Geon-gon (3)

What in the world was it?

Even on the day the fortnight finally ended, Seol-ha thought of nothing else from morning until night.

The young master she served had changed. There was no mistaking it. His temperament, the very cadence of his speech—both carried a strange, crushing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠weight, as if some aged veteran general had taken up residence in his body.

The unease would not leave her. Every night, whenever a gap opened, she circled the outside of the young master's quarters. His order, however, kept her from going in. All she could do was throw herself into training.

She had been about to turn back when several figures approached. Familiar faces, smiles threaded with scorn. It was Geon A-seong, second son of the First Madame—the one who had beaten the young master senseless not long ago—and the brothers known as his shadows, the Twin Dragon Sword Ghosts. Commonly called Ssanggwi.

She lowered her head in courtesy.

"That pledge we made with the bastard's mother—we can toss it aside now, can't we?"

Smiling, Geon A-seong let his eyes rake her from head to toe with naked greed. The Twin Dragon Sword Ghosts' gazes were no better than their master's.

"Come into my arms and you'll live with far more than you have now. And yet you insist on serving that wretch, walking a road of thorns."

When it came to lust, no one in Golden Manor could match Geon A-seong. Seol-ha felt filthy, but she did not let it show.

"I swore to hold a sword for the rest of my life. I cast aside a woman's life long ago."

Geon A-seong grinned.

"Forget some paltry little oath. Train for a hundred days if you like—his limits are already fixed, and in the end he'll throw you away the moment it suits his interests."

"I'll take my leave."

Nothing good would come of talking further. Only sights ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she had no wish to see. Leaving was the only answer.

As Seol-ha moved to go, the Twin Dragon Sword Ghosts blocked her path, front and back. This was nothing like usual.

"Why are you doing this?"

"We've been watching you for quite a while, you know. Talent or not, you're still just a guard of the main compound. And yet I—the Manor Lord's second son, no less—can't have you even when I want you. Tell me that makes sense."

"The First Madame will be furious. If I must be precise, I am someone who serves her."

"You think she'd kill me for bedding one woman? From what I hear, that Geon-gon cripple can't even move after last time. Can't properly wake up, can he? So you've got no master left to serve. How about serving me from now on? Heh heh."

She bit her lip.

There was no point correcting them about the young master's true condition. What disgusted her was how quickly they seized on the inflated rumor of his misfortune as an excuse to bare their twisted lust.

She drew her sword.

"You must know the likes of these cannot restrain me."

On the condition that she not serve the young master in name, she had received not only guarantees of his safety, but a small measure of spiritual medicine to nourish his growth. Ssanggwi were opponents she could more than handle.

"Ah, Ssanggwi will only block your way. I know your skill perfectly well—why would I ever think of stopping you with them? Heh heh."

Geon A-seong drew his sword.

"I'll do it myself. But do you really think you can cut me? This blood of mine comes from the noble Lord of Golden Manor."

That was the real aim.

"If I said I've been waiting for this day, would you believe me?"

"..."

"Put the blades away and come along quietly. Then you won't have to see something ugly out in the open. Though honestly, I think I'd prefer the outdoors."

"Hee hee."

"Heh heh."

She glared at the jeering Ssanggwi, but they only sealed her retreat. They did not rush her.

Hemmed in on every side, Geon A-seong crept closer.

"Go on. If you've got the nerve, kill me. If you don't, put that sword down first."

A true dead end. No way out in any direction.

She was gripping her sword with every ounce of strength she had when a sudden wind rose.

A familiar voice. A shadow appeared in the same instant, seized Geon A-seong by the nape, and drove a dagger in beside his throat. The steel punched home with a wet crunch.

He had not expected an ending like this. Bewilderment, more than shock, crossed Geon A-seong's face.

"Wh... which... bastard..."

Blood fountained from his throat, and the words fell apart.

"That bastard is me."

As Geon A-seong collapsed, a youth who had not yet shed the last of his boyishness pulled the dagger free.

Geon-gon bared a killing intent more vicious than any she had ever seen from him.

"If you want to live."

As if answering a habit branded into her over long years, Seol-ha swung her sword at Ssanggwi without a moment's hesitation. She had to. If the young master willed it.

"Hah... hah..."

It was the first time she had killed anyone. Fear and exhilaration rose together across Seol-ha's bloodless face.

I, of course, was calm. Before I was sent back, killing trash like this had been nothing at all. I wiped the bloodied dagger roughly on my sleeve and tucked it at my waist.

"Calm down. Breathe. Compared to what's coming, this is nothing."

"How... how can you be like this? We just..."

"Right. I killed the second son. Just now. Is anyone watching?"

Seol-ha spun, searching. No one. Of course there wasn't.

That lecher was thorough in his own way. Once he'd decided he was going to lay Seol-ha down, he would have made certain no one else was allowed near this place. The First Madame, of course, could not have failed to know. She would have let it pass as nothing worth noting—might even have judged it better to leave Seol-ha powerless. In my memory, her tastes ran to a particularly vicious perversion.

In any case, reality had not changed. I had killed Geon A-seong, and Seol-ha had joined me in it.

"Run. Say I did this. Say you saw nothing—knew nothing, young master."

Seol-ha spoke with everything she had.

My nose stung, just a little. Rather than blame me, even now she was worried for me.

"Why would I leave, abandoning my own house?"

