Marital Duty
"Are you suggesting we seize the man and interrogate him?"
Namgoong Seol’s hand drifted toward the hilt of her sword.
I quickly shook my head. "My lady, you reach for that blade whether you are starting a conversation or ending one."
"Because a blade is often far more definitive than words."
"Let us first see who brings the decoction tomorrow. For all we know, it could be a simple errand runner completely oblivious to what they carry."
She slowly withdrew her hand from the hilt. "And once I receive the medicine as usual, what then?"
"Send back an empty bowl as if you drank it all. We will set a little of tonight’s broth aside as well, and quietly dispose of the rest where no prying eyes can find it."
I replaced the lid of the medicine pot. A faint, persistent numbness lingered at the tip of my finger, thoroughly annoying me. Just as I moved to tuck my hand into my sleeve, her voice cut through the air.
"That hand." Namgoong Seol’s gaze pinned me in place. "Why have you been hiding it since earlier?"
"The night air is simply rather brisk."
Instead of humoring my excuse, she caught my wrist. Her movement was so blindingly swift that I had no time to pull away.
Frighteningly fast, as always.
Her fingers, calloused from countless hours of gripping a sword, lightly pressed against my index finger. My brow twitched in spite of myself.
"I suppose this chilly night air managed to touch only this single finger?"
"It was an extraordinarily targeted draft, it seems."
"Stop talking nonsense. Did you test the poison on yourself?"
I kept my mouth shut. A sharp crease formed between Namgoong Seol’s delicate brows.
"With that meager internal energy of yours, what on earth were you thinking...?"
"I have already dispersed the energy. It is merely a faint tingling, so there is no need for concern."
She hesitated for a brief moment, appearing momentarily lost. Then, picking up a warm teacup, she pressed it firmly into my hands.
"It would be quite inconvenient if the person treating me collapsed first."
Well, look at that. That sounded remarkably familiar.
Are all scions of prestigious clans cut from the exact same cloth?
"Did you not tell me never to hide my pain?" she pressed, her chin tilted up slightly.
"Those were words meant for a patient."
"Indeed. And you just became one."
She truly refused to concede a single word. While I searched for a suitable retort, Namgoong Seol pulled the medicine pot toward herself and rested her palm squarely over the lid. The gesture made her intent unmistakable: I was not to lay another finger on it.
This is precisely why one should never make careless bargains with clever people.
Resigning myself, I cradled the teacup in both hands. A gentle warmth slowly seeped back into my chilled fingertips.
At the crack of dawn the following morning, I sat huddled in a corner of the training grounds, letting out an enormous yawn.
"Yawn any louder, and they will hear you outside the clan estate."
"Let them hear," I mumbled. "Let the whole world know this household drags a newlywed groom out of bed before the sun even rises."
"And pray tell, who was it that insisted on examining my sword path in person?"
...It was me. But really, who could have anticipated that the morning version of myself would have to pay for the ambitious promises made by the midnight version of myself?
Namgoong Seol drew her blade.
Shiiing.
The dawn light glinted cold and sharp against the steel.
"Do not channel any internal energy today," I instructed. "Begin slowly from the Third Form."
Her lead foot pivoted at a subtle angle. Stepping forward into a measured stride, the tip of her sword sliced through the empty air. Stripped of the blazing azure qi of the Blue Sky Sword, the pure skeletal framework of her martial art emerged with striking clarity. The broad opening of her shoulders, the firm posture of her waist anchoring the momentum, and the rear foot coiling in preparation for the subsequent strike.
Splendid.
There was not a single speck of wasted motion. Handing a child a peerless sword from birth would never produce a trajectory so refined. This was the movement of someone who had thrust and slashed countless thousands of times, grinding every motion into her bones until the body remembered on instinct.
However, the moment she transitioned into the Fourth Form—
"Right there. Your right elbow stiffened first."
Namgoong Seol’s sword froze mid-air.
"Whenever your qi hit an obstruction, you forced the flow of the sword form using pure arm strength, didn't you? Now that habit surfaces even when you aren't circulating any internal energy."
She looked down at her rigid elbow.
"Try it once more. This time, before pulling the sword back, release the tension in your shoulder—"
Whoosh.
Before the sentence left my lips, her sword was already in motion. Her elbow bent with effortless fluidity, and the blade glided seamlessly into its next arc. But she did not stop there. Drawing her front foot back half an inch, she immediately chained the movement straight into the Fifth Form.
