Four years had passed since his huge failure. They had moved back to the Giwajib in Gongju. Even if Yoongi messed up big time, king Shim Changmin had caused the rumor about the property of the leader of the Black Army being in Gongju to vanish as quickly as the scary news had spread. The Giwajib was examined for all traces and guarded for a couple of months. The king had made sure that an ordinary civilian of Gongju settled there for around eighteen months just to make it look like he owned the place. After all these months and the eternal monitoring finally came the long-awaited all-clear.

Yoongi had become more cautious and attentive. Mistakes like that he never ever wanted to repeat again. After his punishment at the edge of the dark forest where he had encountered the beast, he even started to train harder. Way harder than before, because if he should ever meet the so called Xiah-guy he wanted to be prepared. He learned to fight with various weapons, but he loved his sword the most. Yoongi grew to be one of the strongest and smartest fighters of the Black Army, if not even stronger than some of the soldiers of the kingdom. Since his failure he had learned and trained every single day. In the rain, drifting snow, during storms, and even the hottest summer days. He took no breaks. Maybe because he felt awful about putting Song Il-Kook in such a humiliating position. At all costs he wanted to protect the leader and his reputation. As the adopted son he had to show much more effort in everything he did and prove that he was not a failure. Thanks to his determination, long since he had overtaken all the other members. Yoongi had built some muscles and abs. He had dyed his hair blonde and grown to a long ponytail. He was very careful about his appearance. The scar he had got from the beast stayed put in his face. Whenever he looked in the mirror or saw his reflection in a puddle, he would be reminded of the day he failed. This also was a reason he would give his best.

“I am eighteen, father.”, Yoongi defended himself and sat down irritably at the kitchen table, “And much stronger than everyone else! You know that!”

Song Il-Kook was not convinced.

“That is no reason why you should be my successor. You are way too... Huh, how should I put it? Narrow-minded?”, the nobleman contradicted, “Also, you should enjoy your life, before you take on such a responsibility.”

“I am narrow-minded?!”, Yoongi asked offended.

Song Il-Kook nodded and explained to him that very often he was blinded by hate and acted without consideration. The boy was smart, yes, but he often acted rashly.

Yoongi whispered annoyed: “Should I lead the army as an old geezer?”

The nobleman heard his words and lowered his gaze. Yes, the years did not make him any younger. Song Il-Kook got some more wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and some parts of his hair and beard had turned gray.

Yoongi immediately apologized and made an excuse: “It is not how I meant it. You are still young, father... Very young... women would get in line for you!”

The nobleman shook his head again.

“You know that my army consists of innumerable strong fighters. Only the strong ones survive, but strength alone is not enough, my son.”, he explained in detail, “You are strong, without a doubt, but you must gain a lot more experience. Four years are not enough for you to become the next leader.”

Yoongi sighed. He was very familiar with nearly everything. He had trained over seven years to get this far. However, his roots were another reason for gaining so much strength in such a short period of time. As a descendant of the Jung-family, a fire tribe, the boy was destined to develop strongly. He had injured his own colleagues while training together many times. Of course, unintentionally, because now and then he could not control his strength. Still Yoongi lacked something, that all the other members had carried out more than once. Killing. The experience that the nobleman simply withheld from him.

“Yeah, I know…”, Yoongi admitted and continued on a new topic, “Why are we wearing only black garments at our meetings? Would it not be faster for all of us, to appear in anything?”

Song Il-Kook got up and picked up two cups and a bottle. He poured some Cheongju, clear rice wine, and held his cup up.

“You want to be my successor? The army is called 'Black Army', that is why we wear black only. It is the color of the dark. It symbolizes our hatred and our disappointment in the people of Sujong.”, he replied and slowly sipped his drink.

Yoongi nodded attentively, thankfully grabbed his cup and only took one sip. He loved the taste of red wine, but still was not a big fan of alcohol in general. His tolerance was low, and since he needed to stay alerted to be able to protect his foster father at all costs, he mostly avoided drinking more than one sip. Song Il-Kook, however, enjoyed having a drink with his adopted son now and then. These were the moments he could feel most restless, yet the boy would not make it easy for him at all. Yoongi had changed a lot, the boy from eight years ago was no longer.

“Yoongi, I want you to go to Daejeon.”, the nobleman said after his second cup.

His gaze was fixed on the boy. Was that an order? Since Yoongi’s first unsuccessful assignment the boy was never considered for big missions. He was not allowed to attend the meetings in Sujong for half a year either. Most of his colleagues just hated him for his huge mistake and needed a lot of time to consider him as a loyal member.

