The Empty Hook
Morning dawned. The sky over Cheongseong Mountain was clear. The mist that had lingered along the slopes overnight slowly dispersed between the pines. The wind was not cold, and the sunlight was gentle. On the surface, it was an ordinary morning. But the air inside the Cheongseong Sect felt different.
The disciples’ footsteps were quicker than usual, and the hands sweeping the courtyard moved with more urgency. The dining hall served the usual rice, soup, vegetables, and tofu, yet the sound of chopsticks against bowls was more cautious than the day before. No one spoke loudly. Laughter was scarce. Everyone knew the sect was sending a patrol down the mountain today.
The path where Yakdong of Medicine King Valley had been attacked. The inn where the Black Wood Bandits’ informants had been caught. And the wooden plaque carved with two white lines on black wood. All of it still waited below Cheongseong Mountain.
Seoryeong sat at one side of the dining hall and ate. There was no meat. There was sorrow, but today it felt small. The fact that she could not descend the mountain weighed heavier than the absence of meat.
Today, Seoryeong would not go. Cheonghyeonja had decided it. The first patrol would descend without her. They would show the sect moving below the mountain and observe how the enemy reacted. Then, tomorrow, Seoryeong would go herself.
Her mind understood. Her body, however, kept turning toward the mountain gate. Her hands reached for the wooden halberd. Her feet remembered the path down. Seoryeong set her chopsticks down and exhaled. Feet. Breath. Hands. Bowl. Today was not a day to carry the halberd. Today was a day to wait.
But waiting did not mean sitting still. She had learned that yesterday. Wait, yet do not remain idle. Seoryeong repeated the words in her mind.
Across from her, Cheongmyeong watched her expression. He was not descending either. He had been assigned to carry messages and guard the gate, and his face showed the conflict—wanting to go, yet bound by duty.
Seoryeong spoke. “Are you frustrated too?”
Cheongmyeong paused. “A little.”
“Why?”
“Dogyeom and Cheongmu are going down, but I have to stay.”
“I’m staying too.”
“Yes. That makes it a little less unfair.”
Seoryeong nodded. “We’re frustrated together, then.”
Cheongmyeong gave a small laugh. “Somehow, that’s comforting.”
Seoryeong returned to her meal. She had not meant to comfort him, but if it helped, that was fine.
A short while later, Dogyeom and Cheongmu entered the hall. Both wore their uniforms more neatly than usual. Dogyeom carried a sword at his waist, and Cheongmu carried a real blade instead of a wooden practice sword. Their appearance alone made it clear this was no training exercise.
Cheongmu felt Seoryeong’s gaze and spoke. “Why are you staring?”
Seoryeong pointed at the sword. “Not a wooden sword today.”
“It’s a patrol below the mountain.”
“Will you fight?”
Cheongmu hesitated. “It would be better not to.”
“But you might.”
“Yes.”
Seoryeong nodded. “Be careful.”
Cheongmu blinked, surprised. “Hearing that from you feels strange.”
“Why?”
“Usually you’re the one charging out first.”
Seoryeong answered seriously. “I can’t go today.”
Cheongmu snorted. “So you’re telling me to be careful because you won’t be there.”
“Yeah. Since I’m not going.”
Cheongmu’s face stiffened for a moment. Cheongmyeong hurriedly drank water. Dogyeom quietly observed Seoryeong. From the entrance, Hwarin heard the exchange and pressed a hand to her forehead.
After a long pause, Cheongmu said, “The words are appreciated. But fix the way you say them.”
“Why?”
“It sounds like I’m someone who’d be in big trouble without you.”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. “Aren’t you?”
Cheongmu fell silent. Cheongmyeong finally burst into laughter. Dogyeom spoke quietly. “Seoryeong’s meaning is to not let your guard down.”
Cheongmu looked at him. “Why do you always interpret her words in the best possible way, Senior Brother?”
Dogyeom answered calmly. “Because sometimes that is the actual meaning.”
Seoryeong felt a small satisfaction. It was a good meaning. She truly wanted them to be careful. She did not want Cheongmu hurt. She did not want Dogyeom hurt. She did not want the herb gatherers or the innkeeper hurt either. But she was not going down today, so they had to be careful. It was only natural.
After the meal, the patrol gathered before the mountain gate. Hwarin led. Dogyeom, Cheongmu, and two other disciples accompanied her. Elder Ungak did not stand at the front this time, yet his mere presence near the gate straightened the disciples’ postures.
