Cracks in the Teacup
"......Ah! Cheong-ah! Ryu-cheong!"
The voice drew steadily closer until it boomed like thunder, jolting her back to her senses.
"Namgung Ryu-cheong!"
Someone gripped her tottering body firmly.
"Father?"
"Pull yourself together."
"Ah......"
"You okay?"
"Yes."
"Phew."
Namgung Wan let out a deep sigh as he spoke.
"What in the world were you doing, standing stock-still in the middle of the stairs? It's dangerous! If you'd tumbled down, broken bones wouldn't even be the worst of it."
"I'm sorry."
Namgung Wan squeezed his son's shoulder hard once before climbing the stairs. Namgung Ryu-cheong followed behind.
Entering the hall, Namgung Wan settled into a seat. Namgung Ryu-cheong, meanwhile, seemed lost in thought once more.
Namgung Wan gazed at his son with pity. He'd heard the boy had been through quite the ordeal lately. Standing frozen on the stairs must have been part of it.
But there was nothing he could do to help.
"Don't rush it. Manifesting sword qi at your age is impressive enough."
"......"
One look at Namgung Ryu-cheong's face told Namgung Wan his words of comfort weren't sinking in.
With a quiet sigh, he beckoned.
"Sit."
He placed a teacup in front of Namgung Ryu-cheong as the boy took his seat. Namgung Ryu-cheong glanced at it briefly before speaking.
"What did you call me for? If there's nothing urgent, I'll head back."
"Sit."
"......"
Namgung Ryu-cheong sat quietly, his expression blank but his eyes flickering with faint displeasure.
Namgung Wan rubbed his face as if his head ached.
"I called you because there's something I need to tell you—and ask you."
"Yes."
Namgung Wan paused for a moment before continuing.
"Do you remember what you said to Yeon-i during your spar?"
"Which thing?"
Namgung Ryu-cheong furrowed his brow slightly. Unlike usual, they'd exchanged quite a few words mid-spar—mostly pointless banter that had nothing to do with the fight. It was a first.
The line that stuck out most was 'Catch me if you can!'......
Namgung Ryu-cheong bit his lip without realizing it.
Namgung Wan tapped the table to get his attention.
"Something about the Baek Ri clan's level."
Namgung Ryu-cheong searched his memory. Come to think of it, during their first bout, he'd snapped at Baek Ri-yeon—who'd looked utterly ridiculous—with those exact words.
Namgung Wan sighed heavily.
"Yeon-i didn't grow up in the Baek Ri clan. She's probably only been there about a year at most. She barely learned any swordsmanship there."
"What? Why?"
"......Does the reason matter? Just watch your mouth from now on."
"......"
"It's a good thing Ui-gang and Yeon-i aren't the types to hold grudges over rude words. But from here on out, be careful—no, don't mention the Baek Ri clan in front of them at all!"
Namgung Wan shook his head with another sigh.
"Always sniping or mouthing off whenever you open your mouth. Who'd you get that from......?"
Namgung Ryu-cheong mulled over his own words.
Specifically......
"Even if you can't use your inner energy, she must've trained there since she was little. So, is this all you're capable of?"
And what had Baek Ri-yeon replied?
"Not everyone's as lucky as you."
"......"
It hit him suddenly. When he thought about it, he knew next to nothing about Baek Ri-yeon.
I thought we'd spent plenty of time together.
It was astonishing. She was always the one starting conversations, asking questions, cracking jokes.
"Well, you won't cross paths for a while anyway. Just keep it in mind for now."
"Won't cross paths?"
Namgung Wan eyed him curiously.
"Aren't you entering Cheonggung Hall?"
"Ah......"
"That was part of why I called you. When are you going in?"
"I haven't thought about it yet."
"What?"
Namgung Wan scowled at him.
"What's with that reaction? You were begging to go into secluded training not long ago."
Namgung Ryu-cheong looked lost in contemplation. Then he met his father's gaze.
"Father."
"Speak."
"Could I spar with Lady Baek Ri one more time?"
"What?"
Namgung Wan set down his teacup in surprise.
"You serious?"
"Yes."
