Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Jin Cheong-ak looked leaner than Yeo Il remembered, and sharper as well.
Even to Yeo Il—whose aesthetic sense might as well have been buried underground—his appearance was exceptionally striking. His presence could not go unnoticed. Yet because the chill in his impression had deepened, it reminded her of their first meeting.
“I suspected it, but to think you would truly be playing the role of a blind young lady from a prestigious clan.”
Stepping on the chest of the Blood-Seeking Sword Ghost’s corpse, he approached Yeo Il and slowly stroked his chin, studying her with puzzlement.
“What scheme is this all of a sudden, Yeo Il? Did that old man’s final words include instructions for you to live out a luxurious later life while wearing the shell of the Namgung Clan’s illegitimate daughter?”
“……”
“Though I admit, the gentle and ladylike act suits you well enough.”
“Brother Ak!”
At that moment, Seol-yeong arrived, carrying Yulim on his back. He leaned against a tree, breathing heavily.
“Hah—seriously—you said we should move together, but you kept running off alone…”
As he lowered Yulim, he froze.
He had seen the corpse beneath Jin Cheong-ak’s feet.
“My heavens… is he dead?”
With eyes that plainly asked Did you end up killing him after all?, Seol-yeong looked not at Jin Cheong-ak but at Yeo Il.
Suppressing a laugh at Seol-yeong’s honesty, Yeo Il deliberately assumed an exhausted expression.
“Yes, Seol-yeong… If this gentleman had not helped us, I would already have left this world. Truly fortunate.”
“Pfft—!”
Jin Cheong-ak burst into laughter, shoulders shaking before he forced it down. Then he turned to Yulim.
“Hey, Yulim. This young lady is Namgung Soyo, correct?”
“Pardon? Ah… yes. That’s correct. She is Miss Namgung. And the one you’re stepping on is… the Blood-Seeking Sword Ghost…”
While looking around, Yulim suddenly spotted Namgung Hui-myeong lying motionless in the brush and hurried over, limping.
“Young Master! Young Master Namgung Hui-myeong! Heaven forbid—n-no!”
Yeo Il gently stopped Yulim’s trembling hand before it reached to check his pulse.
“Lord Hui-myeong is alive. The Blood-Seeking Sword Ghost said he would send him off painfully and merely knocked him unconscious.”
“…Ah! You’re right. Whew… that’s a relief… truly a relief.”
Strength draining from her, Yulim staggered and collapsed beside Namgung Hui-myeong with a long exhale.
Regaining composure, she hurried to her feet.
“Miss Namgung! Are you injured anywhere?”
“I am unharmed. I am more concerned for Lord Hui-myeong and yourself. Though…”
Turning toward Jin Cheong-ak, Yeo Il smiled faintly.
“I did not expect the person you sought help from to be someone I knew.”
She had spread word in Anhui Province before leaving, but she had not expected him to arrive so quickly. It seemed he had moved at once rather than lingering as usual.
“Ah? …Now that you mention it, it did seem you were acquainted with Lord Seol-yeong. He called you Brother Ak… What a coincidence. Today is the first time I’ve learned how I should address you.”
Yulim smiled faintly, then returned to supporting Namgung Hui-myeong.
“Then how exactly do all of you know each—”
“W-waaaah!”
Sudden loud sobbing cut her off.
Chang-a ran forward and hugged Yeo Il tightly around the waist, crying through her words.
“M-My Lady… I was so scaared… I’m so glad nothing happened to you…”
Tears soaked Yeo Il’s clothing.
Gently stroking Chang-a’s disheveled hair, Yeo Il spoke softly.
“We should properly examine Lord Hui-myeong’s condition. Let us find a place to rest first.”
They descended the mountain ridge and decided to stay the night nearby.
It was nearing the hour of zi.
Not long after Yeo Il received treatment from a physician, she heard that Namgung Hui-myeong had regained consciousness.
However, when she went to see him, he had entrusted Yulim with guarding him and was regulating his qi. Sweat beaded beneath his chin, evidence of the strain of stabilizing his internal energy.
“Please do not wait and go rest first, Miss Namgung. It looks like it will take some time.”
Having tasted helpless despair before a master like the Blood-Seeking Sword Ghost, such a reaction was not strange.
“Seol-yeong.”
“Yes—yes. I will remain here guarding the Young Master as well.”
Refining internal energy without family or sworn brothers present—bold, very much like him.
Leaving Seol-yeong beside Namgung Hui-myeong as a precaution, Yeo Il exited the medical hall.
The streets were quiet.
At such an hour, little foot traffic was expected, yet the alley felt unusually desolate and cold. The aftereffects of Yulim revealing the existence of one of the Eight Ghosts seemed to linger.
As Yeo Il walked beneath the settling night air, a tall shadow appeared before her.
The owner was Jin Cheong-ak.
In his hand hung someone limp like a corpse, dragged along like a sack with each step.
“Yeo Il.”
The call carried a damp heaviness.
From Yeo Il’s face, the presence of Namgung Soyo vanished without a trace.
[Yeo Il… Yeo Il…]
An unpleasant voice from memory faded beneath the bright moon.
“I told you not to call me that,” she said coldly.
“For something as trivial as a name, it is surprisingly precious between us.”
“I said before—no matter who says that name, it disgusts me.”
A faint smile curved his lips.
“So we cannot quite call ourselves strangers.”
He released his grip. The man’s head dropped to the ground with a dull thud.
“For now, call me Miss Soyo.”
“At this rate I will end up serving as a mere servant. I abandoned my life long ago, yet now I even have to attend to you personally. Perhaps I truly should call you Master. Is that not so, Master?”
Yeo Il almost corrected him—bodyguard, not servant—but closed her mouth instead.
Jin Cheong-ak lightly nudged the collapsed man’s cheek with his foot.
“He was sneaking into the room you are staying in. Someone you recognize?”
After confirming the black cloth covering the lower half of the man’s face, Yeo Il answered casually.
“Since becoming Namgung Soyo, assassins come looking for me almost every other day. Even if I do not know his face, we are practically familiar.”
“Almost every other day? Ah. That sounds rather interesting…”
When she looked at him, Jin Cheong-ak crouched and tore open the assassin’s clothing.
A back covered in numerous scars was revealed. But what halted Yeo Il was not the sword wounds or burn scars.
“I have been starving a bit lately. As payment for escorting Yulim to Hubei Province, I managed to secure a few meals.”
“……”
“Seems I was escorting something troublesome—flies kept clinging to us. Once, they even interrupted my meal, so I had a long conversation about who they were.”
“……”
“And when I stripped one of them, I saw the same mark on his back.”
The left shoulder blade, seared by fire.
To others, insignificant.
But not to Yeo Il.
She bent and examined the assassin’s back carefully.
There was no mistake.
It was in exactly the same place as the Salmak brand that had once been burned into her own back.