Chapter 20
"B-but your arm—!!"
"...It's fine."
My body trembled. Ohae's shaking transmitted straight to me. Bewilderment, fear, guilt—a torrent of emotions poured out alongside her tears.
I pulled her even tighter into my embrace. So fiercely that no pointless anxieties could creep in... so fiercely... so fiercely.
Maybe it was from losing so much blood... My head felt foggy, and I couldn't quite recall if it was from my past life or this one, but I'd once shattered a massive flowerpot. It was so long ago that I couldn't remember why. Probably smashed it in a fit of anger or something.
Getting pissed and breaking a flowerpot... What a bratty kid I was.
But the funny part? I'd smashed it myself, yet I jumped in shock at the unexpectedly huge crash, frozen in terror. I just stood there dumbly, staring at the scattered shards and pile of dirt on the floor, too scared to even run.
Then Mom came rushing over and pulled me into a hug. She didn't spare a glance at the broken pot, just stroked my hair, asking if I was okay, if I was hurt anywhere.
It was a hazy memory, faded to near nothing. But that warmth I felt back then... so warm... so soft... it still lingers faintly in my heart, the sensation of that day.
I wanted to share even a bit of that lingering warmth with the child sobbing quietly in my arms. I held her tight and soothed her.
"It's okay... I don't hate you... I don't resent you... I'm not scared of you..."
Her tear-filled blue eyes slowly lifted to meet mine. I forced a smile, smoothing out the face twisted in agony.
"...I'm fine. I'm okay, so don't cry."
I used to wonder why mentor characters in manhwa always acted so cool in front of the protagonist. Now I got it. Mentors naturally wanted to look badass for their disciples.
...In the end, Ohae didn't stop crying. Instead, she clung to me with both arms, sobbing with hiccups until exhaustion claimed her and she fell asleep.
I wanted to sleep too, but passing out here felt like I'd never wake up. Somehow, I kept my wits about me.
Rustle, rustle~
Rustle, rustle~
"Young master! Young master! You're alive?!"
Jang Sambung led the charge as a crowd rushed over. They showed up right after everything was done—like B-movie cops in a horror flick.
I checked Ohae's face. She was out cold. Time to drop the master mode.
As they approached, the realization that I was safe hit me, and the pain I'd ignored crashed in like reality itself. Tears and agony flooded out.
Facing Jang Sambung, whose face had gone pale as she sprinted toward me, I burst into tears and wailed.
I hadn't planned on crying, but it hurt so much.
"Waaah— So much has happened to me, it's unreal. Sob—hic— Being a lame-legged cripple is bad enough... If I end up an arm-cripple too, I'm totally screwed. Hic— It hurts so bad I'm gonna die. Hurry and get a doctor. Quick."
One thing I realized after wrecking my arm: I finally understood why Shanks didn't tell the East Blue small fry he'd lost his arm to a random, but bragged that he'd given it to the "new era."
"What?! How on earth did your arm end up like this?"
"...Well, truth is, a ten-year-old girl bit it off."
I could never forget the doctor's bug-eyed stare, like he'd seen the world's biggest idiot.
Looking back, Shanks was a badass who could fight and think smart. Next time, I wouldn't be honest either—
"Ah, this? I gave it to the future supreme under heaven."
—Gotta package it like that.
I gazed at my left arm, wrapped tight in bandages, lost in such thoughts. Then Jegal Yang, visiting my sickbed out of boredom, spoke up.
"How's the arm?"
"Yes. Thanks to you, it's getting better bit by bit. ...But that Small Return Pill—are you sure it was okay to give it to me?"
Shaolin's Small Return Pill. A supreme elixir blending rare herbs and Shaolin's secret arts, granting massive inner energy gains upon consumption. Inferior to natural spirit pills, but still a supreme secret medicine requiring vast wealth and Shaolin connections.
I'd burned most of its energy on recovery, so the inner energy boost was limited. Still, my inner energy had doubled from before.
No wonder they called Shaolin's Return Pill supreme.
"You're an insolent punk, but your baduk is beautiful. Beauty must be preserved in this world."
Thanks to that, I survived—but man, what a baduk-obsessed geezer.
Without him, recovery would've taken longer. I might've even lost the arm. I'd have to formally thank him later, on a proper day.
As my inner evaluation of Jegal Yang skyrocketed, he thrust a baduk board and stones at me.
"You look fine enough. Let's play. I'll spot you two points."
"...Geezer, I'm injured here?"
I shook my hurt left arm. Jegal Yang nodded at my good right one.
"Baduk's charm is you can enjoy it with one arm. Don't wanna play? Cough up the Small Return Pill."
