Chapter 59
So I had intended to settle things just a little in advance, but…
‘To strike a deal with the Black Moon Sect Leader, there was no way to do it halfway…’
Just as with Jeok-o, dealing with people of the Jianghu was not something one could approach casually.
In any case, it seemed safe to leave the Cheonmun Family’s future problems to Yeom Jihwa and the escort guards.
“Anyway, you’ve all worked hard. The Red Sand Gang and the Black Moon Sect will inevitably clash in the end. Escort Leader Yeom, please make sure the guards are instructed so that no harm comes to the Cheonmun Family.”
“Yes, Hall Lord.”
Hearing Yeom Jihwa’s reply, I began to wrap things up.
“Innkeeper, thank you for coming all this way.”
“Not at all. If someday you would let us hear your performance, Hall Lord, I would help with anything.”
The owner of Cheonhwa Inn added pointedly, as if pressing me.
At that, Danhyang stepped in with a smile.
“I heard from the innkeeper that you performed at Cheonhwa Inn. To have heard the Hall Lord’s music in person—your guests must have been truly blessed.”
“My playing only livens things up occasionally. It’s not something I should be saying to Senior Sister Danhyang, who is renowned as the representative artist of Jeolhyang.”
At my words, the innkeeper opened his mouth to say something, then glanced at Danhyang and firmly shut it again. Danhyang cast me a gentle sideways look, smiling as she shook her head.
Once they left, the people of the White Tiger Hall offered their farewells one by one.
“Then, Hall Lord, we’ll be taking our leave.”
“Call us if there’s more work.”
When everyone had gone outside, only Muryeon and I remained.
Behind the White Tiger Hall Lord’s quarters lay a rear garden with a small pond.
The sun had already begun to set, and the glow of dusk sank into the water.
Muryeon and I walked there together.
“So there’s a place like this inside the White Tiger Hall.”
The carp my father had raised rushed toward me, snapping at the water, apparently thinking I would feed them.
“I hear Father made this as a resting place for the escort guards.”
Watching the sunset here naturally lifted one’s spirits. Along with the rustling of willow branches, the once-chill breeze had taken on a gentle warmth.
When I scattered the feed I’d brought, the carp swarmed toward me.
“What will happen to Miss Danhyang?”
“She’ll be staying in a guest room at Sohyang Pavilion for the time being. Thanks to that, my ears will be quite pampered.”
“Hm.”
Muryeon tilted his head slightly.
“I thought I was fairly close to you, Hall Lord.”
“Isn’t this already getting close pretty fast?”
“It is. Enough that I nearly fell for you.”
“…I already said I was sorry about saying that to my grandfather.”
I glared at him, but he ignored my gaze.
“No matter that I’m only a guest escort, shouldn’t you explain things to me in more detail? I’m hurt.”
Muryeon was curious about what I had said to Miss Danhyang.
Pretending not to notice his interest, I deliberately took out a coin pouch.
“Here. This is your payment for the commission.”
“Oh?”
“You saved Senior Sister Danhyang and even testified, so I set the special wage at one silver coin.”
“…I’ll accept it.”
Muryeon took the pouch from me and slipped it into his robes.
“But if Miss Danhyang is your senior sister, Hall Lord, that means you’re also a disciple of Yugeum Jeolhyang…”
“You know Master Yugeum Jeolhyang?”
“Anyone in the Central Plains with even a bit of appreciation for refined arts knows that name.”
“So you’re someone who understands elegance? No wonder you seem so skilled with women…”
At my teasing reply, Muryeon laughed easily.
“It’s true that I’m his last disciple.”
“Last? Did Yugeum Jeolhyang pass away?”
“Yes. He’s now buried in Hyangjukrim. I heard his health had already been poor when he left the imperial palace. He had been poisoned.”
My master, Yugeum Jeolhyang, had been an unparalleled genius who wandered the Central Plains and reached the pinnacle of sound.
He had originally served as a court musician in the imperial palace, but after rendering great service, he left beyond the palace walls.
“He was struck by an extreme poison called Hwa-ryeongchodo. With no antidote, he carried the poison in his chest when he left the imperial family. After that, he took in abandoned children across the Central Plains as disciples and taught them with care.”
To protect his disciples, Master founded Jeolhyang as an organization.
That he was buried in Hyangjukrim, where they lived, even after his death showed how he wished to protect the disciples he had raised with the last of his life.
