Vol 2 Chapter 5: Past Ties Part 10

When Jinrang returned, he was holding a shallow porcelain bowl. He poured the contents into Woo Hyo’s mouth. Woo Hyo coughed and spilled some, but Jinrang remained expressionless and paid it no mind.

“In your current condition, you won’t be able to stand on your own. I’ll notify Baekragung for now. I’ll give you paper, so write the letter yourself. Since I pulled you back from the edge of death, make sure your words are careful enough not to cause any misunderstanding.”

“Didn’t you hear me say that I’m not Dan Baekhun’s son?”

Woo, who had swallowed whatever it was, whether medicine or poison without resistance, spoke weakly.

“So what? If there’s no blood relation, that makes you not his son?”

He didn’t even have the presence of mind to ask how Jinrang knew. He could just stare up at him with a shocked expression.

All Jinrang had done was grab Woo’s chin and examine his face. Woo took after his mother, so it was difficult to find any trace of Dan Baekhun in his appearance.

But Jinrang was not the kind of man to declare someone illegitimate based on that alone.

“I didn’t think that woman would go all this time without telling you who your real father is.”

Woo’s eyes widened. No way. Did the Lord of Heukcheon know who his real father was?

“You’ve probably heard the name Seo Mun Seo Ho.”

Woo’s face went pale.

Of course he had heard it before.

Seo Mun Seo Ho, known as the Supreme Swordsman, was Dan Baekhun’s sworn brother and a hero of the Righteous Path who played a pivotal role in suppressing the Hyeolgyo Rebellion.

He helped lay the foundation of Baekragung, and had he not died early, he would have become the Lord of Baekragung in Dan Baekhun’s place. For that reason, Seo Mun Seo Ho’s spirit tablet was enshrined in Baekragung’s ancestral hall, where it became customary to offer incense each year.

Dan Baekhun, always seen as unshakable, fell into one of his rare spells of gloom every year during the memorial of Seo Mun Seo Ho.

The man… was he was his real father?

“Why? Why are you so certain that I’m Seo Mun Seo Ho’s son?”

Woo Hyo asked, his voice trembling with disbelief.

“Your bone structure is just like your father’s. I saw you when you were a child, but back then you hadn’t developed yet. Now… it’s almost strange that I didn’t recognize you earlier, you resemble him that much.”

Jinrang’s words turned almost into muttering.

“No… maybe I just didn’t want to see it.”

The truth he had wanted to deny when it came from Paeng’s mouth began to take concrete form when spoken again by the Lord of Heukcheon. If that was the case, then the words of Paeng Soso, who had claimed Seol Buyeong was Dan Baekhun’s murderer, also took on a much heavier weight.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her calling him a puppet. If he returned to Baekragung in this state, crippled and unable to use martial arts, what right did he have to stand as the Lord of Baekragung? Faced with the loss of his father, Dan Woo Hyo couldn’t find the courage to lose his mother too. He had no will to confront Seol Buyeong, and no strength to protect Baekragung from her. Just like Paeng Soso said, he really would become a puppet.

If so, then maybe it was better not to return at all. Better that his junior, Namgung Jiyeok, become the next Lord of Baekragung.

“So this is what it all comes down to.”

Before he even had time to fall into thought, Yae Jinrang muttered bitterly under his breath and wrapped his hand around Woo Hyo’s neck.

“After making such a promise, he turned his back on it in the end. Might as well say he gave in to power. That he became a traitor, and ended up forgotten in the most pitiful way.”

The words slipped from Jinrang’s lips, no louder than a whisper. Woo Hyo blinked.
There was no strength in the pale hand wrapped around his neck.

For the grip of the so-called strongest in the demonic path, even silk spun from clouds might have felt stronger.

But the killing intent in it was real.

“Speak, son of Dan Baekhun.”

Paeng Soso had called him Seol Buyeong’s son, but the man standing before him now, Yae Jinrang, was calling him the son of Dan Baekhun.

“Was it Dan Baekhun who found Kang Oh, my nephew?”

Woo Hyo slowly nodded, and Jinrang lowered his head.

While still straddling over him, the man who was choking his neck began to tremble slightly. There were no sounds of weeping, so it couldn’t be sobbing. And the pauses were too long for it to be just catching his breath.

A man who could take a life with just one finger, an absolute master, was being crushed under something impossible to describe. A darkness that could not be touched or seen was devouring him from the inside out.

Even though Woo Hyo couldn’t understand what exactly was consuming the Lord of Heukcheon, he couldn’t help but feel pity for him.

It was a long while before Jinrang finally raised his head and spoke.

“Bringing my nephew back settles the debt for sparing your life. Now get the hell out of my sight.”

Jinrang’s hand slipped from Woo Hyo’s neck. Even so, Woo Hyo could still feel the imprint of the Lord of Heukcheon’s palm burning on his throat.

“What was your relationship with the former Lord of Baekragung?”

“With your father?”

Even though Woo Hyo tried to avoid it, Jinrang stubbornly continued to call Dan Baekhun his father.

Woo Hyo saw Jinrang’s lips part. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and stretched thin, like a strip of bamboo.

“There was no relationship at all.”

That was a lie.

Woo Hyo thought so, but he didn’t say anything. Jinrang probably knew his own answer wasn’t convincing either.

The lie, coming from someone who had never once hidden himself and had always lived openly, felt unbearably hollow.

And of all people, such a secret would be tied to none other than Dan Baekhun.

“I won’t return to Baekragung.”

“Not my concern. Just get out of Heukcheon.”

Jinrang answered with a face entirely devoid of surprise. Despite all the time and effort he had poured into this young Lord of Baekragung, his expression said he wouldn’t care even if the boy dropped dead on the spot.

