Reunion
Falling from the ceiling like black lightning, he crushed the envoy of the Fear King where he stood. With a disciplined flick of his coat—
Shraak.
—the droplets of blood that had clung to him spattered across the floor.
Sunlight poured through the breached ceiling onto his pale face, and the blood that had splashed there stood out vivid and stark. The arrogant smile that curved his lips was thoroughly insolent.
"It's been a long time, Un-jeong."
"…Un-jeong?"
Who in all the world would dare so easily breach the ironclad security of the Grand General's headquarters, crush the Fear King's envoy underfoot, and casually address the Acting Northern Grand General by her personal name?
Among the stunned assembly, Moyong Ho—younger brother of Moyong Un-jeong—whipped his head around to stare at her.
"Does Elder Sister know this man?"
In her memories, the figure he had cut was brighter than anyone—and more fragile than anyone. Like a single drop of dew resting lightly on a blade of grass at earliest dawn. An ephemeral presence, as though he might evaporate in the morning sun and vanish somewhere forever.
And yet.
Even so—how could Moyong Un-jeong fail to recognize him?
"…It's him."
"Him—?"
"How dare—!"
What cut across Moyong Ho's question were the members of the envoy, who had been too stunned by the sheer absurdity of it all to react until that instant.
"To harm the envoy of the Fear King…!"
Clangclangclang!
They drew their blades as one. Reflexively, every man of the Grand General's office drew steel in answer.
But the unknown figure had dropped square into the heart of the Fear King's envoy. Neither side could move first without care.
"Who the hell are you?!"
True to men who had lived by battle and plunder, whose bones had been tempered on the killing fields, the ferocity of their formation was savage—a wall of steel ringing him in on every side.
Yet even hemmed in by blades, the snort of laughter that rang out was utterly at ease.
"…Bastard!"
In the instant the escort captain's face twisted into a demon's snarl—
A clear, ringing voice flowed from the stranger.
"I am."
Whether the voice began first, or whether his sleeve fluttered like a butterfly's wing and his pale, slender fingertip brushed one of the surrounding blades first—
"The sole son of the Medicine Fairy Yak So-yu, manifestation of the Medicine Buddha."
Gently—as lightly as a wind-blown leaf settling upon a pond—that hand nudged the steel.
"—Guh?!"
From that light fingertip erupted an unprecedented inner force. The warrior's wrist twisted on the spot; his elbow wrenched around and his shoulder tore free of its socket. And that was only the beginning of the harmony.
"And the eldest son of the Peerless Sword Under Heaven, whose renown resounds throughout the realm."
The blue blade he had first pushed struck the sword of the man beside it; that blade shoved the next; and so the entire wall of steel swayed and was swept aside like small boats caught in the violent swells of the South Sea.
Clangclangclang!
The clashing edges set up a metallic din that left every ear ringing. As if by prior agreement, the blades reeling to one side flung back sunlight that dazzled every eye.
"What kind of bullshit are you spouting?!"
Through the storm of steel, like a warship driving through heavy seas, the escort captain's blade shot forward on a thunderous roar—a strike that split wave and wind alike.
But—
"What do you mean, what am I saying?"
Thud.
His sword was stopped with absurd ease by something that flicked from the stranger's sleeve, accompanied by a voice of perfect calm.
"I'm introducing myself, am I not?"
"…A scroll?"
Before anyone present could properly make out the object—
"Urgh—!"
Already aware from the first exchange of his opponent's high martial attainment, the escort captain whipped free his secondary blade and thrust.
"Or."
Yet that too was turned aside by the strange motion of the scroll in the stranger's hand.
"Must I speak in your tongue before you understand?"
Beyond the scroll that had stopped both sword and dagger, the mockery rising on that pale face was plain to see.
"You northern barbarians."
Crunch!
Yellow teeth ground together. The moment the escort captain seized the scroll hard in his fist—
"This insolent whelp of the Central Plains—!"
"I'll grind your corpse into horse feed!"
The warriors who had been driven back once seized the opening, hand axes rising as they charged.
"I am the legitimate bloodline of the Yeon clan that rules Luoyang and governs the North China Plain—."
With that clear, ringing voice, the captured scroll thrashed like a great fish hauled onto dry land.
"Ugh—!"
Startled, the escort captain abandoned the scroll and snatched the stranger's wrist instead. With the free hand that had dropped the secondary blade he reached to strike the empty hand's vital point and pin him—
"The Eldest Young Master of the Great Luoyang Sword House—."
—only for that marvelous seizing technique to tangle his own hand in an instant. He took a blow to the chin, a kick to the knee, and two hard strikes to the gut.
"Guh—!"
As the escort captain reeled back, bloody foam and shreds of organ spilling from his mouth, the hand axes closed in with a chorus of savage cries—
"Hup!"
A low shout. Kakakakang!
The black silk coat he wore spun violently in place, batting the axes aside and flinging sparks in every direction.
"Now!"
