The tea room was no longer a sanctuary; it was a courtroom where the laws of physics no longer mattered. Mago Samshin, the Goddess in Red, stood by the window, her silhouette sharp against a sky that had turned an unnatural purple. Beside her, the Almighty, inhabiting the body of the young boy, sat nonchalantly on the Reaper’s desk.
In the corner, Kim Shin was a prisoner in his own home. A shimmering, crystalline barrier separated him from the center of the room. He could see Wang Yeo kneeling. He looked small and fragile. But Wang Yeo could not see him.
“We offer you a mercy, Wang Yeo,” the child-god said, his voice echoed with the resonance of a thousand years. “A clean slate. We can wipe the slate of your mind. You will continue as a Reaper, blissfully ignorant of the blood on your hands. We will do the same for the Goblin and his sister. They will not remember the King who betrayed them. You will return to being roommates, bickering over laundry and tea. The pain will simply… vanish. As if it never happened.”
Kim Shin slammed his fists against the barrier. “No! Don’t you dare!” he roared, though he knew he wouldn’t be heard. He looked at Wang Yeo’s trembling back and felt a sickening certainty. He’ll take it. He’s a coward. He’s always been a coward. He’ll choose the easy path and leave me wandering in the dark again.
The Goddess in Red sent a mocking, sideways glance at the invisible, struggling Goblin. Her lips curled into a smirk. She turned back to the Reaper.
“Or,” she said, and her voice dropped to a low, dangerous register, “there is the other path. You can release them. All the souls who perished under your reign—the soldiers, the starving, the innocents. You can heal their trauma. You can lift Kim Shin’s curse. But, you must take their agony into yourself. Every sword thrust, every gasp of a dying child. And for every soul that does not forgive you, the debt remains. You will relive their deaths every single night. Again, and again, and again, until the last soul you broke finds peace.”
Wang Yeo turned deathly pale. His breath hitched. Thousands of souls. He could save them all but… A cycle of eternal, nightly execution. How long would he suffer, until the last soul forgave him? How long until Kim Shin forgave him? Forgave him for his betrayal, his cruel death, his centuries of loneliness, his endless suffering.
He will never forgive me, Wang Yeo realized with terrible clarity. I will be in hell for eternity.
Wang Yeo closed his eyes, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists. He wanted to save them. He needed to save them. But fear choked him. And yet, if his suffering could heal his victims, could save Kim Shin… He looked at the smiling Goddess.
This was her judgment. Endless suffering—and he knew it was just. ‘I accept,’ he whispered
The Goddess let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Why, Wang Yeo? Why choose this when we offered you a way out? You’ve always taken the easiest way out. If everyone forgets, the crime ceases to exist. Why suffer for people who won’t even know you’re paying?”
Wang Yeo raised his head. His throat was tight, his voice was cracking, but his eyes were burning with a terrifying clarity. “Even if they forget… they still suffer. Even if Kim Shin doesn’t know who I am. I am still the king who betrayed him. I hurt so many people. If I can heal them, if I can help them move on, I will pay the price.”
The Almighty snorted coldly “You say that now. Let’s see how long you last until you beg for it to stop.” He snapped his fingers.
Suffering
Wang Yeo was jerked upright, his back arching with a sickening crack. The first wave hit him—the betrayal of the Goryeo vanguard. In an instant, his skin began to bloom with bruises, and his chest heaved as if a dozen spears had pierced him simultaneously.
“ARGH!” The scream was raw.
He was drowning. He fell to his knees, his fingers clawing at the floorboards until his nails bled. He felt the starvation of a mother in a raided village; he felt the cold terror of a boy lost in the palace purge. With every soul that entered him, he felt their hatred for him. It was a burning poison, flowing through his veins.
It is just, Wang Yeo thought, his mind fracturing. This is what I deserve.
Kim Shin watched in horror. He had wanted the King to pay, yes. For nine hundred years, he had dreamt of vengeance. But seeing it—watching Wang Yeo as he was torn apart by invisible forces—he didn´t want it.
“Stop! Wang Yeo, stop it!” Kim Shin screamed. He threw himself against the golden barrier, his shoulder bruising under the impact.
Wang Yeo didn’t hear him. He wheezed. “I… am… sorry…”
The Goddess in Red leaned over him, her face a mask of divine cruelty. “It’s only the first hour, Little King. Do you want to take the memory wipe now? One word and the pain stops.”
Wang Yeo’s hand, trembling and slick with sweat, reached out and gripped the Goddess’s hem. “Don´t… dont´t stop,” he begged through clenched teeth. “Save…every… single… one.”
Kim Shin stopped fighting the barrier. He leaned his forehead against the cold light and helplessly witnessed the man he once called his murderer undergo a punishment that exceeded any physical execution. He saw the Reaper’s soul flayed open. He saw the King finally paying the price.
“You idiot,” Kim Shin whispered, a tear falling down his cheek. “You’re going to break.”
Shattered
After an eternity of screams, breaking bones and suffering, the divine light began to recede. Wang Yeo lay curled in a fetal position, his breathing shallow and rattling. He was a wreck; shuddering violently and barely clinging to consciousness.
The Goddess stepped back. “It is done. The souls have been released into the cycle. They are free. And for the ones who still hate you… you know the price.”
With a final, cold look, the deities vanished.
The barrier shattered.
Kim Shin didn’t hesitate. He was across the room in a blur, slid onto the floor and pulled Wang Yeo’s upper body into his lap. “Wang Yeo! Hey, look at me!”
