The First Path Below the Mountain
The scent of Cheongseong Mountain lingered far longer than Jin Seoryeong had expected. As she descended the mountain path, she fought the urge to look back again and again. Yet even without turning, the smells remained. Pine resin. Damp earth. The medicinal tang of Uiyak Hall. The warm porridge from the dining hall. The faint soap scent that clung to Hwarin’s fingertips. The herbal aroma Cheongmyeong had packed for her. The human warmth on the cloth wrapped around Mokgeuk’s handle. All of it followed her down the mountain.
She walked. One step. Another. The path down from Cheongseong was familiar—she had taken it several times before. The road to the inn. The road where Yakdong had been injured. The road where she had met the man who used children as bait. The fork that led to the small northern shrine. But today felt different. The same road, yet not the same.
Before, she had always walked with someone from Cheongseong. Hwarin had been there. Dogyeom. Cheongmu. Even the sense that Elder Ungak was following unseen. Today, none of them were present. Jin Seoryeong was alone. Or rather, she walked alone. Yet she did not feel entirely alone.
Inside her robe was the broken spearhead. At her waist hung Cheongmyeong’s cloth pouch. Mokgeuk’s handle was wrapped in cloth given by Elder Ungak and Cheongmu. Inside the pouch lay Dogyeom’s empty wooden plaque. There was also a small red thread. On her head was the knot Hwarin had tied. No people remained, but their hands lingered.
Jin Seoryeong adjusted her grip on Mokgeuk. The cloth wrapped around the handle steadied her palm. It did not slip.
“Hands do not lie well,” Elder Ungak’s words surfaced in her mind.
She felt her own hands. They were not clenched too tightly, yet not completely relaxed either. Tension. A little. Anticipation. A little. Bulssi. Quiet. Contained within the vessel. She confirmed the sensation and walked on.
The path widened as she descended. The shadows of Cheongseong’s trees thinned, and human footprints multiplied along the dirt road. Wheel tracks from carts. Ox hoofprints. Small prints left by running children. The firm strides of martial artists. And some footprints pressed deliberately deep.
Jin Seoryeong observed them as she walked. In the past she would have passed them by. Now her eyes went to them first. Speech. Eyes. Feet. Blades. The distinctions were not yet perfect, but she saw far more than before. Seeing was not comfortable. When she saw, she had to think. Thinking forced her to weigh things. Weighing was heavy. She disliked it a little, yet she did not stop.
After walking for some time, a small village appeared at the foot of the mountain—the closest settlement to Cheongseong Sect. It was not large. Low wooden houses lined the road, and roadside stalls selling dried vegetables, firewood, and worn shoes were scattered here and there. The morning market was just opening, and people moved busily. Some carried water jars on their heads. Others chased chickens. One swept in front of a gate.
An ordinary village. Yet when Jin Seoryeong stepped through the entrance, the villagers’ movements slowed ever so slightly. They did not stop completely, but eyes turned toward her. Gazes. Jin Seoryeong felt them. Silver hair. Mokgeuk. A young girl. Someone who had come down from Cheongseong Mountain. And perhaps rumors.
People’s eyes were not blades. But neither were they all warm. Curiosity. Fear. Wariness. Some lowered their heads. Some pulled children behind them. One merchant tried to smile at the sight of her, then closed his mouth. Jin Seoryeong looked at them. She saw the hand that had drawn a child back. Something small and sharp pricked her chest. Seoka’s eyes came to mind—eyes that had said thank you yet were afraid. And the voice that had told her to return safely.
She did not stare at that hand for long. If she did, the person would only grow more frightened. Jin Seoryeong turned her gaze forward.
In the center of the village stood a small inn, different from the one at the foot of Cheongseong Mountain. The signboard was weathered. In front of the door sat a jar half-filled with water and an old broom. From inside drifted the mingled scents of simmering porridge, oil, and alcohol. Jin Seoryeong’s stomach gave a small growl. She stopped.
She had eaten before leaving, yet the walk had made her hungry again. Cheongmyeong’s bundle was meant for the road. The inn would have hot food. Perhaps even meat. Jin Seoryeong hesitated. To reach Heoksongru she needed the main road toward northern Sichuan. Yet there was no need to rush there immediately. Cheonghyeonja had given no order. Heoksongru was merely the first path, he had said. He had told her to observe the road. Then food, too, was part of the road. Jin Seoryeong decided.
