Square Your Shoulders

"No."

Executioner Lee Jasuo's face twisted in open confusion at the flat, final cut of my answer.

"I'll say it again. When I arrived, there was no one there. If anything, I have a few questions of my own."

I let my hands fall away from the gear I had been fastening.

"Just how is the Cheonsubaekryeonsa waiting room supposed to be run that it can be that full of holes?"

"Th-that is… This is a first for me as well. Even inside Cheonsubaekryeonsa there's already talk."

Lee Jasuo stammered, still rattled.

"Anyway. You're saying you saw absolutely nothing?"

I nodded.

People say that eight-tenths of what we worry about never actually happens. Of the remaining two-tenths, half is just regret and fretting over things that already have. Cheonsubaekryeonsa had gone quieter than anything I had braced for, quieter than anything I had prepared against.

They focused on exactly two points.

First: disciplinary action against the secretaries who had abandoned their posts without leave during working hours.

Second: the unauthorized private use of a carrier pigeon from the Cheonsubaekryeonsa waiting room.

Every last secretary chose a pay cut and formal censure rather than speak in detail. As if they had sworn an oath together, they stuck to the same story—they had simply gone out for drinks. The upper ranks of Cheonsubaekryeonsa, as though bound by the same silent pact, chose not to dig any deeper.

Even the carrier pigeon that had been taken out without permission and used to lure me was waved through on the absurd excuse that the secretaries had been drunk and had used it for personal reasons. Within a day, those testimonies were enough for heavy punishments to land on the secretaries' heads.

"Word came down from above. They want to offer an apology for showing a disciple—already exhausted by consecutive punitive trials—the ugly underside of Cheonsubaekryeonsa."

The midnight chase that had torn straight across Cheonsubaekryeonsa all the way to the outer grounds, the brawl with armed martial artists… anything that ought to have become a story simply ceased to exist. And of course the secretary who had died at the hands of the Sichuan Tang Family's Guardian had never existed in this world to begin with.

I still did not know that man's name, his rank, or anything else about him. An adult who had lived at least thirty years melting away without a trace was one of the most ordinary sights in the jianghu.

Two things stayed with me after the whole mess.

One: thank heaven it never blew any larger.

Two: the other side's reach was wider than I had expected.

"So that's everything?"

Lee Jasuo flinched.

"W-what do you mean?"

"I was already on edge heading into the final punitive trial."

I clenched my fist and pressed the point home to the executioner.

"So how exactly am I supposed to be compensated for the wound to my heart—torn open and left bleeding—by a carrier pigeon sent as a drunken joke by secretaries who thought it would be funny to announce the contents of the trial in advance and toy with a desperate man?"

"Th… that… well…"

My pushback was sharper than he had counted on; cold sweat beaded on Lee Jasuo's brow. I seized my own collar, eyes shining with unshed tears, and raised my voice.

"I ought to file a formal complaint with the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Martial Alliance over this—over this earnest heart of mine!"

"N-no! Not that!"

Lee Jasuo waved both hands in frantic denial. From the look of him, the executioner had no idea what had really happened. The people above had almost certainly just ordered him to shut me up and keep any further noise from leaking, without bothering to explain the details. He was panicking because that order looked ready to fall apart.

"You…! I knew you'd say something like that! That's why Cheonsubaekryeonsa already prepared compensation!"

They would never have offered it first. It was a contingency—a carrot kept ready for the moment I pushed back hard.

"Compensation?"

"Yes. Hold on a moment. There's an official notice from above somewhere in here."

Lee Jasuo rummaged hastily through his robes.

"Found it. Here."

He unrolled the scroll and began to read.

Lee Jasuo held out a small slip of paper. I took it and read the brief lines, then looked up at him again.

"Th-that's the best they can do! There's nothing more."

"No. I understand Cheonsubaekryeonsa's sincerity perfectly. I accept."

The moment his gaze left my face, the desperate expression drained away and left only a blank mask. Worsening the situation in my current position would gain me nothing. Knowing when to be satisfied was enough.

Lee Jasuo let out a long breath of relief. I looked down at the wording on the paper once more.

You could call it clever in its own way. Promoting me was the last result they wanted. At a glance the offer looked like overwhelming compensation no disciple could refuse. But the true sentence hiding on the reverse side of those words was plain enough.

They had burned their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠own bridges too.

They meant to throw everything they had into failing me on the third trial.

Practically a declaration of war.

I folded the paper with an expressionless face and tucked it into my robes. Lee Jasuo seemed to read the gesture differently.

"Still, the people above put real thought into this. Heh. First time I've ever seen administrative confusion get someone a free pass on a regular trial."

"I have a question."

I looked straight at Lee Jasuo.

"Has there ever been a case before where they just handed out three punitive trials like this?"

"…"

Lee Jasuo turned into a mute, honey-mouthed statue. Pressing further would change nothing. I bent to finish fastening the rest of my gear.

"So. What is it, then?"

"Hm?"

"The contents of the third trial. If the waiting room is temporarily closed over the disciplinary matter, the only place official trial notices will come down now is through you, Executioner."