In truth, he would’ve rather seen Woo Hyo dead. Jinrang wasn’t the type to dwell on tangled ties. He usually just kept moving, unaffected by anyone else.

“If it hadn’t been for Kang Oh, I wouldn’t have even looked at you.”

If Kang Oh hadn’t been there, if that child hadn’t collapsed during Dan Woo Hyo’s outburst, he wouldn’t have cared whether the son of Dan Baekhun lived or died.

Jinrang wasn’t a miracle healer, not even a real physician. The only reason Woo Hyo survived was luck, and Jinrang’s stubborn will. Somewhere deep down, he knew if Woo Hyo died, he’d be held responsible too. That drove him to spend every waking hour tending to him.

“I believe the Lord of Heukcheon will take good care of him.”

“Three times.”

“…Sorry?”

“That child tried to die three times.”

“Why?”

Shock spread across Woo Hyo’s face.

“The first time was right after he woke up and heard you were dead, he tried to follow you in death by slitting his own throat. I used a spell to suppress his memories, but when certain words triggered him, everything came back. He slammed his head against the wall until his skull cracked. That was the second time.”

“The third was after I sealed his memory again. No matter what I did, he broke through it and came looking for you. So I brought him to the place where I was reviving you, thinking maybe that would keep him from dying again.”

Kang Oh. That child…

Jinrang’s tone was calm, but his hand was clenched tightly.

“Day or night, asleep or awake, he refused to leave your side. “I thought it might help if he at least saw you wake up, but then you had another seizure.”

“No…”

So it wasn’t just the echo on the cliff repeating in his mind. It was Kang Oh’s real scream.

“After saving you and looking back at the child, I found Kang Oh had already broken.”

“H-how… how could that be…”

Woo Hyo’s voice crumbled slowly.

“He had no will left to hold on. After losing you, over and over, he couldn’t bear to go on. So I had no choice but to seal away all of his memories. Everything would have to start over. His life, his martial path, even his relationships.”

Woo Hyo buried his face in both hands. Kang Oh was just a pitiful soul caught up in someone else’s fate. And yet, how could the heavens be so cruel to that child?

The only thing that kept his broken will to live from collapsing entirely was the presence of one person. Woo Hyo slowly lifted himself from the bed.

His arms had no strength, and his body trembled uncontrollably, but just like the rain-soaked words that had once clung to him, he grit his teeth and endured it.

“P-please… let me stay by his side. In Heukcheon.”

“Are you insane? How can the Lord of Baekragung remain in Heukcheon?”

Jinrang snapped, as if the request was beneath consideration.

“Then… what if I’m no longer the Lord of Baekragung?”

Woo Hyo pressed again, his voice taut with desperation. Jinrang responded with a scoff of disbelief, as if the question itself was too absurd to entertain.

Yet Woo Hyo asked again, his voice taut with desperation.

“Do you think that seat is something you can just throw away because you want to? Did Dan Baekhun never teach you responsibility?”

“If I step down, then I can truly take responsibility.”

“And yet, with a face as recognizable as yours, how exactly do you plan to hide, no matter which side you’re on?”

Jinrang sighed. Normally, someone who had come back from the brink of death would look barely alive, but while Dan Woo Hyo was pale, there was still a distinct air about him that couldn’t be hidden.

It was a beauty with a deep allure. In Jinrang’s entire life, the only ones he had seen with such a face were Seol Buyeong and himself in the mirror.

Then, almost abruptly, Woo Hyo pressed his face against the brazier beside the bed.

It was fortunate that this cave was not just dimly lit but dark enough to require a brazier. Since the Lord of Baekragung was a leading figure in the entire Righteous Sect, he could not be treated just anywhere. They must have brought him to a place like this, some remote and secluded location. Because of that, he was able to press his face against the brazier immediately.

Yae Jinrang pulled Woo Hyo from the flames with his bare hands. But his jade-like face was already distorted beyond recognition.

“The person he had painstakingly saved had suffered severe burns, so Jinrang hurriedly searched for ointments and applied them to the wounds

“If that’s not enough, I will make new wounds with a blade. Even if I have to cut off one ear, it won’t matter. As long as I can still hear.”

Woo Hyo bowed repeatedly, his calm face showing no sign of pain.

“Please allow me to watch over Kang Oh. I won’t ask for anything else, I swear.”

“You! Why.. why would you…”

While applying the ointment, Jinrang clenched his teeth. People said Woo Hyo resembled Dan Baekhun, but he wished they didn’t share this one thing.

He couldn’t help but think of the one who left him to raise Dan Woo Hyo. For Dan Baekhun, righteousness and loyalty were most important. Love was secondary.

That was why Jinrang was abandoned. And he still hadn’t been able to let go….

A fire stirred within him. Though not a drop of Dan Baekhun’s blood ran through those veins, Dan Woo Hyo, who so closely resembled the man he could never truly let go of, was both precious and hateful.

He wanted to crush him, to see him abandon all composure, reduced to an animal clinging to his feet, begging to be let go, begging to be sent back.

Even as he watched Jinrang’s endlessly twisted, grimacing expression, Dan Woo Hyo bowed respectfully.

“Please, take good care of Kang Oh.”

The hatred Jinrang had long held for Dan Baekhun, left to fester without release, finally boiled over.

And so, Dan Woo Hyo remained in Heukcheon as a servant to Kang Oh.

Not because he couldn’t return, but because he didn’t want to.

“By final measure… you mean you erased all his memories?”

Jinrang furrowed his brows, then gave a slight nod.

“Not just parts. Everything. I wiped it all clean and started from a blank slate.”

What Jinrang gave up wasn’t just the title of “uncle.” He relinquished all the memories Kang Oh had of his sister, everything that tied them together.

Because the side effects of the spell had driven his nephew’s mind to the brink, repeating Woo Hyo’s death again and again.

“And even now, though he’s grown strong… he still breaks down?”

