A Gesture of Reconciliation

"How unexpected."

Walking alongside Woon-hyeon, Yeon-woo chewed steadily on a piece of beef jerky with one hand while holding fast to his sleeve with the other. At his words, she tilted her head up to look at him.

Woon-hyeon peered down at her in return. Beneath his half-mask, his eyes held a warmth and gentleness that had never once surfaced back at the Guan Clan Residence.

"What is?" she asked.

"That you shared your treats. You might share a bowl of rice, but you never share your snacks."

It was true. Yeon-woo never parted with her snacks for anyone. Even when Woon-hyeon had been relying on her for meals, she had gladly divided her rice with him, but not once had she offered a morsel of her treats. For a child who loved eating above all else, sharing her regular food was already an extraordinary feat.

"Did you have a particular reason?"

"Mm... He was just like Yeon-woo."

"Like you?"

Yeon-woo nodded earnestly.

"Yeah. The way he loved dried fruit... it was just like..."

In her previous life, she had starved to death, only to be reborn as a beggar's child. Even in that second life, hunger had gnawed at her every single day. She had lived in constant agony from that empty stomach, until the day she was sold off and tasted sweet fruit for the very first time—the sheer shock, the overwhelming wonder of that moment.

"He was just like Yeon-woo."

Watching the young attendant page tremble with awe before rare food had brought back the memory of her past self. She remembered curling into a tight ball, hugging her aching belly as she forced herself to sleep because the hunger hurt too much to bear.

"So I gave it to him. Because Yeon-woo knows how badly someone can want it."

"Haha. Then your love of good food ended up blessing that young lad."

In truth, it went far beyond a mere fondness for food—it was a profound empathy born from the horror of starvation. But Woon-hyeon could not have known that. He merely assumed her youthful innocence had blossomed into an act of thoughtful kindness, and he felt a swell of pride.

"Indeed. Well done. Such good deeds will surely return to you as virtue."

Woon-hyeon chuckled softly and patted Yeon-woo's head.

"Your behavior today crossed the line."

A stern voice resonated through the Family Head Hall.

"Do you still not understand what that child means to you?"

Shrinking beneath Guan Yun's reprimand, Guan Hyeok clenched his fists tightly.

"I understand very well."

"You understand, yet you acted like that? That child is here for your sake—!"

"She doesn't even know...!"

Guan Hyeok snapped his head up to face his father. The rims of his eyes were rimmed with red.

"She doesn't even know what a wooden sword is! She's never learned a single martial art in her life! What is a kid like that supposed to do at the Demon Dragon Hall?! That's why I should—!"

"Silence!"

Guan Hyeok flinched.

"Did I not say it was out of the question?! How many times must I repeat myself?!"

Guan Yun slammed his hand down onto the desk and rose to his feet with a thunderous clatter.

"That is no place for you! I thought I made it clear you were never to speak of this again!"

Guan Hyeok's eyes had widened in shock at the loud bang, but his expression soon contorted with bitter frustration.

"Why?! Why could my older brothers go, but I can't?!"

"If I say you cannot, then you cannot! Our family will never rise to the Central Cult anyway, so what reason could you possibly have to throw yourself into such a place?!"

"If I pass the trials there, our clan can finally—!"

"Enough!"

Guan Yun turned his back on him.

"I will hear no more of this! Do not wonder about that place, and do not utter another word about it! If you bring this matter up again, consider yourself under house arrest!"

Guan Yun stood with his hands clasped behind his back. It was an unmistakable dismissal—a cold refusal to listen or indulge him any further.

Resting on his knees, Guan Hyeok's fists trembled violently. Ordinarily, he would have backed down and left the room. But he could not bring himself to surrender this time. It had been three full months since his father had brought Yeon-woo into their home, and he had only just mustered the courage to speak up. He refused to let it end like this.

"Are you worried I'll die if I go?"

"...!"

"Just like my brothers...?"

Guan Yun slowly turned back around. His face had hardened into an icy mask, far colder than before.

"What did you just say...?"

"To be honest, I don't know much about what happened to Eldest Brother. I wasn't even born yet. But Second Brother spoke to me before he left."

"And Second Brother never came back either."

He had been murdered under mysterious circumstances, his body never even recovered.

"Aren't you furious, Father...?"

Guan Hyeok's hands shook uncontrollably. The tremor traveled up his arms, into his shoulders, and spread across his entire body.

