Childhood Friend of the Zenith - Chapter 593

The Crimson Feather.

A figure who had become quite famous in the Northern Sea, particularly within the Ice Palace.

“There isn’t a soul in Zhongyuan who doesn’t know that guy.”

With a relaxed demeanor, Yuri’s “companion” had spoken with evident amusement while explaining this person.
It had been years since they’d last met, but he remained as bright and clear-headed as ever.

“Anyway, he’s an extraordinary guy, you know?”

Perhaps time had mellowed him.
The once self-absorbed man now seemed preoccupied with boasting about a new friend he’d made.

“That guy will definitely make it big. That’s why there isn’t anyone in Zhongyuan who doesn’t know him.”

“The Crimson Feather?”

“Yeah. The Crimson—”
His words were interrupted by an odd breath, but Yuri chose not to pay it any mind.
This man had always been a bit eccentric, after all.

Still, if such an oddball could go on praising someone so highly, Yuri couldn’t help but grow curious herself.

And so she asked.

“White Fox.”

At her call, her “escort” turned her head.

A tall, slender figure with strikingly curvaceous lines.
This person, commonly known as the White Fox, always wore a white fox mask, concealing their face from view.

Her companion had once mentioned that the White Fox had suffered severe burns as a child, leaving scars so disfiguring that she chose to hide them.
Having heard that, Yuri had never thought to ask her to remove the mask.

“Do you know about the Crimson Feather as well?”

[…]

The White Fox nodded silently.

She was a person of few words.
Yuri herself didn’t speak much, but even she was outdone by the White Fox’s taciturn nature.

Oddly enough, Yuri found that comforting.
The White Fox didn’t engage in unnecessary chatter, nor did she betray any signs of strain or discomfort.

And on top of that, she was an immensely powerful martial artist from Zhongyuan.

Yuri liked the White Fox.

She liked her enough that the thought of her eventually returning to her homeland annoyed her.

“…If even you know him, he must truly be a famous figure.”

“Even if the Crimson Feather wasn’t well-known, she’d know him well.”

“Hmm?”

Yuri tilted her head at her companion’s cryptic remark.

“What do you mean by that?”

“That’s because the two of them are—”

Clink.

Just as her companion began to speak, a sound came from the White Fox’s waist.

At some point, she had gripped the hilt of her sword.
Seeing this, her companion froze momentarily.

“They’re… close.”

“Ah.”

Yuri failed to pick up on the tension in the room.

“Close, you say.”

Was the White Fox also a famous figure in Zhongyuan?
It seemed possible.

She was certainly extraordinary enough to be well-known.
Nodding in agreement, Yuri turned back to her companion.

“Are you famous too?”

“I… well…”

Her companion hesitated before replying, “…A little?”

“Hmm. I see.”

If he said so, then it must be true.
At the very least, Yuri believed this friend of hers wouldn’t lie.

That was why her curiosity only grew.

Was the Crimson Feather really as remarkable as they claimed?
How extraordinary could he be?

“What kind of person is he?”

Yuri directed this question to the White Fox, reasoning that, if the two were close, she might know something.

After a brief silence, the White Fox answered.

“A puppy.”

“…Hmm?”

The unexpected response threw Yuri off.

“A cute puppy.”

The White Fox’s tone was oddly firm.
It was a far cry from the impression Yuri’s companion had given—a cheerful, commanding presence.

Did she mean he was someone who, despite his strength, was kind and innocent?
As Yuri pondered this interpretation, she was interrupted.

“Pfft… Puhaha…!”

Her companion turned away, shoulders trembling as he struggled to suppress laughter.
It was clear he was on the verge of bursting out.

Yuri, long accustomed to his eccentricities, decided to ignore him.

“A puppy, huh…”

“Cute.”

The White Fox’s words lingered in her mind.

A man who could wield fire with supernatural skill.
Someone who couldn’t pass by the weak or injured without helping.
A hero who sought to save the world.

A historical genius, yet also a man with the endearing charm of a puppy.

“Interesting.”

Yuri smiled at the thought.
Stories from Zhongyuan always fascinated her.

But she hadn’t anticipated what came next.

Just a few days later, the winds of blood swept through the Northern Sea.
And she found herself heading to Zhongyuan in search of the “cute puppy.”

Sitting quietly at a table, Yuri muttered to herself.

“…They said he was a cute puppy.”

Her tone was filled with injustice.
How could she not feel wronged?

“He’s no puppy—he’s more of a venomous snake, the likes of which I’ve never seen.”

