Obsession of the Neglected 6-Star Heroes-Chapter 26

She had been cast aside, eventually fading into obscurity, now reduced to an old relic—a forgotten "Imoogi of the Plains," Byakhyang.

An eternal, undying cherry blossom—unable to wilt, unable to truly live.

Byakhyang tilted her teacup, letting the fragrant liquid flow down her throat, washing away the burdensome monotony of life.

Her wrinkled brow furrowed as she set the cup aside.

Spring had come and gone once more, and now the world braced for winter. Flowers that bloomed ninety days prior had already withered, and the seasons had once again turned, marking the passage of time.

Time had raced ahead.

Byakhyang, who had lived for nearly a thousand years, experienced years as mere minutes, decades as fleeting mid-seasons.

She absentmindedly fiddled with a string of beads—a relic forged from dragon bones. Each bead, no larger than a fingernail, reminded her of a time long past.

Once, these mystical beads had commanded fear, capable of unleashing calamities upon the world. At other times, they became tools of salvation, embodying divine intervention.

Now, however, they had become nothing more than trinkets—a pastime for an old woman, their power long since waned.

“...You and I, it seems, are overdue for rest,” she muttered bitterly to herself.

Byakhyang spoke to no one in particular, her voice the only sound breaking the long silence. She unraveled her thoughts aloud, her words falling on ears that did not exist.

There was no one left to witness her, no one to hear her stories.

Time had marched on, and she had spent centuries alone, untouched by the mortal world.

In one sense, it was a life without hardship or catastrophe. In another, it was a life devoid of meaning.

Occasionally, people would visit her secluded dwelling. Most sought treasure, lured by tales of hidden riches. Others came for divinations, hoping her famed foresight might bring clarity to their lives.

But in recent years, even those visitors had vanished. The footsteps that once disturbed the quiet mountain had ceased entirely.

That was, until the voice of a young man broke the silence.

“Ah, there you are! I was getting worried I might not find you.”

“Wh-What in the heavens?!”

Startled, Byakhyang tumbled backward, landing unceremoniously on the ground.

“Agh… Ow…”

She brushed the dust off her clothes, glaring at the intruder. Standing before her was a young man with jet-black hair and piercing dark eyes, cloaked in a shadowy mantle.

Behind him, struggling to catch her breath, was a woman with silvery white hair and striking blue eyes.

Byakhyang’s eyes widened.

‘White hair and azure eyes… though her aura has faded, she must be of the royal lineage. A descendant of the main house.’

Byakhyang’s deduction was accurate.

She could see the threads of fate clearly, and as one who had once known the Astrea royal family better than anyone, it was impossible for her not to recognize the princess.

The ability to divine the future, even in fragments, came with an inherent understanding of unique traits. From their bloodline to their mannerisms, Byakhyang had once known the royals intimately—until the day she was betrayed.

‘If she’s from the royal family, they should still be thriving.’

And yet…

The sight of the princess before her was so wretched it was hard to believe.

A royal princess, covered in stray grass and leaves, wearing branches in her hair as though they were makeshift hairpins.

“Pfft.”

A small, involuntary laugh escaped Byakhyang’s lips.

Judging by her demeanor, the princess had likely followed the young man here.

But why?

The question lingered.

The princess’s disheveled appearance wasn’t the most baffling thing. No, the true mystery was her reason for following this man.

‘Why would a princess—of all people—do such a thing?’

It wasn’t just unusual; it was inconceivable.

‘To follow a man who, apart from his looks, has no remarkable qualities?’

Byakhyang understood well the nature of Solum’s royal family. Unlike her own apathy toward power and wealth, the royals were born with an insatiable hunger for both.

The betrayal she’d endured had only solidified her knowledge of their greed.

Their desire for power was as vast as it was relentless, allowing them to view the world through a distorted lens of ambition.

Though exceptions existed, they were rare.

From time to time, a virtuous soul might emerge from a corrupt lineage. Conversely, a tyrant might arise from a family of benevolence.

No bloodline was immune to the whims of fate.

“See? I told you! If you search long enough, you’ll find her,” the young man said smugly, a hint of pride in his voice.

