* * *
“They say one of the maids heard a terrible scream that night.”
At the whispering voices behind her, Chang-a’s steps faltered.
“There was supposedly a clear bloodstain left on the floor.”
“Come on, that’s got to be a lie. Or maybe the lady was injured somehow?”
“That’s the point, it wasn’t just some normal wound! They say the blood was pitch-black and trailed across the floor, from the lady’s room to outside…”
At that moment, Chang-a thought: So the time has come, just like my lady said.
“To think she’d let such bizarre rumors spread… Just what is she schem… no, what kind of strategy has she prepared?”
Three days earlier—
Namgung Soyou had quietly summoned Chang-a and given her these instructions:
[“Before long, a curious rumor will begin spreading among the staff. You must pretend to know nothing, Chang-a.”]
At the time, she hadn’t understood what that meant, but since yesterday morning, it was impossible not to notice. A very curious rumor had indeed begun to circulate throughout the Namgung estate.
Lady Soyou told her to pretend not to know, but honestly, it wasn’t pretending, it was the truth. Chang-a still had no clue what had happened that night while she slept, or how such creepy stories had gotten started.
“The guards on night duty heard it too. Something terrifying is definitely happening in that room every night.”
“D-don’t tell me the lady is secretly some kind of monster that eats peo—”
“Shh!”
Several pairs of eyes shifted subtly toward Chang-a. Her lips, by then, were already sticking out in a full pout.
“My lady told me not to get angry no matter what people say, but still…”
Even if it was part of the plan, hearing her lady’s name thrown into such absurd gossip twisted her gut.
“Maybe Chang-a knows the truth?”
“Hey, Chang-a. Have you ever noticed anything… strange about your lady?”
“I have not!”
Snorting sharply, Chang-a picked up the fresh summer bedding and stood up.
The other maids whispered, “Why’s she so touchy if it’s not true?” and doubled down on their belief that Namgung Soyou must be hiding some unspeakable secret.
“Fools. As if she’s some monster. They have no idea how powerful a martial artist my lady really is.”
Still huffing, she reached Lady Soyou’s room to find her mistress changing into the clothes she had neatly laid out.
“Oh no, young lady! I told you I’d help with dressing!”
“This much I can do myself. I don’t keep my eyes closed while I’m in my room, you know.”
“But that’s my job, young lady! A daughter of a noble family mustn’t dress herself!”
“What a bizarre rule. Are noble ladies supposed to turn their hands into tree stumps? I’d imagine moss grows on their fingers.”
Chang-a rushed over to help with the dressing.
“Young lady, there’s really a strange rumor going around among the maids.”
“I know.”
“Um… When will I get to know the truth behind it?”
She feared she’d be told a maid had no need to know but Soyou only smiled kindly.
“The truth is always more delightful when learned later. Just wait a little, Chang-a. You’ll find out what’s real soon enough.”
That made Chang-a happy again. Her lady was always so gentle.
“Incredible swordsmanship, skin as fair as snow, beauty like a fairy, calm and kind-hearted… and she’s helping me? I’m really lucky.”
Just who was her lady?
Could she be some hidden master, as that assassin had said? Lost in thought, she suddenly noticed something odd under her fingers.
“Huh?”
Thinking it was just a mistake, she touched the spot again but instead of soft, smooth skin, she felt something slick, like a burn. It was on the upper left shoulder blade.
“Is there something strange there?” Soyou asked.
“Ah, yes! Um, young lady, did you ever get seriously injured there?”
It looked perfectly fine, but felt like an old burn. The discrepancy was unsettling.
She waited patiently for a response, but Soyou only smiled faintly and said nothing.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it… I really am so tactless. I won’t bring it up again.”
She vowed not to speak carelessly again as she stepped outside.
Then, she spotted someone approaching—someone with a familiar gait. Recognizing the face, Chang-a hurried back to Lady Soyou’s room.
“My lady! You have a visitor!”
Startled awake by the excited voice, Seol Yeong blinked rapidly.
“A visitor? Oh? Maybe those rumors are finally working.”
He looked toward the door curiously and then Namgung Soyou’s first visitor stepped in.