...Fucking baduk-crazed old bastard.
Of course, it was already digested, so no choice. I played. And since we were at it, I asked about what happened while I recovered.
Clack.
"Talk inside the Jegal family arose to kill Ohae."
"...And?"
To my trembling question, Jegal Yang placidly placed a stone.
"So I naturally convinced them it wouldn't happen. As I said before, I keep promises made with baduk friends."
He'd kept his promise to look after Ohae. Easier said than done.
What a grateful geezer, all things considered.
"Ohae, you're heavy. Go over there."
Her cheek squished against my outstretched right arm like dough, but Ohae pressed on, refusing to give up.
"...No. Gonna sleep together. Forever."
She'd always trailed me like a chick before, but post-incident, she clung even harder. Near obsession levels.
Wherever I went, it'd be "Where?" If I talked to anyone—especially girls—"Who's that?" as she wedged in.
Now she was bulldozing into my bedding, shoving my arm aside.
Should I scold her? But her effort was so cute, I chuckled unwittingly.
Too late to keep distance. Heart softening, I shifted left, lifted the blanket, making space.
"Can't be helped. Come on in."
"Yay!"
Ohae beamed—her usual blank face nowhere in sight—as she slipped under the covers and hugged me.
Midsummer meant cuddling might be hot, but her soft, cool skin made it refreshing instead.
Problem was, she always ended up on top while sleeping. Uncomfortable enough, but with my hurt left arm, extra caution needed.
"If you climb on today... She's already asleep."
Ohae was snoring softly already. No point waking her for a lecture. I'd just sleep too. Exhausted.
As Mancheon closed his eyes and drifted off.
In the dark room, two blue eyes gleamed eerily awake.
Ohae gazed intently at Mancheon's profile with eyes that shone bright even in darkness.
Steadily—steadily—watching silently until he was fully asleep.
Judging him deep in slumber, Ohae shoved aside the pesky blanket, climbed atop him, curled up nest-like, and prepared to sleep.
Ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Thump. Thump.
Alive. Safe.
Taking his steady heartbeat as a lullaby, Ohae finally slipped into true sleep.
Deep into the night, when all slept.
Jegal family warriors—more precisely, assassins no longer tied to the Jegals—approached the guest quarters where Mancheon and Ohae slept, on orders from elders opposing Jegal Yang.
"Kill quick and vanish quick."
"Intel says the Sima family kid's with her too."
The apparent leader drew his sword.
"Doesn't matter. Strip away their money, and the Sima family's powerless. The elders will smooth it over."
The masked men nodded, drawing blades. Ten assassins closed in to slaughter the oblivious sleepers.
And then there were eight.
"Gah—!"
Two who'd been fine moments ago screamed death rattles and crumpled.
As the remaining eight panicked, two more fell screaming.
Six left.
"Group up!"
While the leader shouted, two more died. Four remained.
Something was wrong. This was supposed to be simple: kill two sleeping kids.
Something flashed from the dark toward the leader. He reflexively raised his sword.
Clang—!
Metal on metal echoed in the silent night.
He blocked, but his men didn't. Three left.
Swallowing hard, they focused, straining their eyes not to miss a thing.
And spotted a shadow they'd overlooked before.
Ting.
A clear ring, and another assassin fell. Two left.
Tension dried their mouths, sweat soaked their backs.
Clouds parting from the moon let pale light spill, revealing the face of the one hidden by shadow arts.
Plain face, average build. Unbelievable he'd slain eight in seconds.
More than that—they knew the face. They'd scoured Mancheon and Ohae's surroundings post-mission.
A mere servant.
How...?
"Sima family servant Jang Sambung... Bong?"
"Drop the Bong. Sounds dumb."
A flicked steel marble pierced another's heart. One left.
"H-how is someone like you here?! The Sima family only has money—"
"Heh—hehheheheheh."
The assassin's scream drowned in quiet, chilling laughter.
Jang Sambung eyed the leader like he was ridiculous.
"The one clan you never trust blindly is the Sima. Don't believe what you see."
"...What the hell are you?"
"Sima family servant, bodyguard, assassin."
Words ended, marble flew.
Clang—!
He thought he'd blocked—then a second marble punched through him.
"Guh—krrgh—!"
Like a red-hot poker through flesh, the leader knelt, collapsing slowly.
Jang Sambung approached, speaking kindly.
"We both live staining our hands for others. Don't worry about the body. I'll handle it."
She touched his face.
Incredible. Even dying, the leader couldn't believe his eyes.
His own face stared down at him.
"Ah—ah—was my voice like this? Everyone, group up!"
In that nightmarish sight, the leader blacked out, dying slowly.