The Uncontainable Child
Cheongseong Sect's night stretched long. On any ordinary evening the entire mountain would gradually fall silent. The dust of the training grounds would settle, the dining hall lights would dim, and only small lanterns would remain in each side building. The wind rising from the foot of the mountain would pass between the pines and brush the old tiles of the halls, and the disciples would retire early to prepare for tomorrow's training. But that night was different.
The lanterns in Cheongheo Hall did not go out. The medicinal cauldrons in Uiyak Hall boiled through the night. The guards at the mountain gate had doubled, and the sound of disciples' footsteps continued well into the late hours.
The men captured in the inn courtyard were locked in separate rooms. The one who had held the rope spilled everything before he was even questioned. A small shrine along the northern road. A contact point for the Black Wood Bandits. The place where those who received the black wooden plaques gathered. The place that handed out money and liquor to those spreading rumors below the mountain. And yet he could not speak a certain name. Or rather, he claimed he did not know it. He truly seemed not to know. The hand above him remained invisible. But now one thread had been seized. Even if it did not reach the unseen hand, at least the line connected to the wrist had fallen into Cheongseong Sect's grasp. That was clearly an achievement.
They had saved the child. They had also removed the self-destruct mechanism. Only a small bruise remained on the child's side; the iron needles had not pierced the flesh. The innkeeper, the herb gatherers, and the young porter were all unharmed. That, too, was an achievement.
Yet the reason Cheongseong Sect's night felt heavy was not because of these achievements.
Inside Uiyak Hall lay a man. Both knees shattered, both wrists ruined. He had not died. His breath remained, and thanks to the physician's skill the bleeding had stopped. But he would never again walk or hold a sword as he once had.
The one who had done this was neither an enemy, nor the Black Wood Bandits, nor Cheongseong Sect's elders. It was the child Cheongseong Sect had protected and taught. Jin Seoryeong. The silver-haired child. The child who wielded the wooden halberd. The child who could have stopped but did not.
Inside Cheongheo Hall sat Cheonghyeonja, Elder Ungak, Elder Unso, several other elders, Dogyeom, and Hwarin. Cheongmu waited outside the door. He was not yet in a position to sit formally in the meeting, but as a witness to the incident he could not withdraw far either. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Sweat beaded on his palms. He could not tell whether he was angry, frightened, or ashamed.
Cheonghyeonja remained silent for a long time. The first to speak in that silence was Elder Unso.
"Saving the child was clearly the right thing to do," he said, his voice lower than usual. "But what followed cannot be placed under Cheongseong's name."
No one answered immediately. Elder Unso continued.
"That man was evil. He was cowardly and used the child as a tool. There is no disagreement on that point. However, breaking his limbs one by one in front of Cheongseong Sect, in front of civilians…"
He could not finish. Even without finishing, everyone understood. That scene had already been seared into people's eyes. The story would travel down the mountain. It would be distorted. Some would say the silver-haired child had saved another child. Some would say Cheongseong Sect's monster had crushed a man's limbs like rice cakes. Some would say the man had received the punishment he deserved, while others would say Cheongseong Sect had been hiding such power all along. A single incident would gain many mouths.
Elder Ungak spoke quietly. "Without that scene, the man holding the rope would never have opened his mouth."
Elder Unso turned his head. "Does that make the information obtained through such means correct?"
"I did not say it was correct."
"Then what is it?"
"I simply mean we should not ignore the fact that it was effective."
The air inside Cheongheo Hall grew heavier. Effectiveness. That word was sometimes the most difficult for orthodox sect members to use. When an incorrect method proved effective, how should the orthodox view it? When cruelty inflicted upon an evil man helped prevent greater evil, could one simply call it evil? And yet, could one permit such a method?
Hwarin bit her lip. She had seen Seoryeong more closely than anyone. The child who grew sad when there was no meat at the table. The child who always asked whether something was praise. The child who held back her hands because she wanted to grip the wooden halberd. The child who said it was forbidden to tell Yakdong she was sorry. And the child who, while breaking a man's knees and wrists one after another, said she would let him live. They were the same child. That fact pained Hwarin most of all.