She entered the inn. When the door opened, the voices inside quieted slightly. Jin Seoryeong paused at the threshold. Three tables. Eight customers. One owner. One person in the kitchen. Two armed men. One was drinking. The other sat with his back to the wall. The man with his back to the wall looked first at Mokgeuk, then at her hair, then at her face. His expression did not change, but his fingers tapped the cup once. Tap. A small sound. It might have been a signal, or merely habit. Jin Seoryeong noted it and passed by.
The owner smiled awkwardly. “Welcome. Are you alone?”
“Yes. I mean, yes.”
The owner’s smile wavered slightly. “What would you like?”
Jin Seoryeong asked the most important question. “Do you have meat?”
The air inside the inn loosened a little. Someone chuckled. The laugh was not unkind. The owner spoke with visible relief. “We have rice soup with dried pork.”
“That.”
“Will one bowl be enough?”
Jin Seoryeong considered. One bowl. Hunger. The road ahead. Meat. “Two bowls.”
The owner blinked. “Pardon?”
“Two bowls.”
Laughter rose again inside the inn, this time gentler. Jin Seoryeong took a corner seat—the kind where she could keep her back to the wall. Dogyeom had once said it was wise not to leave one’s back exposed in unfamiliar places. When she had asked why, he answered, “Because the back of the head has no eyes.” Jin Seoryeong had liked that answer. The back of the head has no eyes. So she kept it against the wall.
The other customers still glanced at her. Jin Seoryeong deliberately did not meet every gaze. Not every eye was a blade, Hwarin had said. She placed her hands on her knees and waited.
Soon the rice soup arrived, steam rising. Shredded dried pork floated on the broth—not much, but it was meat. Jin Seoryeong lifted her spoon. One mouthful. It was hot. The flavor was not deep. Coarser than the porridge at Cheongseong’s dining hall, yet far better than the medicinal tea at Uiyak Hall. It tasted of meat. Jin Seoryeong was satisfied.
Then a low voice drifted from the neighboring table. “Is that the silver-haired girl?”
“If she’s carrying a halberd, it must be her.”
“They said she came down from Cheongseong alone.”
“The fact that she’s alone makes her scarier.”
Words. Jin Seoryeong ate her rice soup. Words were not blades, yet they reached her ears.
“They say she crushed a man’s limbs one by one.”
“She saved a child, though.”
“Saved or not, how can she eat after seeing that sight?”
“Shh. She might hear.”
She heard. Jin Seoryeong did not stop eating. The food went down because it was meat. Yet the taste had changed slightly. It felt less warm than before. Strange. The soup itself was still hot, but inside her mouth it had cooled a little. Jin Seoryeong could not explain it. Rumors. Names. Dogyeom’s empty plaque seemed to shift lightly inside the pouch.
Outside, many people would try to attach names to her, Cheonghyeonja had said. Monster. Ember. Ominous star. Calamity. Hero. None of those names would be entirely wrong, yet she must not become all of them. Jin Seoryeong took another spoonful.
Then one of the men at the next table laughed and said, “Still, she did well. The one who used a child as bait, right? I’d have crushed him too.”
Another man replied, “You? You can’t even throw a proper punch.”
“I’m just saying.”
“She actually did it.”
“That’s exactly why she’s frightening.”
Jin Seoryeong ate. She could not tell whether it was praise or insult. Perhaps both. People feared her. Yet some felt a sense of satisfaction, just as Cheongmu had. Satisfaction and fear. Gratitude and fear. Good and dangerous. Matters of the martial world were often both.
She finished the second bowl as well, leaving nothing. When she set the bowl down, the owner approached cautiously. “Did it suit your taste?”
“Yes. I mean, yes.”
“I’m glad.”
The owner was about to collect payment when he studied her face. “Are you from Cheongseong by any chance?”
Jin Seoryeong paused. She had come from Cheongseong. That was true. But was she a person of Cheongseong? No. Did she move under Cheongseong’s orders? No. Was she bound to Cheongseong? No. Cheongseong was a place she had stayed. It was not a place she must report back to. Nor was it a place that bound her. Yet if she lost her way, the mountain would still be there.
