An Ordinary Morning

"So it's the Five Branches after all. The Five Branches. Damn it. Of all places, I was hoping we could avoid that one."

So Yeomgyo sighed and tipped her chair back, rocking it on two legs.

I paid her no mind and kept eating. After surviving hellish days on end, I had made a habit of stuffing myself and sleeping as hard as I could whenever the chance presented itself. For me, eating was just another form of training.

She stretched, then looked over at me.

"You eat like that and you still don't gain any weight?"

"What martial artist gets fat from eating?"

I stacked my seventh empty bowl of noodles to the side, pulled an eighth toward me, and piled meat on top.

"…"

At my retort, So Yeomgyo's eyes narrowed to slits. She spoke as if she could not believe what she was hearing.

"Of course you get fat if you eat. Are you joking? You even vanish somewhere in the middle of the night sometimes while you're supposedly asleep."

I hid the guilty flinch and calmly changed the subject.

"I don't know… No matter how much I eat, I never put anything on. I always figured martial artists move so hard that they more or less don't gain weight."

"Hah?"

So Yeomgyo waved a hand as if to swat away pure nonsense.

"No matter how violently someone moves, there's no competing with a person who eats like they mean it. And the higher you climb among masters who fight on internal energy, the less your body actually burns through ordinary exertion. Take me — I manage myself constantly just to keep my body light."

"I thought you were just a light eater by nature."

So Yeomgyo smacked her lips.

"Biryu. I'm telling you again — you are never going to be popular with women."

"Why?"

I bristled for no good reason and looked straight at her. So Yeomgyo heaved a long sigh.

"That line you just used? If you'd said it to any woman who wasn't me, you'd have caught a wine bottle to the skull on the spot."

"…Someone I know eats an enormous amount. I didn't realize you had that kind of trouble."

I thought of a woman with silver hair — small-framed, yet somehow demolishing twice what I ate while never once losing her calm, elegant posture.

So Yeomgyo grumbled.

"Is that so? I'm jealous of whoever that is. Either she was born that way, or her body is under so much real-time strain that she has to eat just to survive it. One of the two."

…Enormous strain.

I turned her words over. My chopsticks slowed for a moment.

I saw again the silver-haired specter who had stood before a crumbling shrine.

I'm the only one who still remembers this place and comes looking for it.

I…

She had been stroking a dust-choked floorboard, weeping without a sound.

—Clink.

My chopsticks found their ordinary rhythm again.

"So Yeomgyo. Your eyes have stayed red ever since then. Is that all right?"

I looked into the pupils that had turned the color of dark rubies. It was not the full blazing Flame Eye I had seen only once, during the battle with the Emei Sect — the mark that appeared when she unleashed a particular art. But from the moment she used her ultimate secret technique, her eyes had held a quiet crimson glow.

"Ah. This."

So Yeomgyo gave a bitter little smile and traced the line of her own eye. Her long black lashes brushed her slender fingers, dipped, and settled back into place above that proud, catlike gaze.

"It's fine for now. Close, but not enough to trigger the seal."

"As long as you're all right."

It struck me that her red Flame Eye ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was the same kind of trait as my own encephalitis. For me, the inflammation was the clearest symptom that my body was being eaten away and worn down.

My growth, and the heart of my martial path, came down to this: I copied others' arts, digested them, and forged them into a higher overall standard of skill. The problem was that countless techniques, each raised in its own soil and built on its own logic, were being painted over one another inside me — and they collided. From the layout of the meridians to the very bone and sinew, I was forcing arts into a body that was never meant to run them. Strain was inevitable.

My flesh, remade on the foundation of the Heavenly Demon Jade, somehow kept shifting and repairing itself in time with that power so the Heavenly Demon's authority could keep working. Mumyeong, too, matched me step for silent step from behind the scenes. One wrong move and my body would collapse like a castle of sand.

Because I was walking that razor's edge myself, I understood. She had paid a price for overwhelming strength, and she was carrying a danger of her own.

"Ugh. Anyway — the Five Branches. What we have to do from here is obvious enough."

She flung both arms wide and stretched hard.

—Clink-rattle.

The innkeeper passing by dropped the coin pouch at his waist. It hit the floor.