Woo pushed again, as if trying to catch hold of anything solid.

“When a wound appears, normally you treat it. But I covered it up. Then I grafted new skin over it. If you peel that away now, the blood underneath would still be pouring out.”

“If one day you were to find a wound you didn’t even remember getting, would you just accept it with an, ‘Ah, I see’? No. You’d be confused.”

Some of Kang Oh’s wounds hadn’t even had the chance to heal. It was a relief they had at least stayed in place.

If they had festered and rotted…

Then the man named Yae Kang Oh, who had been painstakingly built behind a blank slate created by sorcery, would crumble from the ground up. There’d be no sealing the memories again. That would truly be the end.

Jinrang gritted his teeth.

He had seen many people lose their minds to sorcery while enduring the prolonged grief and hardship of battling the Hyeolgyo.
He had fought with everything he had, desperately trying to save even one more life. But in the end, their minds always shattered like glass in his hands.

Most of them were martial artists abducted for brainwashing. Among them were some of the most respected figures in the righteous martial world. Grandmaster Hyunmyeong of Shaolin, Seonheo Jinmin of Wudang, and Namgung Ryuyeok of the Namgung clan.

That wasn’t all.

There were even masters from demonic sects, infamous for their ruthlessness.
Imakbi of the Seven Metal Demon Sect, and Geum Jyeok, the master of Hyeolyeongpa and Jinrang’s dear friend. He had lost far too many people.

At that time, Yae Jinrang began learning sorcery in order to stand against the Hyeolgyo.

He had grown tired of doing nothing but watching with his hands tied.
He seized every forbidden scripture and secret manual he could find, spending sleepless nights carving those prohibited techniques into his mind.

For the first time, he felt grateful for his exceptional memory. It was sharp enough to recall a single moment even decades later, and losing his sister’s hand in that instant might have haunted him for a lifetime.

It was also during that time that he became indebted to Seol Buyeong. Using her position as Princess Yeongrin, she helped him gain access to the imperial archive of secret texts.

Thankfully, a few of those taken by the Hyeolgyo could have their memories sealed and be returned to how they were.
But those whose minds were completely destroyed by repeated sorcery became nothing more than dull, broken puppets.
So broken that even the act of living was impossible without the help of others.
They could no longer survive on their own.

“It’s not your fault.”

He had lost another person to the same fate. And whenever he found himself facing another empty shell, a man would whisper those words as he gently shielded Yae Jinrang’s eyes.

“You did everything you could. That alone is enough.”

Dan Baekhun was the only one who would sit quietly by Jinrang’s side. He spoke softly, as if it were nothing, but he had already seen through the devastation Jinrang couldn’t voice. Back then, when rumors began to spread about Jinrang forbidden techniques on Hyeolgyo’s victims, it was Dan Baekhun who had stepped in to shut those rumors down.

“How about faking a death and disappearing?”

Woo’s question brought Yae Jinrang to the present.

“He’s already in the process of regaining his memories. Wouldn’t it be better to ask him to undo the seal directly? Back when his memories were first sealed, Kang Oh reacted strongly to the word ‘uncle,’ to your name, and to anything related to death.
It’ll be the same this time too.”

“…”

It was one moment of helpless confusion after another.

“This is a real dilemma.”

Jinrang let out a quiet sound of frustration.

Even if the Lord of Heukcheon held overwhelming power, strong enough to crush ten masters in a single day, this situation was different. No matter how absolute his authority, it wasn’t easy to act rashly when Kang Oh’s life hung in the balance.

He could have wrung the neck of this fake servant a hundred times over. But whenever he thought of Kang Oh, Jinrang’s hands might as well have been tied.

“I’ll think of a way to erase you myself.”

“..Yes.”

“You do intend to leave, don’t you?”

“Y-yes. Of course.”

Faced with Jinrang’s sharp question, Woo stammered and nodded.

Jinrang muttered with clear displeasure.
“So you do have at least some sense of shame. I suppose that’s why I’ve let you live this long.”

“Don’t forget. It was your desire to watch over Kang Oh, even from a distance, that twisted everything into this mess.”

Even putting aside the two years he had been bedridden, Jinrang’s voice carried a note of spite. He knew exactly how Woo had spent the eight years that followed, flattened to the ground, quiet, and completely submissive.

Their reunion had been an accident. If not that, then there was no other word for it but fate.

Woo had been living with the servants, sharing meals and helping with all kinds of chores. Kang Oh, who was always roaming outside and rarely returned to Heukcheon, happened to cross paths with him.
Their reunion was as startling as snow falling in the middle of summer.

Because of that, Jinrang couldn’t feel at ease.

“You’ve got a bruise,” Yae Jinrang murmured as he slowly stepped back.

A bluish tint was already rising on Woo’s pale neck. If he had even slightly moved his hand, Woo’s neck would have snapped on the spot. Even if it hadn’t, there was no doubt a deep bruise would soon appear.

“I-I’m fine. Really.”

Woo muttered. As if it meant nothing, he raised his nails and clawed at the spot until the flesh tore.

Jinrang stared at him in disbelief.

“I’ll just say it happened because I had a nightmare.

He’d lost control and tried to strangle someone, and now he was planning to smooth things over with ointment. But watching him tear at his own skin like it doesn’t matter made Jinrang’s blood boil. Just like Seol Bu-yeong, he’d use any means to get what he wanted, even if it meant turning himself into a beast.

Clever. Brilliant. But someone who neglects himself was a threat.

Is it really wise to keep someone like this by Kang Oh’s side?

Jinrang’s gaze wavered. If he said Woo had gone missing, Kang Oh would dig into it, and the blowback would be inevitable.

He understood, at least, that this was just a desperate attempt to deal with the immediate crisis. But this choice would eventually draw scrutiny.

