A Bird With Soft Wings Gazes High

As more and more children found their Hope Bugs, they walked out of the field one by one, forming a line before the Old Grand Elder. Despite his cloudy eyes, the elder could somehow still see the children before him. One by one, they stepped forward, and his shaky right hand roved over their heads, pausing briefly before moving on.

North watched, but his little brain was too small to comprehend what the old elder was checking for.

Only when the elder let him go did he bolt straight to his mother, throwing his arms around her as tightly as he could.

Fern bent down, smiling as she looked at him with a strange expression. “Did you cry inside?” she asked.

North immediately shook his head.

"Why would I cry?" He wiped his eyes hastily. “Papa said big boys never cry.”

Fern chuckled, ruffling his hair lightly. Meanwhile, his father, who had arrived beside them at some point, cleared his throat to get their attention. North had completely ignored him and ran straight to his mother. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his father’s face. Was he lacking as a father? He silently wondered. Perhaps he was. But North always listened to him, always soaked in every word he said, and that, at least, made him content.

"Papa!"

North finally turned to him, and before he knew it, his father lifted him into his arms and—Threw him into the air. North squealed with laughter as his father caught him, then tossed him up again. Once, twice, three, four times.

His earlier anxieties vanished, replaced with pure joy. "More! More! More!" he whined between breathless giggles.

But his father held him close this time, smiling fondly. "My son can finally become a Dungeon Master."

His voice held something rare—pride. Then, with a smirk, he used his fingers to tickle North’s stomach, making him squirm and laugh even harder. He was happy. They all were.

Aside, Fatty Heo basked in rarely seen affection from his parents. His mother smothered him with kisses, her voice dripping with pride, while his father's chest was puffed out as if he had personally conquered a mountain. Their son had been chosen by the Hope Bug—he would be able to form a Dungeon Boundary. That alone was worth a celebration. In fact, his father had been so overcome with pride and joy that, out of nowhere, he had promised to slaughter another chicken that night. The news made Heo a little sad—after all, instead of three hens, they would be left with only two. But in the end, food was food.

And why did it matter? Their son had a future.

Beside the chief, a haughty girl stood with a calm expression, though her nose was still scrunched up from her earlier annoyance. She took another glance at North and finally realized the boy she had mistaken for a ghost was actually just a stupid little boy. After a few minutes of internal struggle, she made up her mind—she was going to teach him a lesson.

How dare he make her fall?

He needed to learn some manners. Of course, she reminded herself not to go overboard—this wasn’t her home, and she had to be careful.

But as always, happiness meant little in the life of a Dungeon Master. It was fleeting, gone in an instant, replaced by new problems jumping at you from every direction.

Out of the hundred children who had stepped into Heart Flower Valley, only forty or so had been lucky enough to be chosen by the Hope Bug. For the rest, their dreams had already ended.

The Chief sighed, his gaze sweeping over the gathered children, his expression unreadable. The number of those who had attracted Hope had been shrinking year after year, and this year was no different. Another generation with fewer chosen ones. This was not just a disappointment—it was a warning. After all, there was an old saying:

"The more, the better. The fewer the Dungeon Masters, the weaker the clan. And the weaker the clan, the greater the dangers lurking beyond the mountains."

"Come back, all of you," the old elder’s voice boomed, strong enough to carry through the valley, calling back every lost child still searching in vain.

And then—the joyous occasion crumbled.

Crying.

Loud, gut-wrenching wails filled the air. The once-excited children who had hoped, who had believed, now stood devastated. Their sobs echoed through the field, so sharp and piercing that even the elders of the clan winced at the sound.

The parents, however, stood frozen. What were they supposed to do? How could they possibly comfort their little sweethearts when their future had just been ripped away? How did they explain to them that they would spend the rest of their lives only looking up—watching others raise mountains, summon storms, and perform great feats they had only ever heard about in childhood stories? How did they tell them… They would never be part of that world? That this was life. Not all dreams come true.

After the ceremony, great changes would happen in the village's usual routine.

Those who had found a hope bug were led by their parents away happily, while those not, took short and hesitated steps. Their lives were about to get a little tough from now on.

The next day, forty or so children gathered once again at the clan manor. More specifically, they stood in a courtyard connected to the kitchen, the air filled with the faint aroma of morning broth. Now that these children had a chance to form the Dungeon Boundary, they were no longer just clan’s children. They were future Dungeon Masters. For the first few years—until they turned ten or twelve, depending on how many resources the clan could gather—they would be raised and trained within the main manor.

