Yeonmu Hall (5)
It's not an attack if I didn't hit her. Truth be told, it was a ridiculous excuse.
No matter how friendly the spar, pretending to attack and then backing off whenever it felt off was unacceptable.
Let alone repeating it until she showed an opening.
Yet Dang Beom tolerated it for a simple reason.
He'd been humiliated. By a worthless direct-line brat who only got lucky being born into privilege.
He acknowledged her personal talent was exceptional, but so what? She was just a worm who relied on her background and refused to train in martial arts.
He'd swallowed his rage, determined to smash that humiliation head-on.
Of course, judging by Dang Hoiyeong's skills, it made sense she'd trained in martial arts as a child for some reason but hidden it—and he'd noticed that possibility himself.
But anger had shoved that realization deep into the back of his mind long ago.
However...
"Take this!"
It had already been about half an incense stick's time since Dang Hoiyeong started her bullshit.
At first, Dang Beom had been furious to the top of his head at the thought of being humiliated.
But what could he say?
"I won't hit you!"
Those cute little hands and feet, swinging what she probably thought were threatening blows.
Charging in with a serious face, then retreating heroically.
It was funny. Adorable, even.
Made him wonder if he'd act like that if he had a little sister...
—Slap!
Dang Beom slapped his own cheek.
What the hell am I thinking?
Get it together, Dang Beom. Even that ridiculous act was probably calculated...
"Take this!"
Act...
"I won't hit you!"
Pfft.
"You laughing?"
"I didn't laugh."
"Am I a joke to you?"
"I didn't laugh."
Dang Hoiyeong circled Dang Beom, staring him down silently.
"Take this!"
Puhh.
In that instant, Dang Beom clamped his mouth shut and bowed his head to stifle the laugh that burst out unbidden.
At the same time, the momentum drained from the girl who'd been stomping her cute little feet.
A chill ran down his spine, and he twisted his body with all his might.
Late as it was, the sound of air splitting reached him as a dull needle whistled past his eyes.
"You dodged that one. Nice."
Dang Hoiyeong murmured calmly.
Of course, her voice dripped with playful sternness that only pissed him off more.
Cheap tricks like this...
Dang Beom adjusted his stance, trying to seize control again. They'd closed in for a surprise attack.
If it turned into a brawl, it was his unconditional win. If he could just reset his stance...
If he could just, just reset his stance...!
But with her follow-up assault after the failed ambush, he couldn't regain his footing.
—Pabak!!
Two dull needles flew straight at him.
Dang Beom raised his arms to block and hurled himself sideways. The momentum had fully shifted.
He slapped the ground to rise, but Dang Hoiyeong gave no quarter.
"Trying to bail mid-spar? How low-class. How cowardly. And you're a Tang? Tsk tsk."
With cheerful mockery, she started kicking at Dang Beom as he rolled on the floor.
Who the hell are you to say that...!
Dang Beom wanted to shout it, but he couldn't.
Even from a ten-year-old kid's body, those kicks carried inner energy.
Bone-crushing pain overwhelmed him.
If she'd been his size or had trained external arts like Dang Hwayeong, he'd have crushed her ages ago.
Pinned and trampled, Dang Beom still watched for an opening.
He shot out his hand and grabbed her ankle.
Gotcha!
He'd lost control due to carelessness, but his overwhelming size and strength weren't to be underestimated.
Dang Hoiyeong's face twisted in panic as she tried to throw a needle, but this time he didn't give her the chance.
Where you going!
Dang Beom yanked her ankle hard.
Dang Hoiyeong toppled flat on the ground, the needle she'd been about to throw shooting skyward.
"Had your fun playing with me, huh!"
Dang Beom rose, checking her face—which had to be twisted in pain.
But contrary to his expectations, Dang Hoiyeong looked utterly relaxed.
What'd he miss?
As that thought hit him, he drew a needle from his sleeve to aim at her forehead.
No more carelessness.
But it was already too late.
—Thud.
He felt a needle drop against the back of his neck.
Frozen, Dang Beom puzzled it out—the answer came quick.
The hidden weapon technique he'd glimpsed during class, stealing glances at her training: projectiles that bent trajectories at will.
"Advanced... martial art..."
He muttered through gritted teeth.
Clearly, the needle she'd flung skyward while falling had curved back to target his neck.