Elder Unso looked at Hwarin. "Hwarin."
"Yes."
"You are closest to that child. I ask you: do you believe it is right to keep Seoryeong inside Cheongseong like this?"
Hwarin could not answer immediately. Her hands clenched on her knees.
"She needs to learn."
"She is already learning."
"She needs to learn more."
"Do you think Cheongseong teaching her further will change anything?"
Hwarin drew a breath. Would it change? Seoryeong had learned. She truly had. It was not that she simply could not hold back. Rather, because she had learned, she had judged more precisely. She had found the path to save the child, and afterward chosen the path that would ensure the same thing never happened again. That was precisely the problem. Seoryeong was not dangerous because she had failed to learn. She was dangerous because she had begun using what she learned in her own way.
Hwarin could not easily voice that thought. Dogyeom spoke quietly.
"Change is possible."
All eyes turned to him. Dogyeom spoke with his head lowered.
"But it will not change only in the way Cheongseong Sect desires."
Elder Unso narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Lady Seoryeong accepts training. She learns etiquette. She has also learned how to stop. But the end of that learning is not becoming a docile disciple."
Dogyeom chose his words carefully.
"Rather, that learning is making Lady Seoryeong's judgment clearer."
Cheonghyeonja's gaze deepened. Dogyeom continued.
"If it had been the Seoryeong of the beginning, she would likely have broken him in anger. But today's Seoryeong saw, thought, chose, and then broke him."
Hwarin's hands trembled. Dogyeom's words were cruelly accurate.
Elder Ungak spoke in a low voice. "That is why she is more dangerous."
Dogyeom nodded. "Yes."
Silence descended once more inside Cheongheo Hall. Outside the door, Cheongmu heard those words. If it had been the Seoryeong of the beginning, she would have broken him in anger. Today's Seoryeong chose to break him. Those words pressed strangely on Cheongmu's chest. He had felt satisfaction when the man broke. He could not deny it. The man had used the child as bait. He had said he would use an even younger one next time. Watching such a man collapse in pain, one part of Cheongmu's heart had felt relieved. But at the same time he had been afraid of Seoryeong. He had said he was afraid, and Seoryeong had simply answered "Yeah." That answer had also been frightening. Not making excuses. Not hiding. Simply accepting it. Cheongmu did not know what he should do.
Then Cheonghyeonja spoke. "I did not open this meeting to punish Seoryeong."
Elder Unso looked at him. Cheonghyeonja continued quietly.
"Nor did I open it to justify what that child did."
His voice was clear.
"What we must see is what we can make of that child within Cheongseong."
Hwarin raised her head. Cheonghyeonja spoke.
"She is not a disciple. She is not a guest. She is not a prisoner, nor is she a visitor. She is a child we must protect, but she is not only a child who receives protection."
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them.
"Cheongseong is a mountain. A mountain can contain many things. But it does not contain everything."
Hwarin's face went pale.
"Sect Leader."
"I am not saying we will send her away yet."
Hwarin held her breath.
"But someday we will have to."
Those words were as quiet as a blade. Hwarin could say nothing. Cheonghyeonja looked at Elder Ungak.
"The small shrine along the northern road. We must check that place."
Elder Ungak bowed his head. "I will go."
"No. You will move from behind. On the surface we will send young disciples. What the Black Wood Bandits want to see is not Cheongseong's elders."
Elder Ungak immediately understood the meaning.
"You intend to send Seoryeong out again."
Hwarin raised her head. Cheonghyeonja did not answer for a long time. Then he spoke.
"We will send her. But not in the same manner as today."
"What do you intend to do?"
"I will let Seoryeong choose."
Everyone inside Cheongheo Hall fell silent.
"If that child believes she is moving under Cheongseong's orders, then when something like today happens again, the responsibility will return under Cheongseong's name. But if that child chooses her own path, we will remain only as those who taught her."
Elder Unso spoke in a low voice. "That ultimately means…"
Cheonghyeonja nodded.
