The Plum Fragrance Pavilion in Yicheng
In Yicheng County stood the Maehyang Pavilion. Once, it had been home to a woman celebrated as the greatest beauty of the heterodox path. “Pavilion Master!”
Despite bearing the name Maehyang, the pleasure house had somehow survived. Yet the glory of ten years ago was now a distant memory. It teetered on the edge of being demoted to a third-rate establishment.
The current pavilion master was a courtesan named Seol-hwa. She had already passed her twentieth year. As the sole remaining confidante of the previous master, Hong Mae, among all her inner circle, her influence within the pavilion nearly rivaled that of her predecessor. The only problem was that the Maehyang Pavilion of today was a far cry from what it had once been.
“Goodness, you startled me.”
“Why all this commotion? You’ll frighten the guests.”
“I-I’m sorry!”
“Pardon me for a moment. It seems there’s trouble in the pavilion.”
“Honestly… the way you treat guests is just…”
“My deepest apologies. I will bring out Chwiwol, our finest entertainer, shortly.”
As the pleasure house declined, so did the caliber of its visitors. It had always been looked down upon as a den of heterodox rogues, but when Hong Mae was still alive, there had never been any difficulty in selecting patrons. After all, even the young clan heir of the Jegal family in Xiangyang had visited frequently. Who would dare belittle the Maehyang Pavilion then?
But now… even third-rate thugs openly scorned it. And this despite it still being ranked as second-rate.
“Chwiwol? Seol-hwa, why don’t you stay and finish serving me instead?”
“I will return shortly.”
“Damn it all… the place is falling apart, yet the arrogance remains.”
Seol-hwa ignored the familiar insults and followed Chun-a, who had called for her. Soon, Chun-a’s pale face crumpled as she pleaded.
“The young miss has come here!”
“The young miss…?”
At those words, Seol-hwa’s expression hardened.
“Why would someone so noble come looking for lowly creatures like us…!”
“What? N-no, that’s not it… I meant she has arrived in Yicheng…”
“Ah…”
Relief washed over Seol-hwa’s face. Yet her expression did not fully relax.
“But why…? She has never once left Xiangyang before.”
“I don’t know either. Some woman simply brought her here, so…”
“A woman? Was it someone from the Jegal family?”
“She was dressed entirely in black. It wasn’t the Jegal clan’s martial uniform. She wore ordinary robes and a blood-red cloak.”
Ordinary robes and a blood-red cloak. Everyday attire worn by martial artists and commoners alike. While members of a great clan like the Jegal family often wore their martial uniforms outside to display their status, women frequently shed them to better showcase their beauty. Therefore, it was impossible to be certain the woman beside her was not from the Jegal clan.
“What about her face?”
“She wore a veil.”
“Any weapons?”
“None that I could see.”
“…Very well. If what you saw is accurate, there is nothing to be done. I will go myself.”
Jegal So-yeon stayed at the Jeong manor for only a brief moment. The moment they saw her, their expressions turned unwelcoming. After all, Yicheng County lay right beside Xiangyang, where the Jegal clan resided. The manor fell under the Jegal family’s sphere of influence.
With a gloomy face, So-yeon stepped back out into the street.
“So-yeon. How about some tea?”
“Tea…?”
“Yes, tea.”
At the word “tea,” the shadow over So-yeon’s face lifted slightly. This was someone she had met for the first time today, yet the kindness felt almost unreal. She had rarely, if ever, experienced such warmth in her life. She had no idea how she was supposed to respond.
“Thank… you…”
“Hehe, you can simply call me Sister. That alone would be enough for me.”
“Y-yes… Sister…”
So-yeon smiled shyly. The two of them headed straight for a teahouse.
“Do you happen to like green tea?”
Nod, nod—
“How fortunate. Our tastes match perfectly. Hehe.”
“…?”
Green tea was promptly ordered. The woman watched with a somewhat distant gaze as So-yeon took small sips of her tea.
“Um… Sister…”
“Please, say anything you like.”
“Why… are you being so kind to me…?”
“Because— well, because So-yeon is simply too adorable?”
“Ador… able…”
So-yeon’s face flushed bright red.
