Regret, Ruin, Awakening (4)
The play wrapped up amid thunderous cheers from the thrilled audience. The chase scenes performed by Murim warriors—and especially the poem dedicated to his lover echoing at the climax—earned rave reviews, with everyone saying it captured the essence of Je-seok-cheon, that lover of romance and women.
The guide seemed satisfied too, tossing in extras on top of the promised reward. The only issue? Soso was sulking because of my unscripted improv we hadn't discussed beforehand.
"I told you people were watching...! And you just tease me with that sly grin... I'm mad."
Fortunately, her tone and expression made it clear she wasn't seriously upset. And though I felt bad for making her pout like that to emphasize her "anger," the way she puffed out her cheeks and walked a step ahead to hide her grumpy face was utterly adorable.
...But even so, I'd gotten carried away in the heat of the moment. No dodging this—I had to apologize properly.
"Namgung-hyung, I've got something to say."
Soso's footsteps halted at Mancheon's solemn yet gentle voice, stripped of its usual playfulness. She'd been startled when he suddenly wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, but it hadn't truly upset her or sparked real anger. It was just that—regardless of her actual gender—she was currently the young master of the Namgung family, and she had to act the part of a man.
She couldn't let others see her blushing... hear her pounding heart...
Born a woman, yet living as a man.
...Which meant she could no longer blush at Sima Mancheon's mischievous teasing. She couldn't let that childlike side of him stir thoughts of looking after him.
With her resolve firm, Soso schooled her features into a calm mask and turned to face Mancheon squarely.
Only to find herself staring at his broad chest. Mancheon had closed the distance with a single step while she turned.
"Stay like this just a moment longer."
Words failed her. The gentle, affectionate touch of a real man's hand—unlike her own—stroking her hair melted away her earlier determination, flushing her cheeks anew. Her slender frame stiffened in the cage of his long arms and wide chest, her ear tips burning hot.
The moment stretched like an hour before Mancheon's hand finally left her hair.
"All done. You can move now."
Soso tentatively reached back, fingers brushing something tied at the nape of her neck. A familiar silken texture met her touch. She tugged lightly—and there it was: flowing red silk like a fish's tail.
The hair ornament from her fairy costume.
"Sima-gongja, this is...?"
Caught off guard by the unexpected gift, Soso looked up blankly. Mancheon met her gaze not with his usual sly or playful grin, but earnestly—though a soft smile curved his lips.
"Seemed like you liked it, so I took a bit less pay to snag it."
"That's...! I'm grateful, truly, but... this pretty hairpiece doesn't suit me. I mean... maybe I should go back and..."
Soso's flustered rambling trailed off.
"Wasn't it the one your mother praised? Don't mind others. It'd be a shame."
His wolfish amber eyes peered through the thin mask at the girl beneath.
"Besides, it suits you perfectly. No need to worry."
"......"
Mancheon clasped his hands, bowing his head to Soso as she averted her flushed face and fiddled with a stray lock of hair.
"Separately from that, I'm sorry for dragging you into my improv today. I got too into the role and the excitement took over—but that's no excuse."
Being overly formal might create distance, sure. But skimping on an apology or brushing it off? That was just rude. Especially since Soso might teach me the Namgung family's secret arts—could even become my master.
Of course I had to be polite.
"Please forgive this foolish little brother."
Soso watched Mancheon bow properly, without his usual cheekiness. Then she let out a soft sigh laced with amusement.
A cool evening breeze stirred her silver-gray hair, shimmering under the moonlight alongside the red silk.
"Sima-gongja, you're far too clever."
Her smile felt awkward, unaccustomed to such situations, yet warm.
Phew—
Judging her anger appeased, Mancheon cautiously lifted his head and shot her a light wink.
"That's why I'm such a charmer. Thanks for forgiving me."
Strike while the iron's hot. Mancheon retrieved his staff from where he'd leaned it by the road, keeping the warm mood alive with a bright tone.
