Are You Eating Properly? - 1
When the moon—that lone climber of the heavens—had sated itself on the summit and drifted down to linger halfway through its descent, before the next climber had even thought to prepare for the ascent, and around the hour when even the merchants unrolling the dawn market were still rubbing the sleep from their eyes, the morning of Hongseong Gate began.
The mornings of Hongseong Gate, ruled by the Sword Saint, were fair to all.
At the command of Hong Ryeon—the sect's First Disciple, whose name was already making waves across the realm under the epithet Sun-Falling Sword—twenty disciples of Hongseong Gate commenced their dawn training.
That said, the training was not nearly as beautiful as the world imagined.
The Sword Saint's sword could well be called the crystallization of beauty itself. The greatsword in her grasp conjured, true to the name of her art, a beautiful red star—a Crimson Star that concealed none of the ferocity sealed within it.
And the foundation of that beauty and might rested upon a bedrock of the finest possible quality: the bedrock called fundamentals.
And so the disciples gathered on the training ground bent their long, supple legs, not even pausing to wipe the grains of sleep from their pretty eyes after a restless night.
It always began with horse stance.
Legs bent as though astride a horse, spine held ramrod straight, they drilled their lower bodies.
Hongseong Gate was the sect led by the famed Sword Saint, Na Yerin, and most of those who joined had already undergone basic training before entering. Horse stance, being the most fundamental exercise of all, posed little challenge to women who had long since mastered it—a mere hour or two of it was hardly any great strain.
Even so, not one of them breathed a word of complaint. It was simple truth that a strong lower body was everything in the martial arts.
And because Hong Ryeon, the Sun-Falling Sword presiding over the morning training, was holding the stance right there beside them.
But if the disciples nursed any small grievance at all—
"Hahaha! Endure it! Endure! A woman's power lives in her lower body! For the sake of the men you'll marry someday, if nothing else, you must train it well! Clench that perineum good and tight, and one day you'll make some man a legendary piece of—"
"S-Senior Sister, please, just... stop talking..."
—it was simply that Hong Ryeon, who laughed hearty and bold at all hours and steered Hongseong Gate admirably in place of a master lost in her own training, always aimed that vulgar mouth at girls who had never so much as held a man's hand.
Of course, the disciples close to her knew the truth of it. She had never once held a man's hand herself, no different from the rest of them; every scrap of that 'knowledge' had come from erotic paintings alone, and outside these walls she would not breathe such smut to save her life.
That this household's very own Lü Bu ran wild like that only proved how at ease she felt within Hongseong Gate—how fully she considered it family.
And so, under the psychological barrage of Hong Ryeon's cheerful filth, the hour of horse stance drew to a close; by the time the next climber stretched itself across the sky, the disciples of Hongseong Gate had begun to loosen their bodies.
As warmth began to smolder through frames tempered by years of training, they started sneaking glances at one another.
Naturally. The five slowest in this round of training would be stuck with the after-meal cleanup once breakfast ended.
The longing to preserve one of the very few honey-sweet breaks in Hongseong Gate's punishing schedule was more than enough to stoke their competitive fires.
Of course, Hong Ryeon's bellowing promptly cut that enthusiasm in half as well.
"Did you all know? The legs of a woman in training are like the thighs of a running deer—so taut and springy, mmm—"
"Aaaagh! GO! GO!"
The moment the smut thickened another shade, the horrified disciples shrieked in desperation—and the bright young women of Hongseong shot off at speed, long hair streaming behind them.
As if fleeing Hong Ryeon herself.
Perhaps they had simply grown accustomed to it. Their movements were startlingly light.
They channeled no internal energy, so lightfoot arts were out of the question—yet bodies refined over long years of training carried them faster than any common beast of the mountain.
They ran. They ran. They ran.
Those who cannot run have no right to bear a weapon.
And so they ran.
Though breath clawed up to their chins, though their hearts pounded as if to burst—
they did not stop.
And for that moment, at least—
—Sa Yun, youngest of Hongseong Gate, who had been led into the sect by the Sword Saint only a few years before, could forget that she stood alone in this world.
The first to crest the summit of Mount Hongseong was, as ever, the Sun-Falling Sword herself. Wiping away the sweat that streamed down her in the cool wind as she waited for her martial sisters, Hong Ryeon smiled as they arrived one by one.
Some twisted and stretched, some flopped onto the rocks, and one gulped down water from the canteen Hong Ryeon had lugged up the mountain.