"…"

Without leaving the stretch, So Yeomgyo's red eyes flicked sideways and pinned the man in a hard stare. The innkeeper picked up the pouch and fastened it again.

—Clink-rattle.

He dropped it a second time. Scooping it up once more, he muttered to himself.

"Aigoo, look at me. Played with the dog until the Hour of the Ox last night and my whole body's gone slack."

He patted his lower back and called to the waiter.

"Plum blossoms are at their best. Maybe hanging about seven of them would look nice. Boy — take the plums we cut yesterday and hang them over there."

The waiter did as he was told, hanging the blossoms on the wall to the right of the main gate.

"…"

So Yeomgyo lifted her cup and took a sip.

—Splash.

She poured what little wine remained onto the tabletop.

"So Yeomgyo?"

I sat there with chopsticks in hand and round eyes. She ignored me completely, wet the tip of her index finger in the spilled wine, drew a slow circle on the table, then traced a line toward the plum blossoms.

"From the plums, direction of the Ox… the character for dog has four strokes, so four turns… dropped it twice… and from the sound, sixty-two coins in the pouch…"

She counted something off on her fingers.

"Biryu. I'll be right back."

She shoved her chair aside and strode straight out of the inn.

"…What was that?"

I sat stupidly holding a bowl and muttered to myself. A beat later, one impossible detail in what she had murmured finally hit me.

"Did she just count the coins in that pouch by sound alone?"

She was back before a single gak had passed. In her hands were several bundles of paper she had not been carrying when she left.

"What are those?"

"Intelligence."

—Whirrr!

A soft sword flicked out of her grip and swept the dishes left and right, clearing space. She dumped the bundles onto the table in a cascade.

"…Don't tell me the innkeeper and all of that just now was some kind of code?"

"Curious?"

I nodded. So Yeomgyo beamed.

"Then want to join up properly? Grade-Four field investigator. I'll even consider promoting you to Grade Three."

I cut her off without hesitation.

"Now that I think about it, I'm not curious at all."

"Mm. Same here. If I took you on as a subordinate I'd lose my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mind, so even if you beg later, the answer is no."

"Lose your mind? I'll have you know I was once asked whether I'd consider joining the Namgung Family."

—Pffft.

So Yeomgyo clapped a hand over her mouth and turned her head away.

"S-sorry. Hahaha. Sorry, Biryu."

…I learned for the first time that a single gesture can sting worse than a hundred words. I frowned.

"Sounds like a lie? Believe it or not, it's true. I ate fish-shaped buns with the clan head's favorite daughter. Ate meals with her. Swept the courtyard with her. Hm?"

"Do you get the feeling that the more you talk, the more pathetic the truth starts to sound?"

"…"

I clicked my tongue. So Yeomgyo crossed her long legs and shoved a scroll toward me.

"That's exactly how I felt not long ago, so take the lesson to heart, mister. I don't care, but don't do that in front of other women. Enough small talk. Check these."

"What are they?"

So Yeomgyo unrolled one of the scrolls as she spoke.

"Chu Yeo-ryong and Muk Se-hwi sang us a pretty song about cooperating, but we can hardly take that at face value, can we? Working on the assumption their information was real, I put in extra requests with the Lower Gate and the Beggars' Gang. Ah — and separate from that, it's not especially important, but since he's family I should probably tell you."

"Hm?"

She pointed at me.

"The forces under Moyong Ryu, third son of the Moyong Family, and the forces under Moyong Jinryong, the eldest, had a major clash. Apparently it was complete chaos."

"What…?"

My voice went tight.

"Brother Moyong Ryu?"

So Yeomgyo scanned the scroll, blinking her red eyes.

"Don't worry. The principals themselves are fine. They're inside Cheonsubaekryeonsa. Their subordinates did the actual fighting on their orders, of course — but do you really think there's another disciple out there like you, running himself ragged outside from the Ha-mu-gwan stage on, staking his life on trial after trial?"

"Well, no, but—"

So Yeomgyo shook her head, passed me the finished scroll, and picked up the next.

"Hmm. Come to think of it, I can't wait to see the looks on their faces when you go back to Cheonsubaekryeonsa this time. They'll stare like a dead ghost just walked in."