Jin Seoryeong answered. “I came down from Cheongseong.”
The owner nodded. “I see.” He asked nothing more. She liked that.
Jin Seoryeong paid with the travel money Cheongseong had given her. It was not much, yet enough for the rice soup. As the owner accepted the coins, he said, “Are you heading toward the northern road?”
“Why?”
“The northern road has been noisy these past few days. I hear many martial artists are gathering near Heoksongru.”
Jin Seoryeong’s eyes moved slightly. Heoksongru. The name had come up first. “Why are they gathering?”
The owner glanced around. The armed man with his back to the wall lifted his cup. The owner lowered his voice. “I don’t know the details. Some say someone opened a martial contest ground. Others say the Black Wood Bandits are recruiting. There’s also talk of a merchant caravan seeking escorts. Heoksongru has always been full of rumors……”
Jin Seoryeong listened. Martial contest. Black Wood Bandits. Merchant escort. Heoksongru. There might be strong people there. And dirty threads as well. Something inside her chest quickened. The owner saw her expression and took a step back. He seemed frightened. Jin Seoryeong lowered her eyes. Do not rejoice too much, Hwarin had said. Only a little. That little was the problem. Jin Seoryeong exhaled. “Which way is the northern road?”
The owner pointed. “Follow the main road west from the end of the village. After about half a day you’ll reach a fork. Follow the signpost carved with a black pine and you’ll reach Heoksongru. However……”
“However?”
“It’s a bit dangerous to go alone.”
Jin Seoryeong nodded. “Yes.”
The owner looked flustered. “I mean, please be careful.”
“Yes.”
“I’m also saying you shouldn’t go.”
Jin Seoryeong thought. The words telling her not to go. The words telling her to be careful. Both. “Understood.”
She stood. The owner could say no more. As Jin Seoryeong headed for the door, the armed man with his back to the wall spoke. “Heading to Heoksongru?”
The air inside the inn grew quiet again. Jin Seoryeong turned her head. The man looked about thirty. A short beard covered his chin. His eyes were tired yet clear. His blade was no cheap thing. His hands bore calluses. There was no smile on his lips. “Why?” Jin Seoryeong asked.
The man set his cup down. “If you’re taking that road, it’s better to find traveling companions.”
“You?”
“No.” The man shook his head. “I’m going the opposite way.”
“Then why tell me?”
The man regarded Jin Seoryeong for a moment. “Someone died at Heoksongru yesterday.”
Jin Seoryeong’s hand did not move toward Mokgeuk, yet her palm tightened slightly. “Who?”
“Someone who talked too much.”
“Name.”
“I’ve never seen someone who talks too much in the martial world use only one name.”
Jin Seoryeong frowned. Difficult words. The man continued. “His nickname was Marenson.”
The air inside the inn grew even quieter. Something stirred within Jin Seoryeong’s chest. Marenson. The name tied to the hand that chose children. The thread that had used Seoka as bait. That hand was dead. Who? Why? To silence him? As bait? Or another thread? Jin Seoryeong looked at the man. “Did you see it?”
“I saw the corpse.”
“How was it?”
The man’s eyebrows rose slightly at her question. Most people would ask who killed him. Jin Seoryeong was asking how he had died. “All his fingers had been cut off.”
Jin Seoryeong’s eyes grew cold. “Why?”
“Because he was called Marenson.”
Someone in the inn swallowed a curse. The man kept speaking. “His mouth was sewn shut as well. As if to stop him from talking.”
Jin Seoryeong listened in silence. Fingers. Mouth. Hands cut off in mockery of his nickname. A mouth sewn shut so he could not speak. That was not the manner of a death born from rage. It was a death meant to be seen. A warning to someone. And now that warning was being spoken inside the inn. Marenson was dead. A thread had been cut in the middle. Or someone had deliberately cut it to show. Jin Seoryeong asked, “Who killed him?”
The man looked at the remaining liquor in his cup. “If I knew that, would I be eating here?”
“Why tell me?”
The man smiled faintly for the first time. “To see how you would react to that name.”
