Contrary to expectations, Sahyeon didn’t show up today either. In the end, I came back wanting. Not that it mattered—I was only out for a walk, technically.
Still, what the hell is he doing? What kind of servant blows off his job this blatantly? Isn’t that a little too lazy, even for someone undercover?
While I was grumbling to myself, Hyangah tilted her head, holding the clothes she’d brought for me to change into.
“You marched off like you were off to swat flies with a vengeance, but why do you look so pissed? Missed your shot?”
“Pissed? I’m perfectly calm.”
Hyangah didn’t press. Instead, she just said this:
“If it’s ever too frustrating, just say the word. I’ll wipe those damn flies off the face of the earth.”
Seems like Hyangah knows those ‘flies’ I’m hunting aren’t actual insects. I nodded vaguely, then suddenly grabbed her arm just as she was about to leave.
“Hey… haven’t seen him around lately, right?”
“Huh? Who?”
“Sahyeon. That bastard. Your underling.”
“Oh, him. He’s on medical leave. Crooked posture or not, he’s tall and broad-shouldered, but apparently it was all for show. Guy’s a weakling with a glass constitution. Absolutely useless.”
Hyangah grumbled. I was a bit thrown.
“He’s sick? That bastard?”
“Yeah. His roommate said he couldn’t sleep because of the moaning. Doesn’t seem contagious, but his fever won’t break and he’s been babbling nonsense, totally out of it.”
He’s sick?
A martial artist isn’t like a regular person. We can go days without sleep or food. We train to draw power from within, so it’s hard to get truly bedridden.
And Sahyeon’s a decently high-level martial artist. So what the hell happened to knock him flat like that?
“Maybe he just caught a nasty cold or something,” Hyangah muttered carelessly. I hesitated, then offered casually:
“If it’s that bad, bring him some proper fever medicine.”
“Medicine?”
“Yeah. I’m the one who brought him in. If he croaks after being sick for days, I won’t have anything to say to my Brother. You’d be short a worker too, so it’d mess with your schedule.”
Even as I said it, I found myself checking her expression. Thankfully, Hyangah seemed convinced by the excuse and nodded.
“Alright, I’ll get something brewed in your name from Medicine King’s Hall. He owes his life to your generous heart, My Lady.”
She said it with a sulky face. I let out an involuntary sigh of relief.
Truth is, I’m not obligated to get him medicine. If anything, things might run more smoothly without him around…
But still, the bastard has helped me here and there. He did save my ass when that arrow almost hit me the other day. Not that I’d miss him or anything, it’s not like that.
Hyangah turned to head straight to Medicine King’s Hall.
“Oh, Hyangah. One more thing.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“Bring me that one. The attendant Sohae left behind.”
“Jaeyu? Why her? If you need something, just tell me. That one still acts like she works for Young Lady Sohae and barely listens to me. Always slipping off and slacking.”
Hyangah narrowed her eyes. She clearly despised Jaeyu. I stifled a laugh.
“I need her for something. Just pass the message and go straight to Medicine King’s Hall.”
She still looked annoyed but gave in and left the room.
Not long after, I heard someone outside.
“My Lady, it’s Jaeyu.”
“Come in.”
The door opened and Jaeyu stepped in. She was being polite, but the wary look in her eyes was obvious.
Honestly, I’ve done nearly everything through Hyangah, so I’ve never had reason to call for Jaeyu. I’d figured I’d return her to Sohae at some point, but with everything going on, I’d completely forgotten she was here. Hell, I didn’t even know her name until recently.
But now that things have lined up this way, I might as well use her.
There was a faint scratch on Jaeyu’s cheek. Looked like she’d brushed against something sharp. I kept my eyes on it and spoke.
“I need a message delivered, but Hyangah’s busy with something I tasked her with. You’ll go.”
“Yes, My Lady. Who should I deliver the message to, and what should I say?”
“To Dang Choye and Dang Iheon. Tell them I’ll meet them tomorrow, around midday—at Cheongo Tea House.”
Jaeyu bowed and said she’d deliver it right away. I watched silently as she disappeared through the door and it closed behind her.
* * *
After hearing that Hyangah had delivered the medicine to the servant who shared a room with Sahyeon, I quietly slipped out. It was easier on my nerves to just check things myself instead of stewing about it.
And seriously, Sahyeon’s not exactly known for transparency. For all I know, he’s just faking sick to sneak off and stir up something again.
It was just before dinner, so the attendants were all buzzing around. I took advantage of the commotion to duck into the men’s quarters. Not like there were guards or anything—calling it “sneaking in” would be overselling it.
Unlike the other wings, this one was divided into a bunch of small rooms. Looked like they typically shared rooms two or three in each. Among all those doors, only one had shoes placed out front.
I opened the door as quietly as possible, making sure the latch didn’t clack. The room was dim, lit only by the last red streaks of sunset slipping through the cracks. As soon as I shut the door, I could hear the faint sound of breathing in the stillness.
There’s a specific smell ill people give off. One of my old underlings used to call it the sick stench. That scent hung subtly in the air here.
