Flashback 7: A Taste of Regret
At that time, the emotion Heuk-yo harbored toward Jang Cheon was one of profound regret. If she had to pick the closest word to describe it, that was it. She regretted Jang Cheon—not as a husband in the carnal sense, for Heuk-yo had never even considered the notion of consummation. Marriage was a concept on a wholly different plane from such matters. Even by the standards of mortals, Jang Cheon made an excellent spouse. He never laid a hand on her in anger, never vented his frustrations at home, his martial prowess was exceptional, and—needless to say—his appearance suited her tastes perfectly. He did indulge in drink a bit, but it was endearingly harmless.
For instance, when thoroughly inebriated, he would mumble,
"I'm so weary..."
"What's so tiring about it?"
"Sometimes I can't fathom what you're thinking. And you're always just looking to tease me."
He would whine like that, his head pillowed in her lap. Heuk-yo was shorter than Jang Cheon, but in those moments, she always felt herself above him. And she loved that sensation. Stroking the hair of her drunken, petulant husband—it was a delight.
To others, he was a fine family head, yet he revealed this side only to her. It was unbearably regrettable. Someday, even this innocence would shatter, turn ugly. As time wore on, like everything else, he would strut before her, come to despise her. That was the world Heuk-yo knew—a realm built to possess her, imprison her, torment and lord over her. The gentleness Jang Cheon showed now was merely prelude to future betrayal, just like the gods who had sealed her away at birth. Or that fool of a merchant who had drugged her with an aphrodisiac and barged in one night.
That was the true pity of it. Where else in the mortal realm could she find such an amusing soul?
"Jang-lang."
"What is it?"
"Do you love me?"
Her love for him lasted only as long as his for her. So Heuk-yo sought to dull that regret a little. She wanted to rehearse the inevitable parting, prepare in advance for the farewell that would surely come.
"I love you."
"A lot?"
"Indeed. Enough to lay down my life for you."
Her husband coughed awkwardly, his cheeks flushing as he spoke. Heuk-yo smiled slowly.
Ah, yes. Of course.
It makes sense. Those words couldn't possibly be true.
Mortals do occasionally die for others, but it's just a fleeting emotional surge.
Heuk-yo made her decision. If she could choose the manner of their final parting, this would be ideal.
It was no deliberate ploy, she swore. Around that time, a real plague was sweeping through Jangan. Unlike mortals, Heuk-yo perceived finer details and knew the disease didn't spread through foul qi or tainted true energy. The Jang family manor bustled with people, some unknowingly infected. By chance, a tiny fragment carrying the sickness made its way to her chambers. Her husband happened to be absent.
"Mm."
She was acting. Pretending to be mortal. The true Heuk-yo would never fall ill, of course. But if she were truly mortal—if she were a pregnant woman—then surely...
"......"
Heuk-yo pondered. She closed her eyes briefly. Strangely, her husband's face surfaced in her mind. The worried expression he wore gazing at her—it tore at her heart with vague pain. For reasons she couldn't grasp, she decided without further deliberation, her emotions roiling unnaturally. She chose to fall ill.
"......If we're to part."
It had to feel natural. This body's flesh wouldn't withstand the plague. What farewell could be more fitting...?
When Jang-lang returned, Heuk-yo altered her physiology with calm composure, paling her complexion as she spoke.
"Welcome home, Jang-lang."
And added,
"Cough."
Feigning a cough was simple. Gazing at Jang Cheon in that moment was the hard part. Unbeknownst to herself, strange feelings piled up in her heart.
"I've brought fine medicine."
"They say there's a skilled physician near the Hubei border. Just hold on—I'll fetch him at once."
A sensation of stuffiness building. Like something lodged in her chest, unexpelled with every breath. No anomaly in body or mind—just an illusory weight refusing to fade.
For instance,
"Please."
She dreaded facing Jang-lang. It hadn't been like this before. When acting in the past, seeing that expression had thrilled her, amused her. Heuk-yo mused inwardly. Should she bear the child and die? Pretend to be the child this time. That way, she could toy with him longer. Yes—dying in childbirth would be perfect. Such cases were common enough.