Mokgeuk moved. Thud. The tip stopped a finger’s breadth from the man’s cup. Everyone inside the inn held their breath. Jin Seoryeong looked at the man. The man did not avoid her gaze. One finger’s breadth. She could bring it down. She could shatter the cup. She could shatter the table. She could shatter the man’s wrist. She could see where to strike so he could not draw his blade. She could see where to press so he would have no choice but to speak. Jin Seoryeong exhaled. Reason. Why not bring it down. She was angry. She had been tested. Provoked by the name Marenson. Yet he had not attacked. He had not drawn his blade. He had given information. And he had said he wanted to see how she reacted. It was unpleasant. But there was still no reason to break him. Jin Seoryeong withdrew Mokgeuk. The man’s gaze shifted slightly. “You endure better than the rumors say.”
“I didn’t endure.”
“Then?”
“There was no reason to bring it down.”
The man gave a short laugh at those words. This laugh held no mockery. “I see what you learned at Cheongseong.”
Jin Seoryeong looked at him. “Who are you?”
“Asking for a name from someone you’ve just met in the martial world is dangerous.”
“Then what should I call you?”
The man thought for a moment. “Cheolgi.”
“Real name?”
“It might not be.”
Jin Seoryeong frowned. Why did names in the martial world keep shifting? Dogyeom’s empty plaque came to mind. He had said to leave what she would become blank for now. Yet the people of the martial world seemed to leave far too many things blank. Jin Seoryeong said, “I am Jin Seoryeong.”
The people inside the inn fell silent. The man called Cheolgi looked at her. “Is that your real name?”
“Yes.”
“Is it all right to say it so easily?”
Jin Seoryeong thought for a moment. “It’s my name.”
The man could not answer. He regarded Jin Seoryeong with a slightly strange expression, then spoke quietly. “I see. If it’s your name, then it’s yours to speak.”
Jin Seoryeong liked those words. Cheolgi took a small piece of paper from his robe and slid it across the table. Jin Seoryeong did not pick it up immediately. Paper. It could be a trap. It could be poisoned. It could be writing. It could be words. It could be a blade. Cheolgi raised his hands. “No poison.”
“Should I believe you if you say so?”
“It’s better not to believe.”
Jin Seoryeong pressed the paper lightly with the tip of Mokgeuk. Nothing happened. She took a thin cloth from her pouch and picked up the paper. It was the small cloth Cheongmyeong had given her. It had found a use. A simple map was drawn on the paper. The main road west of the village. The signpost with the black pine. A dry well. A collapsed stone pagoda. And Heoksongru. Beside it was written in small letters: Do not enter at night.
Jin Seoryeong could not read the characters. She showed the paper to Cheolgi again. “What does it say?”
Cheolgi blinked. “You cannot read?”
“A little.”
“That?”
“I don’t know.”
Cheolgi was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Do not enter at night.”
“Why?”
“By day it is an inn. By night it is a stage.”
“Stage?”
“A place where money, blades, people, and rumors mix.”
Jin Seoryeong tried to understand. An inn was a place to drink. A stage could be a place to fight, to gamble, or to sell people. Words in the martial world often meant several things at once. “What if I go during the day?”
“You can see people.”
“What if I go at night?”
“People might not look like people anymore.”
Jin Seoryeong kept those words in her heart. Difficult words. Yet somehow important. Cheolgi stood. “I’m going the opposite way.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to live.”
He finished paying and walked toward the door. Before leaving, he stopped and looked back. “Jin Seoryeong.”
Jin Seoryeong looked at him. “Do not speak your name too easily at Heoksongru.”
“Why?”
“The people there put a price on names.”
“Price?”
“How much they can sell you for. How much they can kill you for. How much they can spread rumors about you.”
Cheolgi opened the door. “And your name is no longer cheap.”
He left. Silence lingered inside the inn for a moment. Jin Seoryeong looked down at the paper. Map. Do not enter at night. Marenson’s death. The name Cheolgi. A name that might or might not be real. Jin Seoryeong folded the paper and put it in her pouch.
Then one of the men at the neighboring table spoke cautiously. “Young lady, are you truly going to Heoksongru?”
Jin Seoryeong looked at him. He was the one who had said it felt satisfying earlier. He was not smiling now. “Why?”
“That is not a good place.”
“If it were good, would I not go?”
The man could not answer. Jin Seoryeong thought for a moment. Good places. Bad places. Cheongseong had been a good place. Yet even Cheongseong had held heavy meetings, and she carried the memory of breaking someone there. Heoksongru would be a bad place. Yet even there would be people eating, working, being deceived, and being sold. The road was not simple. Jin Seoryeong said, “I will look and decide.”
