This Isn't How It Was Supposed to Go (2)
I looked down at the cords of light binding my body.
Because they had snared me right at the moment of landing, I had ended up frozen in a rather ridiculous posture. It was a martial art I had never seen nor heard of in my life. What could it be? Some new binding technique? Or was it some sort of formation array? I racked my brain, searching every scrap of wuxia knowledge I possessed, but nothing rang a bell.
"Fascinating."
I nudged a sliver of internal energy into the bonds.
Whirrr—
There was an immediate reaction. The light tightened in stubborn resistance, an unyielding tension that actually piqued my interest. Well, it would be boring if the world only threw things I already knew at me.
Right then—
"What is the matter, Heath?"
A delicate voice drifted out from inside the carriage, drawing my gaze as if by a spell. The first thing to appear was a fair, porcelain hand pushing the door open. Then, as the rest of her figure came into view, my eyes widened of their own accord.
She wore an antique dress and a wide-brimmed bonnet that looked straight out of an old classical painting. Her skin was so pale it bordered on translucent, crowned by soft golden locks of hair that swayed gently in the breeze. And her eyes were a shade of blue so vivid they seemed almost crystal clear.
"..."
For a second, I was utterly struck dumb. It wasn't because of her beauty. It was because the sight was strange—so bizarrely out of place that my mind stalled.
"M-My Lady, are you unharmed? Please forgive me. That beggar suddenly leapt out into the road..." The coachman bowed low before the woman, his voice trembling with deference.
My Lady? Was she the daughter of some prestigious martial clan? No, look at that face as much as I wanted, it was as far removed from the Murim as one could possibly get.
"Hmm."
Could this Murim be a region with heavy trade and cultural exchange with the West? It wasn't an impossible setting. Works like Parrot Killer featured things like that, and Western concepts popped up from time to time in other stories too.
"No, no. That can't be it."
Even considering that, having a foreigner addressed as 'My Lady' was unnatural. Her dress, her manner of speech—none of it fit. It didn't just feel exotic. It felt like an entirely different world altogether.
"You there."
Whether she was oblivious to my spiraling thoughts or simply didn't care, the woman stepped down and walked slowly toward me. Bound in the radiant strands, I quietly watched her approach. Even though I was restrained by an unfamiliar technique, there was no reason to panic or cower. I harbored not the slightest shred of worry that she could actually harm me.
Stopping right in front of me, she parted her lips.
"Who are you? Do you happen to know me?"
"Ha! If you wish to know who Bonjwa is...!"
The words caught in my throat. Ah, dammit. I should have come up with a name first.
"Bon... jwa?"
She tilted her head slightly, then shifted her blue gaze toward the coachman.
"What is a Bonjwa, Heath?"
"W-Well, I have never heard such a word in my life, My Lady..."
My brow furrowed deeply. They didn't know the word Bonjwa? That made no sense. Even if she looked foreign, anyone addressed as 'My Lady' had to be the scion of an influential house. How could she not know the term?
"Whew."
A hot sigh leaked from deep within my chest. Overloaded, my brain momentarily ceased all higher functions. In a situation like this, there was only one thing to do: meet other people.
"Look here, Sojeo."
At my address, her eyes went wide and round.
"Pardon? Were you speaking to me?" She tilted her head repeatedly, evidently bewildered by every syllable coming out of my mouth.
"Since fate has brought us together like this, would you be willing to grant me a small favor?"
Her eyes drifted over me from head to toe, taking in every ragged inch before narrowing into a sharp, half-closed glare. Her expression made no attempt to conceal her utter displeasure.
"Absurd nonsense!" the coachman barked from behind her.
"Hm?"
"Do you have any idea who you are daring to address?!"
"Well, I mean—"
Before I could finish, the coachman shoved past my shoulder, hurrying over to bow courteously before the woman. Hey, at least give a guy time to answer.
"Please return to the carriage, My Lady. We are pressed for time."
"Mmm... very well."
With a nod, she turned on her heel and climbed back inside.
"H-Hold on a moment! If you're leaving, at least untie me first!"
The coachman closed the carriage door with meticulous care, shot me a venomous glare, and hoisted himself up onto the driver's box.
"...Tsk."
"Hey! You bastard!"
Paying me no heed, the man snapped the reins with a vicious flick.
"Yah!!!"
Whinnyyy!
The horses let out a spirited cry, stamping their hooves into the dirt. Yet before the carriage could advance even a few paces—
CRASH—!
One of the rear wheels popped clean off its axle, and the carriage collapsed sideways into the dirt.
A heavy silence descended over the clearing. Had the wheel given out from that violent swerve earlier?
"Ah, dammit."
They weren't going to pin the blame on me for this, were they? Maybe I should just make a run for it right now.
"Ugh..."
The carriage door rattled open, and the young woman stepped out with a groan of pure frustration.
"F-Forgive me! I am terribly sorry, My Lady!" His face pale as a sheet, the coachman scampered over to her side, bowing frantically over and over.
"What happened?!"
"T-The wheel came off..."
"Damn it all, we don't have time for this..." Pressing a hand to her forehead, her voice turned sharp and brittle. She was genuinely furious.