In that heartbeat, warriors who had been lurking on the third line behind their own men flung grappling hooks as one. But the scroll still turning in the stranger's hand unfurled with a long shhhhk—and flung the hooks back as well.
"That is—?!"
Someone of the Grand General's office, recognizing the nature of the scroll now spread like a shield about the body, went wide-eyed.
"His Majesty the Emperor's imperial edict—?!"
"And furthermore, I—."
Without so much as a hitch in his breathing, the clear voice went on.
"Having received His Majesty the Emperor's command—."
The first thing to part company with its body was the escort captain's head.
"—have come to this place to subjugate and chastise the North—."
Then—
Clatter!
Weapons hit the floor. Blood fountained. Every warrior who had ringed him was sliced apart and collapsed where he stood.
Shraaaak!
Only after the Emperor's edict—not a single drop of blood upon it—had been reeled back as if drawn in by an unseen current did those present belatedly understand: what had carved the envoy's warriors into pieces in a single breath was that very edict. The instant it unfurled had been the instant of drawing steel.
Standing amid the dismembered corpses and the spreading lake of blood, receiving the falling sunlight, he smiled.
"I am Yeon So-hyeon."
Of course, no answer came.
But to every man and woman in that place who had not known him, the three syllables of the name Yeon So-hyeon were burned in as vividly as anything they would ever hear again.
"That man is…"
"Yes."
At Moyong Ho's words, Moyong Un-jeong nodded, a bright smile breaking across a face that had been cold until that moment.
"He is the very one."
Before Moyong Ho or anyone else could speak further, her order fell like a blade of frost.
"Sever every last head and hang them outside the camp. Load only the bodies onto carts and send them back!"
The inner chamber.
"As the Fear King's envoy said, if the Third Young Master of the Luoyang Sword House has truly allied with the Fear King…"
"We too now have the Eldest Young Master…"
The talk of the generals in the hall outside drifted faintly through the walls. But Moyong Un-jeong, at least—
"…Eldest Young Master."
—had no wish, in this moment, to give the outer world any thought.
"You have become very imposing."
Helmet in her hands, seated at the table, she had turned over a long while what to say before she finally managed to open her mouth.
"I almost failed to recognize you."
The speech manners she had once learned in the women's quarters felt unfamiliar now, and awkwardly formal. The armor she had always polished with her own hands and worn with pride—somehow that well-worn armor only made her feel ashamed.
"…Is that so?"
Yeon So-hyeon set a teacup he had brewed himself before her, then settled across from her with an easy smile.
"For someone who almost failed to know me, you seemed to recognize me the instant our eyes met."
Finding that smile hard to meet, she looked aside and mumbled through a reddening face.
"…Th-that is…"
No one who knew the sharp and unyielding Acting Northern Grand General would have imagined her like this. Had her younger brother and adjutant Moyong Ho witnessed the scene, he would have fainted from shock.
"Ahem."
What answer was she supposed to give? Her wandering gaze came to rest at last on Yeon So-hyeon's face—long lashes quietly lowered as he savored the fragrance of the tea. Before she knew it, she felt her own heart settling soft and peaceful, like the tea-scent that filled the chamber.
…I see.
It had been this way from childhood—from the very first time she met him. Whatever form she wore, without any special conversation, there had always been this comfortable, cozy feeling. Like dozing off buried in a blanket by a warm hearth while the cold north wind blew outside.
When they had savored the tea long enough together, her mouth opened of its own accord.
"…More than your outward appearance, it seems your heart has changed a great deal."
"…My heart."
As his gaze turned to her, she smiled naturally and went on.
"When you were young, you were only timid. Like a gentle rabbit—fretting and worrying over every little thing in the world…"
And now? The battle he had just displayed was so far removed from the Yeon So-hyeon of her imagination that the two scarcely seemed the same person.
"Haha. Is that so?"
Even the way he laughed outright was different.
"Why did the Eldest Young Master change his heart and end his seclusion?"
She was aware that the words, against her intention, might sound like a rebuke or a grievance—Why break seclusion and act against the marriage pact that would have made you a son-in-law living with the wife's house?—yet she lightly bit her lip and waited for his answer.
"…Why."
Whether he knew what was in her heart or not, Yeon So-hyeon, still quietly turning the teacup in his fingers, opened his mouth.
"Everything will be all right."
"…Pardon?"
At the abrupt reply her pupils trembled once.
"Un-jeong. Those were the words you used to say to me out of habit."
"…Is that so?"
"Yes."
Moyong Un-jeong tilted her head a little. She decided she must simply have forgotten; her memory was nowhere near as keen as his. That those words were ones she herself had spoken to him when they had been husband and wife before the regression—that she could not even begin to imagine.
"Now I will make everything all right."
Yeon So-hyeon spoke each syllable with care.
"In order to play music for you as usual."
When I return, please play for me as usual.
The words she had once given him—the words he had treasured—he now returned to her.
"I ended my seclusion so that I could say this to you."
As if making a vow to himself, Yeon So-hyeon spoke.