I closed my mouth.
"My front foot was planted too deep as well," Namgoong Seol observed, lowering her blade and turning to face me. "I was widening my stance to compensate for how hard I had to wrench the sword with my arm. Was that not what you intended to say?"
I had not intended to go that far just yet. Pure, unadulterated admiration washed over me—not a shred of sarcasm attached.
To marry such a rare martial genius off to a straw-man matrilocal son-in-law is practically a crime against heaven.
Point out a single flaw, and she grasped the underlying principle instantly. Correct one motion, and she found the next correction on her own. To someone who refined martial arts, there was hardly a prize more tantalizing to polish than a pupil like her. She was, in every sense of the word, a bona fide monster of talent.
"Why are you staring in silence?" she asked.
"You did well."
She blinked, caught off guard. "...I am well aware of that much."
"Then I shall take back the compliment."
"Do you always retract your words so easily once spoken?"
"Well, I assumed you had no use for it."
Namgoong Seol turned her head away with a prim sniff. As she picked up her sword again, her hand busied itself tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear for no apparent reason.
Look at that. She actually liked hearing it.
As she drew closer, I lowered my voice so only she could hear. "Keep correcting the physical path of your sword like that, but for the time being, halt the flow of your internal qi precisely at the acupoint I designated yesterday. If you redirect the pathway while the poison still lingers, there is no telling where the corrupted energy might scatter."
"Understood."
"And before this habit took root... did you happen to relearn the circulation pathways between the Third and Fourth Forms?"
Her hands paused in the middle of wiping down her blade. "Six months ago, I received a Supplementary Qi Circulation Chart from the Martial Pavilion. They said it was meant to assist my transition into the next cultivation realm."
Well now. What a curious coincidence. Six months ago was precisely when she had begun drinking that medicinal broth.
"Do you know who drew it?"
"It was a transcription compiling the annotations of the clan elders, so I do not know the original author. It bore the official seal of the Martial Pavilion, so I had no reason to doubt it."
"Bring that tonight as well."
"...Tonight again?"
"There are too many watchful eyes during the day."
"Meeting in the same room every single night to avoid suspicion seems entirely suspicious in its own right."
I tilted my head, looking at her quizzically. "Have you perhaps forgotten that we are legally husband and wife?"
The cloth polishing her steel froze dead in its tracks.
"Surely," I added with genuine bemusement, "it looks far less suspicious than the two of us crossing blades in broad daylight."
"...No. I was the only one pointing a blade."
"I am glad you realize it. So tonight, be sure to offer me some tea to restore the proper balance."
She smoothly sheathed her sword. "Allow me to state this clearly in advance: my stance regarding our marriage has not changed in the slightest."
"Mine is identical. A warm room and three square meals a day."
"And tea refreshments?"
"Now we are finally speaking the same language."
The corner of Namgoong Seol’s mouth twitched upward ever so slightly before she briskly turned her back to me. "Let us head inside. If the breakfast gets cold, I expect you will complain."
I sprang to my feet at once. She should have led with that from the very beginning.
That evening, within Namgoong Seol’s private quarters, I studied the Qi Circulation Chart spread out across the table. Thin red lines traced the pathways of internal energy across a finely detailed rendering of the human body. Stamped cleanly on the outer margin was the official seal of the Namgoong Clan’s Martial Pavilion.
They certainly covered their tracks thoroughly.
At the precise terminus where the Third Form’s qi circulation concluded, a single branched meridian line took a subtle, treacherous detour, distorting the path from the Sea of Qi directly toward the Chest Center acupoint. Even the accompanying commentary written beside it was devilishly persuasive, claiming that such a divergent channel was an unavoidable hurdle every master had to conquer to reach profound enlightenment.
"The more I read this, the more it turns my stomach," I muttered, folding the diagram and slipping it inside my robes.
Soft footsteps approached outside the door.
"Milady. I have brought your medicinal decoction."
Namgoong Seol glanced at me. I gave a slight nod.
"Enter."
The sliding door parted, revealing a plainly dressed young maid carrying a tray.
"Oh my." The maid froze in her tracks upon spotting me. Her eyes darted from Namgoong Seol to me, and back again, sheer astonishment washing over her youthful face.