If I had been the sort to do that, I never would have endured that brutal agony and been sent back at all.

"Then what do you intend to do?"

Her earlobes flushed, and her voice climbed. When Seol-ha faced a trial she could not bear, or when she was wound tight with tension, this was her habit. Seeing it again after so long stirs something in me.

"I'm going to burn my quarters."

"And then?"

"I'll burn this bastard and pass him off as me."

"What are you..."

"The rumor's already out that I've been crippled, hasn't it?"

"..."

"What could a crippled me, as far as anyone else could see, possibly have done? It's obvious. You resisted and killed Ssanggwi. The second son failed to take you. After that, in a fit of rage, he burned me alive right in front of you. Revenge for Ssanggwi."

"Since when have you been thinking about something like this? No—is it even possible?"

She looked as if she simply could not believe it. The moment I met Seol-ha's eyes, it occurred to me that she might not be able to accept a version of me like this.

"Just now. The moment I saw what they were doing to you, I saw red. Lightning cracked through my head, and I snapped awake."

"..."

"I'll do anything now. Better that than having what's mine taken from me. If that unsettles you, I'll understand if you leave my side."

The Seol-ha I knew was, by my measure, a good person. A woman not even of my blood, who had followed me blindly to repay my mother's grace. If I called someone like her anything but good, what would that make me?

But I was no longer the man I had been. The one she had known and followed was gone. What remained was a merciless demon who had endured ninety years. Understanding a man like that without question would not come easily.

"What... should I do?"

The unexpected answer made me stare at Seol-ha in silence. I almost asked what lay behind such unconditional loyalty, but I didn't particularly want to. So long as she remained at my side, I would simply count her as my responsibility.

"Pour oil through the quarters and get them ready to burn. I'll handle the rest."

I rolled the dagger in my palm and lifted Geon A-seong's face. It had been quite a while since I'd made a Human Skin Mask. I was, after all, a Human Skin Mask artisan even the Heavenly Demon had praised without reserve.

The flames took with a rush.

The house where I had lived my whole life with my mother would be ash before a moment had passed. Before long the manor's menservants and maids would appear, and the guards of Golden Manor would come running, raising a frantic clamor to put the fire out.

Seol-ha looked at me.

"It's... flawless."

"How's the voice?"

Geon A-seong's pitch sat higher than most women's, and mimicking it was no easy thing. Not beyond me, though.

"A little off."

"And now?"

"Identical."

Wonder broke across Seol-ha's face. And well it might. A Vocal Mimicry Technique this exact demanded extraordinary finesse and the precise tuning of qi. Ninety years had not been spent in vain.

"Young master."

"What?"

"May I ask how you did it? Even I sensed no presence at all. Have you been hiding your skill?"

"No. I used a supreme art I needed."

The art had succeeded.

I had taken no spiritual medicines in childhood, so that part brought no great advantage. Even so, the result satisfied me. The combat instincts and choice of martial arts of a man who had lived ninety years as Number Two Under the Heavens. Enemies complacent enough. And the dead of night besides. Add those together, and failure would have been the stranger ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠outcome.

To Seol-ha, of course, I offered a convenient half-truth.

"If I said that, over all the time I've been training, I reclaimed the residual energy built up through my whole body—would you believe me? I wouldn't recommend it, though. It's a vicious art."

Had there been another way, I would have chosen it. Fail to grow the rest of oneself in balance with a body that had already advanced, and the calamity would outstrip even qi deviation. That was why the second stage of the Heavenly Mortal Transformation Art had to be forced forward the moment the conditions were met. And given Seol-ha's age and the talent she already possessed, attempting the art would only harm her.

No need to explain it at length.

"It hurts like hell."

For Seol-ha, that was enough.

"Yes. I don't like pain either."

A small smile touched her lips.

"So you do know how to smile."

I watched the flush rise in her cheeks for a moment, then stroked my chin.

"Hmm. We're short on time, so forgive a little rudeness."

"Yes?"

Instead of answering, I tore away part of the shoulder of Seol-ha's martial robes. Skin like white jade showed through.

"If the clothes are too intact, people will get suspicious."

Or perhaps the person mattered more than the clothes. Even the torn robes looked on her like some splendid ceremonial gown. Pretty. Pointlessly so.

At the same time, a crowd came surging in from far off. It was the first day I would live as the second son, Geon A-seong.

"So in a fit of rage, you burned him and his quarters both?"

The woman upon the golden throne, having her long nails tended by her maids, looked down at me with cold eyes. One of the masters of Golden Manor. The First Madame, Maeng A-wol. One of the mortal enemies who had swallowed my life whole.

As a child, merely stepping into this room had given me chills. Now the glittering things that filled it left me dazzled. Get all of this into my hands, and everything ahead will move faster—and grow far more interesting.

A censer of gold. Splendid curtains woven of white silver thread. Pure-gold cloud-and-dragon patterns laid over the walls. Add the golden throne adorned with jade, gold, and a wealth of crimson jewels, and it was no exaggeration to call the room a sea of gold.

"I told you not to act rashly. And still you go and make a mess."

"It... it just sort of happened..."

Stammering before the First Madame had been the second son Geon A-seong's particular talent. She did not suspect me much. If anything, she was indifferent. My near-perfect work on the Human Skin Mask almost began to feel awkward.

A long silence. I was wondering what she might be thinking when the First Madame opened her red-painted lips.

This, I had not expected.