“Daejeon?”, Yoongi asked, “You… you mean the city that belongs to the descendants of Dokkaebi? Where is it?”

Song Il-Kook left the kitchen and his adopted son back with his unanswered questions, but not for long, because Yoongi naturally followed him.

“Where is Daejeon?”, he asked again, tilted his head, and was surprised because they went straight for Yoongi's room, “I thought it is just a legend…There is actually a place like that?”

Why did the nobleman enter his room? When was he in here for the last time at all? Yoongi's room was a mess. His clothes were everywhere, his chair was overturned, scrolls of paper covered his carpet and his wall with the chalk lines had looked better too. The nobleman was a little disappointed of how much his adopted son lacked in organization.

“Daejeon, my son, is a big city separated from Gongju by the enchanted forest.”, Song Il-Kook replied finally and scratched his wrinkled forehead at the sight of the messy room.

He pursed his lips but did not want to start an argument over it, since Yoongi would not care much about it anyway. Instead, the nobleman grabbed a big bag of the boy and filled it with the finest clothes.

“You are quite in a hurry to get rid of me...”, Yoongi noted, picked up some of his scrolls and put his chair up neatly, “What... What am I supposed to do in Daejeon?”

The nobleman paid no attention to him. He continued packing silently.

“Father, what is the point?”, Yoongi asked annoyed this time.

“You must go there, that is an assignment!”, Song Il-Kook ordered finally, “You want to be my successor, right? Go, get the Bujeoks and the Red Rose.”

“Get the Bujeoks and the Red-what?”, the boy asked confused.

He did not understand how that would help him later to become the successor one day. Song Il-Kook sat on his bed and patted next to him, instructed the boy to sit down. Yoongi raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. He stood across his foster father, crossed his arms and stared right at him.

“Listen for a moment and do not interrupt me.”, the nobleman began to explain and cleared his throat, “Shim Changmin will send two of his fighters there.”

“Do I have to work with them?”, Yoongi interrupted him, but the nobleman shook his head.

“You must kill them. They own Bujeoks, amulets, that we need urgently.”, Song Il-Kook informed him with a serious expression.

Now Yoongi finally understood how this assignment would help him to become the successor of his foster father one day. The boy would finally make the experience of killing. Then and only then he would no longer lack about this matter. Two fighters of Gongju? He could handle them easily.

Well, Bujeok and Daejeon, were all words that Yoongi had read a lot about years ago. But he could not recall a little bit of it. What was it all about? The Red Rose though he had never heard of before.

“What is a Bujeok?”, he asked unsuspectingly and picked up one of his scrolls and read what was written on it.

The nobleman looked at him a little disappointed.

“Eight years ago, your brain was still working... You have become forgetful, my son.”, he stated, got up and knocked on Yoongi's forehead, “This is important. Something like that you should not forget!”

Yoongi put away the scroll since it was not his notes about Bujeoks. Then he took place on his chair and looked for other scrolls. Somewhere he had written down about Bujeoks, Daejeon, Dokkaebis and the kingdom. But where was it all?

“All right, a Bujeok is a magical amulet that gives skills to a young person who is learning to fight.”, the leader of the Black Army told him, “These fighters are chosen ones. Not everyone gets a Bujeok. But mostly they are children or adolescents, young people that flourish with these amulets.”

“So... can I be a chosen one too?”, Yoongi asked a little curious about it and sat back.

He threw a scroll against his desk and got up again. The mess was worse than he thought it was. He could not remember where his notes about these topics were. He was sure that he had learned about all of this before. It all sounded somehow familiar.

“No, you are definitely not a chosen one. At least not anymore. You cannot be because you are a fighter of the Black Army. You were burned with the black flames when you joined. We cannot use the Bujeoks. You need a pure heart for that.”, Song Il-Kook explained, “The Bujeoks have become less and less because some have already broken. Some even dissolved. Originally there were eighteen pieces.”

Yoongi tried to remember all of that, but there was nothing left of it in his memories. It all sounded so new to him, even though he was sure that this was not the case. How come he could not remember it? He would never forget something like this unless it was way too unreal and fairytalelike.

“They dissolve? What happens to the bestowed skills then?”, he wanted to know.

The nobleman nodded and continued: “Yes, they dissolve. When the owner reaches the ultimate level of his ability, there is no longer any use for the Bujeok. The owner becomes the new vessel for the abilities.”

“Alright, why do we need these Bujeoks if we cannot use them?”, the boy asked further.

Song