"We must ask that child whether she will remain inside Cheongseong or see her own path outside it."
Cheonghyeonja paused for a moment, then added, "I do not mean to cast her aside."
At those words Hwarin's eyes wavered.
"I simply mean we cannot replace that child's choice with Cheongseong's rules. We can teach her the path, but in the end it is that child who must decide which path to walk."
Hwarin pressed her lips together. Cheonghyeonja looked at her.
"Hwarin."
"Yes."
"You should think about it as well. I know you want to protect that child. But protecting does not always mean keeping her by your side."
Hwarin's eyes wavered. Those words were the most difficult for her. Keeping someone by your side might not be protecting them. Then what was protecting? Sending them far away? Watching their back as they left? Hwarin could not answer.
The night grew deeper. In the inner room of Uiyak Hall the child was asleep. He said his name was Seok-ah. He had no parents and had been running errands at an old woodcutter's house below the mountain. Strange men had taken him away saying they would give him food, and after that his memory grew hazy. He had cried when they tied the device to his belt, but his mouth had been covered. He still trembled in his sleep. The physician burned a light incense and placed warm water beside the child.
Seoryeong sat outside the door. She did not go inside. Because the child was afraid of her. She thought that was natural. Even so, she sat outside the door. Just in case the child woke, so that nothing would come again.
Yakdong raised his body slightly from another cot. Seeing Seoryeong sitting outside the door, he spoke quietly.
"Will you not go inside?"
Seoryeong shook her head.
"He's scared."
Yakdong was silent for a moment.
"That may be so."
"Yeah."
Seoryeong accepted it very calmly. Yakdong found that calmness unsettling instead.
"Still… you saved him."
"Being scared is being scared."
Yakdong could say no more. Seoryeong spoke while looking at the door.
"He doesn't have to say thank you. He doesn't have to pretend he's not scared. He just has to sleep."
Hearing those words, Yakdong lowered his eyes. Seoryeong strangely did not understand people's hearts well. Yet sometimes she saw too directly. Even though it was not meant as comfort, it became comfort.
Yakdong spoke quietly. "You should sleep too, my lady."
"In a bit."
"Will you stay awake all night?"
"Just a little."
Yakdong now knew that "a little" was often close to a lie. Seoryeong's "a little" tended to be long. The physician watched them from afar and sighed.
"Neither of you acts like a patient."
Seoryeong looked at the physician.
"I'm not a patient."
"If the heart is hurt, one is a patient."
Seoryeong blinked at those words.
"Do you bandage the heart too?"
The physician paused while organizing medicinal herbs.
"Sometimes you have to."
"How?"
"Rest, eat, sleep, and cry."
Seoryeong furrowed her brow.
"Do I have to cry?"
"If you can."
Seoryeong thought for a moment. Tears did not come easily to her. Anger came first, then frustration. Sadness sometimes came late. Today it had not come yet. The child's crying remained, but nothing came from her own eyes. That was strange too. The physician said no more. Instead he placed a cup of warm tea in front of Seoryeong.
"Drink. It has no taste."
Seoryeong picked up the cup.
"Doesn't taste like meat, right?"
"Where would you find medicinal tea that tastes like meat?"
"Then that's a shame."
Yakdong tried to laugh, then grabbed his side. The physician immediately glared at him.
"I told you not to laugh."
Yakdong meekly lowered his head. That small commotion loosened the air in Uiyak Hall just a little. But the weight inside Seoryeong's heart still did not lift. Even drinking the tea did not make it go down.
Late at night, Hwarin came to Uiyak Hall. Seeing Seoryeong sitting outside the door, she stopped.
"So you were here."
"Yeah."
"The child?"
"Asleep."
"You?"
"Not sleeping."
Hwarin sat beside Seoryeong. For a while neither spoke. Only the sound of the medicinal cauldron boiling could be heard from inside Uiyak Hall. Hwarin spoke quietly.
"There was a meeting."
Seoryeong did not turn her head.
"Because of me?"