Cheonghyeonja came to the gate to see them off. He spoke briefly. “Do not try to see everything that is visible. Watch instead for what moves unseen.”
Hwarin and Dogyeom clasped their hands in salute. Cheongmu followed a moment later. Seoryeong watched from inside the gate. She had left the wooden halberd in her room. Carrying it to the gate would only make her hands itch to descend. Instead, she held the small cloth pouch Dogyeom had given her—medicine and bandages. The weight of healing, not destruction. It helped today.
Before leaving, Hwarin approached her. “Guard the Medical Hall.”
“Yes.”
“Do not stare at the gate too long.”
Seoryeong looked away slightly. “I was looking.”
“I know.”
“If I don’t look, I’ll wonder more.”
“Then look only as much as you need.”
Seoryeong nodded. Only as much as needed. Strength, rumors, even the gate—everything came back to that.
Hwarin placed a hand on her shoulder. “We move today because you do not.”
Seoryeong looked at her. “Because I’m not going?”
“Yes. Not going is also part of today’s game.”
The words felt strange. Not moving was also movement. Waiting was also fighting. The things she learned at the Cheongseong Sect kept growing stranger, yet they were not entirely wrong.
Seoryeong answered, “I’ll protect it.”
Hwarin nodded.
The patrol passed through the gate. Before descending, Cheongmu glanced back at Seoryeong. “Don’t cause any trouble.”
Seoryeong replied at once. “You too.”
Cheongmu waved instead of answering. Dogyeom bowed quietly, and Hwarin looked at Seoryeong once more before leading the group down the path.
Seoryeong stood until they disappeared from view, then forced herself to turn away. She had to go to the Medical Hall. That was her task today.
Yakdong lay inside. His breathing was steadier than yesterday. His clothes had been changed, and his bandages were fresh, yet his face remained pale. The physician, checking the medicine pot, said, “He is better than yesterday, but long conversations are still forbidden.”
Seoryeong nodded. “Yes.”
“Do not excite him.”
“Yes.”
“And do not get excited yourself.”
Seoryeong paused, then nodded again. “Yes.”
Satisfied, the physician returned to the pot. Yu Soha sat on a chair inside the hall. Her posture was steadier than yesterday. Instead of dried herbs, she held a strip of cloth, helping fold bandages.
Seoryeong sat beside her. “Helping again today?”
“Yes. Just a little.”
“Don’t overdo it.”
“I know.”
“Knowing and enduring are different.”
Yu Soha paused, then smiled. “Where did you hear that?”
“Dogyeom.”
“Sounds like something he would say.”
Seoryeong nodded. “Difficult words.”
Yu Soha swallowed a laugh.
The morning in the Medical Hall passed slowly. Seoryeong listened to Yakdong’s breathing, to Yu Soha folding bandages, to the physician stirring medicine, to the footsteps of disciples passing outside. She kept what was needed and let the rest drift away. Yakdong’s breath stayed. Yu Soha’s movements stayed. The physician’s presence stayed. The sounds from the gate remained distant, yet she did not discard them entirely. She needed to hear when the patrol returned.
Dividing her senses this way was becoming familiar, though familiarity did not make it easy.
Near midday, Cheongmyeong arrived at the Medical Hall. He looked busier than usual, carrying a small bamboo tube containing a message.
“The first report from below has arrived.”
Seoryeong rose at once. The physician’s eyes narrowed. Seoryeong slowly sat back down. “Tell me.”
Cheongmyeong glanced at the physician, confirmed Yakdong was asleep, then spoke quietly. “Hwarin and the others have reached the inn. The innkeeper is safe. The two herb gatherers have been avoiding the mountain path since yesterday. No one connected to the Black Wood Bandits has been seen.”
“No one at all?”
“On the surface, no.”
On the surface. That meant something could be hidden beneath.
Seoryeong’s brow furrowed slightly. Cheongmyeong continued. “New rumors are spreading near the inn.”
“What rumors?”
Cheongmyeong looked uncomfortable. “That the Cheongseong Sect deliberately hid the silver-haired child. They showed her power at the inn yesterday, then hid her today, which makes it even more suspicious.”
Seoryeong blinked. “Even if I don’t go, rumors spread?”
“Yes.”
“And if I go, they spread too?”
“Yes.”
“Annoying.”
