Namgung Yeona's Remorse
It was a tale from the time when Yujin was still eking out his survival on that uninhabited island.
In the spacious, luxurious hall prepared for the younger generation of martial artists,
"In the end, we couldn't find any trace of Young Master Yujin. Report him as missing to the higher-ups."
The news spread—gossip fodder for enthusiasts, curses for those who had scorned him, and ill tidings for someone special.
No, that can't be.
Her body trembled violently from the shock.
There hadn't been a shred of deceit in her intentions; she truly hadn't meant for it to end this way.
Yes, when the time came, he would have come clean about everything on his own. Look at the emotions surging through her now—guilt.
...That man, he threatened and intimidated me every day. Sigh, ever since we were kids and close, he acted like he owned me or something, demanding these absurd, perverted things...
But against her own excuses, the memory resurfaced of her false accusation that had unmistakably crushed his spirit.
She could vividly picture Yujin staggering away afterward, his face a mask of utter devastation, as if he'd lost everything.
"Ugh, disgrace to the Pang family, that retard. Went out pathetically in the end."
"Poor Lady Namgung, forced to hang around that worthless childhood friend—what a disaster."
"Good riddance, fucking cripple."
Her irresponsible words had plunged his already precarious reputation into the abyss.
Even if he somehow survived and returned, no ordinary life awaited him with a stain like that.
And so, her conviction hardened further.
She had done her utmost. If only he'd waited a little longer, everything could have resolved amicably.
It was Yujin's fault for jumping the gun without waiting for that moment.
She had no choice but to think that way—or her mind would shatter.
"...Am I really going insane? Is this truly the right way to think?"
Reexamining it, she shuddered at her own repulsive rationalizations.
"Urk."
She barely suppressed the dry heave rising in her throat. Why did I do it? It felt like a foul, fleeting nightmare, as if it hadn't been my will at all—abandoning the one I loved for such treachery.
"Miss, are you alright?"
"Don't touch me!"
She slapped away the servant's hand reaching to check on her, hard.
Stunned by this uncharacteristic outburst from her usually gentle demeanor, the servant bowed repeatedly and retreated.
What she'd done was betrayal, plain as day—she should have hidden it somehow. No, she never should have lied. No, she never should have betrayed his heart from the start.
But regrets now changed nothing.
In their spotless childhood days, she'd simply loved being by his side.
Dashing through markets, sneaking forbidden street food and sharing it with sauce smeared on their faces; watching from afar as he tirelessly trained without giving up; gazing together at splendid fireworks in the spot he'd prepared just for her.
All those memories bloomed fresh in her mind, as if from yesterday.
Ignoring others' stares, family pressures, societal judgments—they'd been happy clashing their pure, simple feelings against each other.
She could swear there was no lie in those joyful recollections.
But that was the past. As time wore on, reality clashed with ideals, breeding endless worries.
Yujin had shone brilliantly in outer arts from youth, but alas, he had zero talent for inner power.
That alone might have been fine. Inner power? He could just pursue a non-martial path.
Yeona herself wasn't trained in martial arts either—her body rejected it, much like his.
But their situations differed starkly: her unique constitution lent her aptitude for the arcane art of shamanism. Trained in it from childhood instead of martial prowess, she'd become a shaman recognized even by the Zhuge family, synonymous with mystical mastery. Her standing outshone his... though he'd claimed it didn't bother him.
Her head knew this, but her heart refused to accept it.
She'd perked up at every faint rumor of a solution, scrambling to investigate—desperate to fix his plight.
Perhaps that's what they called lingering attachment.
The current mess stemmed from that. With no one to confide in, she'd stewed until encountering him at a younger martial artists' gathering. Their talks clicked, meetings continued, friendship blossomed—and she'd poured out her troubles.
"...What a tragic affair."
At first, she only voiced regret at failing to support her beloved.
But soon, she craved whining to this attentive listener.
It started with petty gripes. Hypotheticals: if Yujin could fulfill both reality and ideals... But her thoughts soured, lamenting his inadequacies.
"Blocked meridians opposing his mighty outer arts, hmm. I might be able to help with that."
This man who'd accepted her woes without judgment—the one she'd connected with through twists and turns—was likely the root of it all.
He claimed a solution, urged her to trust him.
Moyong Shin, heir to the Moyong family, another of the Five Great Clans.
His words carried weight; she followed naturally.
With his sharp, masculine northern features, wit, and charm, he exuded appeal. Not as sensitive as Yujin, but his occasional manly flair drew women, she'd thought.
She found him attractive, but not romantically—at first. There had been a trigger for that shift.
But now, she didn't want to dwell on it. It felt like tainting even her precious memories.
...Crossing the line happened in an instant, a mere blink.
Yes, up to here it's fine. I can still turn back—this isn't what I want. Just a detour to fix Yujin's meridians, then reset everything...
That was her mindset.
...Until she got caught. By no one else but Yujin.