"Yes."
"Did I get scolded?"
"Everyone did."
Seoryeong thought about those words for a moment. Everyone got scolded. It was a strange thing to say, but she understood. She had broken him, Hwarin had not been able to stop her, Dogyeom had saved him, Cheongmu had seen it, and Cheongseong Sect had to take responsibility. Everyone had been inside the incident. Hwarin continued.
"The Sect Leader said that Cheongseong can teach you, but cannot contain you."
"I heard that earlier."
"Have you thought about what those words mean?"
Seoryeong was silent for a moment.
"Does it mean I have to leave?"
Hwarin could not answer immediately.
"Not yet."
"Later?"
Hwarin pressed her lips together. Seoryeong took that silence as an answer.
"I see."
Hwarin's hands clenched.
"Seoryeong."
"It's okay if I leave."
Hwarin looked at Seoryeong. Seoryeong's voice was calm. So calm that Hwarin felt pain instead.
"That is not something you should say so easily."
"It's not easy."
"Then why do you say it like that?"
Seoryeong looked inside the door. The room where the child was sleeping.
"If I'm here, Cheongseong gets criticized along with me."
Hwarin held her breath.
"Who said that?"
"No one did."
"Then why do you think that?"
"Because of me rumors spread. Because of me people gathered. Because of me they used the child."
Hwarin spoke immediately.
"It is not your fault."
"I know."
Seoryeong nodded.
"But it's also because of me."
Hwarin lost her words. Those words seemed contradictory, yet they were not entirely wrong. Seoryeong had not made anyone do bad things. But the enemies had moved to shake Seoryeong. Seoryeong's existence was becoming the center of the board. That fact could not be denied. Seoryeong spoke in a low voice.
"Cheongseong is a good place."
Hwarin's eyes wavered.
"Even without meat."
Hwarin could neither laugh nor cry. Seoryeong continued.
"I learned a lot here. How to speak less while eating. How to greet people. How to stop the wooden halberd. How to contain the ember in a vessel. How to distinguish words from swords."
She looked down at her own hands.
"But today I broke something using what I learned."
Hwarin listened quietly.
"So I think Cheongseong will become strange."
"Become strange?"
"Yeah. If they teach me, I might stop better, but I might also break better."
Those words were almost the same as what Dogyeom had said in Cheongheo Hall. Hwarin felt pain in her chest at the fact that Seoryeong herself sensed it. Seoryeong still seemed like a young child. Yet at the same time she was seeing something too heavy. Hwarin spoke slowly.
"Even so, going alone is dangerous."
"I'm not alone."
"Who is with you?"
Seoryeong looked down at her hand that did not hold the wooden halberd.
"The wooden halberd."
"That is not a person."
"There's also the spear tip."
"That is not either."
Seoryeong thought for a moment.
"Then there's no one yet."
Hwarin closed her eyes. Those words were so like Seoryeong that they hurt even more. No one yet. It was the kind of statement that sounded as if she could simply make someone, or that she would go even without anyone. Hwarin knew she should not say what she was about to say. She knew she was a disciple of Cheongseong and that this was not a position where she could waver. She also knew that her desire to protect Seoryeong did not automatically become the right judgment. Yet the words came out first. Hwarin spoke very quietly.
"What if I said I wanted to go?"
Seoryeong looked at Hwarin. Hwarin's eyes were wavering. Seoryeong did not speak for a long time. Then she spoke.
"What about Cheongseong?"
Hwarin could not answer. Seoryeong spoke again.
"You're a Cheongseong person."
"You are in Cheongseong right now too."
"Yeah. But I'm not a Cheongseong person."
Those words were quiet. Hwarin could not refute them. Seoryeong was not a disciple of Cheongseong. She had stayed at Cheongseong Sect, learned from Cheongseong Sect, and grown close to the people of Cheongseong Sect. But she had never fully entered within Cheongseong's rules. From the beginning she had been slightly outside. And now that outside was about to grow wider. After a long while Hwarin spoke.
"Still, don't go yet."