The man lowered his head. Jin Seoryeong left the inn.
Outside, the sunlight had risen a little higher. The village was busier than before. Chickens were still being chased. The woman carrying the water jar was arguing with another woman. Children played in the alley, kicking pebbles. One of them saw Jin Seoryeong. Stopped. The others stopped as well. Jin Seoryeong looked at them. The children did not run. But they did not come closer either. One child looked at Mokgeuk and asked, “Is that heavy?”
The child beside him immediately covered his mouth. “Hey.”
Jin Seoryeong looked at Mokgeuk for a moment. “Yes.”
The child’s eyes widened. “How heavy?”
Jin Seoryeong thought. Weight. The weight of wood. The weight that could break people. The weight that could stop. The weight of hands received at Cheongseong. How should she answer? “When you hold it, it stays in your hands.”
The children looked as though they did not understand. Jin Seoryeong realized she had spoken difficult words. “A little heavy.”
Only then did the children nod. One child asked again, “Can I hold it someday too?”
An adult shouted from afar. “Stop saying nonsense and come inside!”
The child flinched. Jin Seoryeong looked at the child. “Someday.”
“Really?”
“When your hands are ready.”
The child did not fully understand, yet somehow looked pleased. Jin Seoryeong walked on. She headed toward the end of the village. Before leaving, she looked back once. Cheongseong Mountain was visible in the distance. The buildings were no longer visible, yet the mountain’s outline remained. It was there. If she lost her way, the mountain would be here. Jin Seoryeong nodded. Then she stepped onto the western road.
The road was wide—wide enough for carts—and many footprints marked it. In the distance she saw the banner of a merchant caravan. She could not tell whether it carried salt or medicinal herbs. Six carts. A dozen or so people. Three escort martial artists. They grew wary at the sight of Jin Seoryeong, then continued on their way. Jin Seoryeong continued on hers.
Many people walked the road. Merchants. Wanderers. Porters. Martial artists. A woman carrying a child. An old man with a limp. A man smelling of alcohol. Jin Seoryeong walked among them. She had only just descended from Cheongseong Mountain, yet the world had already grown much wider. Many people meant many sounds. Cart wheels. Oxen lowing. Merchants haggling. Martial artists laughing. A child crying. The sound of a flute from somewhere. And rumors.
“They say another person died at Heoksongru.”
“This time it was fingers, right?”
“The Black Wood Bandits silenced him.”
“No, I heard Heoksongru cut off the Black Wood Bandits’ tail.”
“I also heard the name Heaven Society.”
Jin Seoryeong’s steps slowed slightly. Heaven. The character for heaven. Heaven Society. It could be words. It could be rumor. It could be a trap. Yet it could also be a thread. Jin Seoryeong kept the words in mind. Heaven Society. She was not certain yet. What she was not certain of, she would not bring down. She would see first. She kept walking.
As noon approached, the sunlight grew hotter. Jin Seoryeong rested briefly beneath the shade of a roadside tree. She opened the bundle Cheongmyeong had given her. It contained hard rice cakes and dried fruit. No meat. She felt a small pang of disappointment, yet she ate. The rice cakes were hard. She had to chew with force. As she chewed, Jin Seoryeong thought. Cheongmyeong had said he would prepare meat next time. Next time. That word felt strangely warm. It meant there would be a next time. It meant she could return. She ate a piece of dried fruit. Sour and sweet. The taste made her squint slightly.
Then a small commotion arose across the road. One cart had tilted. Its wheel seemed caught in a gap between stones. The cart’s owner was a middle-aged woman with a young girl beside her. The woman tried to push the cart but lacked the strength. People passing by glanced over yet kept walking. Jin Seoryeong stopped chewing and watched. Should she help? She could simply pass by. Her road led toward Heoksongru. Yet the wheel was stuck. There was a child. No one was injured. It was not dangerous. She could help. Why should she help? Because the wheel was stuck. Because the child was watching. Because she had strength. The reasons were sufficient. Jin Seoryeong put the remaining rice cake in her mouth and stood. She crossed the road toward the cart.
