Chapter 6 You Would Have Regretted It
You Would Have Regretted It
Chapter 6. You Would Have Regretted It
The uproar that shook the entire inner court drew the attendants rushing toward the center.
There, five men in black martial garb stood with insolent grins on their faces.
Beside them, the great gates of the inner court lay half-collapsed, mangled from the force that had just shattered them.
The crash a moment ago had been from their entrance.
One of the guards burst forward, shouting.
“Who goes there!”
At that, the leader of the intruders—a man named Bang Byeong-il—rolled his eyes and snapped back.
“What? You dare call us ‘who goes there’? We are here to deliver the words of Lady Hae Rang-yeong, and this is how you greet us? You ill-bred mutt!”
The guard was dumbfounded.
“You barge in without warning and smash down the gates, and yet you dare speak of courtesy?”
“Silence! Insolent cur! I should drag your master out and make her apologize for your rudeness!”
The guard finally understood—they had come from the start to pick a fight.
So, Lady Hae was humiliated earlier today because of the Yeojin boy… and now they come here with this petty bullying.
He wanted nothing more than to draw his sword immediately. But their presence and momentum were not ordinary. A rash move could bring calamity.
Then—
“Do you even know who resides here, that you dare cause such havoc?”
A sharp voice rang out from the inner quarters.
All eyes turned that way.
A refined woman, hair neatly tied up, strode forth. It was Pyo Yeon, the personal maid of Namgung Ryeong-ryeong.
Without hesitation, she confronted the intruders.
“Today, Madam Namgung and Young Master Mok Yeojin have no time to waste on uninvited dogs. Leave at on—”
Smack!
Before she could finish, Bang Byeong-il slapped her across the face.
“The servant is just like the mistress—arrogant and overstepping her station.”
Pyo Yeon’s head snapped sideways, but she straightened again, glaring back at him. Her body mattered little; what she couldn’t abide was hearing her lady insulted.
Bang Byeong-il’s brow twitched.
“Oh? Let’s see if those eyes still dare look at me like that in a moment.”
His hand came up again, wide as a pot lid, swinging toward her cheek.
“Do you know whose body you’ve just laid hands on?”
The icy voice froze the air. Everyone, including Bang Byeong-il, flinched.
A sharp-faced woman in a blue gown walked forward with measured steps.
“Madam!”
It was Namgung Ryeong-ryeong.
Bang Byeong-il faltered at the aura pouring off her. He remembered vague rumors—she had once walked the martial path, but she’d laid her sword down nearly twenty years ago.
And yet… this fierce energy—could rival even elite Sa Do-cheon warriors.
He swallowed hard, then steadied himself.
No. She cannot touch me. Behind me stands Lady Hae Rang-yeong, with her powerful faction. Namgung Ryeong-ryeong is nothing now but a fallen relic. She’s kept silent until now precisely because she knows if she acts, her son will pay the price.
Comforted by the thought, Bang Byeong-il forced a smile.
“Haha! Madam Namgung, your servants lacked manners, and I may have… lost my temper. Please forgive the discourtesy.”
He never dreamed—
That just earlier, Mok Yeojin had shattered the shackles that bound her spirit.
“Was it this hand?” she asked coldly. “The one that touched Pyo Yeon?”
“Eh? What do you—”
Boom!
Bang Byeong-il’s words were cut short.
“Kugh!”
In an instant, Namgung Ryeong-ryeong lunged, seizing him by the throat and lifting him off the ground with one hand.
“Ugh!”
With her other hand, she gently grasped his left wrist.
“So, it was this hand.”
Crunch!
“Aaaaghhh!”
The sound of brittle twigs breaking filled the air as his wrist shattered in her grip. He would never again even lift a spoon with that hand.
“C-Captain!”
His men panicked, reaching for their swords.
But her voice cut like a blade.
“Try it. Draw your blades.”
From her poured killing intent so sharp it made their legs tremble.
They had just seen their captain crippled without even raising a finger. They knew—
If we draw… we die.
Yet retreat meant Lady Hae Rang-yeong’s wrath when they returned empty-handed. A deadly dilemma.
