Somehow feeling there was something suspicious, Yeo Il feigned ignorance and asked with innocent eyes, “What is Changpae Saryong?”
“What do you mean, what is it…?”
Namgung Huimyeong looked rather disappointed, clearly shocked by her question.
“Changpae Saryong refers to Namgung Jeokmyeong of our Namgung Clan, Bangwoo of Mount Hua Sect, Churyong of Kunlun, and Wi Seoryeon of Binghwa Blood Heaven. Haven’t you ever heard of even one of them?”
“I’ve heard of Bangwoo of Mount Hua Sect.”
“Tsk. If you’ve heard of just one, it should’ve been my elder brother! Not that stiff tree-trunk from Mount Hua!”
His energy was overwhelming. After shouting without pause for a while, Namgung Huimyeong finally caught his breath and narrowed his eyes.
“Well, at least you’re not completely ignorant… By the way, why do you keep calling me Lord Huimyeong?”
“Because you are Lord Huimyeong, of course. Should I call you Lord Jeokmyeong instead?”
“You were born after me and are my younger sister, so shouldn’t you call me orabeoni (elder brother)? Or are you being careful because we’re half-siblings?”
Yeo Il sipped her tea without offering a reply, and Huimyeong gave up on the matter with a disgruntled sigh. Moments later, he disappeared like the wind.
Seol Yeong, who had watched him come and go in a flurry, shook his head.
“That noisy brat… Not a single word about those rumors. I guess nothing exists in his world except swords.”
Still, there was something slightly desperate about him. While the anxiety in his sword had eased, the anxiety in his heart had yet to be settled.
It occurred to Yeo Il that perhaps the source of his unrest was the heir apparent—Namgung Jeokmyeong.
* * *
The real visitor finally came to see Yeo Il later that evening.
“Lady Namgung Soyou, the young lord requests your presence. If it’s not inconvenient, I’ll escort you to Gwiyeonru myself.”
Namgung Jeokmyeong.
Whether he was reacting to the rumors spreading among the servants, or whether the timing was a coincidence, Yeo Il couldn’t yet be sure.
But the fact that he’d waited exactly ten days, and not seven, not five, was reason enough to be suspicious.
Before Yeo Il could respond, Seol Yeong rose to accompany her, but the escort immediately stepped in.
“Apologies, but the young lord’s order was to bring Lady Soyou alone. Neither maid nor guard may accompany her. I will protect her, so please do not worry.”
Summoning her outside the estate and insisting she go alone, separating her from both Seol Yeong and Chang-a, was far from a normal request.
“I’ll go. Wait for me outside.”
“Yes, my lady.”
After the escort left, Seol Yeong leaned in close, sensing something off.
“If it comes to it… will you kill him? If there’s even a chance, I’ll pack your sword and things right now.”
“You always act like I’m some petty demonic cultist. It probably won’t come to that but just in case, don’t leave Chang-a’s side.”
Leaving the nodding Seol Yeong behind, Yeo Il stepped out of the Namgung residence.
Contrary to her expectations, Gwiyeonru, the establishment Jeokmyeong had reportedly become obsessed with, was not in the central marketplace but in a quieter part of town, and quite modest in appearance.
The red lanterns blooming in a desolate alley gave off an eerie air, and the laughter and music spilling out from within felt like a dream—hazy and surreal.
The escort led her to the innermost room on the top floor.
A melancholic tune plucked from a zither wrapped like vines around a haunting voice. Under the full moon, Jeokmyeong turned toward her with a smile and poured wine.
“You’ve come, Soyou. Please, sit comfortably.”
Once she took her seat opposite him and the door was shut, only she, Jeokmyeong, and three women quietly playing stringed instruments in the corner remained in the room.
“Was the journey troublesome?”
“Being summoned alone at night, I feared another assassin might strike as before.”
“Hahaha, no need to be afraid. I watched over your journey from here. Who would dare threaten you while I’m around? Believe it or not, your brother is a famed swordsman in this area, so rest easy.”
“Why did you summon me here, to Gwiyeonru?”
“Because nowhere in Cheonjusan compares to Cho-hong’s voice. I wanted to share her music with you in celebration of your return to the Namgung clan.”
The conversation flowed smoothly, yet it carried a distinct dissonance from her earlier exchanges with Huimyeong.
“I’ve been wondering how your last ten days have been.”
Casually spoken, as if those ten days of complete disregard never happened.
“I’ve been treated generously.”
“No discomfort, I hope?”
“Not at all. However, there is a request I would like to make of you, Young Lord.”
“How could I refuse a request from my only sister? What is it you wish?”
“I want to meet the head of the clan.”
A short silence. Jeokmyeong sipped his wine before asking,
“Why?”
“Must I have a reason to meet my own father?”
“No… I suppose not. Parents and children shouldn’t need grand reasons to meet. But still, Soyou, I would like to know.”
“…”
“The Namgung clan is prepared to support you in every way. Surely our father called you back with that very intent. He is not someone who would mistreat you. Must you meet him directly? Is it truly that important?”
“I wish to find my mother, Young Lord.”
“…”
“Do you see the necklace around my neck? It’s the only thing I have from her. I remember nothing else. I want to ask Father whether she’s still alive. That’s all.”
This silence stretched longer than the last. No sound of pouring or sipping followed. What sort of expression was he wearing now? What was he looking at?
At some point, Cho-hong’s music had stopped.
Only the two of them remained in the room, and in that deepening quiet, Jeokmyeong finally spoke again.
“Soyou.”
“Yes?”
“Do you know of Salmak?”
To hear that name now— Yeo Il kept her expression blank and nodded.
“You mean the infamous assassins that terrorized the martial world until two years ago?”
“Exactly. Appearing out of nowhere, disappearing like phantoms—feared and despised. Parents still use their name to scare unruly children.”
After a pause, he continued.
“Our father was once attacked by a member of Salmak. He was gravely wounded so badly that even now, he suffers from the injury. The mere name Salmak can send him into seizures.”
“I had no idea… I was ignorant…”
“Don’t worry. It’s a well-kept secret—only a handful even know.”
A third cup was poured. Jeokmyeong exhaled coolly and asked, as if singing, “But do you know this, Soyou? Every Salmak assassin bears a brand on their left shoulder blade—a horrid burn that can never be erased.”
“…”
“You cannot meet our father. But I, your brother, can ask him about your mother’s whereabouts on your behalf. All I ask is that you prove one thing to me first.”
“What would that be?”
As she posed the question, Yeo Il was almost certain that a sinister curve had formed on his lips.
“That you are not a Salmak assassin wearing Namgung Soyou’s skin.”