“I received his teachings here in Nanjing for many years.”
“I see…”
“But since I learned it as part of my refinement, my playing isn’t anything remarkable.”
“Judging by the innkeeper’s and Miss Danhyang’s reactions earlier, that doesn’t seem to be the case…”
I shrugged at Muryeon’s words.
In the past, by my own standards, I had been nothing more than an average performer.
But after learning sound-based martial arts, things changed.
I came to understand what my master’s teachings truly meant.
Those techniques laid the foundation of sound martial arts and allowed me to use melodies capable of subtly manipulating human emotions.
“I thought I’d investigated you thoroughly, Hall Lord… yet there are still many things hard to grasp. Are you perhaps skilled in poetry, calligraphy, music, and painting as well?”
“I learned them all. But I’m not outstanding in every one.”
“Well. That does seem true.”
Muryeon let out a short laugh.
“About that wanted sketch of Miss Danhyang—did you draw it yourself, Hall Lord?”
“So what if I did?”
“The drawing was so bad it startled me. Still, you captured her features well enough that I could recognize her.”
“As long as you recognized her, that’s enough…”
I was capable in many things, but for some reason, I had absolutely no talent for painting.
At least I was good at capturing distinguishing features, so my wanted sketches had a high success rate.
Perhaps recalling the drawing again, Muryeon couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.
“I’d like to hear your performance as well, Hall Lord.”
“You already have.”
I meant the sound technique I used on Wanmei when rescuing Chor-yeong, Heo Sangdo’s daughter.
“There wasn’t time to appreciate it then. How about playing one piece for me now?”
He added wistfully.
“My performances are very expensive.”
“How much would it cost?”
When Muryeon reached for the pouch he’d just received, I burst out laughing.
“I was joking. Instead of a fee, may I ask you one thing I’m curious about?”
“As long as it’s something I can answer.”
“Good. That’s a promise.”
As soon as he replied, I raised my baekjeok flute.
As the sound of the flute spread on the breeze, even the fish that had been snapping eagerly for food began to glide gently beneath the pond, as if they had never been hungry at all.
The rustling of willows in the wind blended with the sorrowful yet beautiful melody.
Muryeon listened intently until I finished playing.
His expression did not change, but deep in his eyes lay an unmistakable sense of longing.
The moment I finished, Muryeon drew in a soft breath.
“I don’t know much about music. But it was a performance that left a corner of my heart aching.”
His voice was slightly hoarse.
“It’s a piece I learned from Master Yugeum Jeolhyang.”
A famous poem from antiquity, Thoughts on a Quiet Night, set to music by my master himself.
It was a song filled with longing for one’s hometown and mother.
“Whenever I see this baekjeok, that piece comes to mind.”
Muryeon nodded, as if he understood.
“What kind of person was my mother?”
“….”
At my question, Muryeon fell silent for a moment.
“She was like a walnut—hard on the outside, soft on the inside.”
Though it was something from long ago, he answered as if describing someone he’d seen just yesterday.
“Muryeon… were you perhaps in love with my mother?”
When I widened my eyes, the smooth lines of Muryeon’s brow twisted sharply.
“Hah…”
He let out a helpless sigh.
“Do you know how many years apart you and I are?”
“How would I know? You never told me.”
“I parted from your mother before I was even six years old.”
I had heard that Muryeon met my mother before I was born.
“Then are you about twenty-three or twenty-four now? You look younger than I expected.”
“Do I really look that old?”
“Well… there are martial artists with profound inner strength who maintain their youth. I wondered if you might be one of them.”
“Thank you for thinking so kindly of me.”
Muryeon shrugged, as if conceding he couldn’t win an argument with me.
‘Before he was even six… that’s younger than Eun-a is now…’
I was surprised that Muryeon still held such deep affection for my mother, whom he had met at such a young age.
“It doesn’t necessarily mean romantic feelings between a man and a woman… You might have liked her the way one loves a mother.”
When I added that defensively, Muryeon was left speechless.
Perhaps I had struck the mark.
The reply I expected quickly came a beat late.
“…I have no memory of my own birth mother. That may be why my memories of Cheon-riyeong linger so strongly.”
To him, perhaps my mother had been someone who meant even more than a real mother.
It felt as though I had glimpsed a fragment of his guarded past.