Wait a second. This was an opportunity.
"Bonjwa shall lend you a hand!" I declared with utmost confidence.
Both sets of eyes snapped toward me simultaneously.
"How about it?! I can fix that right up for you!"
"..."
Their faces instantly soured. The sheer, unvarnished pity in their stares stung a little. Then again, given my current predicament, I probably did look ridiculous.
"Ah! Just give me a moment."
I summoned a surge of internal energy, circulating it forcefully throughout my entire body.
Creeeak—snap!
The ribbons of light binding me strained desperately against the tide, but they were no match for the raw power flooding outward. With a brittle fracture, they shattered into harmless specks of dust. Just as I thought. When you don't understand the mechanics of a technique, overpowering it with brute force is the time-tested standard.
The color drained from their faces, replaced by pure shock. The dumbfounded look plastered across the young woman's features was especially priceless.
"From what I gathered, it sounds as though you two are in quite a hurry." Dusting off my collar, I strolled leisurely over to them. "Care to make a trade?"
"Why, you insolent—!"
The coachman glared daggers, stepping forward to shout, but she raised a hand.
"Wait, Heath."
"M-My Lady?"
"Let us at least hear him out."
Good. She took the bait.
"I'll put the wheel back on for you. In exchange, give me a ride to the nearest village."
"You? Fix the wheel?" The woman looked back and forth between the heavy wooden wheel lying in the dirt and the collapsed carriage, letting out a scoff. "Do you have any idea how much that carriage weighs?"
I smirked right back. Not because it was funny, but simply to mock that infuriating little sneer of hers.
"I shall take that as an agreement."
"W-Wait a moment—!"
Without waiting for her reply, I walked over, picked up the runaway wooden wheel, and stepped up to the tilted carriage.
"Huuu."
I took a deep, steadying breath. In a feat like this, arm strength was secondary. What truly mattered was the foundation. Directing the vast majority of my qi down into my thighs and lower back to anchor myself firmly to the earth, I channeled the remainder into my arms.
Then—
Rumbleeee.
The heavily listing carriage began to rise into the air. I heard someone gasp sharply behind me, but I had no time to spare for their reaction. Aligning the wheel precisely with the exposed axle, I slid it into place. Lacking a hammer, I resorted to my trusty alternative.
"Hup!"
None other than an iron palm strike.
THWACK—!
With a single strike from my palm, the wheel slotted home as if it had never been dislodged in the first place.
"There. How's that?"
Spinning the wheel with one finger, I looked over my shoulder. The woman stood frozen, staring blankly without a single word to offer. The coachman was in the exact same state.
"Good grief, what is there to be so astonished by—"
Wait. Hold on.
Wasn't this... wasn't this the classic wuxia trope where an expert finishes his secluded cultivation and immediately saves someone in distress? Even if the trope had fallen out of fashion lately, experiencing it in the flesh brought a rush of supreme satisfaction. The only minor flaw was that the people I'd saved happened to be foreigners.
"Ahem! Well? Aren't we going?!"
I struggled to suppress the smug grin creeping onto my lips.
"L-Let us go. Heath, prepare the carriage."
"Pardon? A-Ah... yes, My Lady!"
Rattle! Thud!
"Ow!"
The carriage must have rolled over a massive rock, jolting so violently that I slammed right down onto my rear.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch..."
Smacking my tailbone against the hard wooden seat hurt like hell. And yet, the man sitting across from me...
"Snnnrrk—HONK!"
He was sound asleep with his arms crossed over his chest, his legs spread wide apart. To make matters worse, his eyes were rolled wide open, doubling the sheer creepiness of the spectacle.
Is he actually sleeping?
I waved my hand back and forth in front of his face, but there wasn't even a twitch. Judging by the faint, rhythmic breathing, he did appear to be out cold. Who on earth was this man?
Everything about his appearance was foreign. His hair fell all the way down to his waist despite being tied up, and his clothes were in such a state that it was hard to tell if he was wearing fabric or rags. Frankly, a floor mop would have looked cleaner. On top of that, he was completely barefoot, and he spoke in some bizarre, archaic dialect I had never encountered before.
Was he just an unhinged beggar? But his skin told a different story. It was unnervingly fair and radiant, with a healthy sheen. His features were pretty enough to pass for a girl's, yet beneath those crossed arms were sleeves packed with lean, corded muscle.
"Hrrk—! Mmmph... Auntie... roll me a bowl of noodles over here... zzz..."
...He really was just a lunatic.
"Ugh!!"
My thoughts were knotted so tightly my head felt ready to split open, twisting my face into a scowl.
"My Lady?! Has something happened?!" My groan must have reached Heath outside on the driver's box.
"No... it's nothing."
"Has that beggar dared to lay a hand on you—?!"
"I said it's nothing! My head hurts, so stop talking to me!"
"A-Ah, yes! My apologies, My Lady."
"I just—! *Sigh*..."
I started to snap back, but swallowed the words instead. Venting to Heath wouldn't accomplish anything anyway. Forget Heath—not a single soul in this entire world would ever be able to understand the suffocating frustration boiling in my chest.
Why?
Because I never wrote a character like this into my novel!