"Because I am! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'm so angry that whenever I see my brothers' faces in my mind, I can't even sleep at night!"

Tears of choked resentment bled into his voice.

"I've been training tirelessly! Baek Gang told me I have more martial talent than both of my brothers! So why can't I—!"

"Stop."

The voice was so low and chilling that Guan Hyeok gasped, cut off mid-sentence. His gaze searched his father's face with desperate longing, but Guan Yun refused to meet his eyes.

"That is enough. Speak no more."

"..."

"I do not wish to hear another word."

Seeing his father turn away with such cold detachment, Guan Hyeok crumbled. The fierce resolve he had tried so hard to maintain shattered to pieces.

Guan Yun did not order him out again. Instead, he stepped toward the door himself.

"When you see that child again, apologize to her."

Click.

Long after the door closed, Guan Hyeok remained rooted in place. Completely isolated before the insurmountable wall his father had built from the grief of his sons' deaths.

Sniff.

Alone in the empty hall his father had abandoned, he quietly swallowed his tears.

Rustle.

Late afternoon on the mountain slope. Along the secluded path connecting the Guan Clan Residence to Yeon-woo's hut, two masked figures concealed their presence beneath the heavy canopy of an ancient tree.

Perched high in the branches, they watched the winding trail below.

"Is this the place? The trail that brat uses?"

"Yeah. There's only one path to and from the Guan estate, so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she has to pass through here."

"Are you certain it's only the Guan family guards with her? Not that strange old man?"

"I told you already. Whenever she goes back and forth to the Guan estate, only their house guards accompany her. That's why we're striking now."

One of the masked men rubbed his chin thoughtfully. That strange old man lingering by the child's side... They had been unable to discern his true strength or identity. From what little they had gathered, he didn't seem to be a guard dispatched by the Guan family either.

Hence, their conclusion: strike when the brat was separated from the old man.

"Are you positive she's the only one using this trail?"

"I told you, she's the only person living on this entire mountain! Why are you so nervous?!"

"Hey, I just don't want to mess up. You know how terrifying the boss gets when someone screws up."

"Fair point."

Their leader was indeed frightening. He had boasted that this mission was guaranteed to succeed, and he'd been breathing down their necks ever since.

"Don't sweat it. It's just a little brat's neck."

The masked man tapped his own forehead lightly and looked back down at the trail.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"All we need is that kid's head."

"The Patriarch likely agrees with your feelings deep down, Young Master. You know how enraged he was that day."

When the news had arrived that the second son had died—when they were told his corpse was buried beneath collapsed rubble and could never be found—Guan Yun had erupted with terrifying wrath. He had tried to tear the messenger limb from limb, and only the desperate intervention of every servant in the house had held him back.

"The Patriarch is only trying to protect you, Young Master."

"I know that."

Guan Hyeok halted in his tracks and glanced behind him. The Family Head Hall, the grandest and most imposing pavilion in the entire estate, stood silent. His father had not returned. In fact, he likely had no intention of coming back as long as Guan Hyeok remained inside.

"I know why Father was furious. I know he brought that girl here for my sake."

And he knew the crushing guilt his father carried toward her.

"That's why I'm trying to help. If he just sent me instead of her, everything would be resolved...!"

The attendant page looked upon his young master with sorrowful eyes. The Patriarch would never send him, knowing full well it meant sending him to his death. It pained ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the servant to see his master cling to such a futile, impossible dream.

"Ah, by the way..."

The page reached into his robe and pulled something out: two pieces of dried fruit that Yeon-woo had given him.

"Lady Yeon-woo gave these to me. She said they were a peace offering for earlier."

"A peace offering...?"

Guan Hyeok had been the one who picked a fight unprovoked. She had every right to be furious, to hate him, yet she offered peace?

Guan Hyeok stared intently at the dried fruit in the boy's hand. The image of Yeon-woo blissfully chewing on sweets in his father's room flashed through his mind.

"Hah..."

That little idiot...

"Forget it. Consider it received. You eat them."

"...Really? May I?"

"Yeah. Now come on, let's go."

Clutching the dried fruit with a radiant smile, the page hurried after Guan Hyeok's brisk strides.

"Where are we going, Young Master?"

"To apologize."

"Pardon?"

Guan Hyeok scratched the back of his head, a faint blush creeping up the tips of his ears.

"About earlier... I'm going to give her a proper apology."