Dang Beom had never dreamed he'd lose, so he froze in place.
Dang Hoiyeong stared at him steadily, then clicked her tongue and tossed out a line.
"Wondered why you were so eaten up with inferiority. It was something that petty?"
Something that petty.
His lifelong goal since childhood dismissed as petty.
Forgetting she was direct-line, Dang Beom yelled at her.
"You wouldn't get it—you've had everything handed to you from the start! But, but...!"
"With your talent, you could learn all of Tang arts eventually. Even if it takes time?"
"..."
It was true. Dang Beom planned to prove his talent in Yeonmu Hall and earn entry to Cheondok Bigak.
"You're not really after advanced arts, are you?"
Yeah. Truth was, Dang Beom didn't give a damn about advanced arts.
His obsession stemmed from...
It was the only way to get closer to the one person he considered family.
Gaining advanced arts meant proving his worth. It meant learning at his grandfather's side.
So...
Even her ridiculous tantrums let her keep family-like retainers by her side just for being direct-line. He envied that.
Things he had to carve out with flesh-slicing effort were natural to her from birth. He envied that.
To her...
—Thud!
"Everything else is fine. But this fucker zones out mid-spar with his bullshit thoughts."
While lost in reverie, Dang Beom took a punch to the solar plexus and collapsed.
Crude profanity flew from the mouth of someone clearly raised pampered, but Dang Beom had no time to care.
Sudden agony blurred his vision; he couldn't breathe.
"Wh-what the... The spar's already over..."
"Who said it's over?"
What nonsense was that? He'd clearly taken a needle to the neck. The spar was his loss...
"The judge hasn't called it yet."
Dang Hoiyeong pointed at Dang Munhyeon.
Coughing and turning, he saw Dang Munhyeon dramatically shaking his head side to side, his whole body screaming I didn't see nothing~.
No time to ponder what that meant.
Dang Hoiyeong kicked the seated Dang Beom and started stomping wildly.
"Say you surrender!!!"
"I sur...!"
As Dang Beom tried to cry surrender, she kicked his face to cut him off.
"Such strong resolve! Refusing to yield even unconscious! Perfect first sidekick material—you've got the spirit!"
What the fuck...
"But those poison-glaring eyes need taming! Love's whip always hurts, so bear with it!"
St-stop...
"Three absolute rules for surviving murim! One: watch out for women! Two: stay calm no matter what! Three: never forget one and two! You broke every single..."
His vision faded.
"You think I wanna skip my nap and go through this shit because of you!!!"
With Dang Hoiyeong's furious shout, Dang Beom's consciousness flickered out.
Fuck. So she was pissed about the nap after all.
Swallowing profanity he'd never voice aloud, he endured as Dang Hoiyeong vented her rage for another half incense stick even after he passed out—until Dang Munhyeon realized it was too much, hopped onto the stage, and scooped her up.
An unfamiliar ceiling.
His whole body screamed in protest.
"Where...?"
Dang Beom groped for his last memory before blacking out, piecing together how he'd ended up here.
Under grandfather's orders to gauge Dang Hoiyeong's strength, he'd swallowed his pride for a spar... and yielded first to a ten-year-old, only to lose pathetically...
And then, and then...
His head throbbed.
Something about trying to surrender but getting ignored, then trampled by cute little feet.
No, that couldn't be right.
This wasn't some street brawl. It was a nominal friendly spar—Dang Hoiyeong, direct-line of a prestigious clan, wouldn't do that.
And Dang Munhyeon wouldn't just watch.
Probably a nightmare.
Lost my memories from the shock of defeat?
Dang Beom dragged his aching body upright.
Soon.
—Kieeeek!!!
A horrific scream echoed from somewhere. He swallowed dryly and stepped forward.
—Druluk.
He opened the door.
An indescribably bizarre scene unfolded.
Dang Hoiyeong thrashing and screaming. Four maids holding her limbs. And her stoic nanny kneading her calf.
"Stop! Stop! I was wrong!"
"What kind of talk is that from a young lady? This is all for your own good. If you leave muscle soreness alone..."
"Sorry! I'm sorry!!! Not there!!! Aaaak!!!"
"No fussing. That's the spot."
"Kieeeek!!!"
Dang Beom tried to process it, then quietly shut the door.