Moyong Sohae’s eyes gleamed with vicious spite. She couldn’t keep her temper in check anymore. She’d already humiliated herself enough, and her usual pathetic act had long since lost its bite.
“I hate that bitch Moyong Yeonhwa with every fiber of my being!”
“What could possibly make you hate her that much? No, even if you did—how could you do this to your own blood?!”
“Ha! Blood? You think that means I shouldn’t hate her? No—if anything, it made me hate her more! If she were a stranger, she wouldn’t have been born with so much in her hands to begin with. I wouldn’t have had to look at her at all!”
Dang Iheon’s twisted expression slowly froze over. That kind of hatred—he knew it well. Resentment and jealousy between blood relatives. It was one of the oldest diseases rotting the insides of the Sichuan Dang Clan.
Out of all his siblings by blood, the only one Dang Iheon was close to was Dang Choye. The rest spent every day hoping something would go wrong for him. Their father knew it too, and still did nothing. He believed competition made people stronger.
Others might’ve found some thread of understanding in Sohae’s words. Dang Iheon didn’t. What surged up inside him wasn’t pity—it was disgust, thick enough to choke on.
Oblivious, Sohae pressed on furiously.
“Yeonhwa had it all! Loving parents to shield her, overprotective brothers who worshiped the ground she walked on, a legitimate status, wealth, beauty—and even you!”
“……”
“She’s just lucky! That’s the only reason she ended up where she is! I hated that. Is it such a crime to want something for myself? To want you? You knew how I felt, didn’t you?!”
Moyong Sohae didn’t just hate Moyong Yeonhwa. She couldn’t stand her.
Like how you don’t really hate a bug—you just can’t fucking stand to see it.
Watching her spew all that raw, unfiltered emotion, Dang Iheon suddenly let out a cold laugh.
“To think you’d show your true self this plainly. Pathetic.”
“What did you just say?”
“You’ll end up with nothing. Even what’s in your hands now—you’ll lose it all.”
His burning gaze stayed locked on Sohae as he raised his voice.
“Dang Ri! Bring him in. I can’t listen to this shit a second longer.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
The tightly shut door burst open.
Moyong Muhyeok stood there, flanked by Moyong Clan martial artists.
“Moyong Sohae. I hereby charge you with conspiring to murder your own kin beneath the roof of this clan.”
His voice and face showed no emotion—as was proper, given he stood there as the Moyong Clan’s Young Master. But his eyes? Full of fury.
Martial artists who’d normally treat Sohae with deference now manhandled her like a criminal. One seized her arm, another pinned her in place from the other side. She struggled, glaring daggers at Moyong Muhyeok.
“You’re treating me like a criminal with no proof? I don’t care if you’re the Young Master—you can’t do this! My grandfather leads the Elders’ Council! If you’re doing this to undermine him, then—!”
Sohae couldn’t finish the sentence. Something cold grazed her throat.
She’d lived her whole life without ever touching martial arts. This was the first time she’d ever felt a blade on her skin. Her body locked up on instinct.
Moyong Muhyeok’s sword was already drawn.
“If you want me to cut you down right here, keep talking.”
A single bead of red slipped down her pale neck. Sohae forced her eyes down to the blade. Her guts twisted in fury, but she wasn’t dumb enough to thrash and get herself gutted.
Naturally, Dang Iheon didn’t try to stop Moyong Muhyeok. He just stood there, watching coldly as Sohae collapsed under pressure.
Eventually, Sohae gave up resisting. Moyong Muhyeok didn’t sheath his sword—he simply ordered the martial artists to restrain her.
As she was dragged past Dang Iheon, Sohae came to a sudden stop at the threshold.
“Planning to resist again?”
Moyong Muhyeok asked coolly. Sohae didn’t answer him. Instead, she turned her head to look at Dang Iheon.
The eyes that had once watched him with longing and hunger now boiled with resentment.
“You knew how I felt. And this is how you treat me?”
“……”
“If I’d known you were this cold, I wouldn’t have wasted so many years loving you.”
Not a flicker passed over Dang Iheon’s face. He spoke.
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“What…?”
“Is that supposed to be a reason I shouldn’t hate you?”
Sohae froze.
He’d used the exact same words she had earlier. Word for word. He was throwing it back in her face.
He kept going.
“If I’d known what kind of person you were, I never would’ve let you near Yeonhwa in the first place.”
“Young—no, you. Are you serious—?”
“Even if I never loved Yeonhwa, I still wouldn’t have liked you. You’re a terrible person. Truly horrendous.”
With that, he turned and walked out.
Sohae stood there, lips twitching uselessly for a moment before falling still. Her expression gave nothing away. She just stared after him.