The nephew he knew was relentless and never backed down easily.

Until now, he had never tried to claim anything for himself. A man without greed was often the kind to place the highest value on the first thing he became obsessed with.

Yae Jinrang had never once thought that Dan Woo Hyo would become someone Yae Kang Oh couldn’t forget.

“Your mother is still looking for you.”

Yae Jinrang spoke suddenly, as if the thought had just come to him.

“She… she’ll give up eventually.”

“It’s been ten years.”

“She just can’t accept that her son is dead.”

“Because Seol Buyeong is still holding on, the position of Lord of Baekragung hasn’t been vacant this entire time.”

He saw Woo’s gaze falter for the first time and didn’t let it slip past him.

“If you can’t find your footing, why not go back to where everything started?”

“That place… it’s not mine.”

“Why? Is it because you’re not Dan Baekhun’s son?”

Woo didn’t answer. He truly couldn’t have looked more foolish.

“The Lord Of Huekcheon wouldn’t understand. You built everything with your own hands. I can’t even begin to compare.”

“Understand what?”

“A life where everything you have was borrowed.”

It was only because he was Dan Baekhun’s son that he could become the Lord of Baekragung at such a young age.

Everything he ate, wore, enjoyed, and learned while growing up, even the envy, respect, goodwill, and attention he received, had all come from the power and name of the family he lived under.

If he had been their true son, none of it would have seemed so bright.
At the very least, if he had repaid it with filial piety, people would have seen him as someone who inherited that grace properly.

Dan Woo Hyo had always been a cuckoo chick. But even if Seol Bu-yeong never realized it, everything he received from Dan Baekhun had been real.

“There’s nothing in that place that belongs to me.”

It wasn’t Dan Woo Hyo who said that.

It was the servant Woo.

All he had left was a sliver of worry.
In the hollow shell of the man who had once ruled Baekragung, only his heart for Kang Oh remained.

Yae Jinrang’s gaze darkened as he looked down at the silent Woo.

“So that’s why you won’t go back? Because there’s nothing of yours left there.”

Woo gave a small nod. Yae Jinrang swallowed the sigh he had been holding back for a long time.

“You could’ve wandered anywhere in the Central Plains. You say you stayed because of Kang Oh, but I thought the real reason you didn’t return to Baekragung was because you lost your martial arts.”

In martial sects, a leader’s strength was everything. Once their prime had passed, it was customary to hand down everything to a successor and step aside. And with his martial arts gone, Dan Woo Hyo had nothing left but the path of downfall.

The martial skill he had spent his life cultivating had shattered completely.
Yae Jinrang could understand why he wouldn’t want anyone to see him like that.
Like a tiger that slips away to die where no one can find it, the man who once sat atop Baekragung had lost his inner force.
Leaving the martial world was perhaps the only path left to him.

If a day ever came when he, too, lost everything like Dan Woo Hyo, he would likely do the same. He would leave behind only a word to his disciple and disappear forever.

This was a matter of pride he would protect even with a blade to his throat.
For the subordinates who had followed a strong leader and entrusted everything to his shoulders, it was the one final courtesy he could still offer.

“Well… perhaps it’s for the best.”

Dan Woo Hyo had already lost Dan Baekhun. Nothing in Baekragung belonged to him anymore.

A deep sense of loss, coupled with guilt over the comforts he had once enjoyed, weighed heavily on Woo.

Without his martial arts, he could no longer shoulder any responsibility. If he returned, just as Paeng had warned, he might end up as a puppet, used to preserve his mother’s position. And because Dan Baekhun had entrusted him with both his life and his inner force, he couldn’t bring himself to watch Baekragung be used that way.

And if he returned, he would inevitably have to confront Seol Buyeong. He didn’t want to doubt her. He couldn’t change what was already gone, but if there was anything still left to lose, he would rather not face it.

Even so, as the Lord of Baekragung, there was a duty he could not forsake. If he returned, he would not abandon that responsibility.

Even if it meant a full-on confrontation with Seol Buyeong.

Who was he kidding? He was no better than a sick child. Helpless and pitiful.

Someone like that, a coward, didn’t deserve to be the Lord of Baekragung. His junior martial sister, Namgung Jiyeok, was a far better fit. If what Jinrang said was true, that Seol Buyeong was still holding on, even she would give up soon.

His relationship with his mother was not the same as the one he had shared with Dan Baekhun. He revered her, but he had never felt truly loved.

Still…
Despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to act first.

If the Lord of Heukcheon were to learn of this humiliating entanglement, he would likely sneer without restraint. A man said to be the only one in the martial world who could rival the demonic lord, he might well ridicule the Lord of Baekragung as nothing more than a pathetic brat who still hadn’t managed to crawl out from under his mother’s skirts.

“Ugh!”

The pain struck without warning, not even the faintest sign to brace for it.
Woo cried out before he even realized it, but clenched his teeth and held on.
He drew out every last bit of endurance he had, yet cold sweat still ran down his back in an instant.

His entire body convulsed in agony, every breath catching like a blade in his throat.
The pain burst from his skull, like molten lead searing through his veins, ripping down every nerve in his body.

Godok.

Yae Jinrang stood over Woo, staring down at his collapsed body. His face was blank. It might have been anger, or maybe it held nothing at all.

“It’s difficult to stomach such nonsense.”

It could only have been Yae Jinrang who triggered the Godok.

“You may have lived like a servant, but you’re no slave dragged from the gutter. So why are you falling apart like this?”
His gaze bore down on Woo as if passing judgment.

Though his breath came in ragged gasps from the pain, Woo didn’t avert his eyes. He met Yae Jinrang’s gaze and held it.

“I thought you were just a slow-witted fool, but now I see you’re truly a dumb bastard.”

Woo lowered his head and took the verbal beating in silence. He believed he deserved every word.

