Two days passed in the blink of an eye.
The day everyone waited for had arrived.
Today…
Soho and Hao were going to be executed.
That morning, the guards approached their cell and asked the usual question:
"Any last meal?"
Soho didn't even lift his head.
His voice was calm, almost emotionless:
"I don't want to eat anything."
Hao didn't speak at all.
In fact, he hadn't spoken for the past two days.
He just sat in the corner, knees pulled close, staring blankly at the ground.
His mind was shattered.
His heart was crushed.
He, who always believed in goodness, kindness, justice…
He, who helped even when no one was watching…
This was his reward.
Execution.
Dishonor.
Being labeled a criminal.
At that moment, he didn't know what to think anymore.
His body felt numb, like it didn't belong to him.
His limbs wouldn't move unless someone forced them.
His mind floated in darkness, unresponsive.
He had turned into a lifeless doll —
empty, hollow, and unable to feel the world anymore.
And deep inside, a terrifying truth settled in his heart:
His mind might never recover from this trauma.
The Execution Grounds
At the Alliance headquarters, crowds had already begun gathering in massive numbers.
People pushed forward, eager to watch the "traitors" die.
Voices rose, arguments started, traders sold food — the execution had turned into some sort of festival.
Among them stood a familiar figure.
A woman with a long scar across her cheek.
She crossed her arms, her eyes sharp, her jaw clenched.
Her thoughts were cold and heavy:
"I came to see Hao…"
Her fingers curled tightly.
"If a chance comes… I want to rescue him."
But her lord's voice echoed in her memory:
"Do nothing until the war begins.
Not even a single movement."
So she stayed there, silent, forced to remain a spectator.
Watching what could be Hao's final moments.
Dragged to the Platform
The crowd roared as two prisoners were dragged out of the dungeon.
Chains rattled with every step.
Two guards pulled them by the arms —
Soho and Hao.
Hao walked like an empty shell.
His movements were stiff, mechanical, robotic.
His eyes were unfocused, lifeless, like someone who had already died inside.
Soho looked around calmly.
He saw the crowd shouting, cursing, spitting, throwing rotten vegetables.
And suddenly…
A strange familiarity hit him.
He'd seen this before.
Once.
Not long ago.
When he came for Ming.
He remembered Ming being dragged through the streets,
innocent, wounded, confused…
while people who knew nothing screamed curses at him.
The exact same scene.
And now it was happening to him.
A bitter smile tugged at Soho's lips.
Then—
He suddenly laughed.
A loud, sharp, unhinged laughter that echoed across the entire courtyard.
Just like Ming once did.
His voice cut through the noise:
"Hahaha… you're the same!"
People stopped shouting.
The air froze.
Soho pointed at them with his chained hands.
"You're nothing more than pieces on their board!"
"Just pawns!"
His laughter grew louder, wilder.
"You're nothing more than pawns!
Just pawns!
JUST PAWNS!"
Some people stepped back.
Some looked confused.
Some felt a chill run down their spine.
The crowd that had been cursing suddenly became silent.
All eyes focused on Soho —
the madman who was speaking a truth none of them wanted to admit.
Soho's mocking laughter slowly died down, but its echo still clung to the air like a curse.
Silence stretched across the courtyard, the crowd unable to understand the meaning behind his words.
People exchanged confused looks.
Some frowned, some whispered, and some simply stared.
But one person… understood.
The scarred woman hidden near the back of the crowd let out a tiny smirk.
A smirk of recognition — as if she grasped the deeper meaning in Soho's madness.
She alone saw the truth behind his words.
Then the guards dragged Soho and Hao up onto the execution platform.
High above them sat the Ten Havens and the Alliance Leader, looking down from their raised seats like judges watching insects.
They didn't blink, didn't speak — only observed, cold and emotionless.
The executioner stepped forward.
His blade was polished, reflecting the morning sun.
He spoke in a stern voice:
"Soho of the Namgung Clan.
Say your last words."
Soho didn't look at the executioner.
He turned slowly… toward Hao.
Hao, who looked like an empty shell.
His eyes were lost, unfocused, as if his soul wasn't inside his body anymore.
Soho smiled —
not a mocking smile this time,
but a soft, tired smile filled with something rare for him: sincerity.
He spoke gently:
"Listen, Hao…
All my life, people either feared me… or hated me.
No one ever spoke to me honestly.
No one treated me like a human."
His voice trembled just a little.
"But you…
You were the only one who ever talked to me like a friend.
I wish… I really wish we had met earlier.
Maybe then… we might've become like brothers."
Hao's dazed eyes twitched… reacting for the first time in two days.
Soho continued, his voice growing heavier:
"I always admired your sense of justice, you know…
But…"
He lifted his head, gazing up at the sky with a strangely peaceful expression.
"In this cruel world… if you want justice… then you must become strong.
Strong enough to grab it with your own hands."
Those words pierced Hao's mind like lightning.
And just as they settled in—
SWISH!
The executioner swung his blade
in a clean, merciless arc.
In one instant, Soho's neck separated from his shoulders.
Blood erupted like a fountain, splashing across Hao's face and robes.
The crowd gasped.
But the world froze for Hao.
His eyes went wide.
His breath caught in his throat.
For a moment he stood there, frozen in disbelief.
Then—
"SOHO!!!!"
Hao collapsed to his knees, grabbing Soho's falling body.
His trembling hands wrapped around Soho's lifeless torso.
The still-warm blood smeared across his clothes, dripping between his fingers.
He cried.
Not like a calm monk.
Not like a dignified disciple.
He cried like a broken child, shaking violently.
"Soho… Soho… Yaaah… why… why…?"
His screams tore through the courtyard.
People who had come to see a traitor's death suddenly turned their heads away.
Even those who hated Soho couldn't bear to look at Hao's grief.
Some wiped their eyes.
Some swallowed hard.
Many of them knew Hao from the temple.
Knew his kindness.
Knew he was incapable of such crimes.
Even among the Ten Havens, two of them quietly looked away, unable to watch.
And the scarred woman…
Her fingers curled into fists.
Her jaw clenched.
But she remained still — held back by the promise to her lord.
For her, and for several others,
there was nothing to cheer for here.
No justice.
No righteousness.
Only a tragedy.
Only loss.
Only the beginning of something far darker…