SWNOVELXO Chapter 4: The blade in my hand was meant for her
Chapter Four: The Blade in My Hand Was Meant for Her
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"Love is not always a promise.
Sometimes, it is a wound — wrapped in snow and silence."
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Eun-woo had stopped dreaming peacefully long ago.
At first, they had been hazy. Just sounds. A girl crying. A courtyard buried under fresh snow. Someone whispering a name — not his own, but a name that felt like home.
But now the dreams were sharper.
Now, he saw her.
Now, he saw himself.
And tonight… he saw the blood.
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The dream began the same.
He stood beneath a cherry blossom tree, though it was already winter. The sky was pale gray, full of silence. Before him stood Seorin, her hanbok flapping gently in the cold wind. Her eyes were wide, wet — not with fear, but something worse.
"You promised me," she said.
He couldn't answer.
His hand trembled.
And in it… was a blade.
A short dagger, gleaming silver, shaking with the weight of indecision.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because if you live… they all die."
His voice broke with the words, as if they didn't belong to him.
She took a step forward.
"Then let them die."
His heart split. His knees buckled.
She placed her hands over his — around the blade.
And she pulled it toward her chest.
"I'd rather die by your hand than live in a world without you."
And just before the blade pierced skin—
Eun-woo woke up screaming.
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He shot upright in bed, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
Sweat soaked his back.
His throat ached, as if he'd been crying.
He stumbled toward the sink, splashed cold water on his face, then vomited into the drain. His body rejected the dream like poison.
But the image wouldn't leave him.
Her face.
His hand.
The dagger.
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He stared at himself in the mirror.
The crescent scar on his wrist throbbed, as if it remembered what he couldn't.
Or maybe — what he refused to accept.
"What if I'm not the one who saved her?" he whispered.
> "What if I'm the one who… killed her?"
The words felt like acid.
And yet, deep in his chest… something nodded.
---
Ji-hye didn't sleep that night either.
Instead, she sat at her kitchen table with a mug of cold tea and a pile of old journals. Her fingertips traced over the page she'd written last night — the one with the dream of Seorin and the unknown script that seemed to appear on its own.
She had tried to search it online, even used image recognition apps.
Nothing.
But it felt so familiar.
Not just the symbols… but the feeling of writing them.
She knew this language.
Even if she shouldn't.
---
Around noon, she took a walk — not to clear her head, but to follow a pull she couldn't explain.
She found herself on the old hillside, just outside the city. The trees were thinner here, and the wind carried the scent of incense and snow. An old shrine sat at the top — barely maintained, but somehow still sacred.
She had never been here before.
But her feet knew the way.
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As she approached the shrine, she saw an elderly woman sitting beneath a maple tree. She wore layered gray robes and a straw hat that shaded her eyes. She held prayer beads in one hand, a walking stick in the other.
Ji-hye tried to walk past her quietly, but the woman spoke:
"Lady Seorin."
Ji-hye froze.
Slowly, she turned.
"…What did you say?"
The woman tilted her head, blind eyes scanning her face without seeing.
"You're wearing a different skin this time. But I'd recognize your soul anywhere."
A chill passed down Ji-hye's spine. "How do you know that name?"
The woman smiled, lips cracked from age. "Because I watched you die."
Ji-hye stepped back instinctively.
"No," the woman said calmly. "You have nothing to fear from me. I was just a servant, a silent one. I swept the floors of the temple the night you bled on the snow."
"…This is insane."
> "Is it?" the woman asked gently. "Then how did you find your way back here — to the place where you first prayed to never forget him?"
Ji-hye's breath caught.
Her legs felt like ice.
"I don't remember praying here," she whispered.
> "But your soul does."
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The woman raised her head toward the sky.
> "You and Lord Harin were always destined to find each other again. But destiny… is not always kind."
Ji-hye's hands clenched.
Eun-woo.
"Harin… was that his name? Before?"
The woman nodded.
> "He loved you once. Enough to defy the heavens. But he was the blade. And you… were the sacrifice."
Tears welled in Ji-hye's eyes before she could stop them.
The words felt like truth.
Even if she didn't understand them.
> "If he remembers everything…" the woman said softly, "you'll die again."
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Ji-hye backed away slowly, heart pounding.
She didn't ask who the woman was.
She didn't want to know.
She just ran.
Down the hill, past the old shrine, until the city swallowed her again.
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That night, she saw him again.
Eun-woo stood by the Hanseong River — same spot where they'd first reunited.
He turned when he heard her footsteps, but didn't smile.
Something in his face had changed.
Deeper lines beneath his eyes.
More silence between his words.
"You've been dreaming again," Ji-hye said quietly.
He didn't ask how she knew.
He simply nodded.
"I remember holding a knife," he whispered. "And I think… I was the one who ended your life."
Ji-hye stepped closer, her hands shaking. "I met someone today. An old woman who claims to have watched me die."
Eun-woo blinked slowly.
They were both trembling.
He reached for her hand — and for a split second, as their fingers touched—
A red thread flickered between their wrists.
Thin. Glowing. Faint as moonlight.
It vanished as quickly as it appeared.
But they both saw it.
Their eyes met.
And in unspoken agreement, they both knew:
> This was not their first winter.
And if they didn't break the pattern — it might be their last.