“Dan Baekhun let himself get caught in the struggle and passed his seat to a bastard… what a disgrace.”

Woo’s shoulders trembled.

“Please… don’t insult him,” he stammered.

Yae Jinrang scoffed, as if the very name had tainted the ground beneath them.

“Insult? When we were fighting Hyeolgyo, I even broke that bastard’s nose. We fought to see who would die first, taking turns throwing ourselves in. And now this is what you call an insult?” He sneered again.

“To think the one who inherited Dan Baekhun’s legacy is this much of a coward…., as someone who once fought back-to-back with him, I couldn’t be more ashamed.”

Woo said nothing.

“Even if he lost his strength, he should never have handed his position to some coward who doesn’t even know the meaning of shame.”

Yae Jinrang bent down and gripped Woo’s chin, forcing it upward. His voice was sharp, but his face showed no trace of mockery.

As if he wasn’t even worth the effort.

“That’s why the current Lord of Baekragung is groveling at the feet of the Lord of Huekcheon.”

Woo lowered his gaze. Those sharp words that stabbed into his chest carried not a single lie.

“A loser who rolls over and shows his belly before the fight even begins wasn’t worth anyone’s time.”

Yae Jinrang let go of Woo’s collar, as if this pitiful display was exactly what he’d expected. With that support gone, Woo, barely holding on under the effects of the poison, collapsed onto the ground.

The Lord of Huekcheon walked away without looking back.

Woo barely managed to pull himself together. He leaned against a bamboo stalk and forced himself upright. His insides felt torn apart, as if he’d taken a blow straight to the core. After a few coughs, blood stained his palm.

He worried about how he would hide this.

Woo wiped his bloody palm against the inside of his sleeve. Then he began walking, hoping Yeonjin, who was probably waiting to lead him back to Heedowon, wouldn’t catch the scent of blood.

The surroundings remained dim under the influence of the formation, but above, the moon shone bright against a sky scattered with stars.

—

“Y-your neck.”

Yeonjin had been pacing with a lantern, and the moment she saw Woo, it was the first thing she cried out.

Faint bruises shaped like fingers stood out on his neck. Between them, a dark blotch had begun to spread. The color was strange, disturbingly unnatural. Yeonjin didn’t understand what it was, but it was a mark left by the Godok, the kind that appeared briefly after a flare-up before fading again.

When Woo belatedly reached up to touch his neck, a tremble flickered in Yeonjin’s eyes. She bit her lip. No words came out, but everything showed on her face.

“Please pretend you didn’t see it.”

Yeonjin shook her head, a faint sniff escaping her. When she met Woo’s gaze again, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Was it because of me?”

“No. No, absolutely not.”

Woo answered firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt.

“The Lord of Huekcheon wouldn’t bother with someone like me. I’m just a mere servant.”

It was harsh to say, but he only said it so she wouldn’t worry. That alone made her eyes start to glisten again.

Still, she clenched her teeth and endured it. Even if it wasn’t entirely her fault, knowing she had been the trigger for Woo’s suffering at the hands of the Lord of Huekcheon made her feel she had no right to cry.

Yeonjin walked ahead with the lantern in hand. The light barely cut through the darkness, and though her legs trembled, her steps remained firm. She didn’t stumble or stop, not even once, until they reached Heedowon.

---

The moon shone bright, but the bamboo forest remained cloaked in shadows. Someone stood hidden, watching the figures step out from within.

…That man?

The First Disciple, Mo Yong Yuun, stood at a distance, staring at Woo as if he were seeing a ghost.

He had come to gather some good herbs, planning to offer them to his master. After years bound in the master-disciple relationship, Mo Yong Yuun knew that whenever the moon was full, Jinrang would forgo sleep and push through the night in solitude.

Whenever he brought a bottle of liquor and went to visit him, they would often share a quiet moment together, even if not a single word was exchanged.

He had set out today with the same intent. But the further he walked, the more twisted the path became, and he began to sense a veil settling over the area. Realizing a formation had been activated, Mo Yong Yuun frowned.

From the very beginning, Huekcheon had been shaped by Jinrang’s hand. Not only the buildings but even the placement of the stone walls and each tree had been arranged with precision. It was all designed to set up a formation that would swallow intruders whole. Usually, these formations only activated at Yae Jinrang’s command, but occasionally, when the weather or ambient energies aligned just right, the formation would move on its own.

Yuun figured today was one of those days. He didn’t know much about formations, but he carried a jade talisman his master had given him, proof that he was the Grand Disciple.

Taking it out from his robe, he summoned a spiritual flame. As the light flared, the jade reflected it and opened the path before him.

He quickened his steps, intending to find his master and ask him to dispel the formation as soon as possible. There were rumors in Huekcheon of warriors who vanished without a trace, only to reappear days later on the outskirts. They were said to have been caught in a formation that had triggered abnormally and led them astray.

Though no one came back with a single injury, the drop in morale across the entire faction couldn’t be avoided. It was better to step in before things got any worse.

Still, Mo Yong Yuun didn’t once consider that it might have been his master, Jinrang, who activated the formation.

As he drew closer to his master’s quarters, Yuun came to a halt. What should have been the lakeside now appeared as a bamboo grove, and in front of it, a single flickering lantern swayed back and forth.

A maidservant held the lantern.

Cautious by nature, Mo Yong Yuun instinctively stepped back. He realized someone else might already be visiting. In a way, it was fortunate. He had stopped only after seeing Yeonjin’s lantern, and by chance, he was just far enough that Jinrang wouldn’t notice his presence unless he was paying close attention.

Does this mean it was Master who activated the formation?

Even as the Grand Disciple, Yuun had no way of knowing who Jinrang was meeting with under such careful secrecy.