And so time passed.
"Please, don't die. I beg you. I'll do anything..."
"Don't worry, Jang-lang."
Heuk-yo smiled often. It at least softened his features slightly, easing the stuffiness a fraction. Not much, though. Because she could see it—he was forcing that smile, hiding something. Her Jang-lang had no talent for lies. Not because she was an Outer God, but simply because he was inept at deception.
Thank goodness, she thought to herself as she murmured,
"I love you, my Jang-lang."
You're probably sick of me by now, especially seeing me so wretched and unlovely. But until you reveal your true colors—until your feigned love crumbles—I'll love you in turn.
"I love you too..."
She hoped he wouldn't voice whatever emotion he was concealing behind that smile.
And one day, Jang-lang stayed away from home for months. Three at a stretch.
No audience meant no end to the act. Eyes were everywhere. She considered searching for her absent Jang-lang, but that would shatter the performance. She was acting now. Acting.
"Has he run off in the night?"
He didn't seem the type. Or perhaps it was for the best. Better than him striking her in frustration, abandoning his duties. Plenty of mortals fled family and retainers alike.
Heuk-yo thought that after birthing the child, she might seek him out—and punish him then.
"Do you know where Jang-lang went?"
"My deepest apologies, but I've sworn not to tell you, ma'am."
"Of course you have."
No fleeing man would let that slip. He'd abandoned even such a loyal servant to vanish far away.
Idly, she gazed out the window, fine-tuning her body. Portraying a plague-stricken pregnant woman required precision. She considered brainwashing the servant for nagging intel but abandoned the idea. With Jang-lang gone, the stuffiness lifted enough to breathe. What was this? Jang-lang's presence choked her; his absence soothed. Seeing him smile and laugh felt like relief. And yet, some persistent something lingered nightly by her side—an unknowable sentiment. After this vessel died, it warranted deep reflection.
She had just thought that when—
"Family head!"
"Family head! What is this?! Guards—fetch a physician at once! It's not the lady—it's the family head!"
"Out of my way. There's someone I must see before any physician..."
Commotion erupted outside. Her heart raced. A voice unheard for months.
What now? You should've kept running.
"You've come."
Unable to hide her feelings, she opened the door. Her face hardened as she surveyed the courtyard. There stood Jang-lang, splattered in blood, fresh wounds writhing on his chest and arms, clothes charred in spots, scars marring his handsome face. He extended something toward her—a small, red, round pearl.
"What's this?"
"Eat it quickly. It's a spirit pill from the Millennium Flower."
"......What have you been doing, ignoring me for months?"
"I felt like getting some air, so I traveled... I'm sorry. They say someone near Sichuan overcame the plague with it. I chanced upon it on the way—eat it, please."
Heuk-yo eyed the pearl, then Jang-lang. An Outer God's gaze revealed far more than he imagined. Those wounds? No older than a fortnight. From some beast, scales ablaze like fire—pain he couldn't endure merely touching at his level. And the chest wound, older still, perfectly placed for instant death. A month old, same origin: that fiery-scaled monster. He'd fought on despite it.
"What are you waiting for? I... apologize, but I'm exhausted. I'll rest first..."
Somehow, teetering on death's edge, he'd made it home. He could have fled, tended his wounds after securing the pill. Heuk-yo saw his dying body clearly—he'd flown here nonstop with lightness skill, solely to deliver this worthless red bead. Mortals couldn't conquer plague with it anyway. A mere mortal might have. But as she supported the collapsing Jang-lang, she asked,
"Jang-lang, do you love me?"
"Of... course..."
Heuk-yo smiled. Swallowed the pearl. And for the first time, wept as she replied.
"I love you too."
One hand sustaining him from death, the other clutching her tearing heart. This man truly loved me until the end. It was possible. If real I-hwa stood here, they'd have died in earnest...
Jang-lang had never once been insincere—yet she was all performance. Heuk-yo glanced at her swollen belly, peered within. At last, she named the stuffiness: guilt, unmistakably.
"I... I love you too. I love you. I love you. So much."
Everything was twisted beyond reckoning where it went wrong. All her fault. It was all her doing.