Still, the sight before her was undeniably strange.

Byakhyang’s eyes narrowed. At that moment, the sunlight flickered and danced, reflecting off Reina’s aura as if revealing her fate.

In her violet gaze, countless lifetimes played out, illuminating the princess’s journey.

And Byakhyang could only sigh, her brow furrowing deeply.

“Hah… How troublesome…”

***

The Sixty-Four Hexagrams (六十四卦)

The wheel of fate reflected in the Imoogi's eyes revealed a grim trajectory: the fall of a dynasty, despair, and the erasure of history.

Byakhyang let out a heavy sigh.

‘They couldn’t be content with what they had and succumbed to greed. Now, their karma has come back to haunt them.’

They had taken and betrayed without restraint, only to unleash calamity upon their descendants. The ones who enjoyed all the privileges and left this world unscathed weren’t the ones paying the price—it was the innocent heirs who bore the full weight of their sins.

“Why is that lady acting so strange?”

“Who knows...”

In all her centuries of existence, not once had Byakhyang harbored malice toward them.

Even though she retained her powers, she had never sought to destroy their kingdom or punish their transgressions. This was the fundamental reason she refrained from intervening.

Byakhyang despised conflict. Even when she had briefly taken what she needed to help others, it was only to put an end to strife. Even if that choice led to her own rejection, it was enough for her as long as peace could be preserved.

But why was the princess’s fate so twisted?

Through Byakhyang’s eyes, Reina’s destiny revealed only three paths: ruin, despair, and oblivion.

What these three symbols meant exactly was unclear.

Normally, she would have discerned thousands—if not at least dozens—of potential outcomes.

This scarcity of visions was evidence of how much her divination abilities had weakened.

The hexagrams revealed only three words. As with all divinations, they were not absolute truths, but fragments of possibility.

If fortune-telling accuracy at even the best of times was a matter of six or seven out of ten, Byakhyang’s current abilities barely reached three.

‘Ruin likely represents the fall of the royal family. Despair must signify the loss of hope. And oblivion… it must mean the complete erasure of their history from the world.’

Piecing the fragments together, this was the most plausible interpretation she could manage.

“…What are you doing?”

Startled, Byakhyang halted her constant sighing, the sound of a voice snapping her back to the present.

She raised her head, realizing she had completely overlooked the presence of the young man standing before her.

Her delicate hand rose to cover her mouth, a reflexive gesture to conceal her lapse, before slowly lowering it again.

“Nothing. I was just… dwelling on unpleasant thoughts for a moment,” she replied softly.

Despite addressing the man, her gaze kept shifting toward Reina.

“Is it something to do with the princess? No, with Reina?” Keyal asked, immediately picking up on the connection.

“Hm… Yes. I cast a divination for her.”

“And? Was the reading ominous?”

Byakhyang nodded faintly.

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“Not just ominous—terrible. I looked once into her past and once into her future. Both times, the same fate appeared.”

Keyal tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his expression. Clearly, her explanation wasn’t clear enough for him, so she elaborated further.

“Allow me to clarify. Her ancestors’ karma has returned to her. A repeated destiny—one that cycles over and over again.”

“…Isn’t that the same thing?”

“It’s not,” she corrected. “There’s a difference between something being identical and something being similar. Think of it as the difference between reincarnation and cyclical repetition. Do you understand?”

Keyal shook his head, clearly still lost.

Byakhyang exhaled briefly, letting the matter drop for now. She made a sweeping gesture through the air, as though clearing away lingering thoughts, before addressing him more directly.

“So? Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

The Imoogi’s voice held a note of curiosity, though her skepticism lingered.

“I’ve come to ask for your help,” Keyal said simply.

“…Help? What kind of help?”

Byakhyang frowned. Was he truly asking her, who had distanced herself from the mortal world, for assistance?

Yet Keyal only tilted his head again, feigning ignorance and leaving her question unanswered.

Instead, he brushed past her, his steps carrying him toward the entrance of a small hut nearby.

“Mind if I go in? Even if you don’t, I’ve got plenty to talk about,” he said, flashing her a bright, disarming smile.

With that, the trailblazer casually led the way, inviting the spirit to follow.