Jinrang had gone to such lengths to keep this meeting secret. As a disciple, the right thing for Yuun to do was to quietly turn back.

But curiosity got the better of him.

Secrets could be power. And Yuun knew that better than anyone.

He happened to have a perfect excuse. He carried wine, so instead of returning to his quarters, Yuun suppressed his presence and stayed where he was to observe.

Bathed in pale blue moonlight, a figure appeared between the bamboo.

The Grand Disciple focused his inner strength into his eyes and took in the man’s face. He felt he’d seen the man before, but couldn’t remember where or who he was.

He’d never paid close attention to mere servants.

It wasn’t until a moment later, when he recalled Woo’s twisted expression beside Kang Oh, that Yuun finally recognized him.

A flicker of confusion crossed his mind.

“What’s he doing at Master’s residence at this hour?”

Just as the anticipation sparked by recognizing the man began to subside, the clouds shifted. The moonlight broke through, so bright it seemed to pass judgment, illuminating Woo as he stepped through the bamboo grove.

It was as if the moon unveiled a secret only it had known, casting it directly into Yuun’s eyes.

Even under Yae Jinrang’s tongue, which had sliced him apart with scorn, the battered shell Woo had wrapped around himself could no longer hide who he really was.

Woo’s posture was straighter than usual, upright in a way that no longer resembled a servant. Though he had coughed up blood, he wiped it away with indifference. For a moment, his expression grew sharp, stripped of all submission and compliance.

Yuun, who had been more focused on the youngest disciple’s every move than on the servant he had brought, was finally seeing Woo for who he was.

A sense of déjà vu stirred within him. He struggled to recall where he had seen that face before. Somewhere in his life, he was certain he had once come across this man.

It couldn’t be… No, that was impossible.

There was grace in his gait. Swift, yet never rushed. The once-hunched posture was now upright, hinting at surprising height beneath the moonlight’s gentle touch. Though the outline of his features had marred, making him nearly unrecognizable, the expression he wore now was impossible to miss.

In fact, it was strange that he hadn’t recognized him until now…

No. It couldn’t be. He pushed the thought away, yet his gaze refused to move. A single possibility, an undeniable suspicion, had begun to sprout in his chest.

…Dan Woo Hyo?

Even though he was the one who had made the connection, Yuun furrowed his brow.

To associate the missing Lord of Baekragung, gone for ten years, with that lowly servant was preposterous. How could he possibly overlap the two?

To Yuun, the Lord of Baekragung had been a secret admiration. An ideal he had never spoken of, but quietly held onto in the depths of his heart.

It was back when he had just inherited the title of Baekragung’s Lord, not long before his disappearance.

Yuun had been on his way to Sichuan on his master’s orders. Six warriors from Huekcheon had gone missing near the Yangtze River one after another.

While inquiring around the area, he saw a man in white standing at a pavilion on a ridge overlooking the Yangtze.

The man stood facing the river, his tied-up hair stirring in the wind. Though a veil covered his face, his calm and commanding presence drew glances from every passerby.

Yuun’s gaze fixed on the man, and for a moment, he forgot his mission entirely. Others might have looked and continued on their way, but he had recognized who the man was.

Dan Woo Hyo.

It had always been a one-sided recognition.

Years ago, when he visited Baekragung as a representative of Huekcheon, he had taken note of Dan Baekhun’s only heir. That noble-looking boy, said to have royal blood, held everything Yuun had ever admired.

Innate dignity and lineage. Power and wealth. Martial prowess so exceptional that even those a rank above their generation couldn’t rival him.

And more than anything, he was someone who could never be replaced.

Yuun envied everything about Dan Woo Hyo. He would’ve done anything. Anything at all, if it meant he could devour everything he was and make it his own.

He was nothing like Yuun, who, despite being born to a righteous clan, had ended up bound to the Black Path, shackled by obligation. Had the Mo Yong Clan survived, he might not have become an envoy of Huekcheon but a rightful heir of the Righteous Path, standing beside Dan Woo Hyo. Maybe even as a close friend.

That thought alone stirred something in his chest. A faint ache that came from missing the family he had lost, and mourning the future that was once meant to be his.

Dan Woo Hyo was like a storehouse of everything Yuun had lost but couldn’t let go of.

That was why, even now, Yuun’s inability to forget him felt like a kind of obsession.

Whenever Yae Kang Oh appeared, whenever Yuun’s already fragile standing in Huekcheon seemed to shift, he would find himself thinking of Dan Woo Hyo.

If the Mo Yong Clan hadn’t been wiped out by Hyeolgyo, he wouldn’t have needed to constantly tiptoe around his capricious master. As a direct heir, he would’ve surpassed his siblings and become the next head of the clan.

He wouldn’t have needed to keep his guard up around nobodies like Yae Kang Oh, who didn’t even know his own lineage.

“There’s no way that’s him.”

Mo Yong Yuun forcibly stilled himself.

Dan Woo Hyo had always seemed untouchable, perfect even in his solitude. There was no way the scrawny servant groveling at the youngest disciple’s feet could be the same person.

It couldn’t be. It mustn’t be.

Even if it was true… if that man really was the Lord of Baekragung, how could someone like him ever belong to Yae Kang Oh?

Yuun’s face twisted in frustration.

Even if the idea that he was the Lord of Baekragung made little sense, what bothered Yuun most was that the man ended up with the youngest disciple.

If it had been the second disciple’s, perhaps it wouldn’t have stung as much. But Yae Kang Oh was different. He always got what he wanted, be it their master’s affection or his standing in Huekcheon.

Jealousy and desire flared hot in Yuun’s chest.

Yuun’s hand crushed the neck of the wine bottle as he watched the maidservant lead the servant ahead with her lantern.

The bottle slipped from his grasp and shattered on the ground, the sharp scent of liquor quickly filling the air. Yuun wiped the cold droplets from his hand and straightened up.

