Childhood Friend of the Zenith Novel MTL - Chapter 1037

Chapter 1037

A low hum vibrated through the air.

Behind Cheonma, a fissure tore open, its edges shimmering with a profound, unsettling violet. A shadowy mist seeped from the void, coiling in the air, and the sight of it made me scowl. I knew exactly why.

That rift—

‘It’s the one she used in my previous life.’

The dimensional tear Cheonma often opened to move between worlds.

At a glance, it was reminiscent of the Magyeong Gate, but no demonic beasts poured forth from it. Unlike the gate, it seemed to function solely as a passage—or for some other, unknown reason. I had never discovered what existed on the other side.

Its essence felt vaguely akin to the power Cheol Ji-seon once commanded—

‘But it’s not the same.’

Despite the similarity, I could sense a fundamental difference between this and the energy Cheol Ji-seon had wielded.

‘Why didn’t I notice it earlier?’

More pressingly—why had I forgotten? Cheonma could open rifts.

It had occurred before, at the Divine Dragon Pavilion—

‘She arrived through a rift that day.’

The tear she had opened then was nearly identical to this one. So how had I overlooked something so vital?

“…Hey.”
“Hm?”
“What is that? What is its purpose?”
“Hmm?”

Cheonma turned to look at me, then glanced back at the rift she had created. Her pale hand lifted and swept downward casually—

Kiiiiiiiik—!!!

The rift sealed shut with a horrifying, grating noise, vanishing entirely without a single trace left behind.

Cheonma’s voice followed—

“My home.”
“…Home?”
“Yes. Home.”

The word caused my eyes to narrow. What did she mean by home? A sudden idea formed in my mind.

“If you call it home… does that mean it leads to Zhongyuan?”

Cheonma’s home—where Gu Ryunghwa was.

If she referred to that place as her home, could this rift be a pathway back?

I voiced my suspicion aloud—

“No.”

Cheonma tilted her head slightly, her expression one of curiosity, as if my question was peculiar.

“That is not my home.”
“…What?”

If that wasn’t her home—then what was?

The disbelief in my tone must have been evident, for Cheonma’s eyes glimmered faintly before she asked—

“Would you like to see it? My home?”
“…”

What was she suggesting?

“If you wish, I can show you.”
“If your curiosity is great enough.”

My eyes widened. Was she… offering to show me?

‘But she never showed me before… not even once.’

In my past life, regardless of the situation, she had never allowed me to see it. I had never asked directly, but if I even hinted at interest, Cheonma’s response was always the same—

‘Curious, are you?’

Her lips would curve into that familiar, taunting smile—

‘Then cease your curiosity.’

Even if everything ended—

‘No matter what happens, I will never show you.’

The memory of those words resurfaced, and my gaze hardened.

Now, with such ease, she offered to reveal it if I simply agreed.

My answer came almost immediately—quicker than I anticipated.

“I am curious.”

Yes. I was. If I could see it—then I should.

I spoke without pausing—

“Alright.”

Cheonma nodded, her expression as placid as ever, and with a slight motion of her hand—

Kigigigigik—!!!

Her claws sliced through the air—

The rift reopened, the same violet-tinged, Magyeong-like gate as before.

Without delay, Cheonma stepped through the shimmering entrance.

Just as her form began to fade into the darkness, she looked back at me and said—

“Follow me.”
“…”

And then she was gone.

I stood alone, facing the rift.

I had said I was curious—

But was it truly wise to enter?

‘…Curiosity aside—’

I had been walking beside Cheonma far too comfortably, without fully considering what that implied.

And now, I was about to follow her into a place that radiated pure danger.

‘What if… this was her plan all along?’

It was possible.

I should never drop my guard, yet somehow, I already had.

‘…Tch.’

The thought made me hesitate.

Was stepping into the unknown truly a good idea?

As I stood there, uncertain—

Kiiiiiiiing—!!

The rift began to close.

At that sight—

I moved.

I stepped across the threshold, allowing myself to pass into the unknown.

The first sensation that hit me was one of familiarity.

The corridor of the rift was woven from Cheonma’s demonic energy—recognizable, yet disquieting in its foreign texture.

The passage stretched endlessly ahead. I walked, and continued walking—yet the end never seemed to draw nearer.

I remained vigilant. How could I not, when I was traversing a space composed entirely of Cheonma’s own power?

‘There’s no telling when this energy might suddenly turn on me.’

The danger was palpable, and I advanced, every step filled with tension.

Could this truly be an endless path? The doubt began to creep in—

But just then—

A light appeared in the distance. Was that the exit?

My pace quickened, instinctively pulled toward it—

Hwaaaaaak—!!!

My vision warped—colors swirled and blurred—before snapping into sharp focus as the scenery changed.

“…Huh?”

I frowned in confusion.

This place—

It was nothing like I had imagined.

I had prepared for a wasteland—a barren plain, a bleak and empty sky, and earth so decayed it turned to dust underfoot.

I had assumed it would resemble those forgotten realms—like the land where Mua had once lived.

But—

‘This is…’

It was nothing like that.