Her shoulders trembled faintly. Whether it was from rage or heartbreak—only she knew.
Not that Moyong Muhyeok cared. At his nod, the clan martial artists dragged her off.
Sohae didn’t make a sound. Dressed in white like a burial robe, she looked from afar like a corpse being hauled away.
* * *
Later that night, a strict inquiry began under a heavy atmosphere.
All the Moyong Clan’s senior members were gathered. The victim, Moyong Yeonhwa, was present as well, and even the entire Elders’ Council—which rarely convened like this—had shown up.
Lanterns flickered across the wide hall, casting restless shadows.
In the middle of it all, Moyong Sohae knelt in her stained white clothes, head bowed. She didn’t lift her face once.
The elders kept glancing toward Moyong Pae, nervous. If he lashed out like he had when Moyong Gyeom was assaulted…
But Moyong Pae’s expression gave away nothing. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He looked like a man with no stake in this at all.
Then again, this was serious. Even Moyong Pae couldn’t intervene lightly. Especially since even someone from another clan—Dang Iheon—had gotten directly involved. That alone said there was no shortage of evidence.
“Hrmm.”
Someone let out an awkward cough. The elders who usually sided with Moyong Pae were visibly anxious.
Clan Head Moyong Wi and Young Master Moyong Muhyeok had kept the investigation quiet from everyone but their closest aides.
Some elders had protested that withholding a matter of such gravity from the Council was unacceptable. But Moyong Wi, usually one to resolve things through dialogue, had stood his ground this time. Cold and firm.
“Think Elder Pae will lose his seat over this?”
One elder finally couldn’t hold it in and muttered to the person beside him. Moyong Pae probably heard it. Martial artists had sharper senses than most—especially sight and hearing.
“Who knows? Just shut up and watch.”
The other elder kept his eyes forward, tense and tight.
Honestly, none of them cared whether Moyong Sohae was guilty. What mattered was how Moyong Pae would respond.
Despite hearing everything, Moyong Pae didn’t move a muscle. He bit the inside of his cheek, silent.
Tension stretched tight in every corner—until Moyong Wi slammed the armrest of his chair with a sharp thwack. The room fell silent.
“We all know why we’re here. So let’s skip the preamble.”
“……”
“Moyong Sohae. Do you admit to lacing tea with poison in an attempt to murder Moyong Yeonhwa, your cousin, fellow clansman, and daughter of the Moyong Clan’s direct line?”
It was blunt. Brutally so. The elders flinched—but kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to be collateral damage.
As silence fell, Moyong Sohae slowly raised her head. Strands of hair clung messily to her pale forehead, but her eyes were clear. Focused.
“You can’t accuse me of that without evidence.”
“So you deny it?”
“I do. If you want to pin this on me, you’ll need proof. Just like how sister Yeonhwa’s scandal was brushed under the rug for lack of evidence.”
Everyone glanced at Moyong Yeonhwa. Last time, it was she who knelt where Sohae did now. Back then she’d trembled pitifully. Now—her face was unreadable.
She even let out a quiet snort at Sohae’s last line.
Moyong Cheon snapped.
“You try to kill your own kin, and this is how you act?!”
“From where I’m sitting, sister Yeonhwa’s alive and breathing. Am I seeing ghosts now?”
“What?!”
He’d been holding it in, but Moyong Cheon finally exploded and reached for his sword. Moyong Ha, standing next to him, gritted his teeth and caught his wrist.
Then he turned a glare on Sohae.
“Don’t worry. We’ve got more than enough proof.”
As soon as he said it, Moyong Muhyeok lifted a hand.
Martial artists standing by ushered someone into the center.
It was a woman in plain clothing—far too shabby for a proper clan member. Moyong Pae frowned, trying to place her. But he didn’t bother learning the faces of servants, so nothing came to mind.
Sohae, on the other hand, went stiff the moment she saw her.
The woman was clearly terrified, but she steadied herself and spoke in a low voice.
“My name is Soowa. I used to serve Young Lady Sohae.”
“And now?”
“Young Lady Yeonhwa pulled me out of prison and took me in. I do chores at her residence now.”
Some elders murmured in confusion at the word prison. They hadn’t been present the day Soowa testified during the scandal.
After some whispering, those elders made small sounds of admiration.
“If that’s true… to shelter the very one who slandered her—how generous must she be?”
“Indeed. I thought it was just her brothers who were exceptional, but the youngest is no less admirable.”
Before the murmurs spread, Moyong Muhyeok spoke.
“Then what testimony have you brought before us today?”
Soowa glanced briefly at Sohae. Her body trembled from all she’d suffered—but she bowed her head to Moyong Muhyeok and answered firmly.
“I’ve come to testify to all of Young Lady Sohae’s crimes.”
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