“Do you like the hairpin?”
“Yes…”
“It seems you don’t remember it.”
“…Pardon?”
“It’s nothing. So-yeon, you are fifteen years old now, correct?”
Nod—
“The same age as Ryeong-ah. If she were still alive, I’m certain she would have been just as adorable as you.”
“Ryeong-ah…?”
“She was my little sister.”
The gentle smile visible through the veil turned bittersweet for the first time. Feeling inexplicably guilty, So-yeon simply sipped her tea.
“…So-yeon, are you satisfied with your current life?”
“Ah…”
A rather difficult question to answer. So-yeon hemmed and hawed, unable to give a clear reply.
“It was too soon to ask that. Oh, I haven’t told you my name yet. I am Bing Ok-yeon. If you ever find yourself in trouble, come find this sister.”
Having arranged for So-yeon to be escorted to Xiangyang in exchange for delivering horses to the escort agency, Ok-yeon returned to the teahouse where they had shared their conversation. The seat the two had occupied was now taken by someone else. Nevertheless, Ok-yeon sat down in front of it without concern.
A courtesan in lavish attire that seemed entirely out of place in this establishment approached her.
“Your last action is what saved your life.”
The voice was cold and rigid. A thick killing intent radiated from her. Yet Ok-yeon simply smiled at the woman.
A stranger suddenly appearing and speaking of life and death. Under normal circumstances, one might be stunned into silence. But—
“A failing grade.”
“What nonsense are you spouting?”
“Isn’t it obvious? First, you failed to consider the difference in skill between us.”
“…Are you bluffing?”
“Second, you did not clearly declare whether you intend to protect or to strike.”
“Haa…”
“Third, even though you had the chance, you clumsily revealed your face.”
“You are not even worth speaking to.”
“Have you forgotten all of Hong Mae’s teachings?”
“…You! I’ll kill you!”
Crash!
The door burst open. The ceiling shattered. The windows flew wide. Attacks poured in from every direction.
“Your coordinated assault… barely passes.”
The table flipped over. The courtesan’s hand shot forward. Ok-yeon effortlessly deflected the hand that had come within inches of her face. Still seated, she gave the courtesan’s back a light tap with her elbow as the woman stumbled past.
“Ugh…!”
It was a precise strike delivered at close range. The movement had been minute, yet its destructive power was extraordinary. The courtesan was sent flying in the exact direction she had charged from.
Next, a sword came slashing down from above. From the attire, it was clearly a guard—most likely one assigned to protect the pleasure house. Ok-yeon flicked the flat of the blade with her finger. The sword bent like a reed, and the guard’s stance collapsed.
The one who had entered through the window was a young courtesan. Her small frame suggested she had been assigned to the window infiltration. Seeing the first two sent flying, she froze in fear. But the hairpin already clutched in her hand had been launched.
Ok-yeon gave her sleeve a single flick. A gust of wind rose, stripping the hairpin of its momentum so that it clattered harmlessly to the floor.
The last was the one who had charged through the door. Dressed as a cook, he wielded two massive cleavers in both hands. With ferocious momentum, he swung down at Ok-yeon’s head.
Her sleeve fluttered once more. A fan sprang out from its end. Ok-yeon opened the fan to cover her lips and smiled softly. She swept the fan diagonally.
The cook sneered at the fan that wasn’t even aimed at him and prepared to finish his strike. But his body suddenly floated into the air and was hurled straight out of the room. Even the wind reached every single one of the attackers who were just beginning to rise, once again shattering their stances.
“Kyaaak!”
“I-is that the Whirlwind Fan?!”
“A master… It’s a master, Pavilion Master!”
“This can’t be…”
The one called the pavilion master—Seol-hwa’s face was etched with profound despair. Seeing that expression, Ok-yeon let out a soft chuckle.
“Well then… shall we begin our conversation?”
“My name is Seol-hwa…”
“Seol-hwa? What happened to Wol-yeong and Hwa-ran?”
“H-how do you know those names…?”
“Are they dead? Or did they leave the pavilion?”
“…Just how much do you know about us? Were you sent by the Alliance?”
“Would it make sense if I said my knowledge only goes up to about ten years ago?”