“……Haaah.”
With a betrayed expression, Seol Yeong sighed.
“Namgung Soyou.”
“Lord Huimyeong.”
It was Namgung Huimyeong—the third son of the Namgung clan—walking in as if it were his own room but something about his energy felt intense, like he’d come to scold or threaten her.
Seol Yeong stepped in front of Yeo Il, hand on his sword, upon seeing Huimyeong’s sword dangling from his waist. Huimyeong scoffed.
“Drawing your sword at me? Are you insane? I’m not here to hurt her. Move aside—I just have business with her.”
“Then state it from a safe distance.”
“What? Distance? And this arrogant servant dares to speak that way to a Namgung… Tch.”
Huimyeong bit back his anger with a sharp breath.
“Namgung Soyou. I need to talk to you. The other day, you said something about my sword’s sound reflecting my emotions or something? Come with me now and see if it still does.”
Though he was the one asking, it sounded more like a command. He turned on his heel and walked away.
“Sword sound? Emotions? Did you teach that brat something? What do you see in him?” Seol Yeong muttered.
“He was trying hard, so I gave him a tip. Now I’m curious if it helped. Let’s go, Seol Yeong.”
“Tch… Of all people, a sword nut gets caught in the net.”
Ignoring Seol Yeong’s grumbling, Yeo Il let him support her as they followed after Huimyeong.
Soon, they arrived at the peach tree where she had first seen him. Huimyeong glanced over.
“Seat her there.”
He pointed toward a small green-roofed pavilion just past the pond. As soon as Yeo Il sat down, Huimyeong resumed his sword dance.
Yeo Il peeked open one eye to watch him, then occasionally glanced at Seol Yeong beside her and smiled secretly.
“He’s clearly rattled.”
Seol Yeong might look older and taller, but he wasn’t actually that much older than Huimyeong.
Yeo Il had only trained him enough not to get beaten up in the city, but he’d improved quickly and made solid progress. In their secluded life, he’d likely believed few could rival him. But Namgung is one of the Five Great Clans—renowned especially for swordsmanship.
Seeing this should open Seol Yeong’s eyes. That alone made entering the clan worth it.
Of course, there were more important goals…
[“You’ve got some ulterior motive, don’t you? How dangerous is it?”]
No need to tell him. Better if he tired himself out fighting Huimyeong and collapsed into bed like a corpse every night.
Sipping her tea, Yeo Il murmured, “How curious.”
It was just a passing comment, but Huimyeong turned sharply.
“What do you mean by that?”
“That you listened to me. Your sword tells me you didn’t just brush off my words the other day.”
“…Are you saying I’m less hesitant now?”
“Curious?”
Smiling slightly, Yeo Il raised an eyebrow. Huimyeong scoffed.
“Don’t give me that ‘it’s a secret’ crap again. I just wanted to check something.”
“As you wish.”
She went quiet, and his other brow twitched too. Yeo Il suppressed her laughter and set her cup down.
“Is your swordsmanship the same as the famous Namgung clan’s style? It sounds particularly bold and commanding.”
“…Yes.”
“The other brothers’ sword styles are similar, right? I suppose the heir’s must be like yours too.”
“What? Don’t spout nonsense like that! Comparing my skills to his? Are you crazy?”
Even if he tolerated insults toward himself, Huimyeong couldn’t bear slights against the heir. He stomped angrily.
“Is the heir that amazing?”
“Obviously! He’s one of the legendary Four Spear Dragons—specifically, the ‘Blue Sword Flash,’ Namgung Jeokmyeong! And he’s the recognized ‘One-Strike Master,’ too. The strongest swordsman in the martial world!”
Blue Sword, Single Slash—Namgung Jeokmyeong.
“What a lavish title.”
From what she’d heard, the Changpae Saryong referred to the four most distinguished warriors of the current Jianghu, all from the younger generation.
And to be called “Ilgyeok”—“The One Slash”—meant Namgung Jeokmyeong was the de facto leader among them. His true skill, then, far exceeded what Yeoir had assumed.
“Yet here he is, treated like nothing more than a drunken womanizer.”