Wang Yeo’s eyes were rolled back. He was shivering violently, the agony of a thousand deaths still burning in his body. But as he felt Kim Shin’s hands, he forced his eyes open.
Kim Shin, the general he betrayed and murdered. Weakly, with a movement that seemed to cost him everything, Wang Yeo rolled out of Kim Shin’s arms and onto his hands and knees. He dragged himself into a deep, shaking bow, pressing his forehead against the floorboards at the Goblin’s feet.
“I am sorry,” Wang Yeo whispered, his voice gone. “I am sorry.”
“Get up,” Kim Shin choked out. He reached down to pull the Reaper up, but Wang Yeo remained in the bow, a posture of absolute submission.
“I am the King… who murdered you,” Wang Yeo breathed into the wood of the floor. “I am… a monster.”
Midnight
The bedroom was dimly lit by a single candle that flickered on the nightstand. Outside, the moon was a sharp, silver blade in the sky, marking the approach of midnight.
Wang Yeo lay back against the pillows, his breath shallow but steady. Kim Shin sat in the chair pulled close to the bed, his hand resting on the edge of the mattress, his body tense.
“It’s almost midnight,” Kim Shin said softly.
Wang Yeo nodded, a faint smile touched his lips. “Do you know, Kim Shin… I am not afraid. I thought I would be, but this… physical suffering… it is a mercy.
To know that my Queen, who loved me, died because of my insecurity. To know that you paid for your devotion with your life. To know that for nine hundred years, uncounted souls have wandered in the dark because of my commands… that is the pain that was unbearable.”
He looked at Kim. “I am glad, Kim Shin. I am glad that I can finally pay. I will suffer every night for what I did to my people, my queen, to you. I can finally pay for their pain, your pain with my own.”
Kim Shin felt the air leave his lungs. He saw the truth in Wang Yeo’s eyes. This wasn’t a man performing penance; this was a man who gave himself completely, suffered willingly for his sins.
The clock struck the first chime of midnight.
Wang Yeo closed his eyes and braced himself. He gripped the sheets, his knuckles white, his breath hitching as he readied himself to be torn apart.
Twelve.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Wang Yeo waited, his body rigid, his eyes tightly shut. He braced himself for the agony, the spears, the fire. For the phantom arrows to pierce his heart.
One minute passed. Two.
There was nothing. No pain. No heat. No cold. Only the quiet sound of Kim Shin’s breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.
Wang Yeo’s eyes flew open. “Why hasn’t it started? Why am I not burning?” He looked at Kim Shin, his voice rising in desperation. “Did the gods lie? Am I not allowed to pay?”
Kim Shin sat perfectly still. He looked at the man on the bed who was begging for torture. He thought of the nine hundred years of anger he had suffered. He thought of the sword that was no longer there.
And he realized that the silence wasn’t a mistake. The souls of Goryeo had moved on, freed at last, by the King’s willingness to suffer. And Kim Shin…
“They didn’t lie, Yeo,” Kim Shin said, his voice breaking.
“Then why?” Wang Yeo gasped. “The soldiers may have passed on, perhaps. The villagers, the innocents—but you…I know…I know you can never forgive me… .I took everything from you. I took your honor, your family, your life. Because of me, you suffered for nine centuries.”
Wang Yeo was shaking, his knuckles white where he gripped Kim Shin’s sleeve.
“I watched you today,” Kim Shin interrupted, his voice low and steady. “I watched you choose an eternity of hell, to finally save his victims. To finally give me peace.”
Kim Shin reached out and placed his hand over Wang Yeo’s heart. It was beating incredibly fast.
“The dead are gone. They saw the truth of your heart and they forgave you. And as for me…” Kim Shin paused, a single tear falling onto the bedsheet. “I thought I would find peace if you paid for your sins. But… I’ve seen you suffer. I’ve seen you pay. I’ve seen your willingness to pay the price over and over again.”
Kim Shin swallowed, and finally looked up. “I discovered something today: I discovered—I don’t want you hurt. I don’t want to punish you. I don’t want you to be the king that betrayed me. What I want is my friend. My friend, who finally paid his debt.”
Wang Yeo stared at Kim Shin, then he started to cry. Kim Shin pulled him into his arms and held him tight, as his own tears fell into Wang Yeo’s hair.
Epilogue: A New Morning
The sunlight in the tea room was no longer divine or judgmental; it was just bright, annoying, and hit Kim Shin directly in the eyes.
He sat at the table, and pointedly ignored the man sitting across from him. Wang Yeo was meticulously folding a stack of napkins into perfect, identical triangles. He looked pale, but the ghostly transparency was gone. He looked solid. He looked real.
“Are you going to do that all morning?” Kim Shin asked, and leaned his chin on his hand. “Because the sound of paper creaking is irritating.”
Yeo didn’t even look up. “It’s called ‘order,’ Kim Shin. You should try it sometime.”
Kim Shin snorted, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reached out and flicked one of the finished napkins, sending it sliding across the polished wood. Wang Yeo’s hand shot out and caught it before it hit the floor, his eyes snapped up to meet the Goblin’s.
Kim Shin felt a familiar warmth in his chest He reached out, grabbed his mug and nudged Wang Yeo’s cup in a silent toast.
“You should be nicer to me, Grim Reaper,” Kim Shin grumbled. “I still haven’t forgiven you for the time you bleached my favorite silk robe.”
Wang Yeo actually let out a small, genuine laugh. It was a light sound, one that hadn’t been heard in that house for a very long time. “I told you, that was an accident of fate. The gods willed that robe to be white.”
“The gods had nothing to do with the laundry settings, you idiot.”