Minwoo led him through a bunch of nondescript corridors, to a wide room with a large table that spanned almost the entire length of the space. One side of the table was entirely occupied. Save for one empty seat on the far left Gyuvin assumed was Minwoo’s, every senior he’d ever seen at the Peak was at the table. There were at least four or five from every sect under the Coalition; Meteor Court was the only sect that had just one.
“Take a seat,” one of Lunar Valley’s senior cultivators said. “Kim Gyuvin, you understand that this is just a precaution. We have some questions for you, and it’s imperative that you answer them all with full compliance and integrity.”
“If you are found to have withheld information or been dishonest in any way,” Han Seungho continued, “you will be punished expeditiously and severely for it. This is a serious matter. Do not take us for fools.”
Gyuvin sat in his seat, feeling like he was the most maligned person in the world, but not quite knowing how to begin defending himself, or if it would even make a difference. “Yes, sunbae-nim. I understand.”
One of the seniors from the other end of the table cleared his throat, and everyone’s attention fell to him. His name was Kwan Hyunjae, Gyuvin remembered him conducting a few classes in the history of weaponry and forging; if his memory served him well, Kwan Hyunjae was one of the most renowned cultivators from Moonrise Palace, known for having mastered the use of every single weapon type before the age of thirty. Gyuvin remembered seeing his glimmering saber during the siege. “Let’s not beat around the bush any further,” he began decisively. “You retained the use of your spiritual abilities during the infernal invasion, when everyone else was subject to the effects of the suppression array. Do you dispute this?”
“No, sunbae-nim.”
“Do you know why this was the case?” Jung Aerin chimed in. “Jeon Minwoo has kindly shared with us his knowledge of your history, and there is no indication that you should have any sort of immunity from suppression arrays. You understand, of course, that the fact that you were the only one unaffected automatically puts the suspicion onto you, don’t you?”
The words she spoke were kind, her tone even kinder, but Gyuvin didn’t miss the point of her words. Before he’d even stepped into the room, the seniors had already made their assumptions. The fact was that they’d called him in for one reason and one reason only: they wanted a confession from him.
“I understand that,” Gyuvin answered, trying his best to keep his voice even. “But sunbae-nim, I have no idea what happened, either. When I woke up, the siege had already begun. I joined in to fight immediately, but I wasn’t even aware there was a suppression array at work until someone pointed out to me that no one else could summon their holy weapon but me.”
Lee Eunyoung spoke up. “Are you familiar with the nature of suppression arrays?”
Of course a Seven Star Manor cultivator would ask a question like this, Gyuvin thought. “No, sunbae-nim. I have never studied any techniques like that, nor have I ever seen one until now.”
“I can confirm that,” Minwoo said. “Meteor Court has never taught its cultivators about arrays. Our sect’s training focuses largely on exorcisms and the handling of spirits in unrest.”
Lee Eunyoung nodded. “That doesn’t mean much. Anyone could pick up the study of any technique, whether or not it is related to the pursuits of their home sect. But you claim to be unfamiliar with array techniques, so that is that.”
“Tell us more about the array,” Han Seungho began. “You were assigned to deactivate the array’s control points, and you did so in record time.”
“Well, they weren’t difficult to find,” Gyuvin answered. “The array was supported by six willow trees. From a distance away, it was clear that the willow trees were imbued with something evil, because they all glowed dark red. As I got closer, I noticed that red veins stretched out from its roots into the ground. At that point I wasn’t sure if the willows had anything to do with the array at all, but it appeared to be protecting something at its core, so I destroyed it with a light talisman. There was a human heart inside each one. I made the assumption that the human hearts were the same ones carved out of the six dead bodies, which meant there were six willows in total that had to be found.”
“You knew where these willows were located,” Han Seungho persisted. “And you knew how to destroy them.”
