BFLT 8

Episode 8. Younger Brother, Baek Hajun (3)

The Immortal Sword abruptly broke the mood.

“I cannot agree.”

‘…Sorry? With what?’

“That there’s no younger brother as good as an older one. Nonsense.”

‘Wait, does that mean you were the younger sibling yourself?’

“Ahem, that’s right. A younger brother learns from his elder’s mistakes and grows all the greater.”

Just moments ago, he’d been cheering for I-gang—but now his stance had changed.

At that moment, Neung Jipyeong interjected, further dampening Lee kang’s fighting spirit.

“Please remove your blindfold for a moment. I believe Young Master Lee Kang is unaware of the rules for Goblin Tag.”

“I have a rough idea. You scatter red bean pouches around, blindfold yourself, and throw them at each other until one lands a hit, correct?”

That was how he remembered the childhood game.
You blindfold yourself, pick up the pouches, and throw them like snowballs. Small bells tied around the waist help track your opponent’s movements.

“Similar, but slightly different. We’ve increased the difficulty for Light Body Technique training.”

In the training version, no bells were worn, and the bean pouches were wrapped in rabbit fur to soften their sound.

“Hit your opponent with a pouch for one point. First to three wins. But if you catch a pouch and strike their body directly—it’s an instant victory.”

“There are fewer pouches too.”

“Yes, only five.”

It was no longer a child’s game—it was an intense martial exercise.

“It sharpens reflexes and agility, heightening the senses beyond sight. Whoever devised this is a genius.”

“Let’s begin.”

Ignoring the Immortal Sword’s self-praise, I-gang tied the blindfold again.
Though the rules had changed, his expression remained steady.
Baek Hajun, too, put on his blindfold.

“When I throw these five pouches, the match begins.”

Neung Jipyeong swallowed hard.
Both brothers stood motionless, tension in every breath.
No one could have imagined this—a duel between brothers.

“You and I, playing Goblin Tag again… it’s been a while.”

“Nearly six years.”

“You even cried once when I hit your nose.”

“…That won’t happen again.”

When I-gang was eight and Hajun was six, perhaps I-gang had been quicker then.
But now, Hajun surpassed him in every way—without exception.

That was why Neung Jipyeong worried.

‘Young Master Hajun, please don’t get careless…’

I-gang sensed Hajun’s presence behind him—his Red-Sun Sword aura impossible to mistake.

He surely had something hidden. If Hajun underestimated him, no one could predict the outcome.

“Begin.”

Five bean pouches flew through the air at once, scattering.

The faint jingling of furred pouches signaled the start.

Baek Hajun moved like lightning.
He snatched up the nearest pouch and threw it in a fluid motion.

Pock!

It struck I-gang’s shoulder before he even had time to react.

“Young Master Hajun, one point!”

Neung Jipyeong couldn’t hide a smile.
All his earlier concerns seemed unnecessary—Hajun wasn’t careless, and clearly had experience.

Meanwhile, I-gang simply stood still.
Arms crossed oddly, left hand raised before his face.

“That stance—Taeeumgyeong Meridian, First Form.”

Neung Jipyeong blinked in confusion.
While everyone waited for I-gang to fight back, he calmly continued his breathing patterns.

‘No need to tell me where Hajun is,’ I-gang thought.

“I wasn’t planning to. Focus.”

For over a month, the Immortal Sword had taught him nothing but Tae-Eum Meridian.
No meditation for energy flow, no physical drills—just that one art.

Every day, fourteen hours of repetition.
Nearly twenty-five full cycles a day.

As he performed the sequence, the sword’s voice resonated again:

“Light Body Technique means not merely moving fast. That’s a shallow understanding. Instead, think—your body grows light because your mass ceases to exist.*”

He flowed from one stance to the next.

Neung Jipyeong realized something: it was impossible to win by throwing blindly.
So I-gang had chosen another way.

“Clever, but relying on tricks will one day harm you.”

‘Then what other way could I win?’

“Hmm. Fair point.”

And so I-gang did what he could—his utmost.

Baek Hajun, on the other hand, couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“What are you doing…?”

He heard Lee Kang moving strangely in place, making quiet rustling noises, but no sign of attack.

Then his third pouch hit.

“Young Master Hajun, two points!”

Yet Neung Jipyeong didn’t smile this time.

The air felt wrong.

Lee Kang’s movements, though clumsy, seemed to sense the pouches’ trajectories.
When he caught one, instead of throwing it, he tied it to his belt and continued his form.

Then—silence.

No footsteps, no rustling, no breath.

Hajun froze.

“Where… is he?”

The world had gone still.
Even his heartbeat echoed painfully loud in his ears.

For the first time, Hajun realized—he had completely lost track of his opponent.

Then, a chill—cold as winter air—brushed his cheek.

And before he could dodge, something struck him.

A red bean pouch.

“Young Master Lee Kang, victory!”

Neung Jipyeong’s voice sounded distant.
Hajun’s vision went black.

Once, everyone in the clan cherished Lee Kang.
Born with severed meridians, yet thoughtful and kind, he was pitied and adored.

To Hajun, his brother had always seemed like an adult.

“Hyung, this is delicious!”
“Yeah? Eat plenty.”
“But it’s spicy!”
“Drink water with it.”

Even at eight years old, Lee kang had cooked spicy dumpling stew for him.

Those days felt eternal.

Then, everything changed.
His brother became cold, distant.
He refused to play, overturned meals, shouted at servants.

Father looked at him with disappointment.
Servants whispered that I-gang had lost his virtue—and that Hajun would inherit his place as heir.

Hajun hadn’t understood any of it.
He only wanted his old brother back.

If only I’d realized sooner…

lee kang had started to act cruel—breaking toys, yelling—but even then, Hajun noticed things.
He never broke Hajun’s favorite toy sword.
He yelled, but never struck him.
Even when he pinched his cheeks until he cried—it didn’t really hurt.

lee kang only pretended to be cruel.

Only after I-gang was exiled did Hajun finally understand—
everything had been for his sake.

When he opened his eyes, I-gang was standing over him.

“…Sorry, hyung.”

Lee Kang frowned.

“I won, and yet you sound like you did.”

“No, it’s just—”

The head of the clan position should have been I-gang’s.
But Hajun had taken it.

“I took everything from you.”

“Did you hit your head that hard?”

“The heir’s title—it was supposed to be yours.”

“You little punk…”

He couldn’t understand how Lee kang had won, but somehow, it felt natural that he had.

“Keep it. I never wanted to be head of the clan anyway.”

Hajun’s throat tightened.
He knew his brother was lying to make him feel better.

“And… because of me, Mother too…”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I heard it. Mother got sick giving birth to me… that’s why she died.”

At that moment, Hajun realized his original sin—
He’d taken everything from his brother, and even caused their mother’s death.

The guilt had grown inside him ever since.

Lee Kang chuckled dryly, then scowled—and suddenly lunged forward.

Hajun braced himself for a punch.

But instead—

“You little pea-sized brat, talking nonsense!”

I-gang grabbed both his cheeks and pulled.

“Aaaagh!”

“Stop acting smart!”

Unlike old times, it really hurt. Tears welled up in Hajun’s eyes.

“Ow! It hurts!”
“Oh, you’re smiling? You’re dead now.”
“Ugh!”
“I won, so do as I say.”
“Th-that wasn’t even a bet!”
“Quiet.”

And then, Lee Kang gave him an order—
an order so outrageous, Hajun couldn’t even imagine it.