Seoryeong nodded.
"Not yet."
"Promise me."
"Until when?"
Hwarin could not answer. That unanswered question lingered between the two for a long time.
The next morning, Seok-ah woke up. The child still spoke very little. The physician fed him warm porridge, and Yu Soha helped him hold the small spoon beside him. Seoryeong waited outside the door without entering the room. But the child looked toward the door on his own. Yu Soha followed that gaze and found Seoryeong.
"Shall I call Lady Seoryeong?"
The child did not answer. He only gripped the spoon tightly. His hand trembled. Yu Soha did not force the question. After a while the child spoke very quietly.
"I'm scared."
Seoryeong heard those words from outside the door. She did not move. Yu Soha spoke gently.
"That's understandable."
After a long while the child spoke.
"But… if you hadn't come, I would have died, right?"
Yu Soha could not choose an answer. The physician also paused for a moment. The child lowered his head.
"That person… said he would do it again."
That voice was too small. But Seoryeong heard it.
"Not just me… to other kids too…"
Seok-ah's shoulders trembled.
"So… I was scared, but…"
The words broke off. Yu Soha waited quietly. The child barely managed to speak.
"I should… say thank you… but I'm scared."
Seoryeong sat outside the door and heard those words. Thankful, and scared. Both. And both at the same time. Seoryeong slowly lowered her head. Those words strangely hurt her heart. More than the words of thanks, more than the words of fear, the fact that both existed hurt more. She did not open the door. She simply spoke from outside.
"It's okay to be scared."
The room fell silent. Seok-ah held his breath. Seoryeong continued.
"You don't have to say thank you."
The child said nothing.
"Just stay alive."
Those words were short. Then Seoryeong stood up. Staying longer would only make it harder for the child. She came out of Uiyak Hall. The morning sunlight stung her eyes. Seoryeong squinted slightly. Her chest felt strangely stuffy. More stuffy than when she fought. She went to the training grounds. No one was there. At this hour there should have been disciples practicing footwork, swinging wooden swords, and Elder Ungak's short scoldings. But today the training grounds were empty. It seemed they had been deliberately cleared. Seoryeong stood in the center. She picked up the wooden halberd. Then she looked at the pillar where the red string had been tied. The place where she had first stopped one chi away. The place where the ember had slightly gone outside. Now that one chi looked different from before. Before, it had been the distance for stopping. Now it was the distance for choosing. Seoryeong raised the wooden halberd. One chi in front of the pillar. Stop. The wooden halberd stopped. The air was not pressed. There was no string. The pillar did not shake. Seoryeong remained in that state for a long time. Then she very slightly lowered the wooden halberd. One chi below. The tip of the halberd touched the pillar. Thud. Nothing happened. It was merely wood touching wood. Yet Seoryeong's heart wavered. One chi below. That difference. Beneath that difference yesterday had been a man's knees. Wrists. Screams. Seoryeong withdrew the wooden halberd. Again one chi in front. Stop. Again one chi below. Touch. She repeated it several times. She could stop. She could lower it. She could do both. What mattered was which one she chose. Then Elder Ungak's voice was heard.
"Who ordered this training?"
Seoryeong turned her head. Elder Ungak stood at the entrance of the training grounds.
"No one."
"You are doing it yourself?"
"Yeah. I mean, yes."
Elder Ungak slowly approached. He looked back and forth between Seoryeong standing in front of the pillar and the tip of the halberd.
"What are you confirming?"
Seoryeong chose her answer, then spoke.
"One chi."
"The one chi for stopping, or the one chi for lowering?"
Seoryeong looked at Elder Ungak. As expected, he understood immediately.
"Both."
Elder Ungak nodded.
"Yesterday you lowered it."
"Yes."
"Will you do it again?"
Seoryeong could not answer immediately. Elder Ungak waited. Wind brushed the floor of the training grounds. After a long while Seoryeong spoke.
"If it's the same situation… I think I would."
Elder Ungak's gaze deepened slightly.
"Then do you not regret it?"
"I do have regrets."