Cheongmyeong nodded sincerely. “Truly.”
Yu Soha spoke softly. “That is probably the intended message.”
Seoryeong looked at her. Yu Soha set down the bandage she had been folding. “If you go out, they ask why you appeared. If you stay hidden, they ask why you are concealing yourself. Either way, they want words to cling to you.”
Seoryeong felt a tightness in her chest. Truly annoying. Words if she went, words if she stayed. Words if she struck, words if she endured. Then what should she do?
Hwarin’s words returned: only as much as needed. Cheonghyeonja’s words returned: choose what to hide and what to reveal.
Seoryeong exhaled slowly. “Words are just words.”
Cheongmyeong tilted his head. “Pardon?”
“Words are words. Yakdong is here. I will protect Yakdong.”
Yu Soha looked at Seoryeong. Cheongmyeong paused, then smiled. “A wise judgment.”
“Praise?”
“Yes. It is praise.”
Seoryeong felt satisfied. Words were words. She could not ignore them completely, but what she held now was not words. It was Yakdong’s breath. Protecting that breath was today’s task.
Cheongmyeong returned to the gate. The Medical Hall grew quiet again, heavier than the morning. They now knew rumors were moving below the mountain.
Seoryeong looked toward the gate in the distance, toward Hwarin, Dogyeom, and Cheongmu. Then she turned her gaze away. Only as much as needed.
When afternoon came, Yakdong woke. He could keep his eyes open longer than yesterday. The physician gave him a little water and reminded him once more that long conversations were forbidden. Yakdong nodded obediently.
Seoryeong sat beside the bed. “Does it hurt?”
Yakdong smiled faintly. “A little… less.”
“A little less.” Seoryeong liked those words. A little less pain. A little less fear. A little better. Small things, yet good.
Yakdong looked at her and spoke carefully. “I… heard the rumors.”
The physician immediately looked up. “I told you not to speak much.”
Yakdong shrank back. Seoryeong looked at the physician. “Just a little.”
The physician sighed. “Truly, only a little.”
Yakdong steadied his breath. “I… caused trouble by saying I would speak…”
“Sorry again?”
Yakdong closed his mouth. Seoryeong tapped the edge of the bed with her finger. “Forbidden.”
Yakdong blinked. “Pardon?”
“Saying sorry is forbidden. Did you hit yourself?”
“No.”
“Did you spread the rumors?”
“No.”
“Then it’s forbidden.”
Yakdong stared blankly for a moment, then gave a small laugh. The laugh made his side hurt, and he winced. The physician spoke at once. “Even laughing hurts. Be careful.”
Yakdong nodded. Seoryeong felt a little surprised. Laughing hurts—that was a sad thing to say. But being able to laugh was also a good thing.
Yakdong spoke with effort. “Then… thank you.”
“That’s allowed.”
Yu Soha smiled quietly beside them. Yakdong closed his eyes again, his expression a little more at ease. Seoryeong sat by the bed and listened to his breathing settle back into sleep—thin, yet steady. She kept that breath today.
Before the sun set, the second report arrived. This time Cheongmyeong entered in a hurry. Everyone in the Medical Hall looked up at the sound of his footsteps. Seoryeong was already standing.
Cheongmyeong caught his breath. “The patrol is returning. There was no major clash.”
“No major clash?” Seoryeong asked.
Cheongmyeong hesitated. “There was a minor incident.”
“What?”
“There was talk of a herb gatherer disappearing near the inn, but it turned out he had taken another path to avoid the mountain road. However…”
“However?”
“On his way back, that gatherer heard something strange.”
Yu Soha asked, “What did he hear?”
Cheongmyeong lowered his voice. “Today was an empty hook. The real bait is still up the mountain.”
The air in the Medical Hall grew cold. Seoryeong heard the words clearly. Empty hook. Real bait. Up the mountain. Herself.
They knew she had not gone today. They might not know she could go tomorrow. But they were waiting.
Seoryeong’s hand tightened around the cloth pouch. The weight of medicine and bandages. The weight of healing. If she had not felt it, her hand might have reached for the halberd first.
Yu Soha spoke quietly. “They said it deliberately so we would hear.”
Cheongmyeong nodded. “I think so too.”
Seoryeong exhaled. They were shaking the line again. Even though she had not gone out, they shook it. Calling her an empty hook, calling her the real bait. Calling a person bait. Yesterday they demanded she be handed over. Today they called her bait. She truly disliked it.