"Phew."
Namgung Wan stared at the ceiling before speaking.
"Ui-gang told me not to tell you......"
Namgung Ryu-cheong tilted his head.
"Yeon-i went straight home and took to her bed after the spar."
"......Pardon?"
* * *
I spent several days bedridden after sparring with Namgung Ryu-cheong.
I really thought I was going to die. The muscle pain was excruciating, like my whole body was being wrung out.
I couldn't move properly for three full days.
I learned a harsh lesson.
Even if I borrow natural qi, my body has to be able to handle it.
I couldn't keep collapsing after every use. And I hadn't even drawn that much—yet here I was. If I'd unleashed it without restraint......
Exercise......! I need to start exercising!
Cheonsan Yeomje clicked his tongue at me like I was an idiot.
"You only just figured that out? Your stamina's in the gutter! You're worse than an ant crawling on the ground!"
I puffed out my cheeks and grumbled.
"......Well, then why didn't you tell me to build some stamina......?"
"And you think building stamina would change anything?"
"Of course it would!"
Cheonsan Yeomje twitched his beard as he looked down at me.
"Do you really think your body's fully recovered?"
What's wrong with my body? I glanced down at myself.
"Isn't it fine like this?"
Cheonsan Yeomje tsked and picked up his teacup. The half-full cup suddenly blazed with Samadhi True Flame—a technique to ignite fire with inner energy, reserved for the truly powerful. The flames vanished with a crackle, leaving hairline cracks spiderwebbing across the cup.
He set it down and beckoned me.
"Refill the tea."
"......?"
I had no idea what was going on, but disobeying would probably earn me a smack, so I grabbed the teapot and poured carefully.
"Hm?"
Not a drop leaked.
Goosebumps prickled my arms.
As expected of one of the Ten Great Masters of the World.
He'd controlled the force perfectly—just enough to crack it without letting liquid seep through. His mastery was unfathomable.
Cheonsan Yeomje pointed at the cracked cup.
"That's your body."
"Pardon?"
Then he flicked it lightly with his index finger. With a sharp crack, it split cleanly along the fissures, spilling tea everywhere.
"......"
"......"
Drops of tea pattered from the table to the floor.
Cheonsan Yeomje bellowed.
"Yagul!"
The door opened, and footsteps approached from behind.
"You called?"
"Clear this."
Yagul, standing right beside me, looked down at the table—then at me.
"Yeon-ah?"
"Ah, yeah. I'm here."
I finally exhaled and turned to him. Our eyes met, and Yagul's brow twitched.
He shot a thorny glare at Cheonsan Yeomje.
"Why's Yeon-i like this?"
"Curious?"
Yagul nodded.
Cheonsan Yeomje looked displeased.
"Become my disciple, and I'll tell you."
"Ugh."
I groaned reflexively, shuddering as I blurted,
"You're so childish!"
"Did you just call this old man childish?!"
Cheonsan Yeomje yanked my ear mercilessly.
"Ow! It hurts! Aaaah, the cracked teacup's gonna shatter!"
"Ha!"
With a half-laughing sigh, he released my ear. I slipped free and darted behind Yagul.
Cheonsan Yeomje's mustache quivered—he was holding back a laugh.
"They say laughing brings good fortune."
"Shut your mouth!"
"......"
"Unbelievable! I've never met a girl like you."
"......"
"Daring to banter with this old man? Are you truly mad? Have you no fear?"
"......"
"Why aren't you answering?!"
Yagul muttered under his breath.
"He told you to shut up......"
"You......!"
Before he could snap at Yagul, I jumped in.
"What's there to be scared of? You showed me that just now because you're worried about me."
Cheonsan Yeomje groaned and shook his head.
"Being around you is driving me insane."
He rose from his seat.
"Leaving already?"
"Why?"
"Dinner's soon. Won't you stay and—"
"No."
He cut me off curtly. Pausing at the door, he added,
"Don't take my words lightly. You need to live carefully your whole life. But you...... you don't know how to take care of yourself."
His voice trailed off into a murmur.
"Oblivious to how the things around you are burning up inside. You won't last long either."