Hadn’t Namgung Chumyeong said it himself? “We met when you were so young, I thought you’d completely forgotten.”
“Hmm. Could it be that she was confined to her room as a child?”
“What would the head of Namgung have to gain by hiding a daughter born out of wedlock? It’s not like having illegitimate children is a disgrace in a prestigious clan.”
And yet, they’d hidden her away so tightly. Only to suddenly bring her back then for her to be attacked en route.
Was the goal to assassinate her during the return trip all along?
That didn’t make much sense either. A daughter without inheritance rights wasn’t worth assassinating, and even if one were to, quietly sneaking into her home and slitting her throat would’ve been far simpler.
“Chang-ah, was it just you maids living with Namgung Soyou?”
“No! There was an uncle and an aunt with us, but they returned to their hometown shortly before we left.”
“Do you know where their hometown is?”
“Ah, I… I don’t know that, either…”
The ambiguous whereabouts of other household members made it all the more convenient for Yeoil to hide her identity.
So the only person who might know about Namgung Soyou’s mother is the head of the Namgung clan.
Though she hadn’t even seen a hair on his head yet.
Perhaps Chang-ah was feeling cooped up from staying indoors all day; she glanced longingly at the modest garden outside the window and asked.
“Miss Soyou, are we going to just stay in this room the whole time?”
“That’s the plan for now. It’s better to stay put than go poking around.”
Especially when the version of Namgung Soyou Yeo Il was playing was supposed to be quiet and demure.
“Understood! But if you ever want a walk, just say the word! I’ll support you well!”
Chang-ah’s cheerful smile brought a faint one to Yeoil’s lips too. It was best to lie low for now and keep attention away from her. For now.
That night, under the cover of clouds and a moonless sky…
The guest Yeo Il had been waiting for arrived but the route was a little unusual—it wasn’t the hallway, but the roof.
One person. No hesitation. Coming straight for the room…
Assassination?
Yeo Il stuffed her pillow under the blanket to mimic a sleeping body and hid in the shadows. It wasn’t long before the black-clad figure reached the bed and unsheathed a dagger.
Yeo Il’s figure shot from the darkness and struck a vital point on the man’s back.
“Guh.”
The assassin collapsed instantly, unconscious. After confirming his face, Yeo Il softly called out toward the door.
“Seol Yeong, time to get up.”
Shuffling followed, and Seol Yeong entered groggily.
“Yaaawn. What is it in the middle of the—huh? Who’s that dark lump? You hired a new servant already?”
“Was going to, but he didn’t quite meet expectations. Toss him in the back garden.”
Still half-asleep, Seol Yeong blinked.
“Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, at least break his arms or something? Make sure he doesn’t come back?”
“He won’t wake up for a while. Let him flee if he can. If he’s still out by sunrise, slap him a few times.”
“Pfft. This whole catch and release policy… You know he’ll probably come back. But, your call.”
Once she saw Seol Yeong dragging the assassin away like a sack, Yeoil returned to bed.
His movements had been too precise, he knew the layout of the house, and her room.
So the enemy really is inside the clan…
Such a relentless assassination attempt. Maybe Namgung Soyou hadn’t been just an average illegitimate daughter after all.
Day Four at the Namgung Estate.
Still no sign of any of the clan’s members.
Eventually, Chang-a took it upon herself to bring back news from outside.
“Word is the heir is still out gallivanting, the second son’s busy managing the family affairs, and the third son’s holed up training. As for the patriarch… the servants don’t even seem to know what’s going on. At this point, shouldn’t we just go visit the heir ourselves? I feel like everyone’s forgotten the young miss is even here…”
Yeo Il was just about to make a move anyway. She patted the tired girl’s head and gestured toward the door.
“Let’s wait one more day. But shall we go out and get some air?”
“Yes! I’ve memorized the layout already. I’ll take you somewhere quiet.”
Eyes closed, Yeo Il stepped outside for the first time since arriving, supported by Chang-a.
The estate was strangely quiet.
For a place like the Namgung Clan—one of the Five Great Families—there should’ve been people everywhere. But the only ones she passed were servants and guards.
It made sense. The only adult left was the clan head’s sole sibling.
She listened to Chang-a’s cheerful descriptions of the scenery, but then— A sharp sound cut through the air.
A sword.
Yeo Il turned in the direction of the sound.
“Chang-a, let’s go beyond that wall.”
“That’s Young Master Huimyeong’s chamber, though…”
“It’s fine. Just watching.”
Peeking over the wall, Yeo Il opened her eyes for a moment. There, beneath a peach tree, Namgung Huimyeong was immersed in sword training. With his long hair tied back and sharp features, he looked almost savage.
She quietly observed his form.
His martial prowess was clearly well above average. Probably someone who’d received specialized martial training as a child—common among heirs of prestigious clans.
If the third son was this strong, how much stronger must the heir Namgung Jeokmyeong be?
At that moment, Huimyeong paused mid-swing and let out a long sigh. He looked frustrated. He swung again, only to stop and clench his fists. Then, from the top again.
His technique radiated excessive aggression, and it looked more and more like he was being controlled by the sword rather than the other way around.
A mental block?
His clenched teeth and obsessive focus reminded Yeo Il of her own past—of the painful memories that forced her down the path of a warrior.
Perhaps that was why her lips parted without thinking.
“What makes you so on edge, young master?”
“Who’s there?”
Huimyeong’s fierce glare snapped toward her. Unbothered, Yeo Il responded calmly.
“Your sword sounds more like a club than a blade. There’s no need to rush, your sword isn’t going anywhere.”
“What? Who do you think you are, talking like that?”
Yeo Il bowed her head slightly.
“Forgive my presumptuous words. I’ve lived blind my whole life, so I tend to read emotions through sound. I’ll be more careful.”
His hostility softened.
“Wait, are you saying you can read people just by the sound of their movements?”
“A sword is just an object, like any other. If you’d been holding a teacup, I’d have said the same.”
“So how’d you figure it out?”
“Oh? You want to know?”
Smirking, Huimyeong crossed his arms.
“Of course I do! Come on, let’s hear it.”
“Well then, the truth is… how I read your emotions…”
“…”
“The method is…”
“…”
“My own little secret.”
“What?”
“If you really want to know, you could try living with your eyes closed for a dozen years. That should teach you.”
Before his angry retort could land, Yeo Il grabbed Chang-a’s hand and turned away.
They returned to her room in a hurry.
Later, when Yeo Il sent Chang-a to observe, she reported:
“He kept practicing for over an hour after you left. They say he spends almost all day with his sword.”
An hour? If her comment helped him regain focus, then maybe she’d done him a favor.
Let’s cross the third son off the suspect list. He’s too absorbed in swordsmanship to care about Namgung Soyou.
Which meant it had to be one of the other two…
Now we wait. Let’s see who comes to me first.
Who would it be? Smiling quietly, Yeo Il took a bite of a beautiful red rice cake shaped like a flower.
That night, a second assassin visited Namgung Soyou’s room.
From that night forward, rumors spread through the Namgung estate:
“Every night, from Lady Soyou’s room… terrifying screams can be heard.”