Yet Seoryeong did not move. Hwarin was not here, but she could almost hear her voice. Do not go out when they want you to.
Seoryeong spoke quietly. “I’m not going today.”
Cheongmyeong looked at her. “Pardon?”
“I’ll go tomorrow. But not because they called.”
Cheongmyeong blinked. Yu Soha watched Seoryeong.
Seoryeong spoke again. “When I go, I decide. The Sect Leader decided, and I accepted it. I won’t go just because they call.”
The words were calm, not angry, and therefore clearer. Cheongmyeong slowly bowed his head. “Yes. I will report it that way.”
The physician stirred the medicine pot without a word, yet a trace of relief crossed his face.
Seoryeong sat down again. The ember stirred, yet did not leave. It only trembled inside its vessel.
As the sun fully set, the patrol returned. Footsteps sounded from the gate. Seoryeong was in the Medical Hall, but at the sound she stood at once. This time the physician did not stop her.
Hwarin’s footsteps. Dogyeom’s footsteps. Cheongmu’s footsteps. And the two disciples’. There was no smell of blood. No sign of serious wounds. Seoryeong finally exhaled.
A moment later Hwarin entered the Medical Hall. Dust clung to her, but she was unhurt. Seoryeong asked immediately. “You weren’t hurt?”
Hwarin smiled. “I wasn’t.”
“Dogyeom?”
“Unhurt.”
“Cheongmu?”
“Unhurt. Though he was a little irritated.”
Before she finished, Cheongmu’s voice came from outside. “I can hear everything.”
Seoryeong looked toward the door. Cheongmu stood leaning against the frame, not entering. His face was slightly stiff, dust on his sleeves.
“Why were you irritated?”
Cheongmu clenched his teeth lightly. “Because they deliberately didn’t show themselves.”
Dogyeom entered behind him. “That is also a reaction.”
Cheongmu looked at him. “I know.”
“Knowing and enduring are different.”
Cheongmu said no more. Seoryeong watched him. He too was training now. The training of waiting. The training of containing frustration inside the vessel. She did not know if he realized it, but that was how it looked to her.
Hwarin handed the report to Cheongmyeong and sat beside Seoryeong. “Did you guard well?”
Seoryeong looked at Yakdong. He was asleep, his breathing steady. “Yes. I mean, yes.”
Hwarin gave a small laugh. “Both are correct.”
Seoryeong felt a little satisfied. Hwarin spoke in a low voice. “I heard your name several times below the mountain.”
Seoryeong turned. “What name?”
“The silver-haired child. The child of the Eight Styles of the Blood Cloud. The monster of Cheongseong. And…” Hwarin paused. “The still-unripe ember.”
Seoryeong blinked. Ember. The word was not unfamiliar, yet hearing it from someone else felt different. Someone far away was measuring and shaking the thing she carefully held inside.
She rolled the word in her mind. It felt strangely unpleasant. And very faintly, the ember inside reacted. Hwarin saw it.
“Do not keep it in your heart.”
Seoryeong asked, “Why?”
“That too is meant to shake you.”
“But what does ‘unripe’ mean?”
The Medical Hall fell silent. Cheongmu said nothing. Dogyeom watched Seoryeong. Hwarin did not answer immediately. The words were not simple insults. They meant the enemy was watching her power, testing it, checking whether it was growing. The words themselves were a trap.
Hwarin spoke slowly. “It does not mean you are incomplete. It means they are measuring your power as they please.”
Seoryeong tilted her head. “Measuring?”
“Yes. Seeing how large the fire is, what shakes it loose, what makes it burn hotter.”
“It’s my fire.”
“Yes. Your fire.”
Hwarin looked Seoryeong in the eye. “So do not let others decide whether it is ripe or unripe.”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. Ember. A power still without a name. When the halberd tip extended, it was still an unripe ember. The heavy red weight pressing down. It existed inside her. She must not go out just because others shook it. She did not want others to name it either.
Seoryeong nodded slowly. “Then for now it is just an ember.”
Hwarin looked at her. Seoryeong continued. “It is neither ripe nor unripe. Right now, I am still learning.”
From the doorway, Cheongmu spoke quietly. “That’s actually a decent thing to say.”
Seoryeong looked at him. “Praise?”
Cheongmu sighed. “Yes. Praise.”