What part of him could possibly resemble a puppy?
At best, he was a ferocious beast; at worst, a malevolent spirit.

Yuri had never in her life met someone so violent.

His tone, his gaze—everything about him radiated a sense of unyielding authority, as if he might overturn the world at any moment.

A tyrant.
Or perhaps a madman.

For the first time in her life, Yuri thought of such words.
Had she encountered him in the Northern Sea, she would have ensured he was dealt with.

“But of all people...”

And yet, as fate would have it, Yuri needed him now.

Thud.

Her delicate hand struck the table.

“Princess,” Ubeom, standing before her, spoke cautiously.

“I’m sorry…”

His first words were an apology.
Yuri turned her gaze to him.

“I failed to handle the situation properly.”

Unlike the chaos he had caused earlier, Ubeom’s demeanor was now serious and composed.

Seeing this, Yuri replied, “Don’t apologize. It’s all my fault.”

“How could it be—”

“I misjudged the situation.”

Everything had gone wrong.
The antics she had carefully orchestrated to appear foolish had all failed miserably.

“Even the situations you worked so hard to create, I ruined them all.”

Their escape from the merchant convoy, the circumstances shaped by the artifact and Ubeom’s sacrifices, all of it had been for naught.

Ubeom had deliberately acted arrogant and overconfident to draw attention away from their injured comrade, U-seok.
All of it was to tip negotiations in their favor.

And yet, Yuri had undone it all.

She hadn’t expected that the Crimson Feather would not only be far more intelligent than she’d anticipated but also relentless.

He had noticed every single misstep she made.

This meant only one thing:

“He may be arrogant, but he’s anything but incompetent.”

He was fully aware of his own strength and talent, maintaining an air of arrogance, but he had the power to back it up.

Troublesome.

To Yuri, he was an entirely different kind of difficulty.

“Born to be a ruler.”

People like that—they were always the same.

Those destined to sit above others.
Those meant to lead and command, to become the head of the dragon.

Such individuals were the ones Yuri feared most.

Just like…

“…The Palace Lord.”

The man she had met, the Crimson Feather, was just like her father.

The way he looked down on her.
The atmosphere he exuded.

Yuri couldn’t forget the impression he left on her.

“Princess.”

Before her departure to Zhongyuan, her father’s words echoed in her mind.

“Avoid any involvement with the Martial Alliance.”

And then he had said something else.

“If you ever find yourself in Zhongyuan and meet someone who wields fire from the West…”

“No matter what, stay as far away as you can.”

Yuri should have been alarmed by those words.

"No matter what, fight."

That had always been her father’s creed.
Yet, here he was, telling her to flee.

“By now, he must be in his middle years. A man who wields fire. Remember that.”

His tone, even more somber than when speaking about the Martial Alliance, had left an impression on Yuri.
She couldn’t help but ask:

“Who is he, for you to say such things?”

For the ruler of the Northern Sea to speak so gravely—Yuri’s curiosity was piqued.

“He is,” the Ice Palace Lord said with finality, “the Supreme Being of Zhongyuan.”

His words were resolute, brooking no dissent.

Perhaps that was why she couldn’t shake the memory.

The Crimson Feather was said to wield fire.

The West.
Where did he come from, exactly?
For a brief moment, such thoughts crossed her mind.

“If he’s in his middle years, then it can’t be him.”

The timeline didn’t add up.
Her father had traveled to Zhongyuan with her grandfather long before this supposed “Crimson Feather” could have been born.

The man her father warned about couldn’t possibly be that young man.

“This isn’t the time to be worrying about such things.”

Yuri rubbed her face, exhaustion evident in her every motion.

She was right; now wasn’t the time for idle speculation.

“Haah…”

With all her plans upended, Yuri felt trapped in a web of missteps.
Just then, the Crimson Feather broke the silence.

“Seems like things have shifted a bit. Should we continue this conversation tomorrow?”

His voice carried a hint of amusement, but Yuri could tell—it wasn’t mere amusement. It was derision.

He already knew.

“If you’re looking to ‘negotiate,’ it seems you’ll need to prepare a lot more to say.”

The situation had completely changed.

What had begun as a straightforward request had now turned into a desperate plea.
The dynamics had shifted.

From client and contractor, they had become master and supplicant.
And there was no doubt about who was in the superior position.

The Crimson Feather now held all the cards.

“Haah.”

It wasn’t good.

This turn of events made everything infinitely harder.
And worse, he already seemed aware of the state of the Northern Sea.

