The Reminiscence Pavilion
The innermost building of Buhal Mountain Villa was Taehyugak, a modest residence where the former villa lord, Han Bi, made his home.
It was the sunniest spot on the entire estate, always warm and gentle with light. Yet every time Han Muk approached Taehyugak, his heart grew uneasy. He had long believed he would never again feel the full, clear warmth of his father’s gaze.
Thank the heavens. I never thought Father’s mind would return to him.
But that clarity would not last. With a rigid face, Han Muk strode quickly toward Taehyugak. Only one thought occupied his mind—the thing the assassin had demanded.
What in the world is the Hoesang-rok?
Today was the day the assassin had promised to return. Fortunately, two killers from the Yaweol Sect had arrived the previous day, yet both had vanished with the morning and remained unseen ever since. Whether they still lurked nearby or had simply disappeared, he could not tell.
In the end, Han Muk had lain awake through the small hours, terrified that the assassin would appear the moment he closed his eyes. Only when the first pale light of dawn began to wash over the villa did an urgent summons arrive from Taehyugak, calling him at once.
Almost at the building, Han Muk hesitated and spoke into empty air.
“Are you… by my side?”
A soft rustle. The bamboo-hatted man appeared before him without a sound.
Aigoo—he nearly scared me to death…
The wide brim of the bamboo hat still hid every feature of the man’s face.
“We are watching at all times. Villa Lord, you need not worry.”
“I-I see. Have you been at my side this entire time?”
“I have.”
“How should I address you?”
“Cheongnyu will suffice.”
“Understood.”
They had reached the main gate of Taehyugak.
Han Muk stopped. He did not know exactly what the Hoesang-rok was, but if his father had truly hidden it, the thing must be of great importance. He wanted to meet the former lord alone—yet the assassin’s deadline was today. The killer could appear anywhere, at any moment, and the thought filled him with dread.
“If the Villa Lord wishes to enter alone, I shall wait outside.”
“If… while I am speaking with my father, the assassin appears inside—will you sense it at once and protect me?”
“That depends on the assassin’s skill. If he is my equal, it will be difficult. An assassin ends a life with a single motion. Should he appear at your side and draw his killing blade in the same breath, even if I notice him, you will already be a cold corpse before I can reach you. Unless your own martial arts can block even one of his strikes, I cannot guarantee your life.”
Uncheon spoke only the truth. Han Muk hesitated all the more, reluctant to go in alone.
“I have heard that assassins keep secret the information they receive with a commission. Is that so?”
“So they say.”
Han Muk glanced at the bamboo-hatted man with a flicker of puzzlement. The answer had sounded as if the speaker himself were not an assassin—yet he let it pass without further question.
“Stay at my side.”
“I shall not interfere in the Villa Lord’s affairs.”
Han Muk stepped into Taehyugak first. The moment he entered, an elderly man hurried toward him—Gong Yangwon, the old servant who had attended the former villa lord for thirty years.
“Villa Lord, you have come?”
“Old Gong, my father…?”
“The elder is in the pavilion, drinking tea as he always did. Please go to him at once.”
Han Muk remembered how his father had taken tea every morning. He quickened his pace toward the pavilion standing in one corner of the garden.
Father…
There sat the old man, neat and composed once more, sipping tea. Clad in a white long robe, he looked exactly as he had years ago. Han Muk’s voice trembled as he climbed the steps.
“Father…”
“If it has been so long, why do you stand there without a proper greeting?”
Han Muk mounted the pavilion and bowed.
“Have you been well? Looking at your face, I see you have not slept properly… You seem burdened with many worries.”
“It is nothing…”
“Heh. Who knows my son better than I? And did you not rush here the moment you learned my mind had returned?”
The former villa lord, Han Bi, lifted his gaze to Uncheon, who stood to one side still wearing the bamboo hat.
“Who is that?”
“My bodyguard.”
“Bringing a guard even here… Something has certainly befallen you.”
He had grasped Han Muk’s situation at a glance. Of all the lords who had ever ruled Buhal Mountain Villa, none had surpassed this man.
“You have something you wish to ask?”
“Yes, Father.”
Uncheon looked into the eyes of the former lord, who sat bolt upright in his chair.
Hoesang-rok.
In that brief instant he read the thought clearly. The old man’s mind was sharper now than anyone else’s.