"...No, no."
Who am I excusing? I was the one doing filthy things behind his back, the one who lied and ended his life.
All her actions, meant to save him, had twisted into daggers driving him to death.
Even knowing how mentally cornered he was.
So now, belatedly, she sought his forgiveness.
As she clutched her quaking body, murmuring unreachable apologies,
"What're you doing, babe?"
A man had crept up close, arms wrapping around her from behind in a tight embrace.
"Not in the mood right now, and drop that pet name."
Unlike usual, steeped in gloom, she shoved him away firmly.
Why hadn't it been this easy back then?
But he refused her rejection, clinging persistently.
His flippant behavior suddenly ignited her fury.
"Enough already! A man's dead! And not just some stranger—my, my...!"
"Your what?"
His playful grin had held until now, but something struck a nerve; Moyong Shin's face hardened as he licked his lips, prodding her to spit it out.
"In the end, you made the choice, didn't you? Trying to pin it all on me? Nah, that's not it."
"..."
She had no retort for his words.
Her turmoil left no room for argument.
"You lied to everyone that the retard was harassing you, right?"
"I didn't want to! You—you made me do it!"
But his sly smile dragged her back into his pace, forcing her to confront the inescapable sin.
"Come on, you went that far to protect your status and safety—now playing the hypocrite?"
"I got swept up, but thinking it over, it's all too suspicious. Was there really a way to help Yujin? Answer me."
Idiot, you think there was?
He toyed with revealing the truth to watch her despair but held back.
"I thought we'd built real trust by now. This hurts my feelings."
She still had use; he wasn't bored yet.
"Anyway, check that out."
He pointed; beyond the guest house window, in the distance, stood figures whose presence defied belief, heads bowed in confrontation.
"...Father."
How soon after the incident had he arrived here?
Representing one of murim's pillars, Namgung Cheon—patriarch of the Namgung family and her father—raised his voice, demanding accountability. How could a father stand idle after his daughter suffered? Yet to her, it felt like punishment.
His target: alongside Invincible Sword Moyong Hwi, one of the era's strongest—Pang Yeowon, Pang family head, Yujin's father.
The scene unfolded thus: her father's demands for reparations for harm to his daughter, met by Pang Yeowon's claim that the disowned son held no ties to them.
Clasping her trembling hands, watching it all, Moyong Shin gripped her shoulder and whispered pragmatic advice that promised catastrophe if followed.
"Not your fault? Then own it boldly. Confess everything to the patriarchs. If you've got the guts, maybe I'll kneel and beg with you."
His words broke her.
She feared the backlash, too weak to choose either path.
Seeing this, Moyong Shin smirked, patted her back lightly, and rose.
"I'll let it slide today—rest up. We're in this together, one body, one boat, right?"
He stretched casually, waved, and added his parting shot.
"But don't pull this next time. Things'll get boring as fuck otherwise."
With that, he slipped quietly through the door into the night's shadows.
Now she wondered: What had bewitched me about that guy? A man utterly lacking delicacy. My head must've been addled.
In the dark room, Namgung Yeona hugged her knees, head bowed, struggling to suppress emotions that refused to fade, body still quivering.
"Young Master Yujin's item, left behind before falling off the cliff. The Pang family refused it—what should we do?"
"Relics from an incompetent suicide? Who'd want 'em—might fetch something as stolen goods, but no valuables anyway. Just burn it all."
The servants' postmortem chatter drifted in from outside.
"W-wait!"
Stiff from her rigid posture, her legs buckled, sending her sprawling—but she scrambled up frantically, halting them.
"Lady Namgung, what's so urgent...?"
"You can't mishandle a suicide's belongings. I know, as a shaman. ...I'll handle it myself."
"But it's from the creep who tormented you—are you sure? We'll take care of it..."
"I'll do it!"
Her rare bellow stunned the wide-eyed servants; they apologized profusely, left the item, and fled.
Thus, she received Yujin's relic.
Wrapped in layered, delicate silk unlike any ordinary bundle, something inside asserted its presence. She untied it to peer within.
"...This."
A hairpin.
Not as ornate or exquisite as a master jeweler's work, but it gleamed with a soft, luminous jade hue—simple beauty.
Her eyes naturally drifted to the engraved inscription on one side.
'To commemorate our beautiful ten years—and the beauty yet to come.'
The words hit her eyes, and tears flooded uncontrollably.
Yujin, talentless in martial arts but gifted in crafting since youth, had often gifted her handmade treasures that touched her heart.
...Once, he'd asked if she'd walk a non-martial path with him.
She hadn't rejected it—just hesitated, ignorant of that world. But he'd taken it as refusal. That moment haunted her most.
She should have encouraged his passions, supported his dreams.
"Yujin, I'm sorry."
Clutching the hairpin, she wept bitterly. Exhausted into sleep, a vain hope flickered: Maybe it's all a dream.
But awakening, harsh reality remained unchanged.