happier ending for the prince, to keep Youngjin from becoming the monster the novel promised. He even confessed his fear of his own impending death, the constant ticking clock.
Taeyoung listened, his face a study in utter disbelief, slowly transforming into a fierce, unwavering resolve. He did not interrupt, did not question the impossible. He simply absorbed every fantastical detail, his grip on Jihoon's hand tightening until it was almost painful. When Jihoon finally finished, breathless and exhausted, the chamber was silent save for the ragged sound of Jihoon's breathing.
"So," Taeyoung finally said, his voice quiet, almost hoarse, "you are not merely ill, you are... from a future that holds such wonders, and such a terrible knowledge." He looked at Jihoon, his dark eyes filled with a terrifying, breathtaking love. "And you, with your own life draining from you, sought to save another from a fate you only knew from... a story." He then leaned down, pressing his forehead against Jihoon's, his breath warm against Jihoon's skin. "Foolish, selfless, extraordinary Jihoon-ah."
"We will find a cure," Taeyoung declared, his voice a low, fierce vow, radiating an ironclad determination that Jihoon had never heard before. "If it takes every resource in Goryeo, every forgotten legend, every banished sage. And we will protect Prince Jaemin. If the path you described is to be avoided, then it shall be avoided. You have rewritten our story, and now we will fight for this new one, together." He held Jihoon close, his arms a fortress.
Jihoon, utterly spent but filled with a profound sense of relief and an overwhelming surge of love, clung to him. He had laid bare his impossible truth, and Taeyoung had not just accepted it, he had embraced it, turning his immense power and unwavering will towards Jihoon's survival. The war was no longer just against his illness or the plot; it was a grand, impossible quest, and he wouldn't be fighting it alone. His heart swelled, a mixture of fear and an exhilarating, impossible hope.