Han Bi nodded as if confirming what he saw in his son’s face.
“From your expression, it is the Hoesang-rok you wish to know about.”
“How did you know?”
“The only thing I never told you was—ugh…”
“Father?”
Han Muk cried out in alarm. Han Bi had clamped both hands to his head and surged to his feet.
“This… there was urgent business… no time to sit idly drinking tea… I must deal with it at once. Gongga, where are you?”
Gong Yangwon, waiting outside the pavilion, hurried forward and took the old man’s arm to support him.
“Villa Lord, this humble one will attend you.”
“Quickly, let us go!”
“Ah—Father, wait! The Hoesang-rok is—!”
Han Muk stood frozen in the pavilion, watching the two old men disappear into the building, his face hollow with disappointment.
He knew about the Hoesang-rok.
Yet he had not revealed where it was hidden. Strength drained from Han Muk.
“Just what is the Hoesang-rok, Father…?”
Uncheon looked down at him through the shadow of the bamboo hat.
The Hoesang-rok the former lord spoke of…
In the fleeting moment Han Bi had been about to speak, Uncheon had read the thought. Now he fell into silent deliberation. He knew where the Hoesang-rok lay, yet simply telling the villa lord would only invite suspicion. His gift was a secret he could share with no one.
This is the greatest power I possess. I cannot let it be exposed. And there may be a reason the former lord chose not to speak of it.
If the memoirs were nothing more than an ordinary man’s recollections, he would find a natural way to place them in the villa lord’s hands. First, though, he needed to see them for himself.
Uncheon lifted his eyes to the pavilion’s roof. On the wooden plaque above the entrance, white characters read Hoesangjeong—Pavilion of Reminiscence.
Hidden in a place like that… no wonder no one ever found it.
He decided to return when the grounds were quiet.
Villa Lord Han Muk left Taehyugak with heavy steps, his last hope dashed before he could hear a proper answer.
“Haa…”
The long sigh weighed on him. Even his walk back toward the main hall dragged as though he were pulling his feet through mud. The moment they re-entered the grounds, Uncheon’s form vanished.
Han Muk reached the main hall and sank into his seat. Strength fled his limbs until he could barely hold himself upright. He still knew nothing of the Hoesang-rok’s nature, and a new question rose in his mind.
Why… did Father never tell me about it?
The greatest lord in the history of Buhal Mountain Villa had kept the secret. That alone felt strange. Then an old memory surfaced—words spoken long ago.
“The causes and ties of the past end with my generation. I want my son to live in a new world, as the lord of a new Buhal Mountain Villa.”
Han Muk did not know the contents of the Hoesang-rok, yet he could guess the shape of the matter. The memoirs belonged to the past. His father had spoken of a new world and of severing old bonds.
Father never meant to pass the Hoesang-rok to me. He simply never foresaw that something like this would happen.
Since the memoirs could not be found, the only way to stay alive was for the Yaweol Sect’s assassins to stop whoever came for him.
Night settled over the villa. As the darkness outside the window deepened, Han Muk’s heart oddly grew lighter.
Haa… Have I simply given up?
Unlike the previous night, when fear had kept him awake, sleep now pressed heavily upon him.
…Staying awake will not stop him from coming. I may as well sleep.
He lay down on the bed. Before half a ke had passed, he sank into deep slumber.
Ha Jiryeon knew full well that Han Muk had failed to find the Hoesang-rok. She gazed at the sleeping man on the bed.
Even for her, receiving a commission to stop another assassin was a first.
Roughly half a shichen later—
Uncheon had sensed the presence entering the villa. Ha Jiryeon, however, still felt nothing.
Remarkable. He has only just begun learning Sal-ui-gong, yet he reads an assassin’s presence faster than I do. No… is this even related to Sal-ui-gong?
Uncheon tracked the intruder’s every movement with precision.
Ha Jiryeon focused her senses and at last located the movement.
A soft rustle. The form of Miyu the Assassin Lady, Ha Jiryeon, melted away.
A contemptuous smile twisted the face of the black-robed man as he slipped into the main hall. Nothing had changed.
Fool.
He looked down at Han Muk sleeping peacefully on the bed and prepared to move—when a fierce surge of inner energy bloomed at his back. A sound transmission reached him.