He had work to do.

---

Night had settled once more over Heedowon. After telling Yeonjin to head back first, Woo began walking at a slow, unhurried pace.

Woo looked up at the bright moon. He had never realized how beautiful it was, perhaps because he had always moved through the dark, never stopping to notice the light.

There had been a time when he could look up at the sky without feeling weighed down. Before shame had driven him into the shadows, he’d once walked proudly beneath the noonday sun.

But now, the only one standing here was a powerless, disgraceful fugitive.

He had thought that, with time, those emotions could be carried away with the surging currents of the Yangtze River. But they still simmered inside him, tying him down.

“Didn’t know you liked midnight strolls.”

Startled by the voice, Woo turned around.

Kang Oh stepped forward from the shadows.

Why was he here?

Woo was caught off guard. Jinrang wouldn’t have handled the matter carelessly. In order to get Woo out of Heedowon, it was essential that Kang Oh remained unaware. Jinrang had likely arranged for Yeonjin to guide the way and ensured their paths wouldn’t cross. But how had he known Woo would slip out, and was already there waiting?

Could it be due to Kang Oh’s unique constitution, the same one that always seemed to unravel spells on its own?

Perhaps he had noticed Woo’s absence while trying to sleep.

“Th-Third Disciple…”

Kang Oh stood there in a loose crimson robe. Even when fully dressed, he gave off a strangely restrained allure, but now, with his robe falling just enough to reveal a hint of his chest, that ascetic air took on a faintly seductive edge.

Kang Oh’s lips trembled slightly as he stared at Woo in silence. His hand reached out slowly and tapped the side of Woo’s neck. He had clearly noticed the fingerprint Jinrang had left behind.

Woo parted his lips, ready with the excuse he had prepared in advance.

“I… had a nightmare and choked myself in my sleep.”

“You strangled yourself?” Kang Oh’s voice was bitter.

The black bruise that had once lingered on Woo’s neck had faded, but in its place, the outline of fingers had darkened into a deep, unmistakable blue.

“So I look like a fool to you, do I?”

“N-no, that’s not it!”

“You went to see Master, didn’t you?”

Woo shook his head.

“I had a nightmare and ended up hurting my own neck. I stepped out because I didn’t want to keep tossing and turning in bed.”

It was a plausible excuse. But Kang Oh didn’t buy it.

“You reek of blood.”

Even if Yeonjin hadn’t noticed, there was no hiding the scent from Kang Oh.
The night dew had blurred it slightly, but not enough to fool a martial artist who had faced death and lived to tell the tale.

I-I think it’s because of my neck.”

Kang Oh grabbed his sleeve and turned it over. There was blood on it, from when Woo had coughed due to internal injuries.

After losing his internal energy, Woo had stayed frail for quite some time. His senses had dulled so much that he hadn’t even noticed it.

“M-Maybe you misunderstood the situation, but whatever you were thinking, n-no, it’s not that. P-please don’t take it the wrong way.”

Woo stepped back as he spoke.

Because Kang Oh wasn’t gripping tightly, Woo’s bloodstained sleeve slipped from his grasp.

Woo hadn’t expected him to let go so easily. Surprise filled his eyes.

“You’re more worried about what I might think than your own condition?”

When Kang Oh’s face came into view, it was twisted in torment. He looked so pained that Woo almost asked if he was alright.

Kang Oh could tell Woo had done something wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what. The man was visibly anxious and he kept chewing at his lips.

“T-that’s not it,” He shook his head, but there wasn’t a hint of sincerity in his expression.

Lying so clumsily, desperately trying to hide it… was it because of me?

Woo’s excuses were so flimsy, it didn’t even take questioning to see right through them. It was obvious he had no idea how to lie.

It might have hurt less if he had just lied outright. But watching him scramble to cover up something so obvious made it harder to bear. It almost made one want to go along with the lie, to pretend to believe it, even while seeing right through it.

“Are you afraid I’ll confront Master?”

Woo weakly shook his head.

“It’s not… not like that.”

Woo kept his mouth shut and let both his hands rest at his sides. There was so little he could say to Kang Oh that whenever he stood before him, he shrank into something unbearably small.

What did Kang Oh see him as? A liar?

Kang Oh furrowed his brow. He had thought he’d struck a nerve, but Woo didn’t even offer a flimsy excuse. Was there truly something he couldn’t bring himself to say?

He had never met anyone with as many secrets as Woo.

“Come with me.”

After saying that, Kang Oh turned on his heel.

There was a cold wind in the sharpness of that movement. Woo said nothing more and quietly followed after him.

Kang Oh usually adjusted his pace for Woo, but today, his long strides felt more distant than ever.

It was only natural if he felt disgusted. A servant who stayed silent and sullen without offering any explanation was the kind anyone would want to cast aside.

But in truth, Kang Oh was conflicted. He wasn’t afraid of getting hurt. What he feared was taking out this discomfort on Woo.

There was nothing Woo could do against harsh words or violent gestures. All he could do was stay cautious and endure it.

Kang Oh listened to the soft shuffle of footsteps behind him as Woo followed. He suppressed the anger rising in him. His fingers, which had begun to pale from how tightly they were clenched, slowly loosened.

As dawn crept closer and the air grew damp, Kang Oh stepped up to the rear of the veranda and waited in silence. He stayed there until Woo took off his shoes and came up behind him.

Kang Oh hadn’t said a word the whole time, and Woo kept watching him, trying to read something from that quiet face. But there was nothing. Like a peony bud before bloom, tightly shut and still, Kang Oh gave nothing away.

There was something about him that left others uneasy, as if he held back whatever he was feeling without letting it show.

“Come in.”

Surprisingly, the place Kang Oh led him to wasn’t Woo’s quarters, but his own.

