Chương 37: Do Not Write Your Name on a Contract

The footsteps in the corridor stopped in front of the door. Kichan waited with the wake-up rod in hand. A very faint vibration still remained inside the handle. Dust was flattened low on the table. Low voices passed outside the door. Two soldiers. The healer he had seen during the day. And two unfamiliar people. One smelled of incense, and the other smelled of cold metal. A priest and a mage. The door opened. The soldiers with swords entered first.

But the priest and the mage standing in front looked at the room before they looked at Kichan. The table, the candle, the fruit peel, the red thread and white horn fragment clumsily attached to the wake-up rod's handle. The mage's gaze stopped there. The priest tightened his grip on the sacred object.

"What did you do?" Kichan did not understand the words, but he felt like he knew the meaning. He lowered the wake-up rod a little.

"I'd like to know too." The healer hurriedly translated in simpler words. Even after hearing that, the priest did not relax. The mage started to come closer to the table, then stopped when he saw Dust. Dust flicked its legs. Tap. It rang once inside Kichan's palm too. The priest's face hardened.

"Was that it just now?" Kichan did not answer. The mage took out a small disc. It was thinner and more complicated than the measuring stone from earlier. Several layers of circular patterns were carved into the metal plate, and the needle in the center calmly pointed at zero. The mage brought the disc close to the wake-up rod. The needle did not move. Then he brought it toward Kichan's hand. It still did not move. The priest lifted the sacred object. It did not shine either. It was not relief.

Both of them grew more uneasy. And even inside that unease, they could not hide the desire to keep Kichan here and experiment.

"Again." The priest said. The healer looked carefully at Kichan.

"Earlier. Sound. Again?" Kichan shook his head immediately.

"No." It was not an easy word in this language, but his expression was enough. The priest tried to say more, and the mage did not stop him. Instead, he pushed the disc closer. Kichan put the wake-up rod down on the table. The sound was not loud. But everyone in the room stopped.

"I said no." This time, it was Korean. Dust struck the edge of the table twice. Tap. Tap. No. Without looking at Dust, Kichan said,"Thanks, but I know this one too." If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. In the end, the priest and the mage withdrew. Not simply withdrew. The moment they stepped outside, their low voices continued all the way down the corridor.

The healer remained in the room a little longer, looking back and forth between Kichan and the wake-up rod, but left without saying anything. The door locked again. Click. Kichan sighed at the sound.

"This is going to get more annoying." Dust tapped once. Tap. Yes.

The lord summoned him again before much time had passed. This time, the room was different. It was smaller than yesterday's wide audience room, and it had no windows. On the table lay thick paper, a red seal, and a pen with metal ornaments. Kichan could not read the contract. But he felt like he could understand what they were trying to do. It was not the smell of paper. Dried leather, old incense, metal powder, and the very faint smell of a membrane. The moment Kichan smelled it, his expression hardened.

Documents were materials too. In this world, even paper was not just paper. Each character was unfamiliar. The few words he had learned in the village could not even catch the end of a sentence. The clerk explained slowly, but the more important a part was, the longer the explanation became. Instead of the letters, Kichan traced the blank spaces, lines, and repeated positions of the seal. Who permits what to whom. Under what conditions movement is restricted. What name enters under whose authority.

And what words wear the shell of protection. Kichan looked at the signature line. The paper was thick and smooth, but only that blank space had sunk darker than the area around it. Whenever the candle shook, the red line at the end of the signature space trembled very slightly. The moment he wrote his name, it would not leave only letters on paper. Some ledger somewhere would open, and a person would enter it. It was not a blank. It was a hole. A hole that closed when a name was placed inside.

It was the place where a person named Kichan would become the lord's protected subject, a managed subject, a special healer belonging to the territory. The word protection stood in front, and the word monopoly hid behind it. He put the pen down.

"Not writing." The clerk stopped. The lord spoke gently again. Kichan removed his hand from the signature line.

"Not. Writing." This time, they were easy words. The air in the room changed. The lord did not become angry immediately. His smile remained, but the corner of his right eye hardened for a very short moment. The clerk standing beside him saw that tiny change and held his breath first. The lord had already heard the report. Not just the report that Kichan was good at healing. He had also heard that the light of a sacred object had gone out in the chapel below, and the needle of a disc had turned backward.

There was fear. But calculation moved faster. Before a report reached the center, he had to stamp Kichan as belonging to the territory. The lord smiled and changed the topic. He talked about the village. He said he could lower taxes. He could place guards at the herb field. He could keep caring for the sick child. Kichan heard the other side of those words. If you do not cooperate? The lord did not threaten him directly. But everyone in the room already knew the answer. Kichan looked at the lord.

"Village." He chose his words.

"Don't touch." He did not know the word for touch. So he reached out and pushed a piece of bread on the table, then put it back in place. Then he pointed at the lord, pointed toward the village, and shook his hand sideways.

"Tana." Don't. The clerk could not translate. The clerk saw Kichan's face and swallowed the words. The lord's smile thinned a little. He did not force the contract that day. Instead, he sent Kichan back to the room. The door locked again. Click. Kichan did not sit on the bed. He read the metals in the room one by one. The door lock, the window bars, nails inside the wall, armor stands in the corridor, the soldiers' swords, knives in the kitchen below. The village had him by the ankle.

The night deepened. Kichan hardly slept. Even at night, the castle was full of sounds. Footsteps in the corridor, doors closing in the distance, soldiers changing shifts outside the window. Words flowed past him, but tension leaked through the cracks around the door. The Loagaeth fragment heated from time to time. Each time, Kichan clenched his teeth. Do not make a sound. Not yet. Absolutely not. A small sound came from the window gap. Dust returned. Its small body was covered with outdoor dust and black soot.

Normally it would have flicked its legs like a joke, but this time, the moment it climbed onto Kichan's palm, it flattened itself low. Kichan went to the window at once. A small piece of cloth was caught on Dust's wire leg. Kichan carefully untied it. The cloth was familiar. The same fabric as the salt pouch the village child had given him. And there was a little blood on it. Kichan's eyes sank. Dust trembled very slightly on the back of his hand. The inside of the wake-up rod's handle rang briefly. Tap. Once.

It meant danger. Kichan placed the cloth fragment on his palm and felt along Dust's wire legs. They were not metal in the same way, but the tips carried a thin smell of dry soil, soot, and blood. It was not clear like a picture. Kichan slowly stood. The inside of his clothes heated thinly. A sound rose inside his throat. Kichan went to the door. Two knights stood outside. He knocked on the door.

"Call the lord." The two knights stiffened when they saw the cloth fragment in Kichan's hand. Kichan placed his hand on the doorknob. The structure of the lock caught at his fingertips. He did not break the door. He only folded the lock. Click. This time, the sound came from inside. The door opened. Cold air from the corridor pushed into the room. The candles on the wall bent sideways all at once, and the faces of the two knights in front of the door hardened in that light. The knights drew their swords.

With the end of the wake-up rod's handle, Kichan pushed the blades down into the floor. The first clash was short and quiet. Kichan walked out into the corridor. The castle bell began to ring.