"What do you regret?"
"Doing it in front of the child."
"And?"
"That Hwarin was scared."
"And?"
Seoryeong looked at her palm.
"That it felt good."
Elder Ungak was silent for a while. He neither scolded nor praised Seoryeong's answer. He simply listened. Seoryeong found that silence somewhat comfortable. Elder Ungak finally spoke.
"People do not want to see the filth inside themselves."
Seoryeong raised her head.
"Filth?"
"Feeling good. Superiority. Anger. Desire for revenge. Cruelty. Things like that."
Seoryeong listened quietly.
"Those who lie and say those things do not exist will someday be devoured by them."
"Devoured?"
"Yes. They think they are wielding their own heart, but in truth they end up being dragged around by those emotions."
Seoryeong recalled Hwarin's words. For your fire to become yours, you must know what you like. Elder Ungak's words were the same. Different words, yet pointing to the same place. Elder Ungak spoke.
"Saying that it felt good is dangerous."
"Yes."
"But the fact that you said it is still good."
Seoryeong tilted her head.
"Both?"
"Yes. Both."
Seoryeong thought that word had been coming up too often lately. But it seemed correct. Elder Ungak pointed at the pillar.
"Today continue that one-chi training. However, every time you lower it, state the reason."
"Reason?"
"Yes. If you cannot say why you are lowering it, do not lower it."
Seoryeong looked at the wooden halberd.
"Say it and then lower?"
"Even in your heart is fine."
"It's difficult."
"That is why you do it."
Seoryeong nodded. She raised the wooden halberd. One chi in front. Stop. She could lower it. Why not lower it. Because it was a pillar. Because it was training. Because touching it would not hurt. Seoryeong lowered the wooden halberd very slightly. Thud. It touched the pillar. She withdrew it again. One chi in front. Stop. Why not lower it. This time there was no reason. She simply wanted to lower it. Seoryeong did not lower it. Elder Ungak watched quietly. She repeated it again and again. One chi in front. Reason. Lower. One chi in front. No reason. Stop. That training seemed like nothing when watched. But sweat quickly beaded on Seoryeong's forehead. It was not that her arms were tired. It was not that the halberd was heavy. Finding reasons was difficult. Distinguishing between what she wanted to do and what she had to do was difficult. When she wanted to do something and also had to do it, it was even more difficult. Watching her, Elder Ungak spoke.
"If you remain in Cheongseong longer, this training will continue."
Seoryeong stopped the halberd and asked.
"If I don't remain?"
"You will have to do it yourself."
Seoryeong kept those words in her heart. Whether she stayed in Cheongseong or left, this training would continue. One chi in front. Reason. Lower. Or stop. This had become not Cheongseong's training, but Seoryeong's training.
Around noon, Cheonghyeonja called for Seoryeong. Cheongheo Hall was quieter than the previous night. This time not all the elders had gathered. Only Cheonghyeonja, Elder Ungak, Hwarin, and Dogyeom were present. Seoryeong stood in the center. The wooden halberd was left outside. Cheonghyeonja went straight to the point.
"We will check the small shrine along the northern road."
Seoryeong nodded.
"The Black Wood Bandits?"
"It is highly likely their contact point."
"Are we going?"
"We are going. However, we are not attacking immediately today. We will check first."
Seoryeong felt slightly frustrated but nodded. Check. Check again. But now she knew. To find the invisible hand, checking was necessary. Cheonghyeonja looked at her.
"There was also the opinion that you should rest."
Seoryeong looked at Cheonghyeonja. He continued.
"There was also the opinion that you should not be sent out again. Considering what you did, that opinion is not wrong either."
Hwarin's hands clenched on her knees.
"But if you do not see it, you will remain only half-knowing what you did. You must see everything: what you broke, what you saved, and the path that leads from those results."
Cheonghyeonja looked straight into Seoryeong's eyes.
"That is why this time I will ask you."
"What?"
"Do you want to go together?"