This was their first step toward a future beyond the ordinary.

Fatty Heo nudged North with his elbow, making him squirm in his seat. Then with a grin so wide it nearly split his face, Fatty grabbed a skillfully roasted leg of meat, tearing into it like a starving beast. His eyes half-closed in bliss as he chewed, completely lost in the flavors.

Earlier, the chef had told them they could eat as much as they wanted—until their stomachs couldn’t fit anymore. And Fatty Heo, true to his name, took full advantage of this offer. He devoured everything in sight, swallowing chunks of meat like a whale gulping down water.

North watched with a mix of amusement and concern. At this rate, in a few days, he might not even recognize his best friend anymore. But he had to admit—the meat was something else. He had never tasted anything so juicy, so rich, so unbelievably good. Every bite was a burst of flavor, unlike anything he had ever eaten before.

Yet, something strange happened every time he took a big bite. A warm sensation traveled down his throat, pooling deep in his stomach. It wasn’t an uncomfortable heat, but it was different. It lingered, collected, as if his body was absorbing more than just food. He glanced around, half-expecting someone else to notice the same thing. But no one reacted. No one seemed to feel what he felt.

He chewed in silence, lost in thought. Then, finally, he made up his mind. “I’ll ask the teacher.”

After their morning meal, the children were allowed to rest for a few hours, their full stomachs making it easy to drift into sleep. When they woke up, they were once again met with an overwhelming feast, plates stacked high with meat, rich broths, and fragrant dishes.

This routine continued, day after day.

At first, North found it amusing—watching Fatty Heo grow rounder and rounder, stuffing himself like there was no tomorrow. But soon, he was no different.

His belly, once small and flat, had rounded out just like Heo’s, and every time he looked down at himself, he let out a deep sigh.

He wanted to eat less, but his father and mother wouldn’t allow it.

“You don’t understand,” his father had told him one evening. “This is a huge opportunity for you. Not even we are allowed to eat the kind of food you’re being given.”

His mother nodded in agreement. “Every day, teams of hunters go deeper into the mountains, using their Dungeon Boundaries strength to hunt. They bring back the most powerful creatures they can find, and that’s what you’re eating.”

North listened carefully, his mind piecing things together.

This wasn’t just about feeding them. This was about building strength.

Though, North still hadn’t found an answer to the tingling sensation in his stomach after every meal. Every bite sent a strange warmth spreading through his body, collecting deep inside his stomach, but no one seemed to notice or question it.

When he finally gathered the courage to ask, his teacher simply said, “It will be explained later. When you are big enough to understand.”

So, for now, he let it go.

Instead, he allowed himself to enjoy the feast, savoring every bite of the rich, juicy meals set before them.

As more time passed, the years slipped by, and soon, North and Fatty Heo were ten years old.

By now, the little but fat poet and the boy who ate too much had built a strange reputation for themselves.

Every day, after their meals, while the other children napped, the two of them would sneak to the courtyard boundary, restless from eating too much. They would stand there, watching the older boys practice and fight, their eyes glued to the spectacle before them.

Of course, it was always North who dragged Fatty Heo along. At first, Fatty grumbled, but after a while, even he had to admit—the fights were something else.

Like most days, the summer sky stretched wide above them, dotted with big, fluffy clouds. Despite the heat, a cool breeze swept through the air, carrying the soft rustling of bamboo leaves.

The long, thick stalks of green bamboo swayed in the wind, their fluttering leaves creating a chime-like melody.

The pleasant atmosphere made them extra sleepy, their full stomachs adding to the drowsiness. But North kept his eyes open.

On the mud stage, nestled between the circle of towering bamboo, two boys fought. Or rather, they practiced—their wooden swords clashing with sharp, precise movements. Both of them had impressive physiques, their shirts off, revealing lean, defined muscles.

The first boy lunged forward, his speed unnatural for his age, but the second boy reacted just as fast, blocking the strike effortlessly before they separated again. The first boy attacked from another angle, swinging with practiced ease. Again, the second boy blocked efficiently, his movements smooth, controlled—almost effortless.

North didn’t recognize the first boy, but the second one was different. He was from a high-ranking family in the village—his grandparent was an elder of high position. North had seen the elder from afar before, standing among the most respected figures of the clan. Watching them fight, something stirred inside North. He wasn’t sure what it was—but he knew he wanted to understand it.