Seoryeong felt satisfied. Dogyeom nodded quietly. Hwarin gently patted Seoryeong’s head. “Yes. Right now, you are learning.”
That night, the Cheongseong Sect organized the patrol’s findings. During the first patrol, the enemy had not shown themselves directly. But their words had. Empty hook. Real bait. Still-unripe ember. All of them aimed at Seoryeong. The enemy wanted her to hear. Wanted her to grow angry. Wanted her to rush down the mountain tomorrow. But Seoryeong had not gone. She had stayed in the Medical Hall and protected Yakdong.
On the surface, it looked like nothing had happened. Yet Cheonghyeonja spoke quietly after hearing the report. “We won the first day.”
Elder Ungak nodded. “Because Seoryeong did not move.”
“Yes.” Cheonghyeonja looked at the darkness beyond the gate. “They shook the line, but they have not pulled her out yet.”
Elder Ungak said, “Tomorrow they will shake it harder.”
“They will.”
“Will Seoryeong be able to endure?”
Cheonghyeonja did not answer for a while. His gaze turned toward the side building. “Enduring alone will not be enough.”
Elder Ungak looked at him. Cheonghyeonja spoke softly. “That child must eventually go out. Not dragged out, but walking out on her own.”
In the side building, Seoryeong sat before the wooden halberd. She had not picked it up today, but she had looked at it for a long time.
“They said today was an empty hook.”
The halberd did not answer.
“They said I am the real bait.”
The broken tip remained silent. Seoryeong picked up the tip in her hand.
“I don’t like being bait.”
The tip gave no reply.
“But I will go out. Tomorrow.”
Seoryeong looked down at the tip. “Because I decided.”
The words were the same as those she had spoken in yesterday’s dream. When I go, I decide. She had not gone today. Perhaps that was why they had won. But tomorrow she had to go. She did not know what she would see. She did not know who would be waiting. They might call her a monster again, or the child of the Eight Styles of the Blood Cloud, or an unripe ember. All those words would shake her ember.
Seoryeong placed a hand over her chest. The ember was there. Quiet, yet not completely asleep. If shaken, it would move. But moving did not mean rushing out at once.
Seoryeong exhaled. Today she had protected. Tomorrow she would go. And then, simply enduring might not be enough.
Even when dinner time came, the tension in the Medical Hall had not fully eased. The patrol’s safe return was a relief, yet no one being hurt was not the same as nothing having happened. Strangely, the fact that no one had appeared made it more unsettling. Something unseen was moving, just as Cheonghyeonja had said at the gate. Do not try to see everything visible. Watch for what moves unseen.
Seoryeong recalled the words. The unseen. It had no scent. No footsteps. Could not be grasped. Yet it changed people’s words, emptied paths, frightened herb gatherers, and froze the air at the inn below. Words that moved before blades. Invisible hands. That too was the enemy.
Seoryeong did not go to the dining hall. She received a simple meal in the Medical Hall. The physician could not leave Yakdong’s side, and Yu Soha could not walk far yet. Cheongmyeong brought the tray from the dining hall. On the small table were rice, soup, vegetables, and tofu. No meat.
Seoryeong stared at the table in silence. Cheongmyeong grew tense for no reason. “Is it… because of what happened below that you have no appetite?”
Seoryeong looked at the tray. “There’s no meat.”
Cheongmyeong had no answer. Yu Soha covered her mouth with her hand. The physician shook his head while stirring the pot. Seoryeong picked up her chopsticks. “Still, I’ll eat.”
“Yes. You must.”
Cheongmyeong looked strangely relieved.
Even while eating, the presences in the Medical Hall remained within Seoryeong’s senses. Yakdong’s breathing. Yu Soha slowly setting down her soup bowl. The physician covering the medicine pot. Cheongmyeong glancing at the door once. And, between them, the distant footsteps from the gate. Reports were being exchanged. Meetings continued. The adults would be discussing her. Who would descend with her tomorrow. Which path they would take. How many disciples to assign. Whether to make it look as the enemy wanted, or move in an entirely different way.
Seoryeong was curious about all of it. Yet she did not ask. What had been entrusted to her now was protecting Yakdong. Trying to know everything would overflow the vessel. When the time came, they would tell her. Probably. Still, curiosity remained curiosity.
Seoryeong ate a spoonful of soup and looked at Cheongmyeong. “When I go tomorrow, who’s coming with me?”
Cheongmyeong paused. “I have not heard the final report yet.”