The interior hardly felt like part of Heedowon. While the room had the basic furnishings, there was little else. No decorations, no trace of someone actually living there.

There were no scattered ink brushes, no unfinished scrolls, nothing left behind in use. It felt completely severed. That it looked this way despite being managed by servants only made it feel more unnatural.

He must have just woken from sleep, yet not a single crease marked the bedding. The neatness could only be the result of Kang Oh’s own hand.

“Sit down.”

Woo stood awkwardly by the door, but when Kang Oh gestured toward the bedding, he shook his head.

“I’ll stay here.”

“I won’t say it again.”

In the end, Woo stepped into Kang Oh’s quarters.

The weight in his chest left him unable to sit or stand properly near the bedding. He hovered, unsure of where to place himself.

Kang Oh opened a wooden chest and rummaged through it before returning with something in hand. He placed a hand on Woo’s shoulder and gently guided him down onto the bedding.

The touch was gentle but firm. Woo lowered his head without resistance, as if his legs had suddenly lost their strength.

“Lift your head.”

At Kang Oh’s words, Woo hesitated, then slowly raised his gaze. Through the translucent paper window, moonlight spilled in, tinting the night in a faint bluish hue.

It was a shade that could only be seen at the brief cusp between night and dawn.

That light softened the sharp lines of Kang Oh’s face, casting it in quiet tenderness. Woo’s eyes caught the slight furrow in his brow, as if he were focused on something.

Was he always this tall?

Just as the thought was about to sweep him away, Kang Oh’s hand touched his neck.

Woo let out a short gasp and flinched hard. Kang Oh let out a short breath before asking. “Sorry. Does it hurt?”

Woo shook his head.

“N-no, it’s fine.”

Along with the brush of his fingers came a faint chill and a subtle scent that reached his nose. That was when Woo realized what Kang Oh had brought was medicinal ointment.

He dipped a finger into the salve and parted his lips.

“Then hold still.”

Woo’s eyelashes quivered.

“Yes…”

It was strange. Each time that low voice reached him, it echoed through his mind as if it were stirring something inside him.

Tension crept in quietly. Woo wanted to swallow down the breath caught in his throat, but the clear sensation at his neck made even that feel impossible.

Was it some spell cast by the moon? The space between them felt far narrower than what he could see.

Every other sound had faded, leaving only the soft rhythm of the other’s breathing in its place. It felt like, if he listened closely enough, he might even hear the slow beat of a heart.

It felt as though he were trapped in an unfamiliar formation. If it were a typical one, he might have been able to find a way to break it, but at this moment, he couldn’t even begin to guess how to escape.

Kang Oh’s fingers brushed softly over Woo’s throat, where a faint bruise had started to surface. He applied the ointment, spreading it gently and thoroughly across the area.

Woo could feel his shoulders trembling slightly.

“Ugh..”

When Kang Oh’s touch passed over the especially deep marks left by fingernails, Woo flinched. He tried not to show it, but his lips betrayed the effort, moving against his will.

It was truly strange.

His palms had once torn open from blocking blades. Even as the Lord of Baekragung, he had never held back to protect himself. He had fought assassins, been pierced by blades, struck by blunt weapons, and even fallen from cliffs. The scars left by the Third Overseer’s whip were still etched across his back. He had carried living Godok in his body and had once burned his own face.

Even this wound had been caused by his own hand.

Painful as it was, he could endure it.

But this sensation, subtle and strange, like a tickle yet somehow more delicate and unsettling in its sweetness, was something he couldn’t bear.

Kang Oh whispered softly. The blue tint cast over the room by the approaching dawn was reflected in his eyes. With his lids lowered just slightly, there was a rare clarity to his face that felt almost pure.

Woo forgot to breathe for a moment and turned his gaze away.

Just then, even looking at Kang Oh felt like too much.

Whether it was the mood or the strange energy in the air, he had no way of knowing.
All he could do was endure Kang Oh’s touch on his skin and hope the moment would pass.

“It’s done.”

Kang Oh’s fingers slowly lifted from Woo’s neck.

Drained of strength, Woo found himself unexpectedly reluctant to let them go. The thought startled him so much he bit down hard on his tongue.

He had to be going mad.

What was so difficult about this? He was finally free from that awkward, overwhelming moment, so why did it feel harder now?

“Th-thank you.”

The words slipped from Woo’s mouth in a voice so small it sounded frightened.

Kang Oh froze. He had meant to help, but in his rush to treat the wound, he had cornered Woo again. He was applying medicine to someone whose throat had just been strangled, so it wasn’t strange if Woo felt unsettled.

He wanted to bite off the tongue that had told him to stay still.

“…You may go.”

Kang Oh barely managed to get the words out before turning away and clenching his teeth.

Mistake after mistake. It was enough to make him feel revolted.

Seeing the way Kang Oh’s expression had sunk, Woo lowered his head.

“Th-thank you for treating me.”

“…Take this and apply it every day.”

When Kang Oh handed him the ointment, Woo started to shake his head, then hesitated. If he refused, Kang Oh might insist on applying it himself again.

It was better to take it and handle it on his own.

“Th-thank you. I’ll use it.”

Seeing Woo accept the ointment without resistance, Kang Oh gave a faint smile.

“I-I’ll take my leave.”

As soon as he finished bowing, Woo turned and left in a hurry. Behind him, his shadow stretched long across the floor.

Kang Oh watched it and murmured to himself.

If I held onto that shadow, would it make you resist me too…?

Before he even realized it, his hand had begun to reach out. Then, he drew it back and turned away. He could already feel Woo’s presence growing distant.

Maybe it was the trick of dawn, but today, the sound of that retreating figure was unusually hard to ignore.

Maybe it was dawn’s mischief, but today, the sound of those fading footsteps felt unusually hard to bear.