This is Love (1)
Chirping crickets. The only sound filtering through the wooden window lattice into the late night.
Well past midnight, nearing dawn, two figures lay under the same blanket on a single bed. The white-haired woman had buried her face in the man's chest, breathing softly in sleep, while the black-haired youth held her close, fiddling with the cluster of red marks—not wounds—dotting his neck and collarbone with his opposite arm.
"......."
That youth was me. Any man would envy me, no question. They say even a beauty's sleeping face is lovely, and that must have been said about this woman. The world's greatest beauty, Moyong Seol. Was even the daughter of the world's greatest warrior the world's most beautiful? Her looks could inspire jealousy in countless women, and no one would bat an eye.
Yeah. No one would think twice about it. Which meant, right now, she wasn't inspiring jealousy.
Why? 'Even the wickedest woman wouldn't envy someone dying of Jeolmok Jeong before reaching adulthood.'
She wasn't a rival. Sure, you might envy the beauty itself, but what good is it if she dies just after coming of age? Marriage, childbirth. If she's paired with a handsome, fit man from a great family or sect, she'd spend her most beautiful years loving him, bearing his child, then parting in death.
But if she dies before even having that child? All anyone can offer a woman with Jeolmok Jeong is pity.
In the eyes of the Central Plains' great families and sects, she couldn't fulfill their ideal "role of a woman." Bluntly put, if Jeolmok Jeong guaranteed life till forty—no, thirty—women might have envied her beyond jealousy, even scorned her as "that woman who's gonna die anyway." They'd resent losing an eligible bachelor to her for a mere decade or two, only for that handsome widower to take a younger second wife afterward.
In that sense, many women would mourn Moyong Seol's death sincerely—while secretly sighing in relief. Relieved she hadn't stolen the heart of their handsome suitor.
That's the kind of woman she was. The one countless men thought, "If only she didn't have Gu-eum Jeolmok..."
Her father being the world's greatest might have even spurred young hotheads to claim her through sheer bravado. That's how devastating Jeolmok Jeong was. A fatal, incurable disease that made even the handsomest men give up on the world's greatest beauty.
Yeah. That's the Jeolmok Jeong I'd studied and learned about all my life.
So why was I dwelling on it while holding this beauty? Because the common knowledge I'd held was crumbling in real time.
"Mmngh..."
She let out a faint, pained sound. Almost a whimper as she burrowed deeper into my arms, pressing her body close.
"......."
Because of it, the blanket—already slipped up past her ankles—was now threatening to slide all the way to her knees.
I had to hold back. Right now, I needed to use every bit of my medical knowledge to check Moyong Seol's condition.
Jeolmok Jeong was a disease born of excess Yin energy. The worse it got, the lower the body temperature dropped.
Swish.
I gently grasped her shoulder with the arm cradling her. Far from the heart, but close enough to detect the signature chill of Gu-eum Jeolmok.
It was warm. Dangerously warm.
Not just from the blanket—the heat flowing from her skin beneath, seeping into my hand.
Squeeze.
I pulled my other hand over and took her wrist. Her hand was already resting on my chest, perfect for taking her pulse without waking her.
Thump, thump, thump.
My heartbeat? God, I hoped so. I hoped it was my body going wild from the warmth of her against my side and waist.
But I knew better. This steady, relaxed rhythm belonged to Moyong Seol.
"...Occupational hazard."
Moyong Seol slowly spoke. "Checking me out the moment you wake up."
Her eyes still closed, but vitality was creeping back into her voice.
"Do you want to save me that badly?"
"Well..."
"Shh."
She pressed a finger to my lips. "Don't fall in love."
Staring straight at me, she spoke tenderly with sad eyes. "I know how hard you've worked to save me from every angle. Even when that vile Magyo killed your master, you tended to me while handling the funeral."
"Lady Seol, that's why—"
"Enough."
She clapped her hand over my mouth entirely. "Stop it. Keep this up, and... I'll start wavering too."
Her pale blue eyes, unique to women with Jeolmok Jeong, glistened with tears.
"I've barely steeled myself to die, and you keep making me want to live."
"La—"
"Last night. No, even just now."
She pressed her body flush against mine, bringing her face close. "...Do you know how heartbreaking it was to think this was the last time I'd feel something this good?"
"That's why."
"Forget it. You won't get this again in your lifetime. Unless you're into necrophilia, think of it as a one-night fling. That's what you said when I agreed, right?"
"I—"
I grabbed her hand. "Please, please... If you keep talking, I'll really start wanting to live..."
I tried prying her slender wrist from my mouth, but she wouldn't budge.
"I didn't want regrets before dying, but you keep making me not want to die...! Before I hurt Father and everyone more, I want to smile and say goodbye...!"