It was… clear. The sky was exceptionally clear.

Not quite blue—the sky held the warm tones of an endless twilight, the golden shade of a sun nearing the end of its descent.

There were no clouds, only a vast, open expanse, and I could sense the time—the moon was soon to rise.

The land itself—

Not barren or dead—

But an endless sea of soft, green grass stretching out around me.

And the sound—

The gentle murmur of water reached my ears.

I turned my head and saw a clear, sparkling stream flowing down from a valley in the distance.

Tall trees stood sentinel on all sides, their crowns forming a dense, vibrant canopy.

This place—

This was no forgotten ruin.

It was… too clear.

Too bright. Too vivid.

And yet—

“…Familiar?”

The feeling struck deep.

It felt familiar.

As if I had been here once before.

“What is this place…?”

That familiarity nagged at me.

Why did this place feel so known—so distant and yet so near?

“At first look… it almost brings Zhongyuan to mind.”

But every instinct insisted—

This was not Zhongyuan.

No—

Then what was this place?

I turned, searching for Cheonma.

“Where is she?”

Where could she be? I had no idea where I was, but finding her was the priority.

A soft rustling accompanied the wind as it blew past, carrying leaves that brushed lightly against me. A faint scent hung in the air.

It wasn’t extraordinary—just a familiar fragrance, one I had encountered many times before. Yet the moment it reached me, a strange, fluttering sensation stirred in my chest.

This feeling—it had been with me since I arrived. There was something odd about this place.

It was a sensation I had always known. Or perhaps, one I had always longed for.

‘No matter how I look at it…’

It felt like I had been here before.

“…Hah.”

I released a slow breath, gathering my energy. Whatever this place was, finding Cheonma came first.

I expanded my senses, pushing my perception to its limits, searching for any sign of her.

Cheonma had always been difficult to detect. Her presence was elusive, subtle—much like Wi Seol-ah’s.

I prepared for a difficult search—

But—

‘Huh?’

It was unnecessary.

The moment I reached out with my senses, I found her. The clarity of her presence was startling.

‘There.’

And she wasn’t far.

Without hesitation, I moved. My steps carried me swiftly toward her.

The trees blurred as I raced through the forest. In an instant, I arrived. My feet settled on soft grass as I halted, but a faint crease formed on my brow as I took in the scene before me.

The heart of the forest had been hollowed out, forming a clearing. It didn’t appear natural—

It was a garden, carefully cultivated and intentionally designed.

Drururuk—! Tak!

The rhythmic creak of a waterwheel reached my ears.

My gaze followed the sound to a pond, where the wheel turned steadily, maintaining the flow.

Beneath the water’s surface, koi fish swam in graceful arcs, their scales shimmering with vibrant colors.

The sight evoked a single thought—

Peace.

That was all.

Simply—peaceful and beautiful.

A gentle, rich warmth radiated from the well-kept garden, enveloping my senses.

It was astonishing. To think such a serene place existed beyond that ominous, violet-hued dimension.

And—

‘She called this place her home?’

Cheonma herself had named this—home.

The thought lingered as I quietly observed the surroundings. Why had she created something like this here?

Had Cheonma built this?

Yet—

‘Even this feels familiar.’

My eyes settled on the small dwelling at the garden’s heart. It wasn’t large—

A modest house, built of weathered wood, its wear softened by evident care and devotion. Though the structure showed its age, the love and attention poured into its upkeep were undeniable.

A home like this wasn’t unique. It was the sort of simple house I might have seen anywhere in Zhongyuan. Recognizing it shouldn’t have been strange—

But—

‘No. It’s not that kind of familiarity.’

It wasn’t familiar because it resembled Zhongyuan’s homes, or because it reminded me of some place I had passed long ago.

This familiarity—

It was something deeper.

It came not from memory, but from instinct, raw and undeniable.

I knew—

I had seen this place before.

Not something like it—

This exact place.

It wasn’t my mind telling me—

It was something deeper.

Perhaps—

My heart.

Thump.

It pounded.

The scent, the scenery, the very air—everything around me stirred my heart into a heavy, insistent rhythm.

My vision trembled.

I stood motionless, speechless, unable to look away from the small house.

Seconds passed—

Then minutes—

Until—

“Here.”

A voice.

The single word broke the silence, and I turned toward it.

Beyond the pond, seated on the porch of the wooden house—

Cheonma.

Her long black hair shifted softly in the breeze, the sound of the waterwheel a quiet backdrop to her stillness. The golden light of the setting sun spilled across the scene, casting her figure in a soft, dreamlike glow.

She narrowed her eyes against the sun’s glare and lifted a hand, shading her violet eyes from the light.

Her gaze, calm and distant, met mine—

Then—

“Here.”

She patted the spot beside her—twice.

A simple gesture, light and wordless.

The meaning, however, was clear—

She was telling me to come.

And in that moment—

—Come. Sit here.

Her voice—

It brushed against my ears—

But her lips—

Had not moved.

The voice had been hers—

Yet she had not spoken.

Despite that—

My body moved.

Without understanding why, without questioning—

I walked forward and sat down beside her.