“Is Hwarin going?”
“She probably will.”
“Dogyeom?”
“Senior Brother Dogyeom is also likely.”
“Cheongmu?”
“Junior Brother Cheongmu… will insist on going.”
Seoryeong nodded. “That sounds like him.”
Cheongmyeong gave a small laugh. “Yes. Very much like him.”
Yu Soha, listening, asked quietly, “Are you not afraid?”
Seoryeong looked at her. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. Was she afraid? The enemy was waiting. They called her bait. They called her an unripe ember. They thought shaking her would bring her out. Perhaps tomorrow they would truly put a weak person in front. Perhaps they would do something cruel on purpose to anger her. The thought made the inside of her chest grow hot. It was not so much fear as displeasure. Yet it was not entirely without fear either.
Seoryeong answered honestly. “A little.”
Yu Soha’s eyes widened slightly. Cheongmyeong also looked at her. Seoryeong stared at her rice bowl. “But fighting isn’t what scares me.”
“Then what does?” Yu Soha asked.
Seoryeong answered slowly. “I’m afraid I’ll move the way they want.”
The Medical Hall grew quiet. Seoryeong continued. “If there’s someone I want to hit, hitting them is easy. If I need to stop something, stopping it is easy. But if they make me want to hit… then I won’t know if I chose it, or if they made me choose it.”
Yu Soha could not speak. Cheongmyeong also fell silent. This was a very important fear for Seoryeong. Losing was not frightening. Being hurt was not frightening. What frightened her was her fire no longer being her own.
Yu Soha spoke quietly. “If you already know that, then you have already protected half of it.”
Seoryeong looked at her. “Hwarin said something similar.”
“Good words remain good words no matter who says them.”
Seoryeong thought for a moment, then nodded. “Then it’s a good saying.”
Cheongmyeong smiled.
After dinner, Yakdong woke again, this time for a very short while. As soon as he opened his eyes, he looked around. Fear had not completely left his gaze. Seoryeong saw it and spoke at once. “This is the Cheongseong Sect.”
Yakdong finally exhaled a little. “Yes…”
“I’m here too.”
Yakdong looked at Seoryeong. In the past, those words might have frightened him more. But now it was different. Yakdong smiled faintly. “So… I feel a little relieved…”
Seoryeong heard the words. A little relieved. The child who had feared her until yesterday had said that. The words felt strangely heavy. Heavier than praise, quieter than rumors.
Seoryeong nodded. “Then sleep.”
“Yes…”
Yakdong closed his eyes again. Seoryeong watched him fall asleep. Someone had said they felt relieved because she was there. It was not the first time she had heard such words, yet today they sounded different.
When she first came to the Cheongseong Sect, people had distanced themselves upon seeing her. The silver-haired monster. The child who ate people. The dangerous being tied to the Eight Styles of the Blood Cloud. Those words had run ahead first. But now Yakdong said he felt a little relieved because she was there. Rumors were not everything. Words traveled far, but there were also breaths close by.
Seoryeong listened to Yakdong’s breathing. She liked that it had steadied. Yet at that moment, a small commotion arose outside the door. Two sets of footsteps. One belonged to a Cheongseong disciple. The other was unfamiliar.
Seoryeong turned her head at once. Her hand did not reach for the halberd. First she read the presence. The unfamiliar footsteps were hurried, yet carried no killing intent. They were fearful, the breathing unsteady. A moment later, the disciple’s voice came from outside.
“I have brought a herb gatherer who says he has a message to deliver.”
The physician frowned. “The Medical Hall must remain quiet now.”
The herb gatherer outside spoke hurriedly. “I do not wish to cause a disturbance. There is something I heard below the mountain… I thought it should be passed on before tonight passes…”
Seoryeong stood. The physician looked at her. “Do not cause a disturbance.”
“I won’t.”
Seoryeong walked to the door. When she opened it, a middle-aged herb gatherer stood there. He looked as though he had climbed the mountain path in haste—his breathing was labored, and dirt clung to his trouser hems. Upon seeing Seoryeong, the man flinched. He had seen the silver hair and red eyes. Seoryeong noticed but pretended not to.
“Speak.”
The herb gatherer swallowed. “Ah, young lady… I mean, miss…”
“Speak.”
“Yes. Near the inn below the mountain, I heard two unfamiliar men talking. They spoke as if deliberately loud. It seemed as though they wanted the Cheongseong Sect to hear, or perhaps wanted someone like me to carry the words.”
