Chapter 82

The man’s voice pierced through the fog in my mind.

“Come with us.”

I forced my stiff neck to lift. He stared down at me with an expressionless face.

Then, from the crowd, more men in black robes emerged—each one with a hand on the scabbard at their side.

Instinctively, I stepped back—only to hit the railing behind me. Trapped.

“They’re waiting,” the man said again, his tone calm but resolute.

Panic surged through me. I searched for a way to escape.

“Send a message! To the person in charge!”

[Who should I send it to?]

“Anyone—just send it to anyone who can receive it!”

I prayed there was a user nearby.

[There are no users capable of sending messages in the Hwanwon River Lantern Bridge A area.]

My heart plummeted.

I looked down at my wrist, desperate to tap the watch myself—
But before I could, the man grabbed my arm.

“Let go!”

“Please follow us quietly. We don’t want a scene.”

His voice was polite. His grip was not. It felt like my wrist would snap.

“Are you insane? Why would I go with you?! Let go!”

I struggled and shouted, drawing attention from nearby festivalgoers.
Good. Let them see.

If I followed this man, he’d deliver me straight to the Winter Kingdom Reconstruction Association—or worse.

Alex couldn’t stop him. No one could. I didn’t even want to imagine what would happen next.

I shook my arms violently in protest.

“Hey!”

A familiar voice cut through the chaos.

The vendor—my boss—noticed something was wrong and approached from behind the man.

“What’s going on here? Miss, are you alright?”

He reached toward me. “Miss, come here—”

Shing.

Thud.

The man in the black robe didn’t hesitate. He drew his blade and cut down the vendor in a single motion.

The boss crumpled wordlessly.

Screams erupted.

“Someone call Soo-gun! Soo-gun!!”

My breath caught.

Blood dripped from the sword’s edge. The wooden boards of the bridge soaked it up, leaving spreading stains beneath my feet.

I stared in numb disbelief, slowly registering the truth.

They hadn’t been bluffing.
If I didn’t follow, they would keep killing.

The man calmly flicked his blade to clean it, droplets scattering like crimson petals on the black wood.

“Let’s go,” he said, glancing at the corpse.
A warning.

I took a step forward.

My mind blanked. Someone else might die.
I had to leave—then figure it out.

‘Think. Think.’

“Why can’t I escape without someone saving me?”
I bit my lip.

Then—wait.

A flash of insight sparked.
Combat buff.

Suppressing the rush of hope, I called out:

“Agent, activate the buff copy item!”

[Item ‘Female Lead Buff Copy’ used.]
[1 copied buff available.]
[‘Second Sword of the Continent’ Female Lead Buff ‘Ildo’ activated.]
[Hold your weapon and swing it at the target.]

Weapon?

Diana had said something about using a stick… or even a hand.

My eyes darted—then locked onto the brush in the inkstone.

I grabbed it, hiding it in my hand.

“I’ll go,” I said, walking toward the man. “Don’t touch me.”

He scanned me with a faint smile.
He saw the brush. Didn’t care.

Mockingly, he stepped aside. “As you wish.”

I gripped the brush tightly.

Five men surrounded me. We began walking.
People stared, unsure whether to intervene or look away.

No one moved.

By the time we reached the end of the bridge, the path was empty.

Thud.
I stopped.

The man leading us scratched his temple.

“You were told not to touch her, but carrying her might be safer.”

Behind me, another man stepped forward—and lifted me off the ground.

“Let go!”

“Don’t struggle. You’ll get hurt.”

My first real kidnapping. I had no idea how to maintain distance.

I remembered Diana’s buff.
Her sword had annihilated everything in its path.

I couldn’t risk using it in a crowd. But if they used a scroll to teleport…

If I waited too long, it’d be over.

I had one shot.

I twisted in his grip—and swung the brush at the railing.

Whoooosh!

Blue light bloomed from the brush, slicing forward in a crescent arc.

It was smaller than Diana’s—but that was good.

It cut cleanly through the arm of the man leading us.

“Argh!”

Two others ducked—too late. Blood sprayed from their shoulders.

The blast continued forward—

KRAAACK.

The railing shattered. A pine tree was uprooted.

“Run!!”

Panic spread.

“You’re insane!” one of them yelled.

The man carrying me stumbled, loosening his grip.

I stabbed his hand with the brush tip.

“Ahh!”

He let go. I hit the ground running.

People screamed. Shoved. I shoved back.

“Send a message!”

[No users found in Hwanwon River D District.]

Damn it! Where even was I?

I was running the wrong way—I knew it.

“Ugh, I’m going to pass out—”

Still, I ran, lungs burning.

A side alley appeared.

I dove in.

Crowds. Too dense to run further.

I pushed upstream, past food stalls and noise.

This must be the street food alley Aisys mentioned.

No use running anymore.

I sat beside a large man at a vendor stall. My legs gave out beneath me.

The owner looked over. “What’ll it be?”

“Anything,” I gasped, pulling the table close.

“Hey! What are you—”

“Just go with it.”

I buried myself between the table and the man, hoping his bulk would block me.

The crowd stirred behind me.

“Lady, watch where you’re going!”

Men were approaching.

I typed a message to Aisys with trembling fingers.

“Winter Kingdom Reconstruction Association. They’re here.”

Before I could send it, the man beside me stood and placed money on the table.

“I’m done.”

No. No—don’t leave.

I turned to stop him—but something soft and dark covered my view.

A wide sleeve. Draping silk.

I was gently pulled into someone’s lap.

He sat behind me, one arm resting on the table, chin on my head.

“I don’t know what any of this is,” he said lazily, scanning the menu. “Just bring me your best.”

He handed a gold coin to the owner.

The vendor blinked. “Sir, nothing on the menu costs that much…”

“You don’t need to give change. It’s for the seat.”

He pointed to himself. Then to me.

“There are two of us.”

Thud.

A black bottle and dish appeared on the table.

“This is the best we’ve got,” the owner stammered. “Just let us know if you need more.”

On the plate: dried persimmons stuffed with nuts. The bottle: pungent and strong.

He poured a glass, slid the bottle toward me, then tilted the drink to his lips.

His face was reflected in the polished black surface.

Lanternlight danced across his golden-brown eyes.

After a long sip, he asked the vendor:

“What kind of wine is this?”

“Distilled southern grapes, sir. It’s quite strong.”

He chuckled.

“People in this country really like grapes.”