"We skipped proper dinner thanks to the play. Let's chat over the rest at the inn. My treat—as atonement."
"...Pardon? But the gift already..."
Soso's hand drifted unconsciously to the ornament, head tilting. She'd assumed it was Mancheon's peace offering to cheer her up.
But Mancheon laughed breezily, as if mocking her assumption.
"That? I just gave it because it suited you—and I wanted to."
Another cool gust brushed Soso's profile. Festival stalls still bustled nearby, but this quiet lane held only their shadows.
The carefree rogue's words set the girl's heart aflutter.
Late evening at Yeoseok County Medicinal Inn. Soso admired Mancheon's gift from every angle in her hand mirror, a pleased smile on her face.
...But she soon sighed, setting it down.
Sticky killing intent seeped in from outside, slithering straight to her room. If you don't come out, I'll slaughter everyone in this inn tonight, it whispered.
Blatant provocation. Soso rose.
...And there, before her eyes, leaned a sword boasting a ornate scabbard of red jade. She'd left it undrawn for security, yet it propped against the wall at a slant, as if demanding she belt it on.
Seemed it was sulking from last time—when she'd drawn another blade in its stead to unleash Emperor Sword Form.
For some reason, Mancheon snoozing carefree next door flashed in her mind.
The sword that turns prophecy to fate. The sword that must not be drawn.
...But now, she needed its power.
Soso lifted the arrogant blade that longed so plaintively for its master. Heavy yet chilling to the touch.
Time to become Sword Dragon Namgung Soso once more.
An eerie wind swept the grassy outskirts of the village. A masked figure clutched something sword-like wrapped crudely in cloth, facing off against Soso, who cradled her ornate-scabbarded blade.
"Salmak's Six Fingers—one of them, Nameless Finger. Impressive aura for such a pretty face. But I doubt you're worth ditching the mission and fleeing like Jangdal did."
A curt introduction laced with taunt. Soso didn't bite. She simply closed the gap, freeing her sword from its sheath.
Five famed swords forged by legendary smith Guya of the Spring and Autumn era: Zhanlu, Julue, Shengxie, Yuchang, Pure Hook.
Three famed swords by Guya and his disciple Ganjiang: Longyuan, Gongbu, Tai'a.
Two famed swords by husband-and-wife smiths Ganjiang and Moye: Ganjiang, Moye.
Treasures every Murim swordsman coveted. Yet among the Ten Swords of the World, one must never be drawn—never acknowledged as master.
A sword that chooses a king alone as worthy. Drawing it denies the current dynasty's legitimacy, branding its wielder a rebel headache.
...And now, that arrogant name rang out.
Zhanlu
Ting—
The haughty princess, unseen by commoners, obeyed her king's command—cleaving the air to bare her inky-black nudity. The blade's deep blue-black hue devoured moonlight, overwhelming all.
Salmak's killer, Nameless Finger, exhaled a hollow laugh blending tension and thrill. A prickling chill flayed his skin, spreading everywhere.
"Yeah... I get why he'd run."
Jangdal had fled not to abandon the mission, but to cut ties with the Sima family. Irrelevant now.
...Rumors said the Namgung kid drew Zhanlu. Never thought it true.
Only those born to kingly fate could draw it—or so the legend. Sword collectors dreamed lifetimes away for a glimpse of its blade.
And Nameless Finger was a Murim swordsman first, assassin second. He burned with interest for Zhanlu, strongest of the Ten Swords of the World.
He reached to unwrap his own beloved blade for the clash—but too late. Unseen, he'd fallen to Soso's Emperor Sword Form. His life-or-death hung by her whim; head severed from body, he was already dead.
To be fair, Nameless Finger wasn't weak. Soso, wielding Zhanlu, was simply overwhelming.
Regardless, Soso spared no glance for the corpse. She gently touched the red silk tied in her hair.
"Sima-gongja went to the trouble of gifting it... hope no blood got on it...?"
Duel over, body sprawled on the grass. A cute girl fretted anxiously under the moonlight.