"Hey, stupid poet and little fatty!" Someone called out. "Come here."

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North and Fatty Heo’s entertainment came to an abrupt halt. Both of them froze like spooked cats, their heads slowly turning toward the source of the voice. The moment North laid eyes on the figure standing before them, his face twisted in horror. It was a girl. No—a monster. No—far worse than a monster.

"I said come down," the little girl commanded, arms crossed over her chest. Her tone was casual, but her posture was anything but.

"Do you want me to beat you two?" she asked, flashing a sweet, innocent smile—while her fist lifted in clear threat.

Fatty Heo, filled with instant fear, jumped down without hesitation, his feet barely touching the ground before he stood at attention. North, however, hesitated. He knew exactly what she wanted—and he wanted no part of it.

The girl clicked her tongue. "Tsk, tsk," she muttered, shaking her head dramatically. "Someone has actually gotten brave and doesn't remember his last beating."

North’s face immediately paled. Memories of past suffering surfaced. Without another word, he leapt down, landing beside Fatty Heo in surrender. The girl’s smug grin widened as she placed both hands behind her back, imitating the way elders stood when giving lectures. North swallowed his complaints.

Actually, he had no idea where this girl had come from. All he knew was that one day, right before their ceremony a few years ago, someone from the outside world had dropped her here. Since then, she had lived in the chief’s house—and from that day forward, she had made his life a living nightmare.

And the reason why he and Fatty Heo had gotten beaten in the first place was, ultimately, his own fault.

One day, he had felt a little too confident, a little too carefree, his curiosity getting the better of him.

This girl was too mysterious, always keeping to herself, so he had gathered all the courage he had and walked up to her. With his most polite and gentlemanly tone, he had asked her—

“Do you want to play with us?”

But the reply he received was sharp and insulting. "Have you looked at yourself in the mirror first?"

North had stood there, stunned, confused. What was wrong with her? Yes, he was a little fat, but that was because he ate too much! And he needed to eat to grow stronger, didn’t he? Even the elders said so! Besides, in his neighborhood, there wasn’t a single girl who didn’t like pinching his cheeks and calling him handsome and smart. He had always been told—North was the handsomest and smartest little boy they had ever seen. He was the apple of many aunties' eyes. So, it must be her eyes that were broken.

That day, he came to that conclusion, and something stirred deep within him. His inner poet awoke, taking a bold leap into the air.

With the confidence of a true scholar, he spoke his thoughts through a poem on the spot:

Rain falls on green fields, ponds overflow,

A cow sees her reflection, a swan in show.

And that was the moment everything went wrong.

The poem had angered her so much that she had beaten both him and Fatty Heo red and blue. And North’s fear of her was no joke. She was terrifyingly good at fighting. Even with his and Fatty Heo’s combined weight, they couldn’t overpower her—a tall but skinny girl. She had humiliated them effortlessly, making sure they never forgot who was stronger.

Finally, she beckoned them forward, and North and Fatty Heo had no choice but to follow her. The path led them to a quiet courtyard, far from prying eyes. A cool breeze rustled the bamboo leaves, but for the two unwilling lackeys, there was no peace here—only suffering.

Jade flopped onto a reclining chair, stretching out as if she owned the place. She let out a long, exaggerated sigh and threw her feet onto the wooden table in front of her.

"I had to practice too much today..." she complained, her voice dripping with exhaustion.

North and Fatty Heo exchanged a glance—they both knew exactly what was coming next. They weren’t just lackeys. They were her personal servants. And whom could they even complain to? The girl lived in the chief’s house. With resigned sighs, North and Heo stepped forward. North grabbed one of her arms, Fatty Heo took the other, and they began kneading her muscles, their small hands working their way up slowly, squeezing and pressing with careful precision.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Fatty Heo, ever the opportunist, suddenly had an idea. His voice turned pitiful, his tone as sweet as honey.

"Big Sister Jade..." he began, blinking up at her with his round, pleading eyes.

Jade merely raised a brow but said nothing, so he continued.

"You're so pretty and elegant," he said, his voice laced with pure flattery. "Why don’t you let us go? I still have to finish the homework the teacher gave me, and I’m so pitiful…"

He sighed dramatically.

"My papa beats me every day if I don’t help him cut grass for our cows in the morning. I don’t even get full sleep. So why don’t you let me go?"