"R-right. You've gotten pretty sharp about how Cheonsubaekryeonsa works, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠haven't you?"

Looking faintly sheepish, Lee Jasuo drew a sealed letter from his robes. I started to tear it open and was stopped at once.

"This one you open only after you step out through the main gate."

"…"

There was no way my eyes were going to stay friendly. When I had been sent for the first trial—the Sacred Lotus Blossom—Moyong Jinryong had disguised a secretary and made me accept the task without a shred of suspicion. Whether intentional or not, the same thing had happened with the second trial and the golden incense burner. Lee Jasuo had driven the carriage all the way to the entrance of the Moyong Family Residence and waited there so I would have no chance to speak with anyone who might discuss the trial's difficulty.

I had only learned that the first trial's difficulty was absurd after a chance meeting with Eun Seollyeong, Guardian of Mount Hua, who had given me the quiet warning. I had only understood how serious the second trial was when So Yeomgyo appeared, warned me about the difficulty, and urged me not to return straight to Cheonsubaekryeonsa. In other words, without those two women as unexpected variables, I would still have been nothing more than a puppet dancing on strings, knowing absolutely nothing.

…Bastards.

This time was no different. Ordering me to break the seal only after I had completely left Cheonsubaekryeonsa was meant to lock me in the moment the seal tore—no room left to argue or refuse.

Fine. This is the last one.

I ground my teeth. I let myself be fooled even knowing it. Making a fuss would only brand me the fool and hand them something to use against me, so I wasted no effort. I simply burned the filthy feeling into memory, vivid and clear.

"By the way."

Lee Jasuo watched me rise from my seat.

"Moyong Bi, are you heading off to some war? Even if the trial is frightening, that much gear seems a little excessive."

"Does it?"

He tilted his head.

"Honestly, yes. Even for a martial artist, carrying more than two swords, armor, side weapons… you're packing a bit too much. I understand the nerves of a Ha-mu-gwan trainee, of course. But this isn't a battlefield."

"I don't want it to be either."

I slid the Seven Sects Black Pearl Gauntlet onto my left hand, turned my wrist, and spoke.

"But they seem to want a war, and a powerless man like me doesn't get much choice."

I clenched and unclenched my fist, settling the gauntlet tight. Both arms dropped to my sides. With a soft rustle the sleeves fluttered down and covered my hands completely.

"I'll just answer them as they come."

"…What?"

I walked past Lee Jasuo, who stood rooted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and staring. The hem of my black martial robes streamed behind me. I passed through the main gate of Cheonsubaekryeonsa.

In the distance I could see other Ha-mu-gwan disciples heading out on their own trials. They walked in easy pairs or threes, chatting cheerfully. Their only weapon was a single sword each. Their clothes were silk; their skin had never known a single touch of sun. Their hair was neat as silk threads. Their nails were carefully trimmed.

"…And me."

A short laugh escaped.

At some point it felt as though I alone had been living in a completely different world. As though I alone were training not in Cheonsubaekryeonsa but in some other hell realm.

I lifted my hand. The right was still wrapped in worn, frayed bandages. At least the left was now sheathed in smooth iron.

Clink.

I clenched the Seven Sects Black Pearl Gauntlet hard.

The difference between them and the Host…

"Hm?"

Mumyeong whispered while I watched the brightly laughing group.

Even if it stretches as wide as heaven and earth, that is only the proper result. So.

His dry, emotionless tone continued.

Cheer up. Square your shoulders.

I am watching, am I not, Host?

A short, empty laugh slipped out of me.

"Well now."

I raised my head and looked at the sky. A clear winter sky without a single cloud. I looked at the ground. The dry, barren earth of winter stretched endlessly. I looked to the side. A leafless bare branch. Birds crowded around the single persimmon still hanging from it, pecking away.

"Did I look that pitiful?"

…Heh. I won't deny it, Host.

For the first time, Mumyeong laughed. I wet my cracked lips with my tongue and snorted with laughter. I tried to hold it in, but the laughs kept coming.

What is so funny?

"No, Mumyeong. Think about it. This isn't some pretty lady offering comfort. It's some black-dog scrap of a Demonic Cult evil spirit, with that flat, no-pitch voice that you can't even tell is a threat or consolation…"

My mouth worked soundlessly.

"With that voice…"

I bit my lip.

"That voice…"

I could not finish the sentence.

"Voi…"

I pressed both hands quietly over my eyes and kept my face tilted toward the sky.

Mumyeong spoke.

I do lack a bit of range in my voice.

I muttered in a low voice.

"Winter wind's a little dry."

Watch out for a sore throat. Drink plenty of warm tea.

"Unbelievable. What are you, my mother-in-law?"

The Host's survival is always my first priority.

It was the same short line he had spoken the first time we met. Yet something in the feeling inside it seemed different now.

"Good. I'm starting to feel some strength again. Besides, I'm not going to be doing this forever. Only one more of these punitive-trial games left."

I rummaged in my robes, drew out the sealed letter, and opened it.

"Ha."

…This.

I clicked my tongue bitterly.

"I expected it, but they really went and wrote another load of complete nonsense with perfect care."