CHAPTER 77
He turned slowly toward Muwon, wide-eyed.
"What do I do?"
Muwon leaned in close, voice just for him.
"You don't have to do anything. Just raise your cup and let them see you."
Sihyun stared at the goblet in front of him, then slowly picked it up, lifting it just a little above his chest with trembling fingers.
The hall erupted in cheers.
It felt like something cracked open in his chest—not fear this time, but something warmer. Softer.
And for a moment, just one quiet moment, Sihyun let himself smile.
The feast carried on in full splendor.
Musicians filled the room with soft melodies, laughter rang against the towering pillars, and the scent of sweet plum wine lingered in the air. Plates were passed, goblets clinked, and the nobles reveled in celebration.
But Sihyun's smile had long faded.
A cold whisper brushed the back of his neck like breath on skin. His eyes flicked toward the shadows between the pillars.
"Sihyun…"
The voice was low, coaxing. Familiar.
He stiffened.
His gaze swept the hall slowly, trying to ground himself in reality. But there—just beyond the crowd—stood a pale figure, half-wreathed in smoke, features blurred. The face was unmistakable.
Vanyul.
His smile curved like a blade.
Sihyun blinked hard, heart thudding. When he looked again, the figure was gone.
Muwon, seated beside him, leaned in slightly.
"What is it?"
Sihyun's lips parted, but the words jammed in his throat. He glanced once more at the now-empty space between the pillars, then forced a shake of his head.
"Nothing. Just… thought I saw something."
Muwon studied him for a breath longer before nodding, though concern lingered in his eyes.
But he came again.
Moments later, across the room near the towering lanterns, Vanyul's ghostly figure flickered into sight—his eyes glinting red like dying embers, his hand outstretched toward Sihyun, beckoning silently.
This time the voice was clearer, cutting through the noise.
"You thought it was over?"
Sihyun pushed back his chair.
Muwon turned toward him again, brows drawing together.
"Sihyun?"
But Sihyun didn't hear him.
His legs moved before thought caught up. He stepped through the crowd slowly, weaving between nobles and trays of food, his eyes locked on the figure only he could see. It floated further and further away, pulling him toward the darker edge of the hall.
"Vanyul…?"
he whispered to himself, tone low and shaken.
"Sihyun!"
Yuhyun's voice caught up to him. The sound of hurried footsteps followed. He grabbed Sihyun's wrist firmly.
"Sihyun, what's wrong? Where are you going?"
Yuhyun asked, brows furrowed.
Sihyun turned to him, face pale and unsettled.
"He's here."
Yuhyun blinked.
"Who?"
"Vanyul. I saw him. I heard him,"
Sihyun said, his voice low but sure, as his eyes darted around again.
"He's… calling me."
Yuhyun's expression changed instantly, from confusion to alarm.
"Sihyun… No. He's dead. We both saw it. He couldn't have survived."
Sihyun didn't answer. His eyes had returned to scanning the hall, narrowing as he caught the figure again—now disappearing into one of the side corridors, just past the guards. No one else seemed to notice.
He took a step forward.
Yuhyun's grip tightened.
"Sihyun—wait."
But Sihyun gently pulled away, whispering,
"I have to see."
Without another word, he moved after the apparition, eyes sharp, body tense, following the pull that had haunted his dreams since the night Vanyul fell.
And Yuhyun, heart pounding, followed closely behind.
Sihyun followed silently, each step heavy with dread as the ghostly figure led him further away from the warmth of the feast. The lights dimmed around him—not physically, but in his mind. Everything else faded into a blur except that presence.
The figure stopped.
Right at the edge of the hall, just between the marble pillars and the long buffet table laden with wine, fruits, and roasted delicacies, it turned to face him. That smile—twisted and knowing—stretched wider. Its eyes were no longer hollow or soft with illusion. They burned crimson, glowing like dying embers soaked in vengeance.
Sihyun froze. His breath caught in his throat. His heart thudded painfully, like it knew what was coming before he did.
Then—
"You can't run from what you are."
The voice echoed in his skull, piercing and sharp. The figure tilted its head, its gaze drilling into him like knives.
Sihyun's own eyes flared gold in response.
His magic pulsed wildly through his veins.
And without a word, without thinking—crash!
With a sudden, unnatural force, Sihyun whipped his arm toward the table beside the apparition. The entire thing lifted into the air, wine bottles tumbling midair, dishes crashing together in a chaotic dance—and slammed hard onto the spot where the figure stood.
BOOM!
Food, glass, and wine exploded across the floor in a thunderous crash.
Gasps echoed through the grand hall like a tidal wave.
A silence followed so sharp it sliced through the music.
The ghostly image vanished in an instant, dissolving like smoke as the table hit nothing but air and stone.
The royal guards flinched. Nobles screamed and backed away. One lady fainted dramatically into her husband's arms.
The king had risen from his seat, stunned.
Yuhyun stood stiff, eyes wide in disbelief. He couldn't move. He didn't understand what just happened. Not yet.
Muwon shot to his feet, his chair clattering behind him. His sharp eyes were on Sihyun, heart pounding as he processed what he'd just witnessed. Not just the force—but the power. The eyes. The rage.
Dohyun and Taejin exchanged a quick, stunned glance—neither of them dared speak.
Sihyun stood at the center of it all. Alone.
His chest rose and fell with each breath. His hands trembled slightly, golden sparks still fading at his fingertips. Then his eyes slowly dimmed. The glow was gone. Reality returned.
And horror crept into his face.
He looked down at the mess, at the shattered remains of the table, at the spilled wine soaking into his ceremonial robes—and then up at the countless eyes staring at him.
Eyes full of fear. Confusion. Judgment.