The woman flinched at the sight of Jin Seoryeong. “Ah, it’s all right. It’s all right.”
It did not look all right. The cart was tilted, the wheel deeply lodged in the gap. Jin Seoryeong set Mokgeuk aside. “Shall I push?”
The woman looked flustered. “Pardon?”
“The cart.”
“Ah, no, there’s no need for you to……”
Jin Seoryeong had already moved behind the cart. Before the woman could stop her, she placed her hands on it. The texture of wood met her palms. The weight of the cart. The weight of the load. The angle at which the wheel was caught. She could see where to push. It was different from breaking people. Yet reading weight was similar. Jin Seoryeong planted her feet on the ground. She exhaled. She did not use Bulssi. There was no need. Ordinary strength was enough. “Hold on.”
The woman grasped the front of the cart in a daze. Jin Seoryeong pushed. Creak. The wheel shifted slightly within the gap. The woman’s eyes widened. Jin Seoryeong pushed again, this time pressing with the balls of her feet. Thud. The wheel came free. The cart righted itself. The woman stared at Jin Seoryeong blankly. The young child’s eyes were wide as well. Jin Seoryeong dusted off her hands. “Done.”
The woman bowed her head hurriedly. “Th-thank you. Thank you so much. If it weren’t for you……”
“It’s fine.”
Jin Seoryeong reached for Mokgeuk. Then the child spoke. “Big sister is strong.”
The woman tried to cover the child’s mouth. Jin Seoryeong looked at the child. There was more surprise than fear in the child’s eyes. Jin Seoryeong thought for a moment. Strong. That was correct. “Yes.”
The child smiled. “Cool.”
Jin Seoryeong paused. Cool. It had been a long time since she had heard that word. Scary. Grateful. Dangerous. Among such words, “cool” felt unfamiliar. Jin Seoryeong did not know how to answer, so she simply nodded. The woman hurriedly took several dried chestnuts from a small bundle. “Please accept at least this.”
Jin Seoryeong looked at the chestnuts. Food. Should she refuse? Could she accept? Payment for helping. The desire to give. Something to eat. “Not meat.”
The woman looked flustered. “Ah…… I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
Jin Seoryeong accepted the dried chestnuts. “Eat chestnuts too.”
The child smiled again. Jin Seoryeong put the chestnuts in her pouch and walked on.
A little later, she looked at her palm. The hand that had pushed the cart. The hand that had broken people. The hand that held Mokgeuk. The hand that touched hair. The same hand. Hands do not lie well, they said. Just now, that hand had not been heavy. It had been light. She could use weight without breaking someone. Jin Seoryeong kept that fact in her heart. On the first day of the martial world, she had not broken anyone. Instead, she had pushed a cart. It was a very small thing. Yet strangely, it felt as though it would remain for a long time.
By afternoon the road had widened further, and the name Heoksongru appeared more frequently in people’s conversations. The signpost carved with a black pine appeared as the sun began to tilt westward. The post was old, yet the black pine carving looked freshly painted and vivid. Jin Seoryeong stopped before it. It matched the map Cheolgi had given her. Black pine. This road led to Heoksongru. Do not enter at night. The sun had not yet fully set. Yet darkness was slowly descending upon the road. Jin Seoryeong looked at the signpost. If she went now, she might reach the area before sunset. Yet entering Heoksongru could mean nightfall. Cheolgi had told her not to enter at night. Could she trust that? She did not know. Yet there was reason to be cautious. Jin Seoryeong sat beside the signpost. She would not go any farther today. Why? Because there had been words telling her not to enter at night. She did not yet know Heoksongru. There was no reason to enter an unknown place at night. Because she wanted to see strong people? That was closer to a reason for bringing something down. Not a reason to go. Jin Seoryeong decided. There was a small patch of shade beside the road, and a little farther away stood an old stone pagoda. It was probably the collapsed pagoda marked on the map. She could rest there. Jin Seoryeong moved near the pagoda and settled in. She took out the rice cakes Cheongmyeong had given her and the dried chestnuts the woman had given her. No meat. She felt disappointed. Yet the chestnuts were sweet. As she chewed them, Jin Seoryeong looked at the sky. The sky was wide. The character for heaven. The rumor of Heaven Society. The voice in her dream that had asked whether she could press down the sky. Jin Seoryeong ate another dried chestnut. “I cannot press down the sky.” It was a murmur to herself. “But I can follow the threads.”