I crept toward the bed, keeping my steps silent. The person lying there had the blanket yanked all the way over their head, but that only made it more obvious. This had to be Sahyeon.
Who else would bury themselves like that with a raging fever?
I carefully peeled back the blanket. Sahyeon’s bare face came into view. Usually smirking and smooth-talking, his face was now pale and slick with cold sweat. He was curled in on himself like he couldn’t regulate his body temperature at all.
So the bastard really is sick…? Then maybe that eye contact in the night was just my imagination?
I reached out to check his temperature. Just as my fingertips brushed his damp black hair, Sahyeon’s eyes flew open and he grabbed my wrist in a flash. Even while sick, he moved so fast my whole world flipped before I could react.
Thud!
My back slammed into the bed, and in the next instant, I felt cold metal against my neck.
Sahyeon’s eyes were unfocused as he glared down at me, his face hard with tension. His body felt like a furnace. He must not have taken the fever medicine yet—probably hadn’t had time.
“Who are you.”
His voice was a hoarse rasp. I stayed as calm as I could so he wouldn’t freak out further.
“Relax. It’s me.”
“…My Lady?”
“Yeah.”
The tension in Sahyeon’s body slowly eased. Even then, he stared like he couldn’t believe I was real.
I pushed him off lightly, sat up, and brushed the dust off my clothes.
“Why is it that these days, everyone thinks they can just throw me around? Honestly.”
I muttered under my breath. Sahyeon just blinked like he still didn’t get what was going on. His face was still wary, still doubtful.
“My Lady, why are you here?”
“You’ve been missing for a while.”
“……”
“I figured you were up to something shady again.”
Sahyeon was quiet for a moment, then gave a dry laugh. He murmured, barely audible, “Of course.” Not that I planned to explain the real reason I came.
“You’re lying here, boiling alive, and still acting tough? You’re a martial artist—what kind of cold knocks you out this bad? Did you get hurt?”
“I’m a martial artist, so I’ll power through it.”
“What a load of crap. Martial artists aren’t invincible. You’re still human. You just eat less and hit harder, that’s all.”
Sure, some of those old-school martial artist types who revere immortality would throw a fit if they heard that—but I’m not wrong, am I?
Sahyeon’s cracked lips pulled into a faint smirk. The chapped skin split, letting a bit of blood seep out.
“This is me getting off easy… Don’t worry about me. My Lady sure dotes on me, though. Look at you, sneaking all the way in here without a second thought.”
The way he said it made him seem like he might vanish any second. It hit me with this weird, heavy pang. Maybe it’s just because he’s acting so out of character and he’s sick.
I didn’t know what to say, so I just blurted the first thing that came to mind.
“That… arrow shooter. I figured out who it was. More or less.”
Sahyeon nodded slowly from the edge of the bed. He didn’t look surprised—probably already knew what went down that night.
“If we leave them alone, they’ll try worse next time. Watch your back.”
“I know. I’m not stupid.”
His voice came out with a faint wheeze. Even sitting up looked hard for him. I quickly stepped back.
“Right… well, that’s all I came to say. Just needed to see you weren’t dead. Keep resting. I’m out.”
Normally he’d throw in a few cheeky comments to stall me, but today he just nodded. That unsettled feeling in my gut deepened.
I stood there for a beat, staring at him, then said,
“I’ll leave after you lie down.”
Sahyeon didn’t respond right away, then gave a weak chuckle.
“Worried I’ll forget how to lie down?”
“It’s just how I feel. You saved me before, so I’m paying you back.”
“…Bit of a cheap payback.”
He weakly waved me off like he was trying to joke. Looked like he wanted to refuse, but I pretended not to notice. I walked over, helped him lie back carefully, and pulled the threadbare blanket up over him.
Just touching him briefly left my hand damp with sweat. Sahyeon turned away from me, facing the wall.
In the short time that passed, the sun had completely set. The room was now fully dark. The smell of cooking rice drifted in from outside, but it felt like a whole different world from this space.
“Rest up, then.”
Sahyeon didn’t answer. He just pulled the blanket over his head again.
I stepped out of the rundown dorm but didn’t head straight back. Instead, I wandered off in a different direction.
The reason I insisted on helping him lie down… was to check his back.
Beneath that worn-out fabric, something was padded thickly. That was bandaging, without a doubt. And based on the smell in that room earlier, the wound underneath was festering.
That’s why he’s burning up and in pain, even though he’s not really sick.
Judging from the way he kept lying curled on one side, the injury must be somewhere along his back.
Back wounds are notoriously hard to treat alone. They get infected fast, or start rotting. Sahyeon must’ve ended up like that.
That day he came back covered in blood, he said it was all someone else’s. But clearly, that wasn’t true.
“Seriously. Then at least fucking say something.”
He talks a damn lot, but leaves out the important shit. Especially when it’s about himself.
Still, you’d think he could say something like “I’m injured.” Was it because he thought I’d mock him? But come on—I’m not such a bastard that I’d joke about someone being injured.
Thinking about that face—drawn, weak, completely out of it—left me feeling weirdly heavy.
Damn bastard. Always giving me shit to worry about.
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