“Ten… years?”
Seol-hwa, who had been sitting across from Ok-yeon with a tense expression, blinked rapidly. Had it been any other phrase, she might have let it pass. But the words “ten years” were not something she could easily overlook.
“B-both Sister Wol-yeong and Sister Hwa-ran abandoned the Maehyang Pavilion. There is no future here.”
“How long did they hold their positions?”
“Sister Wol-yeong left after three years, following a fight with Sister Hwa-ran. Sister Hwa-ran stayed until the fifth year before declaring there was no future in the Maehyang Pavilion and departing.”
“How ridiculous.”
Seol-hwa could detect a faint mix of irritation and disappointment in Ok-yeon’s voice. Just who was this woman, that she knew so much about the pavilion’s past?
In truth, a vague possibility had been floating in the back of Seol-hwa’s mind. But she had hoped countless times before, only to be crushed just as often. She had endured too much to cling to such a slender thread of hope now.
“Seol-hwa. Since you have protected this place for ten long years, I will choose to trust you.”
“What do you mean by that…?”
“Bing Ok-yeon. It is the name given to me by the previous pavilion master.”
“…!”
She had tried not to hope. Far too many had invoked the name of the Plum Fragrance Witch in order to swallow the Maehyang Pavilion whole. Having lost the protection of the Jegal clan, even the Demonic Alliance had abandoned the pavilion. No—the Jegal clan had always viewed the Maehyang Pavilion with displeasure, fearing it might offend the sensibilities of Mount Hua. And the Demonic Alliance had merely revealed its greed to devour it.
In an environment surrounded by enemies on all sides, the Maehyang Pavilion had rotted away day by day. A third-rate pleasure house. A brothel that would admit even third-rate thugs so long as they had money. That was the future that had awaited the Maehyang Pavilion.
And yet now? At the very moment when she had been ready to give up on everything, when she had been desperately holding on for the sake of the young miss alone?
[FALSE]
“Lies…”
“It is not a lie.”
Seol-hwa’s face twisted. Even her beauty, which had not faded despite having passed twenty years, crumpled beyond recognition. Soon her eyes squeezed shut. She slammed her head against the table and clenched her fists tightly.
“If you are toying with me… with us…”
“Then I shall demonstrate the previous pavilion master’s martial arts.”
Ok-yeon had no intention of dragging this out. Even from her brief observation, she could tell how precarious So-yeon’s situation was. Had the girl been happy, she would have simply handed over the hairpin and left. But So-yeon—contrary to Hong Mae’s wishes—had not become a member of the Jegal clan. In that case, her environment had to change. Changing the Jegal clan itself was impossible. Therefore, she needed to create a place for So-yeon to stay once she left the Jegal family.
Ok-yeon drew out her fan once more. She began to dance. It was the fan dance that contained every last insight Hong Mae had accumulated throughout her lifetime.
First form — Flowing Smoke, Cutting Wind. It flowed like smoke and cut like the wind.
It was not a supreme divine art, nor even a technique on that level. Yet it was the martial art that Hong Mae had honed and refined her entire life.
Second form — Smoke Opening Stance. When Ok-yeon opened her fan, faint gusts of wind spread outward. Vision blurred. Breathing grew ragged. Balance became distant and uncertain.
Third form — Wind-Stepping Stride. Ok-yeon moved as though treading upon the wind itself, flowing left and right. The mysterious movement seemed to leave no opening for an attack.
Fourth form — Flowing Fan, Severing Veins. The folded fan brushed past an imaginary foe. That foe’s entire meridian system would surely have been severed.
Fifth form — Smoke and Wind, Chaotic Dance. The opened fan layered gust upon gust. If inner energy were infused into those winds, they would twist and rupture the five viscera and six bowels.
Sixth form — Closing Fan, One Breath. Ok-yeon closed her fan. The fan she held trembled as it touched against the heart meridian.
How could she possibly forget? The fan dance that Hong Mae had personally created in her later years. Neither Wol-yeong nor Hwa-ran, not even Seol-hwa herself, had been able to properly inherit its true essence. How could she forget her master’s martial arts?
“Sob… hic…”