Seoryeong blinked. It was not an order. It was not permission. It was a question. Do you want to go? Seoryeong mulled over that question. She wanted to go. She wanted to see the Black Wood Bandits' thread. She wanted to see where those who used the child as bait came from. She wanted to find the hand behind them. If there was a strong opponent, she wanted to fight. All those feelings existed. But there were other feelings too. If she went, she might break something again. She might not stop even though she could. And she might feel good about it again. Seoryeong spoke slowly.
"I want to go."
Cheonghyeonja listened without speaking.
"But I'm scared."
Hwarin's eyes wavered.
"Of what?"
Cheonghyeonja asked. Seoryeong answered.
"That I might see clearly again what I should break."
Cheonghyeonja slowly nodded.
"Can you carry that fear and go?"
"Can't I leave the fear behind and go?"
"If you leave it behind, you will see your own heart less."
Seoryeong recalled Elder Ungak's words. If you lie and say the filth does not exist, someday it will devour you. Seoryeong nodded.
"I will take it with me."
Cheonghyeonja spoke.
"Good. Then you will go together."
Hwarin drew a breath.
"Sect Leader."
Cheonghyeonja raised his hand to stop her words. He simply looked at Hwarin. Hwarin pressed her lips together, then spoke.
"I will go together as well."
Cheonghyeonja nodded.
"I thought you would."
Dogyeom also spoke.
"I will accompany you as well."
"Yes."
Cheonghyeonja was silent for a moment, then spoke.
"Cheongmu will also go."
A small presence stirred outside the door. Cheongmu had probably been listening. Cheonghyeonja pretended not to notice.
"That child must also see. When satisfaction and fear exist together, which side he must stand on."
Dogyeom quietly lowered his head. Seoryeong looked at Cheonghyeonja.
"Which side am I on?"
"I have not decided yet."
Cheonghyeonja spoke very slowly.
"Others will try to attach names to you. Monster, ember, disaster, or hero. Some names will be attached to curse you, and some will be attached to use you."
Seoryeong listened quietly.
"But where you go is determined by your steps, not by names."
"Steps."
"Yes. So walk. But with your own feet."
Those words connected to what she had heard at the mountain gate. Not being dragged, but walking. Seoryeong nodded.
"Yes."
After the meeting ended, Seoryeong came out of Cheongheo Hall. Outside the door Cheongmu was indeed there. He was pretending to do something else.
"Did you hear?"
When Seoryeong asked, Cheongmu cleared his throat.
"A little."
"They said we're going together."
"I heard that too."
"Are you scared?"
Cheongmu did not answer immediately. Before, he would have raised his voice for no reason. But now he could not. He had seen what Seoryeong did yesterday. And he had also seen his own heart. Satisfaction and fear. Both had existed. Cheongmu spoke in a low voice.
"A little."
Seoryeong nodded.
"Me too."
The two looked at each other for a moment. Strangely, that answer brought them a little closer. Cheongmu spoke bluntly.
"Still, we have to go."
"Yeah."
"This time…"
Cheongmu chose his words, then gave up and spoke.
"This time I'll be careful not to run out first."
Seoryeong blinked.
"Are you training too, Cheongmu?"
"Shut up."
"It's a compliment."
"Then shut up more."
Seoryeong smiled a little. Cheongmu also smiled very slightly. That smile was like a small piece of wood placed on top of anxiety. It might be swept away by the water, but for now it was floating.
That afternoon, a strange rumor circulated inside Cheongseong Sect. That Seoryeong would soon leave Cheongseong. It was not confirmed yet. But people were already sensing it. The silver-haired child was no longer a guest who would quietly stay in a side building. She had become the center of the incident, and rumors from the martial world were rushing toward her. The young disciples watched Seoryeong from afar. There was still the same fear as before, but it was slightly different from yesterday. Some feared her more, some grew more curious. Some felt satisfaction in their hearts, and some felt ashamed of feeling that satisfaction. Seoryeong felt those gazes. Eyes. Words. Feet. Swords. She still could not completely distinguish them, but at least she knew one thing. She should not see every eye as a sword. She should not suppress every word. But if a real sword appeared, she had to block it. And sometimes there were swords that had to be made unable to be raised again. That standard was not yet complete. That was why she had to walk more.