North’s jaw nearly hit the floor. This traitor! Was he really trying to bribe her with compliments?! When he had called her a cow on her face!

Jade’s lips curled into a snigger, her silver-moonlike eyes filled with amusement.

"Stop calling me ‘Big Sister,’ you fatty," she said lazily. "Unless you want to be beaten up again."

Heo immediately shut his mouth, shrinking slightly.

Then, she turned her glare onto North. "And you."

North stiffened. "Why are your hands stiff today?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "Massage my shoulders better. Otherwise..."

"Otherwise what?"

North’s anger flared. His little heart couldn’t take the humiliation anymore. He took two steps back, his small fists clenching at his sides. Enough was enough. All those afternoons spent watching the older boys fight on the bamboo stage, all those hours wasted staring at half-naked men swinging wooden swords instead of enjoying his precious afternoon naps—It was time to put everything he had learned to the test.

His stance shifted, determination blazing in his eyes. He was going to fight her.

Fatty Heo panicked immediately. "Stop it! What are you doing?"

He rushed to North’s side, his pudgy arms wrapping around his waist, trying to hold him back. "Do you want to be beaten?!" Heo hissed, his voice filled with pure terror.

North fake-struggled, wriggling just enough to make it look real—but truthfully, his courage was only skin-deep. He was still scared of Jade. But how could he always let her walk all over them? If this continued, it would one day become a black mark on his career of scholar, poet and mighty Dungeon Master.

"Don’t stop me, Heo! I’m going to fight her now!" His voice was filled with righteous fury—though deep down, he was praying Heo would actually keep holding him back.

"How could she always humiliate you and me?" he argued, still twisting in Heo’s grip. "She needs to be taught a lesson—to appreciate others!"

His words were noble. His resolve was weak.

And Jade?

She was watching. And she was amused by the stupid boy’s sudden courage.

However, before North could take a single step forward, an unexpected interruption arrived in the form of an unwelcome fly.

"How dare you speak to Little Sister Jade like that?"

A boy, the same age as them, strode over with an unmistakable haughty expression. His posture reeked of arrogance, chin lifted high, arms crossed like he owned the place. The grandchild of the chief. North and Heo exchanged a look—of all people, it had to be him.

Jade’s frown deepened. She didn’t like this boy.

Not because he was arrogant, not because he flaunted his status, but because he always inserted himself into everything she did.

If she wanted to train in fighting, he wanted to train with her. If she wanted to learn how to swing a sword, he suddenly took an interest in swordplay. And when she changed her focus to learning how to sew clothes, he actually requested his mother to let him learn with her.

He never left her alone. He was always there, breathing down her neck, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. And she hated it. But what could she do? She was merely a guest in this village. Despite being here for three and a half years, no one here was her family. So, she couldn’t complain.

Her fists clenched behind her back.

"What do you want?" Heo immediately snapped, glaring at the unwelcome guest.

"Why are you here?" Jade asked, her voice laced with pure annoyance.

But Cleo ignored her. Instead, he walked straight up to North and Heo, his lips curling into a smug snigger.

"Why are you two lowlifes complaining if little sister Jade asked for some help?"

His voice carried undisguised arrogance, his gaze looking down on them like they were insects.

"Are you or your families in a position to complain? To refuse anything we ask of you?"

North’s glare sharpened. "What?" His brows furrowed, not fully understanding what this idiot was even trying to say.

"Who are you calling lowlife?!" Heo barked, his face already turning red with anger.

"You," Cleo spat with pure disdain.

His eyes held the unshaken arrogance of someone who had never been challenged before. After all, he was the grandson of the chief. He had grown up differently from North and Heo, raised in an environment of power and privilege.

It was natural for him to look down on the weak—or so he believed. Perhaps this was how his father had taught him, how his family had molded him. Strength ruled, and those without it deserved to be beneath others. Fatty Heo raised a trembling finger, his mouth opening—but no words came out. He wanted to argue, to fight back, but the sheer rage on North’s face had already surpassed his own.

North didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward. His fist connected with Cleo’s face.

A sharp thwack echoed in the courtyard, followed by a stunned silence.

North had always believed—if you’re not helping, and if you’re not affected by something, then you have no right to talk badly about others.

Cleo had spoken too much. But Cleo wasn’t just some spoiled brat. For the past two years, he had been learning how to fight—and not just from anyone. He had trained with Jade. And she was a much fiercer opponent than North could ever dream of being. So, before North could even think about what he had done, Cleo lunged back.