Darkness descended little by little. Fewer people walked the road. A dog barked in the distance. Wind passed by. Jin Seoryeong sat with Mokgeuk beside her. She did not lie down completely. On unfamiliar roads, she did not leave her back exposed. Because the back of the head has no eyes. Dogyeom’s words. She sat with the pagoda at her back. That made her feel a little more at ease.
Before night deepened, small footsteps sounded from farther down the road. Jin Seoryeong opened her eyes. She had not been asleep. One set of footsteps. Light. It could be a child. Not a beast. Soon a small figure appeared. It was the child of the woman whose cart she had pushed earlier. The child stood panting, a small bundle in hand. Jin Seoryeong blinked. “Why did you come?”
The child caught their breath and spoke. “Mother said…… this……”
The child held out the bundle. Jin Seoryeong did not accept it immediately. She looked at it. “What is it?”
“Meat.”
Jin Seoryeong’s eyes widened slightly. The child spoke with a proud face. “You said it wasn’t meat earlier. Mother said she had a little dried meat…… and told me to give it to big sister……”
Jin Seoryeong accepted the bundle. It truly smelled of dried meat. The amount was small. Yet it was meat. “Thank you.”
The child smiled. “Mother said not to walk the night road alone.”
“I’m not going.”
“Are you sleeping here?”
“Yes.”
The child looked back and forth between the pagoda, Mokgeuk, and Jin Seoryeong. “Aren’t you scared?”
Jin Seoryeong thought for a moment. Darkness. Heoksongru. Marenson’s death. The rumor of Heaven Society. Strong people. Cowardly people. Words telling her to return. Words telling her she could return. “A little.”
The child’s eyes grew round. “Big sister is scared too?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re going?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Jin Seoryeong could not answer immediately. Why was she going? Because of Heoksongru? Because of Marenson? Because of strong people? Because of those who used children as bait? Because she needed to see beyond Cheongseong? To make her own fire her own? All of those were correct. Yet they were too difficult to say to a child. Jin Seoryeong thought for a long time, then said, “Because I need to see.”
“See what?”
“Where I am going.”
The child nodded as though understanding, yet not quite. Then the child said, “Then don’t get lost.”
Jin Seoryeong thought of the red thread inside her pouch. “Yes.”
The child waved and turned back. Jin Seoryeong watched until the child disappeared down the road. The bundle of dried meat rested in her hands. Small warmth. The second food she had received that day. One was dried chestnuts. One was dried meat. Both had been given by someone saying thank you. There were people who did not only say she was frightening. Jin Seoryeong felt that. The first day of the martial world. There had been rumors. There had been wariness. There had been tests. She had heard of Marenson’s death. She had heard the rumor of Heaven Society. Yet there had also been dried chestnuts and dried meat. The road was not only dirty. It was not only good. It was both.
Jin Seoryeong tore off a piece of dried meat and ate it. Tough. Chewy. Delicious. She leaned against the pagoda and looked at the sky. Stars were beginning to appear one by one. Were they the same stars she had seen from Cheongseong Mountain? Probably. Yet the stars seen from the road felt a little different. More distant. Wider. Jin Seoryeong kept Mokgeuk close at hand. She touched the cloth on the handle. She felt Hwarin’s knot as well. She thought of the empty plaque and red thread inside the pouch. The words telling her she could return. And the signpost with the black pine ahead. Tomorrow she would go farther along the road toward Heoksongru. Marenson was already dead. One thread had been cut. Yet the end of that cut thread would have blood on it. If she followed that blood, another thread might appear. Jin Seoryeong closed her eyes. Bulssi was quiet. It was within the vessel. Today she had broken no one. Instead, she had pushed a cart, spoken her name, withdrawn Mokgeuk a finger’s breadth away, and stopped before the night road. Small choices. Yet all of them had been her own. Jin Seoryeong felt that truth and exhaled. It was her first night outside Cheongseong. She had not yet reached Heoksongru. She had not yet unraveled Marenson’s death. She did not yet know whether the words Heaven Society were real. Yet the road had begun. The mountain was behind her. The martial world was ahead. And Jin Seoryeong, between them, fell asleep for the first time holding her own reasons in her hands.