Just as everyone was catching their breath, footsteps sounded from the forest—and a deeper smile settled on her lips.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
It was a girl with slightly damp ash-grey hair.
She had run herself ragged; her slender, pretty face was soaked through with flush and sweat, and her worn training garb clung tight to the young body just now beginning to bloom.
At the sight of that chaste flower-bud of a girl—lovely enough to fell man or woman alike—the disciples of Hongseong Gate smiled warm and fond, all thinking the same thing: without a doubt, the whole world was in for quite an uproar once that child came into her own.
But Hong Ryeon saw it a little differently from the others.
She's exhausted.
She looks ready to drop any second.
Her sweat-drenched figure exuded a decadent allure, and plenty of eyes had fixed upon the beauty she possessed.
But to Hong Ryeon, that was not the girl's real charm.
The most splendid thing about the grimy little urchin their master had dragged home years ago was not the loveliness now surfacing as she grew.
"...I've... hah... arrived..."
It was those eyes she'd carried from the very beginning.
The pride dwelling in those pale, violet-colored eyes—the unbroken will to overcome every cold wave and hardship the world could throw at her.
That, Hong Ryeon thought, was the greatest charm possessed by Hongseong Gate's youngest, Sa Yun.
"Our youngest comes in dead last again, I see."
"Urgh..."
Barely arrived, Sa Yun plopped down with a sullen face.
She had climbed with everything she had, yet her martial sisters were already settled at the summit. It was only to be expected. For someone who had been nothing but a beggar orphan, only a handful of years had passed since she began training in earnest; beating sisters who had honed themselves in their own families and then trained in full upon entering Hongseong Gate was next to impossible.
She was trying her best. But her sisters were no less diligent, and the foundations they had laid over long years could never simply be dismissed. All she could do was grind on, stubbornly, until the gap closed.
"Counting on you today."
"Yes..."
Twisting a lock of her roughly braided ash-grey hair—the ends just brushing the chest that had only begun to fill out—Sa Yun dipped her head. Her hair, still damp with unwashed sweat, was ruffled rough and left in tangles; and yet to Sa Yun, that touch was one of the few happinesses she had.
Hongseong Gate was not a wealthy sect. Na Yerin, the Sword Saint, was without question a saint who had saved countless people from bandits and magic beasts—but she took little interest in riches. That the strong should aid the weak was, to her, simply right, and she believed that when strength was spent for peace, compensation hardly mattered.
Principles like hers raised Hongseong Gate's honor sky-high throughout the realm—but they did nothing for the sect's ledger. And so the gate survived on whatever commissions drifted in from time to time: culling magic beasts, for instance. Exterminating bandits, for instance. Surveying the uncharted wilds, for instance. The sect ran on the coin that senior disciples—those with some real command of the Hongseong Divine Art—brought home from such missions.
The disciples' families and the Murim Alliance did send patronage, of course, but by the Sword Saint's standing policy every offering was politely declined, so none of it ever went toward upkeep. And thus the disciples' table grew frugal by necessity.
Frugal, mind—not wanting. Fresh herbs and greens from Mount Hongseong, and whatever game Hong Ryeon or the other disciples happened to hunt, appeared faithfully at every meal.
Even so, not everyone was free of complaints about so austere a menu. Most of the sect's disciples came from illustrious houses and had been raised on their families' love—at the very least they had always eaten well, and whenever they recalled the hearty meals of occasional visits home, Hongseong Gate's cooking couldn't help but feel awfully deflating.
But to Sa Yun, even this was happiness. Compared to the days she had lain abandoned in a harsh world as a beggar orphan, it was more than filling enough, more than warm enough.
And so she washed the dishes with a happy face.
She was setting the scrubbed-clean wooden bowls upside down to drip dry when she asked the girl tidying up beside her,
"Sister Yu Hui, you barely touched your food today."
"Hm? Ah, right. I'm grabbing lunch in town today."
"Oh."
Come to think of it, today was the day the sect's supplies were bought from the outside. The instant that thought landed, color crept into Sa Yun's cheeks—and Yu Hui smiled gently at her.
"Anything you need?"
Sa Yun knew perfectly well that Yu Hui was not asking about the sect's shared goods.
And even so, she could not push her own wants past her lips.
"I'm... all right."
"Don't be so stiff about it."
"But I—"
Sa Yun knew how it worked. Twice a month, when the sisters went down to Seomhwachon to buy the sect's necessities, they spent their own coin on personal items—or on sweets to comfort tongues grown bitter from grueling training and plain food. And that coin was allowance money, sent by their families under the tidy name of 'personal patronage.'