She was the daughter of the world's greatest warrior, and Gu-eum Jeolmok stemmed from excess Yin energy.
"Let me fall asleep thinking of this happiness. Please. Or..."
She glanced outside. "Dawn's coming soon. We might have time for breakfast. One last time, just once more..."
Moyong Seol averted her eyes from me.
"Ah... Good. You're feeling it too. Hehe..."
More precisely, her gaze dropped under the blanket, and she beamed, sliding her hand from my chest to my abdomen.
"See? You're honest. Right?"
"Lady Seol."
"That's why—"
"Please."
To reclaim my mouth, I seized her chin. "Ah...!"
Tears trickled sideways. "Yes. Take good care of me till morning—one last time."
With that, she closed her eyes, slowly parting her lips and tilting her head toward me.
"So I can die holding this feeling."
Her eyes seemed shut, but she cracked them just a sliver, watching my reaction.
Swish.
I turned fully toward her, approaching slowly. Only then did she close them completely.
"Lady Seol."
"Yes...?"
Now.
"Your Jeolmok Jeong is improving."
"......?"
I revealed the results of her pulse at nose-touching distance.
"I'd need to check all your meridians for details, but your body feels... 'healthy' now."
"......Pardon?"
"I, uh, have no idea why either."
No matter how I racked my brain, this seemed impossible. "It feels like... a miracle happened."
"A miracle."
The symptoms of Gu-eum Jeolmok were fading.
"So, uh, you mean... I'm cured?"
"Seems like it."
"......Why?"
Moyong Seol's face twisted as she stared at me.
"All we did between last night and now was spend one night together...?"
"I, well... I'm just as baffled. No clue how..."
"Pfft."
She laughed through what sounded like sobs, burying her face in my chest again with eyes closed.
"Dreams are so cruel. Tormenting the heart like this."
"Lady Seol, this isn't a dream—"
"If it's a dream, doesn't that mean I can do whatever I want?"
"No—"
I bolted up to correct her delusion, but...
"Doctor. Dream or not... you can't hold back either."
As she said, I couldn't suppress the beast inside.
"If you could, you'd have pried me off by force already."
With crescent-moon eyes, she climbed atop me, slowly overlapping our bodies.
"Before waking, let me feel that happiness once more."
"I—"
"Ah, seriously."
Moyong Seol cupped my face in both hands.
"Can't you even grant my dying wish for one more time?"
She pulled my face close, silencing me with her lips.
"If I keep living and can continue this happiness..."
Tears streamed as she smiled. "I love you, Doctor."
Even with a terminal life, you can't pinpoint "when" death comes. Old folks dying of natural causes gradually show signs before bedridden, but normal death is just one final breath and closed eyes.
Not from accident or murder—illness brings death without warning.
Jeolmok Jeong, however, offered some prediction. Especially Gu-eum Jeolmok.
Most women afflicted died shortly after adulthood. Often right after their "coming-of-age birthday." Some even on the day itself.
How? Chronic illness from martial artist parents.
Martial arts. Babies born to murim fathers and mothers inherit excess "Yin energy" from a female master, overwhelming the child.
Born sick from the start. Thus, we can infer when they'll die: hair turning white, eyes changing color from parental neigong—unlike ordinary folk. Innate overflow of neigong they can't control like their parents, enduring pain from childhood.
A clear terminal sentence for a woman, dying without experiencing life. No cure.
If any survived Gu-eum Jeolmok, she'd be the first in murim history to conquer Jeolmok Jeong.
Since that's impossible, they accept death quietly. Painlessly, maximizing happiness in their short lives.
That was her fate.
Yeah. She should have died like that.
"......."
"Feeling better now?"
Morning light dawned, and Moyong Seol awoke. Or rather, she'd been awake. Just lost in her own illusions.
"......Doctor."
She covered her face with one hand.
"Why... am I still alive?"
Her face flushed red as a persimmon, full of confusion, she stared at me.
"Why is my face burning like this?"
"Must be your blood circulating properly now that Jeolmok Jeong's eased."
"Th-then..."
"Even if your Jeolmok Jeong is cured—miracle or whatever."
One clear fact remained.
"I'm dead."
"Pardon?"
I nodded toward the door. "Someone's outside."
"......Who?"
Moyong Seol steadied her voice.
Crunch.
Something crumbled. Given the room's layout, the iron doorknob.
"......!"
The world's greatest. The murim hero who repelled Magyo's Cheonma with a single sword.
"D-Dad!! I'm cured! The Jeolmok Jeong!!"
"I spent the night with the doctor, and the Jeolmok Jeong—"
Thud.
Screech! "Family head!! The f-family head has collapsed!! Hurry!!"
On his daughter's birthday morning, he fainted outside a certain doctor's room.