…!
A thin whistle of air. Something flashed past the black-robed man’s nape, grazing the skin.
The black-robed man’s pupils shook. His opponent knew he was there, yet he himself could not sense where the other stood.
This one is an assassin as well—no doubt.
For an assassin, detecting the enemy’s energy first was everything. He stared at the still-sleeping Han Muk, his features contorting.
He hired an assassin. Someone of this caliber… there are only a handful of such places in the Central Plains.
As long as that man watched, Han Muk could not be killed easily.
With a soft rush of air, the black-robed man leapt to the roof of the main hall.
Is it… him?
At the same instant, the bamboo-hatted man revealed himself. The black-robed assassin fixed him with a hard stare.
“Who are you?”
“I came at the request of this villa’s lord.”
“An assassin’s sect?”
“Correct. I come from a place that specializes in assassins—much like yours.”
The black-robed man hesitated. Facing another assassin, a sudden strike offered little chance of success. In that moment Uncheon read the flicker in the man’s eyes and learned he had come from Hyeolsalgak. Yet even he did not know what the Hoesang-rok his masters sought truly was.
“What is the Hoesang-rok?”
“Where did you come from? How do you know of that?”
“Is that not what you meant to extract from the villa lord?”
Surely the lord would never have told an assassin such a thing. Curiosity surged through the black-robed man as he studied the bamboo-hatted figure—then he suddenly realized that the grounds around the main hall had remained utterly still.
What is this? The guards should have come pouring out by now.
Uncheon’s voice sounded again.
“Ah, yes—the guards around the main hall will not wake for some time, so feel free to make as much noise as you like.”
“You… dealt with them?”
“I saw no need for outsiders to meddle in our business.”
“What do you mean by ‘our business’?”
“You mean to kill the villa lord. I mean to stop you. Therefore I must capture you and learn why you seek the Hoesang-rok. Would you not agree?”
Killing intent rolled off the black-robed man in waves.
“Keuh… You think you can take me?”
“I shall give it my best.”
“These days far too many people forget their place!”
Raised to its utmost peak, black spirit energy erupted in all directions, locking Uncheon in place.
The black-robed man moved first. He thrust both palms toward Uncheon, black spirit energy exploding outward and pinning him so he could not stir.
…Strong.
This was no martial art an ordinary assassin should possess. Seeing Uncheon trapped within the Black Spirit Shackles, the black-robed man grew even more confident.
Keuh-keuh-keuh. Did you think I would use an assassin’s techniques?
He closed the distance in a single step and drove the Black Spirit Hand straight at Uncheon’s chest, certain the blow would pierce the heart and end him instantly.
Yet—
“……!”
The tip of the Black Spirit Hand met empty air. The figure of Uncheon, supposedly frozen by the shackles, dissolved into smoke and vanished.
“Foolish. An assassin who cannot even distinguish a mere illusion? How do you expect to earn your keep?”
A sharp slicing sound followed at once.
Where?!
The sound drew nearer, yet the black-robed man could not tell from which direction Uncheon approached. If he failed to find him in time, his head would leave his shoulders.
I will not… fall like this.
He poured every last drop of his inner energy into his senses, focusing harder than he ever had in any previous fight.
A ringing clash of steel!
He barely intercepted the blade an inch from his throat.
A moment later and…
The black-robed man touched his neck with one hand. Thankfully it was still attached. Uncheon, forced back by the block, regarded his opponent with a measure of respect.
He stopped it with pure combat experience.
Uncheon straightened his disheveled bamboo hat.
“Shall we try once more?”
“Of course.”
“So you are determined to take the Hoesang-rok.”
“Once I have accepted a command, I see it through to the end.”
Uncheon prepared to engage again—then flinched.
This…
He turned his head toward Taehyugak.
“Is this your people’s doing?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You sent an assassin to Taehyugak, where the former villa lord resides, did you not?”
“I did no such thing.”
“There was clearly one more assassin outside the villa.”
“I… travel alone.”
Uncheon’s gaze remained fixed on Taehyugak.
“You may never obtain the Hoesang-rok. The only person who knew of its existence appears to have met his fate.”
“……What?”
“Just now, it seems someone has killed the former villa lord.”
In the same breath, both Uncheon and the black-robed man vanished from the roof of the main hall.