Around evening, Seoryeong returned to the side building. Hwarin had left for a while due to another report, and the room was quiet. Seoryeong sat with the wooden halberd in front of her. She also took out the broken spear tip.
"We're going again tomorrow."
The spear tip did not answer.
"The small shrine."
It was quiet.
"The Black Wood Bandits' thread."
Seoryeong looked down at her palm. Her fingertips no longer trembled. But they were not completely light either. Weight remained. She spoke in a low voice.
"They said I'm not a Cheongseong person."
No one had said it exactly like that. But she had said it herself. And it was not wrong.
"Then what am I?"
The spear tip did not answer. The wooden halberd did not answer either. Seoryeong closed her eyes for a moment. The smell of the village rose from very far away. The smell of fields. The smell of earth. The smell of the porridge her mother used to boil. The sound of her father chopping wood. The rough palm when she first held the small wooden spear. What had she been then? A farmer's child. A strange child. A child who liked wooden spears. What was she now? Cheongseong's guest. The silver-haired monster. The child who held an ember. The child who could not be contained. All those words were both correct and incorrect. Seoryeong opened her eyes.
"I still don't have a name."
Those words fell softly inside the room. It was not only the ember that had no name. She herself still had no name. The name Jin Seoryeong existed. But what she would become in the martial world still had no name. Someone would try to attach a name. Monster. Disaster. Hero. Witch. Ominous star. Whatever it was. But not yet. She was still walking. The night grew deep. Seoryeong fell asleep. In her dream she stood once more on a red battlefield. This battlefield was quieter than before. Strangely quiet. There were no corpses, no battle cries, no sound of hooves. Only a wide land, and in the middle of that land a single vessel. Inside the vessel was an ember. The ember looked heavier than before. A flame, yet heavy. Strange, but correct. Beside the vessel lay the wooden halberd. And a little distance away stood a giant halberd. That weapon she had seen on the red battlefield in her dream. It was still far. But closer than before. Seoryeong first looked at the wooden halberd. Her current weapon. The weapon that had taught her how to stop and press. Next she looked at the giant halberd. A weapon she had not yet reached. Perhaps a weapon she would someday reach. Between them was the vessel. The vessel that held the ember. Seoryeong sat in front of the vessel. Then a voice was heard from somewhere.
"Do you understand now?"
It was the voice of the faceless shadow. Seoryeong did not answer.
"The way to stop is not a shackle."
The voice laughed quietly.
"It is learned in order not to stop."
Hearing those words, Seoryeong looked at the ember. Dangerous words. Sweet words. They seemed correct, yet also seemed wrong. Seoryeong shook her head.
"No."
The shadow's laughter stopped. Seoryeong spoke.
"The way to stop is the way to choose."
The battlefield grew quiet.
"Whether to stop, or not to stop."
The ember inside the vessel wavered.
"Stopping, and not stopping—if someone else orders it, it is not mine."
Seoryeong looked down at the vessel.
"I am learning in order to choose."
For a long time there was no sound. Then the giant halberd rang very slightly. Hum. A distant, low sound. That sound was both like praise and like a warning. Seoryeong picked up the vessel. The ember was heavy. But it did not overflow. She took one step toward the wooden halberd. Then stopped. She also took one step toward the giant halberd. Stopped again. She did not choose either one now. Not yet. Those words echoed quietly in the dream. Not yet. Seoryeong opened her eyes. It was dawn. The room was dark and quiet. The wooden halberd stood in one corner of the room. The broken spear tip was within reach. Seoryeong slowly let out a breath. Today they would go to the small shrine along the northern road. They would follow the Black Wood Bandits' thread. Whether she would remain inside Cheongseong or leave had not yet been decided. But the path was already moving little by little. Seoryeong opened her hand. Her palm was empty. But there was weight. The weight of stopping. The weight of lowering. And the weight of choosing. All three remained in her hand.