Pursuit - 4
Morning. A low, persistent drizzle clung unpleasantly to the skin. The humidity that had built up over days finally turned to rain, trapped amid the rugged peaks. The man had just stepped out from a shabby inn on the outskirts of Seongdo when he halted. Someone was dozing against the wall, head nodding.
"Snooore......."
When sleep isn't comfortable, people snore. Even a pretty little girl was no exception. But the man's attention wasn't just on that. He had encountered this girl before. The first time could be coincidence. The second was not.
"How did you find me."
A low voice. The girl dozing by the wall jolted awake. She looked around—left, right, straight ahead—spotting the man only after a long delay. She nearly screamed but clamped her own mouth shut. She had almost let out a shriek.
"Uh, huh? Why? You wake up really early, huh?"
"Answer, or die."
"Wait! Suddenly? Isn't there some misunderstanding? I'm here to help! What're you talking about out of nowhere!"
She shook her head, feigning innocence. The man scowled and fell silent. Had his warning been insufficient? Or had he failed to clear his own mind? If the latter, the reason was plain: a spoiled young lady raised in a great family. An unshakable heart demon.
In that moment, Dang So-young finally gathered her wits. She wiped the drool from her mouth, faked a few coughs as if she hadn't slept, and recalled the man's question.
"That black martial robe. You wore it last time too, right? Seeing you stick to it even in this weather, it seemed precious. Someone with a story like that wouldn't sleep rough. You're fixated on something big, so no fancy inns. But you don't seem connected here. Your accent's not local."
That was how the girl had narrowed it down. No connections meant no sect or family manor. Didn't look rich enough for a brothel. Options limited. Add the dawn meeting at the ruined Wiji Family manor. Cheap inns near those ruins. Right here on Hyeongmun-ro.
Of course, she couldn't admit spending the whole previous day fighting sleep, scouring Hyeongmun-ro for anyone in black martial robes till her eyes burned.
Intoxicated by an inexplicable triumph, Dang So-young tilted her chin up.
"Heh, impressed? I'm sharper than I look. Caught you right away?"
"I see. Then die."
"Wait!"
Surely a joke? But the man strode forward, radiating killing intent! Dang So-young retreated instinctively with flawless footwork. Then remembered: I'm on this narrow wall.
Thud!
"Owww... It hurts!"
But martial experts recover fast. Dang So-young sprang up, vaulted gracefully back onto the wall, and blurted out. Posing dramatically now might be pointless.
"I swear I won't tell the Murim Alliance! No one! Please, let me help!"
"Don't you recall the final warning."
"I'm ready for any secret tale. I really want to help you!"
"Why."
The girl's words faltered. Uh, um. Handsome? No. Not some frivolous reason. Not chivalrous fervor either.
For once, Dang So-young didn't want to lie. So she answered true.
"I want to do something."
".......?"
"Help people. Real chivalry. I hate being cooped up memorizing poetry and classics. Doesn't help anyone...... Not like charity handouts. I want to use what I'm good at."
The window-bound girl. Raised that way from birth. Pure Poison True Blood can't venture out. Can't be harmed. Dang Family rules strict, always stressing favors and grudges. Harm to a direct descendant—even a hair—and Sacheon Dang Family repays in full.
Thus, direct descendants must guard themselves. One mistake, and the clan suffers. Adults fight, die. Cousins she grew up with, friendly maids—all dragged to war. Because of me.
Always told to behave. Emotions bottled up.
"You're hunting something. Can't let others know. Haven't killed innocents, so it's unjust, grueling. Won't pry. Just... want to be useful."
Her voice cracked. Pure sincerity.
The man was weak to sincerity. He knew it. Hadn't always been. But lately:
「Aaaah! Ow! Who made this crap?!」
「The Cheon Family's twenty-second head, Cheon Sohyang... apologizes to you, ajusshi.」
Images overlapped. Unalike, different ages, yet.
True hearts melt even stone.
"......Grimmer, harder than your fancies. My foes are dangerous."
"Hoped for that. Chivalry demands no restraint."
Dang daughter, after all. Corpses familiar.
"You could die."
"That's on me. Killing me? Tough."
Dang So-young smirked inwardly. Sacheon Dang daughter? Who dares? Murim Alliance even?
"......"
No firm reply. He turned, walked. Dang So-young took it as assent. Heart light, she hurried after.
"Wait! Gift! Same side now—gift!"
"What."
"Rain cape! You treasure that robe? No more qi on clothes."
Black coat—he liked black. Pricey, top quality. She splurged.
He eyed it, draped over robe. Walked slow.
Dang girl hummed behind.
Curiosity hit after a stretch.
"Your name?"
"No need."
"Gotta call you something. Oppa?"
"......."
"Ajusshi? Older-looking? Wow, baby face."
"Jang Cheon."
"Got it. Great hero Jang."
Jang Cheon imagined forehead creases. Ironic. Immortal Heavenly Spirit Art forbids aging. Endless innate true qi—closer to sorcery than martial art.
One worry: distance from sword, its source.
Spirit-linked to Heuk-yo. But underground three centuries.
Pondered martial shifts, Heuk-yo's fate.
Noise intruded.
"Where to?"
"Out of Seongdo. Lead at last? Only Cheon Family Manor nearby."
"No one lives there now? Oh—don't ask?"
She sensed his mood shift keenly. Muttered low.
Long pause. Then:
"Who are you."
"Me?"
"Introduce yourself first. Name, purpose—openly. Proper etiquette."
Dang So-young speechless. Spot on.
Hide? Should, but after that?
Eyes shut tight:
"D-Dang So-young of Sacheon. Just a girl aiding Great hero Jang."
"Sacheon Dang?"
"Yes......"
Jang Cheon clutched head. Sacheon. Dang. Wealthy miss. Obvious.
Dang temperament famed in his era. Luck: Hobuk, Seoseo activities. No direct grudge with Sacheon Dang—at least not targets.
Incidental kills...? Why fret? Her problem.
"...As you wish. Meeting someone. No chit-chat."
Nearly there. Crumbling hut afar. Cooking smoke. People remain.
Near his prison cave. Per Cheon Sohyang: Park servant's home, injured in fall.
Distant, morning sun rose late.