“...How did he figure that out in such a short meeting?”

But it was clear—there was no hiding it now.

The Northern Sea was in chaos.

Treason and rebellion had thrown it into disarray.
Its cold winds now carried the stench of blood.

“And all because of...”

Her father, the Ice Palace Lord, once resolute and unyielding, now faced an unpredictable affliction of the body.

Though they had tried to conceal it and maintain their position, time was running out.

To restore the balance, Yuri needed the Crimson Feather’s supposed ability to break the curse.
If it were a lie, all hope would be lost.

Yet, precisely because it couldn’t be a lie, it was a problem.

As her thoughts spiraled into further complexity, Yuri felt a creeping sense of exhaustion.

“...I’ll have to think this through.”

In their brief exchange, one thing had become abundantly clear to Yuri.

The Crimson Feather was not a man driven by honor or cooperation.

Her companion’s claim that he was a hero?
Far from it.

He was cold, calculating, and logical.

A man who wouldn’t act unless there was a clear benefit for himself.

And conversely...

“If crossed, he’d be crueler than anyone.”

His words and actions aside, it was evident just from his gaze.
He was no benevolent soul.

“He’s not someone who’ll move out of sympathy or circumstance.”

If she was to persuade him, it would require reason and conditions that appealed to his logic.
Without those, there would be no point.

Yuri turned her gaze to the window.

The daylight had long since faded, the sun replaced by the deepening night.

He had suggested they continue their discussion tomorrow at noon.

That left her with precious little time to come up with a plan.

For now, she decided to accept her position.
To clearly understand her place and adapt her approach.

Only then could she make a proper decision.

“The night is short.”

Before noon arrived, she had to figure it out.

Somehow, within this brief night, she needed to devise a way.

A way to secure the cooperation of the Crimson Feather.

   ********************
   

As Yuri wracked her brain in her quarters, Gu Yangcheon had just returned to his lodging.

Originally, he had plans to dine with Madam Mi, take a stroll with Tang So-yeol and Moyong Hee-ah, and explore the area leisurely.

But those plans were now abandoned. Instead, Gu Yangcheon found himself back in his room, deep in thought.

“Hmm…”

A rare, serious expression crossed his face, his sharp eyes narrowing further, giving him an even more fearsome appearance.

In his hand was a peculiar piece of paper, the very reason his plans had shifted.

Just as he finished his conversation with the Northern Princess and prepared to leave, something unexpected had occurred.

“...Wait.”

Yuri had stopped him in his tracks.

Surprised, Gu Yangcheon turned to face her. She reached into her robe and produced the letter, holding it out to him.

“What’s this?”

His expression twisted in confusion as he looked at the item in her hand.

“A message from your friend,” Yuri said.

Gu Yangcheon’s eyes widened at her words.

A friend?
Who in the Northern Sea would send him a letter?

A few familiar faces flashed through his mind, and a bad feeling began to take root.

The Northern Princess possessing such a letter, especially amid the recent turmoil in the Northern Sea, only heightened his unease.

He had taken the letter from her and opened it on the spot.

“...!”

As his eyes scanned the words, his brows furrowed tightly.
It was that kind of message.

One that made him cancel everything and retreat to his room immediately.

In the dimly lit room, Gu Yangcheon sat in silence, the only light coming from his piercing blue eyes.

The letter in his hand seemed almost invisible in the darkness, but that didn’t matter to him.

Even in complete blackness, he could read it with perfect clarity.
And so he did—over and over again.

[I’m sorry. I’m late.]

A single, short line.

[But don’t worry.]

And one more.

That was all.

Just two lines on a simple piece of paper.

At first glance, it seemed like nothing of consequence, just an innocuous message.

But…

“...”

The icy grip tightening around Gu Yangcheon’s heart told a different story.

Only one person could have sent such a message.

Someone who had become more precious to him than his own life.

The stubborn woman who had ignored his pleas to stay and had left on her own.

It was her letter.

For most, this brief note would seem harmless.
But to Gu Yangcheon, there was one glaring issue.

[Don’t worry.]

That phrase was the problem.

Why? Because it wasn’t something she would ever say.

The words felt completely out of character for her, as untrustworthy as if he had uttered them himself.

Earlier this year—
In spring, or perhaps summer at the latest—she had promised to return.

And now, suddenly, she was late?

His thoughts turned to the turmoil in the Northern Sea.

Could she be caught up in that mess?

Crack.

The sound of his knuckles tightening into a fist echoed in the room.

It was a deeply unsettling suspicion.