Apparently, in this clan, seeing a married couple having a quiet cup of tea together is more shocking than witnessing someone manifest sword aura.
I lifted my teacup with an easy smile. "You work hard, delivering medicine at this hour."
"A-Ah, no, not at all, Young Master."
The maid set the steaming bowl down, casting curious side-glances in my direction.
"You are somewhat late today," Namgoong Seol remarked.
The maid bowed her head apologetically. "Please forgive me, Milady. Physician Gwak gave me a specific message to deliver."
"What kind of message?"
"He asked me to inquire whether you still feel a chilling sensation in your flanks after drinking the medicine."
My hand holding the teacup halted. The faint warmth in Namgoong Seol’s eyes vanished entirely. In the next instant, just as her lips parted to interrogate the girl, I reached beneath the wooden tabletop and tugged gently on the hem of her sleeve.
Do not press her now.
Namgoong Seol’s eyes flickered down to my hand. Then, with deliberate grace, she drew my hand up onto the table and placed her own palm over mine, lacing our fingers together.
"I have much to discuss with my husband tonight, so leave the medicine and take your leave."
...Husband?
Cough!
I nearly choked on my tea. The maid’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Her gaze dropped directly to our intertwined hands, and her head dipped even lower in a flurry of flustered deference.
"Y-Yes, Milady! I shall collect the empty bowl later—"
"Very well. And tomorrow, find out why Physician Gwak asked that question. Inquire if he intends to alter the prescription."
"Understood, Milady."
The maid gathered her wooden tray and scurried out. The door clicked shut, and the sound of her hurried footsteps faded into the distance.
I looked down at our hands, still resting on the table. "My lady."
"Do not misunderstand," she said coldly. "I merely did that so she would not suspect anything out of the ordinary."
"Rather than explanations, I would prefer it if you loosened your grip. You are about to crush my knuckles into powder."
She started, quickly releasing her hold. It seemed her suppressed fury had inadvertently funneled into my poor hand. I gently rubbed my reddened knuckles.
"My word. Now you are crushing bones. Your medical arts are truly diverse, wife."
"...I am sorry."
Hm? That was an entirely unexpected apology. The playful quip on the tip of my tongue dissolved. She remained staring at the closed sliding door, her expression tight.
"That child has been by my side since I was ten years old."
"No one has accused her of knowingly carrying poison."
"I know. But..." Her fingers curled slowly into a tight, trembling fist. "If someone used even her as a pawn... I will not let them walk away from this."
I studied her profile in silence. Having someone poison your body was more than enough reason for righteous fury, yet here she was, factoring the potential innocence and grief of a servant into her ledger of grievances.
If this were the Young Mistress of the Demonic Cult, the door would have already been blown off its hinges along with the medicine pot.
A wry smirk tugged at my lips as distant memories drifted through my mind. Pushing the thought aside, I slid the poisoned bowl toward the center of the table.
"Does this Physician Gwak normally take your pulse?"
"No. My pulses are examined exclusively by the Hall Master of the Hall of Medicine. Physician Gwak is only responsible for compounding and preparing the decoctions."
"Have you ever mentioned flank pain to him?"
"Never. I have never once summoned him."
Namgoong Seol locked eyes with me. The realization had clearly settled in her mind as well. One could argue he was merely monitoring for standard side effects of the herbs. But for the very man who prepared this tonic to pinpoint the exact, unmentioned symptom she was experiencing? A man who had never once placed two fingers on her wrist to read her meridians?
I had deduced her ailment because I possessed a transcendent understanding of the principles of martial arts. But him? How could a mere subordinate physician know?
They boast so loudly of the righteous factions and their grand moral justice, yet this place is no different from the Demonic Cult.
Or perhaps that wretched physician was an operative of the Demonic Cult himself. In many ways, that would make far more sense.
I pressed my fingers against the chart hidden within my robes, feeling the outline of the paper that detailed the crimson pathways of her intended destruction.
"It seems we ought to pay our respects to the good physician tomorrow."
When I offered a thin smile, Namgoong Seol tightened her fist, her eyes gleaming with resolute, icy determination.
"I shall accompany you."
"Naturally."
We looked at one another and shared a knowing, synchronized smile. Though I occupied the lowly status of a matrilocal son-in-law, for the very first time, it felt as though my wife and I were breathing in perfect harmony.