Fists and legs flew. North barely dodged the first punch before another came straight at his ribs. Heo yelped but had no time to escape—he was dragged into the cHeos. Soon, the three boys were brawling in the dirt, rolling, clothes torn and covered in dust. One leg flailed in one direction, a fist landed somewhere else—it was a wild mess of limbs and anger.

Though, unsurprisingly…

It was mostly North and Heo getting beaten. Their faces turned red with bruises, their bodies sore from the relentless punches. Yet, they didn’t back down.

Jade hurriedly got up, her expression shifting from amusement to urgency as she stepped between them, arms outstretched to force them apart. It took more effort than expected, but after much grappling and shoving, she finally managed to pry the three boys apart before they completely tore their clothes to shreds.

Breathing hard, she turned to North, her golden eyes narrowing at his already swollen face.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her tone somewhere between concern and exasperation.

North huffed, ignoring her, his bruised body aching from head to toe. Fatty Heo, looking equally battered and bruised, trailed right behind him as they stormed off the courtyard, their dignity in shambles. Today had been a hard lesson. As North strode forward, his mind burned with a single thought— These rich and powerful people were not like him. They lived by different rules, they humiliated anyone and made things difficult for everyone.

And if he had any sense, he should stay away from them as much as possible.

But they didn’t go home immediately. Instead, they wandered through the mountain village, circling aimlessly until they arrived at a quiet valley, a place where few people ventured.

There, they climbed onto a thick tree branch, letting the cool air wash over them. Shame burned deep. Humiliation shimmered on their faces. Beaten black and blue, they sat in silence, their pride wounded more than their bodies.

After a long pause, Heo sniffled.

“Why are we even here?” he muttered, his voice thick with suppressed tears.

He rubbed at his nose, his lip trembling. “We should just go home. It’s about to get dark. What if… what if the old granny ghost finds us?” His voice dropped to a whisper.

He was terrified of the dark.

North turned to him, his own face still swollen and sore. “And when you go home,” he asked slowly, “do you want to get beaten by your papa too?”

Heo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought about that.

But then, Heo shook his head. "Why would my papa beat me? He always comes home beaten by others." His voice carried a strange mix of resignation and amusement, as if it were just a fact of life.

"My mum even bought a special medicine from the doctor on the corner for his wounds. He gives us a discount because we buy it so often." He shook his head again, sighing.

North, however, wasn’t as lucky. Getting beaten by Jade was one thing. At the end of the day, if they listened to what she said, she would often give them sweets—or, on rare occasions, a precious copper coin. And copper coins were no joke. Even his mother never gave him that. Besides, Even when Jade hit them, she never struck hard enough to leave a bruise, so he never had to explain anything at home.

But what was he going to tell his mother now? He had come home beaten by the village chief’s grandson. Instead of giving him medicine, she might knock him over the head and drag him straight to their house to apologize. He had seen it happen before. And it never ended well.

"Fatty," North called out, his voice low with intent. "I heard your papa is part of the hunting group that collects our meals?"

Heo scratched his head, blinking in confusion. "Yeah. He says it’s really dangerous to hunt those beasts in the mountains. Every month, at least two or three people get killed by them."

North nodded, his little brain working through the bits and pieces of information he had gathered over the years. If it was so dangerous, then the beasts must be powerful. And if they were powerful, then eating them must have some effect on their bodies.

He pondered for a moment before making up his mind.

"Then, let’s go on a hunt tomorrow."

Heo froze.

Then he exclaimed in horror—"Did his kicks damage your head?"

North immediately smacked his leg, making Heo yelp.

"Do you think I’m stupid? I’m not talking about fighting big beasts—I’m talking about small game. A rabbit, or maybe a little snake. We need to learn how to be adults. Otherwise, everyone will keep bullying us. Even a nobody. "

Heo’s face lit up at the idea, but the excitement sent a jolt of pain through his swollen face, making him wince. Still, his belly jiggled as he grinned.

"I’ll grab my papa’s old tools! We don’t have to listen to that stupid Jade anymore. She’s too much."

"Yeah." North agreed, feeling a new spark of excitement bubbling in his chest. And he suddenly remembered a phrase from his poem book:

A bird with soft wings gazes high,

While the great roc rides winds and splits the sky.

Tomorrow, they would hunt.