A woman needs many things. The sect provided what it provided, but it never quite filled the measure. And so the allowances from home were, for them, something close to essential.
Which is why Sa Yun might envy it, but would never dream of dipping her own spoon in. A person ought to have some shame. Out of all the orphans under heaven, she had been the one rescued and made a disciple of Hongseong Gate. She no longer had to fear hunger, nor threats to her life. Having already received more than she could carry, she had no wish to squander the opportunities meant for her sisters.
"Hmmmmm..."
She really doesn't need to feel so burdened.
But at Sa Yun's continued refusals, Yu Hui could only smile wryly. This adorable youngest of theirs was keenly conscious of her orphanhood. Years had passed since she joined Hongseong Gate, and still she could not bring herself to act spoiled. It was rather a pity—by now, she might well have started thinking of them as her own true sisters.
Yu Hui thought back to the Dang-gwa sweets she'd once brought home as a gift. Sa Yun had swallowed, hard, again and again, all while insisting she had no taste for such things and trying to slip off to training—until Yu Hui caught her and pushed one between her lips. Her mouth said no, but the sheepish little smile that bloomed across her eyes and face proved beyond any doubt that Sa Yun had fallen head over heels for the sweetness of Dang-gwa.
She wanted to see that adorable moment again—but if Sa Yun refused it of her own will, there was no forcing the matter. And if the girl had grown all the warier since last time, proposing it would be truly difficult.
"Have some on me now, and buy me some later. That's how it works."
"Later... um. Once I start receiving patronage too."
Yu Hui laughed at that.
Thinking that next time she went home, she might quietly send the girl a bit of money herself.
"Yu Hui. Sa Yun. A delivery's come from Courier Gate. It all needs sorting—finish the dishes and come help."
"Ah—yes, Sister!"
The other three sisters had gone down to do the laundry. So the helping fell to the two of them, naturally. They readied themselves in a hurry, left the hall, and followed after Hong Ryeon.
A respectable pile of crates and letters stood waiting before the door of her quarters.
"Oh! This one's from home."
Yu Hui murmured it at the sight of her own name pasted to a small crate. It seemed this batch included the allowances sent out to the disciples.
Hong Ryeon, meanwhile, had gathered the letters into a separate stack and begun leafing through them with a face gone suddenly grave.
Sorting and handing out the parcels was not going to do itself, brooding or no, so Yu Hui and Sa Yun set to organizing the crates.
"...Huh?"
Sa Yun's hand froze mid-motion.
As Yu Hui puzzled over the uncharacteristic pause, Sa Yun lifted a small box.
"This... this one's mine?"
"...Hm? What? What is it?"
In all her time at Hongseong Gate, Sa Yun had hardly ever set foot outside the sect. Could she have some connection with an outsider, then? Someone wealthy enough to engage the Courier Gate, no less?
"Hoh-hoh! Our youngest has a suitor already? The sheer nerve! Well—so long as there is true love between you, I suppose I shall allow it!! Splendid! Today I shall educate our youngest with my secret-weapon spring book—"
When her mouth stayed shut, she was a beauty and a master of renowned name throughout the murim. Within the sect she was a Senior Sister more dependable than the master herself—so how did every opening of that mouth send everyone's composure crashing down?
As the boisterously laughing Hong Ryeon actually reached for the spring book, Yu Hui hastily wrestled the conversation elsewhere.
"Th-the sender? Who's the sender?"
"There's no name written."
Something that had never once happened before drew even Hong Ryeon's full attention. Ordinarily she would have told the girl to take it and open it in her room—but what if the thing was cursed? What if it was some prankster's cruelty, meant to wound her?
And so, rare for her, her expression locked hard.
"You'll open it here."
"O... okay."
A gulp. Swept up in the tension, Sa Yun carefully eased the box open.
Inside lay a single letter and one nyang of silver.
"...Silver?"
Sa Yun gently unfolded the letter—and her face clouded into something complicated.
"......"
"What does it say?"
Yu Hui leaned in to look, curiosity burning—and her expression, too, sank into gravity.
And Hong Ryeon was every bit as curious. So she took the letter from Yu Hui's hand and read it aloud.
Are you eating properly?
Faced with a message that made no sense at all, the three faces gathered in the small room could only knot themselves tighter.
Though on one point, at least, all three of them were in perfect agreement.
...Who on earth sent this?