“What did they say?”
The herb gatherer steadied his breath. “They said there would be many people on the mountain path tomorrow. Sightseers, cowards, and armed men would gather.”
Cheongmyeong’s face hardened. “Sightseers?”
The herb gatherer nodded. “Yes. They said people would gather to see if the silver-haired child appears.”
Seoryeong narrowed her eyes. People gathering to watch her. Sightseers. She disliked that word too. People were hurt, Yakdong had been beaten, the Black Wood Bandits had moved, yet someone wanted to watch it like a spectacle.
The herb gatherer continued. “And they said among them, there is only one real blade.”
“Real blade?”
“Yes. The rest are words, eyes, and feet, they said. There is only one real blade, so if you avoid that blade…”
The meaning was unclear, yet ominous. Cheongmyeong immediately told the disciple, “This message must be delivered to the Sect Leader.”
The disciple nodded and ran off. Seoryeong looked at the herb gatherer. “Why did you come after hearing that?”
The man hesitated for a moment, then looked toward Yakdong’s bed. “I heard that child was beaten. A herb gatherer cannot pretend not to know another herb gatherer.”
Seoryeong heard the words. A herb gatherer cannot pretend not to know another herb gatherer. Simple words. Good words.
“Thank you.”
The herb gatherer looked surprised that she would say such a thing. “Ah, it is nothing.”
“Are you scared?”
The man grew even more flustered. Seoryeong stared at him. He tried to lie, then finally gave an awkward laugh. “A little scared, yes.”
“But you came.”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s enough.”
The herb gatherer looked strangely relieved and bowed his head. Cheongmyeong guided him outside. When the door closed, the Medical Hall grew quiet again. Yet it was a different quiet from before.
Tomorrow, people would gather on the mountain path. Sightseers, cowards, and armed men. Only one real blade. Seoryeong chewed on the words. Words. Eyes. Feet. Blade. The enemy was dividing people into many kinds. Those who shook with words. Those who spread rumors by watching. Those who followed and blocked paths. And those who truly struck. Only one of them was the real blade. Then were the others useless to strike? Or must they not be struck?
Seoryeong felt a little frustrated. If enemies stood before her, she could simply knock them all down. But tomorrow might not allow that. She could not strike sightseers. She could not press down cowards. She could not silence every mouth that carried words. She had to find only the real blade. Was that also training? Probably.
Seoryeong exhaled slowly. The lamp in the Medical Hall flickered. Shadows trembled faintly on the wall. Yu Soha spoke quietly. “Tomorrow will be a difficult day.”
Seoryeong nodded. “Yeah.” Then, a moment later, corrected herself. “Yes.”
This time the physician did not point it out. He too sensed that tomorrow would not be easy.
Night deepened. A dream came. A red battlefield. This time a fishing line hung in the center of the field. At the end of the black line descending from the sky was a hook. Nothing hung from that hook. An empty hook. It swayed above the ground.
Seoryeong saw it. Beyond the hook was darkness. A voice came from within the darkness. The real bait is still up the mountain. The still-unripe ember. Come out.
Seoryeong did not move. The hook continued to sway. It swayed even without wind. Watching that sway, the ember inside her heart seemed to sway as well. Seoryeong tried to take a step forward. Then she saw a bowl of water at her feet. Inside the bowl was not water, but an ember. The ember trembled, yet did not overflow.
Seoryeong bent her knees and picked up the bowl. The hook swayed harder. She looked at it and spoke. “I’m not going today.”
The hook faltered. The voice in the darkness lowered. Seoryeong held the bowl and slowly stepped back. “But next time, I will walk out.”
Even in the dream, she spoke clearly. “Not because you pulled, but because I decided.”
The hook fell to the ground. Clink. The sound was small, yet spread across the entire battlefield. From afar, the sound of a door latch came again. The door was still not visible. Yet somewhere, the door seemed a little closer.
Seoryeong opened her eyes. It was before dawn. The room was quiet. The halberd was quiet. The ember was quiet. But the line below the mountain was still shaking.
Seoryeong exhaled slowly. She had not gone today. Tomorrow she would go. Not dragged. Walking. That thought settled quietly in her heart.
Seoryeong closed her eyes again. And she murmured very softly. “I won’t bite an empty hook.”
With those words, the ember trembled ever so slightly. As if it had laughed.