Just then—
Step.
A shadow descended before them.
Namgung Ryeong-ryeong’s eyes narrowed at the sight of a familiar weapon: a cold, gleaming sabok sword. Even she could not stay calm now.
“…The Red Wolf Commander.”
It was Mok I-yeon, Hae Rang-yeong’s eldest daughter—though as of earlier today, stripped of her position.
Namgung Ryeong-ryeong clenched her teeth.
So Hae Rang-yeong sends even her daughter. She truly intends to push this far.
Once, perhaps she could have faced such an opponent. But after so many years without training, her strength was long diminished. Against a warrior of commander rank? Impossible.
Still, she reasoned—Hae Rang-yeong wouldn’t dare openly harm her or her son, not here. Too many eyes of Sa Do-cheon watched every corner. But the servants, the guards? They were expendable.
If Mok I-yeon bore a grudge for losing her post today, she could well turn this place into a bloodbath.
Damn it…
She cursed her past self for ever laying down the sword.
But as her mind raced, Mok I-yeon simply stood silent, watching. Time itself seemed to hold its breath.
Then—
A small figure walked past Namgung Ryeong-ryeong, barely up to her shoulder.
Mok Yeojin.
“Yeojin!”
“It’s all right, Mother.”
What could be all right about this?
Before she could stop him, he was already standing before Mok I-yeon, just an arm’s length away.
He looked up, his expression blank, emotionless, carrying a faint menace that made one shrink back unconsciously.
For the first time, Mok I-yeon’s gaze betrayed curiosity.
What is this child thinking? Begging? Bargaining? Threats?
But his words shattered her expectations.
“If you came to collect these fools, then hurry and take them. Why waste time posturing, Sister?”
Mok I-yeon’s face twitched.
“…How did you know?”
That she had come to end the matter here.
Yeojin shrugged.
“Because my sister is not the kind of person to stoop to such petty tricks.”
“…”
For a moment, she only stared. This boy—first at midday, and now again—always saying things she could never predict.
Finally, she stepped forward, bowed lightly to Namgung Ryeong-ryeong, and spoke.
“I apologize on my mother’s behalf. Please, release him.”
Namgung Ryeong-ryeong, though confused, could not ignore such a concession from a commander.
She let go. Bang Byeong-il collapsed unconscious, foaming at the mouth.
“Thank you,” Mok I-yeon said, turning to the men.
“Take him, and leave. Now.”
Her voice carried deadly weight.
“Yes, Commander!”
They quickly lifted their broken leader and fled.
Silence fell over the residence, as if after a storm.
All looked at one another, unsure—Should we cheer? Stay quiet?
Only one remained unruffled.
“Why not come in for some tea, Sister?”
It was Mok Yeojin.
Later, in the reception hall.
Yeojin sipped his tea, studying the woman before him.
Mok I-yeon.
Unlike his half-brother Mok Byeong-ho, she had true talent—rising to commander rank in Sa Do-cheon at just twenty-four. More than that, she had integrity, not the deceit of her mother and siblings.
Even in his previous life, she had been the only sibling for whom he had felt a sliver of respect.
But Mok I-yeon herself was unsettled. Few dared speak casually with her, not even her own mother. And yet this boy…
“Why such a look, Sister? The latrine is that way, if you need it.”
“….”
She studied him in silence, then finally spoke.
“Earlier… were you not afraid? If I had harbored malice, the outcome could have been very different.”
“If that had been the case,” Yeojin replied calmly, “you would have regretted it.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Regret? Me? Even if your mother’s martial skill was stronger than expected, she has long abandoned training. She could never have stood against me.”
“No. Not because of her. Because of me. You would have regretted it.”
“What?”
The only sound was the soft sip of tea.
At length, I-yeon’s gaze dropped to his uncalloused hands. She laughed, sharp and scornful.
“With those delicate hands that have never even held a sword—you would make me regret it?”
“Not now, perhaps…”
Click.
He set the teacup down. His eyes gleamed.
“But five years from now—would you still be so certain you could handle me then, Sister?”