“The willows were located in a circle around the perimeter of the Peak grounds, so once the first one was found, the others would surely follow. I didn’t know how to deactivate them, but I noticed the leaves curling to conceal something, and cutting them away with my holy weapon wasn’t working, so I resorted to using talismans,” Gyuvin returned. “They were just lucky guesses, sunbae-nim.”
Han Seungho nodded, his expression unreadable. “Very lucky.”
“Let’s not ignore the elephant in the room any further,” Kwan Hyunjae piped up again, looking exasperated. “Kim Gyuvin, do you have any relevant information for us regarding the cause of the invasion?”
Gyuvin kept his head down. “I believe I don’t.”
“We’re not getting anything out of him.”
Gyuvin looked back up. Ahn Yookyung was seated at the opposite end of the table from Minwoo, and he hadn’t spoken since the interrogation began. “Whether or not he knows anything, he clearly doesn’t intend to tell us. Just let him go, stop wasting time and focus on commencing the investigation. The Coalition will want a report as soon as possible.”
Some of the seniors seemed mildly disgruntled by Yookyung’s interruption, but none of them made any opposition. Minwoo rose from his seat and came over to Gyuvin’s side.
“If there’s nothing else,” he said politely. “Then I’ll see Kim Gyuvin out first.”
Minwoo took Gyuvin by the wrist and led him out of the room. Neither of them spoke as they walked back through the winding corridors, until they were far enough away they were almost back at the central courtyard.
“Hyung, what’s going on?” he asked. “It seems like they really want this to be my fault. Why are they trying to pin everything on me?”
“I don’t know either,” Minwoo answered, his eyes downcast. “But I have a feeling something’s going to happen. They’re not intending to let you go that easily.”
“But why? Why are they prosecuting me like this?”
Minwoo sighed. “I don’t know. There isn’t any solid evidence incriminating you that I know of, but it’s easy for them to draw imaginary lines when they already have a picture in their heads. You need to lay low, and be on guard. You’re not out of the woods yet, you hear me?”
“Okay, I know.”
“Go back to your quarters,” Minwoo said, turning to leave. “I’ll come and look for you if anything else happens.”
“Hyung, wait-“
Gyuvin caught the end of Minwoo’s sleeve before he could walk away. “What happened to Hanbin-hyung?”
Minwoo’s expression ghosted into a sad smile. “I think you know, Gyuvin-ah. He’s gone. They’re keeping his body temporarily as part of the investigations.”
Gyuvin wondered if he should tell Minwoo what he saw that night. That he had tried to save Hanbin, but he’d failed. That Hanbin had died under someone’s holy weapon. That someone on that Peak might be a murderer.
He decided not to. For one, he still wasn’t entirely convinced the contents of his vision were completely real. If they were, Minwoo would probably find out soon enough, as the investigations went on. Besides, some part of him just couldn’t bring himself to say those words out loud. Even thinking them already hurt too much. Gyuvin nodded, and said nothing.
Minwoo hesitated for a moment, but he opened his arms and offered a hug, and Gyuvin took it without a second thought. He hadn’t really hugged Minwoo much over the years, since realistically Minwoo was so busy he hardly saw him, plus he just didn’t seem like the kind of person who liked hugging people, but as Gyuvin felt comforting arms encircle him, tears began to pool in his closed eyes, as much as he tried to stop them.
“I can’t believe he’s really dead, hyung…”
“We’ll hold a proper funeral and burial for him when we get back to the Court,” he said softly. “I’ll find the person who did this to him, Gyuvin. I promise.”
Gyuvin sniffed, trying not to let any of his tears soak into Minwoo’s shoulder. In that moment, he felt like he was five again, being told in kind, gentle words that his father was gone, and would never be coming back. More than ten years had passed since then, without him really noticing, but even now there was still some part of him deep down that would be five years old forever, wondering what would become of him after his world had been torn to pieces. “What’s going to happen to me now that he’s gone?”
Minwoo ruffled his hair gently, the way Hanbin used to when they were much younger, and Gyuvin felt his heart break just a little more. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Go back and get some rest.”
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