Farewell (1)
A masked figure cloaked entirely in black cloth appeared silently beside Jang Sambung after they'd finished hiding the bodies and concealing their identities.
"The young master was badly injured. The master is quite furious."
The "master" referred to Sima Bu, the current head of the Sima family. A hypocrite who could smile while gutting someone, yet doted on his family to a fault.
...If I'd predicted that the kid the young master was looking after would suddenly go berserk and beat him half to death, I'd be a fortune-teller. How could an assassin pull that off?
Jang Sambung had plenty she wanted to say, but she just rubbed the back of her neck and mumbled an appropriate response to the masked figure's cold, mechanical reprimand.
"So what? You gonna punish me?"
"No. He's grateful, albeit belatedly, that you saved the young master's life. A reward will be issued soon."
Sima Bu had two usual ways of disciplining his subordinates. The first was to kill them outright. The second was to give them a reward. It meant: do better if you don't want to die.
"...How is the young master's condition?"
"Hard to say. He looks fine on the outside. But just in case, we'll watch him through winter."
"Understood. I'll report it that way to the master."
Just as he'd appeared out of nowhere, the masked figure vanished into the shadows. Jang Sambung sighed inwardly as she watched him go. Her thoughts turned to the innocent little friend sleeping away, oblivious to the world.
How did someone like the young master even come out of that pitch-black Sima family?
It was a miracle.
Summer passed, and autumn arrived. My left hand had fully healed. I stared down at both hands, clenching and unclenching them repeatedly. Definitely healed. All that rehab through the summer had paid off.
Rebuilding the muscle in my left hand after not using it for so long had been tougher than expected.
Good. Left hand's back in action. Time to seriously train in Dual Hands Mutual Combat.
It had bruised my ego every time it was mentioned, shoved into a corner of my mind—but fighting Ohae in her half-dragon state had driven the point home. I had to learn it somehow.
If I could use Dog-Beating Stick Technique in my right hand and Empty Brightness Fist in my left, switching between offense and defense freely, I wouldn't have gotten hurt this bad.
I could already use them freely enough, but stopping one technique to switch to another was worlds apart from deploying two at once.
Master Dual Hands Mutual Combat, and while others fired off one skill and prepped the next, I'd unleash two without delay.
I turned to see Ohae snoring away on her nap. I poked her soft, squishy cheeks.
Ohae was getting stronger in real time. She couldn't learn Celestial North Dipper Formation or Dog-Beating Stick Technique due to incompatibility, but she'd picked up everything else. Nothing left to teach her on the martial arts front.
Dragon blood ran through her veins. If her half-dragon form strengthened as she grew... could I even beat an upgraded version?
At first, it moved like a wild beast. But over time, through fights with me, its movements grew cunning, battle-hardened. Growth speed was insanely fast. Like a Saiyan from those battle races—powering up mid-fight.
Ego aside, countermeasures couldn't be emotional. If we fought again, this time I might actually die.
...In my current state, I'd definitely die.
I looked down at Ohae. I brushed back her soft black hair, revealing her round, pretty forehead. Her tiny mouth worked like she was dreaming of food.
Best case: no rampage. But humans are unpredictable. Better prepare ahead.
Steeled my resolve and restarted from the basics of Dual Hands Mutual Combat. Brushes in both hands: circle with the right, square with the left. Once familiar, switch. Empty my mind and repeat.
Waste of paper, time, pointless maybe. My master couldn't teach it to me either. Some arts don't suit your constitution—near impossible otherwise.
...But turning impossible into possible is what true genius does.
And I'm Sima Mancheon, the genius who deceives even heaven.
Dual Hands Mutual Combat is for those without stray thoughts. So I empty my head. No-mind state, just circles and squares.
Genius and fool are a paper's width apart. Empty the mind, become the fool.
A month later...
I hurled the brush aside and flopped onto the floor, catching my breath. Ohae, who'd been mimicking me by drawing with a brush in the room lately, tilted her head.
"Manchun, no training?"
"...Not quitting. Strategic break."
Dual Hands Mutual Combat, you dogshit bastard child of a technique. Let's see who wins. I won't give up. Years if it takes it—I'll master you.
...But rest first. Head hurts. Craving sugar.
"Jang Sambung! Gather some fallen leaves!!"
"Pardon? Leaves? Why?"
Jang Sambung, sweeping the yard, looked puzzled at my sudden shout. I flung open the door and stepped out, cool autumn breeze washing over me.
"Roast sweet potatoes."
Yeah, can't live trembling in fear. "Carpe diem" exists for a reason. Prep for the future, sure—but enjoy the now with friends, take it easy.
"Roast chestnuts too!"
Ohae, sugar fiend, sparkled with excitement. Must've loved the roasted chestnuts I got from the market before.
"Sure~ sure~ Roast whatever we can."
We ate piping-hot roasted sweet potatoes, chattered, laughed, played. Why do fun times fly by? Snapped to, leaves all gone—winter already.
A letter from Father arrived. Come home, it said.
...Yeah, about time. I was just studying abroad at the Jegal family manor temporarily. Always knew I'd leave when the moment came.
I scanned the now-familiar room. Meant to be short-term, but it'd grown on me.
A small scribble caught my eye on the wall. Ohae must've doodled it. Up close: a chick playing happily with other sparrows.
Owner might get mad, but I'm leaving soon—lost in memories, I traced her scribbles with my fingers.
Even sweet potatoes...
...Is this me? Amid the doodles, a long black-haired figure. Next to it, something with a staff. Wait, that's supposed to be me? Should've drilled drawing lessons harder.
Childish wall scribbles. But their clasped hands looked so warm. Happy.
"Jang Sambung, where's Ohae?"
"Hmm~ Probably outside making snowmen."
I limped over on my staff. Ohae, innocently building snowmen and playing, spotted me, grinned bright, and ran up. Shark teeth didn't faze her anymore.
"Not busy now?"
"Yeah. Not busy. Let's play."
We built snowmen, played joyfully. Kept building. Endless snowmen lined up like Qin Shi Huang's terracotta army. Finally couldn't hold it:
"Hey! Break time! Hands'll freeze. Rest and play."
"Ah... snow."
Looked up—fresh snowflakes prettily blanketing the ground again.
Ohae spread her arms to the flurries, spinning and dancing. Audience: me and snowmen. Fairy-tale scene.
Wind whipped her long hair. Blue eyes sparkled. Dreamy aura enveloped us.
She dodged irregular snowmen without looking, spinning gracefully. Legs in perfect footwork, eyes reading heaven's mechanism.
"Heavenly Mechanism Bewildering Step."
Cold wind nipped my cheek. Ohae wasn't some weak kid needing my care anymore. She'd long surpassed me. Nothing left to teach.
Proud, but a tiny pang of sadness—bitter smile.
Dance ended, flushed face, blue eyes holding me, expectant of praise. I forced my usual calm voice.
"Ohae, I'm going home."
Ohae was living with Grandfather Jegal's granddaughters now. He'd said we'd be together forever, teach her everything she didn't know—and now this jerk Mancheon was ditching for home. Didn't want to see him.
...Lies. I do want to.
But scary. Want to see him, really want to, really want to—but don't. Scary.
Don't know what to do.
"Manchun... liar."
Tears came.