So Yeomgyo heard one thing and understood ten. From the scraps I had told her in stolen moments, she had already mapped out other people's behavior and the shape of what was coming almost as thoroughly as Eun Seollyeong would have.

Suddenly I wanted her opinion.

"Do you also think the trials I've been put through so far have been unreasonably hard?"

So Yeomgyo glanced around. The room was noisy; no one was paying our conversation any attention.

"You know who I answer to, right?"

"I know."

"If everything you told me is true, then even the rough ones under my command — more than eight in ten of them—"

"Would have succeeded?"

So Yeomgyo tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Would have killed themselves."

I had heard something like that before. She went on.

"Not because of the difficulty, exactly. Because of the vicious despair of realizing there was no way through something that absurd."

She sighed and shook her head.

"Those trials were designed so you'd die trying. The fact that you broke through them is the real joke. What kind of trial is that? It's just a formal notice that says, Please die."

"Someone said almost the exact same thing to me once."

"Whoever that was has serious insight. But why ask? You know better than anyone how hard you've had it."

I tasted bitterness and turned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my teacup in my hands.

"Everyone thinks their own life is the hardest, don't they? It's true I went through hell — but I couldn't help wondering if that was only my own delusion. I wanted to know how it looked from the eyes of people standing higher up than me."

"…Biryu. I can guess what kind of life would make you think that way, but—"

So Yeomgyo recrossed her legs the other way.

"Every now and then, why not try believing in the self that keeps grinding forward, however weakly, without giving up? Of course you won't flip a switch overnight. You've spent your whole life surrounded by people who ignored you and looked down on you."

"…Yeah."

"And if you can't believe in yourself—"

So Yeomgyo jabbed the end of the scroll into her own chest a few times.

"Believe in me."

"What? What does that even—"

"I don't talk to just any man. Do you have any idea what a terrible woman I am?"

So Yeomgyo blinked her red eyes.

"Don't believe in yourself. Believe in the woman who looked at you, recognized you, and acknowledged you."

"…"

She went on.

"Even if I die someday, remember that. And you keep living. The way you always have."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I scowled.

"Even as a joke, don't say things like that."

"In this line of work, hoping for a long life is a thief's greed. Did you know that?"

Her gaze went distant, as if she were painting some far-off picture.

"I have a longing for a happy, ordinary life. Of course, the word longing itself comes with the built-in condition that it can never come true."

It was the first time I had heard a thought that belonged not to the leader of the Blood Death Sect, but simply to the person named So Yeomgyo. Holding the scroll, she spoke quietly, as if sketching some unreachable ideal.

"In our sect we skip the midday meal and eat only morning and evening. Before breakfast we always do three things. First, we sharpen our blades. Second, we set our clothes in order. Third, we finish a thousand strikes against the wooden posts — and only then do we eat.

Morning is gratitude that we lived to begin another day. Evening is gratitude that we survived the one just finished. And I have repeated that from the first morning of my life I can remember."

So Yeomgyo murmured almost to herself.

"So sometimes I think… just once would be enough. I wish I could rub the sleep from my eyes in a real bed, sit down to a breakfast someone else prepared, and wake up to an ordinary morning like that."

"…"

I still had not told her I had noticed she was the one preparing breakfast for me. If she had kept it secret, I figured she had her reasons, so I had stayed quiet.

My lips moved.

"That…"

So Yeomgyo looked at me. I drew a breath.

"That—"

I wanted to say it well. In the end I could not say anything at all.

So Yeomgyo suddenly laughed — a bright little burst of air.

"Listen to me, rambling every which way once we start chatting. All right then. Kindly review these scrolls. Looks like you've finished eating. I'm going to explain the plan for getting into the Five Branches, so pay attention."

Smiling brightly, she shoved the heap of scrolls toward me in a rush.

"I confirmed it. Everything the third and fourth branch heads of Unwol Jiju told us checks out — starting with the fact that the Dark Martial Tournament opens as of tomorrow."

I looked at her, then fell in with the change of subject.

"That's a relief."

"When we were planning a frontal assault, the security was a headache. If this is real, the job gets easy. Security won't matter at all."

"Security won't matter? What does that mean?"

She blinked those catlike red eyes, plucked a single sheet from the pile, and held it out. I read the writing on it slowly.

<|eos|>