Seamless Perfection (1)
Having collected the membership fee, Mok Yeon-hwa knelt across from him in the center of the dojo and began by explaining the rules.
"First of all, my name is Mok Yeon-hwa. I'm the instructor of this dojo."
"Instructor?"
"It means I'm second-in-command here. And if you want to become a student of this dojo, you'll need to serve the instructor and the master as if they were your own parents."
Gunsa-bu-ilche. The principle that one should revere one's teacher, one's parents, and one's lord as equals.
Mok Yeon-hwa's dojo, having come from the East, was built on that foundation. Back East, every dojo held roughly the same philosophy, so it had never been a problem — but here was a different story.
"Serve them like my own parents…? That's a little…"
"…Just do as you're told. That's all it means."
"Ah. Got it."
This was the Kingdom — and more specifically, a city of adventurers. A place crawling with people who wouldn't know virtue, righteousness, propriety, or wisdom if it hit them in the face.
Mok Yeon-hwa understood that well enough, so she let it slide. Expecting this boy in front of her to think the way Eastern boys did was clearly asking too much.
Still, there was one point she needed to make absolutely clear.
"You are not to spread the techniques you learn here outside the dojo. Understood?"
"Ah — some guy out front earlier said he'd teach me the swordsmanship from this place if I gave him ten Elso."
"…And what did you do?"
"I paid him and learned it. There were a few parts I didn't quite get, though…"
Damn adventurers. Mok Yeon-hwa cursed the idiots under her breath and looked at Evan.
To openly admit he'd learned this dojo's techniques secondhand from some street hustler — she couldn't tell whether the boy was simply too honest or just dense.
But that wasn't what mattered. The fact that Evan had come all the way to the dojo even after picking up swordsmanship from adventurers meant he was talent that wouldn't leave easily.
"Those men paid to learn techniques here, then turn around and teach them half-baked for a quick coin. You mustn't become like them, Evan."
"Yes, ma'am. So when do I start learning swordsmanship?"
"Full of enthusiasm, aren't you? Good. I like that."
Mok Yeon-hwa went into the storage room and pulled out a training uniform that would fit Evan's frame. He stared at the unfamiliar Eastern-style martial arts garb with open curiosity, then threw it on roughly and stepped back out onto the floor.
"Is this how you wear it?"
"No — like this…"
As Mok Yeon-hwa knelt in front of him, adjusting his clothes, Evan felt something rise up inside him — a warm, swelling sensation he couldn't put into words. And up this close, he noticed she even smelled nice somehow.
"…Um, Master."
"What?"
"I hope this isn't rude, but… Master, are you a woman?"
At those words, Mok Yeon-hwa lifted her head without a word and looked at him. Her eyes held no emotion at all.
But he couldn't help it. Her hair was cut nearly as short as his own, and beneath the loose training robes, there was no hint of a chest to be seen.
Evan had never met a woman with hair that short and a figure that flat. In his experience, a woman always had at least one or the other — long hair or a full chest — which only made this more confusing.
"Does that matter?"
"If it matters… then yes, it does."
"Whether I'm a woman or a man, nothing changes. Now — we start with warm-ups!"
And so Mok Yeon-hwa began the lesson with her gender still concealed. Evan gave her a slightly dubious look, then followed along with the stretches.
Then again, whether Mok Yeon-hwa was a man or a woman didn't really matter. If anything, finding out would only make things more awkward.
He'd come here to forget about women through the sword — and if even the dojo he'd found for that purpose had a woman in it, that would be a real headache.
Once the basic exercises were done, Mok Yeon-hwa handed Evan a wooden sword. Watching him take hold of it with natural ease, she let out a quiet murmur of admiration.
"Not bad. Have you held a sword before?"
"Yes. For about five years."
"Who taught you?"
"I taught myself."
"Ah."
Mok Yeon-hwa had been fretting over the possibility that she might be poaching another swordsman's disciple. Hearing that Evan was self-taught, she let out a sigh of mixed relief and dread.
If you asked who was hardest to teach, the surprising answer wasn't a complete beginner who knew nothing — it was a seasoned practitioner who had trained alone.
Painting on a blank white page was far easier than trying to draw a picture on paper already covered in blotches and stains.
This is a problem. Five years of self-study… he's bound to have picked up bad habits…
Self-taught skill stagnated easily. Five years was nothing — most people plateaued after just a few months.
Coming to a dojo at this age was already late. If only he'd come a year earlier… Mok Yeon-hwa shook her head and pushed the idle thought aside.
"All right. Why don't you give it a swing?"
Evan nodded, gripped the wooden sword, and slowly drew it downward. It was a weapon of a shape he'd never held before — closer to a short staff than a proper blade — so it took him a few seconds to adjust.
But after two or three swings, he adapted completely and began displaying his true ability.
Whoosh—! Watching the wooden sword cut through the air, Mok Yeon-hwa covered her mouth in shock.
Impressive… no, more than that…?
With her meager eye for such things, she couldn't even tell whether the sword he was swinging was good or bad.
Would even Mok Cheon, currently bedridden and recovering, be able to draw a sword path like that if he were standing here now? A strange unease settled over her, and she called for Evan to stop.
"Enough. That's far enough."
Whoosh—! Evan halted mid-swing, holding the wooden sword in its lowered position, and looked at her. It was the pure, expectant expression unique to a boy waiting for praise.
Seeing that, Mok Yeon-hwa thought, He really is still just a kid, and let out a soft chuckle before offering her compliment.
"Five years of self-study, was it… Not bad. But."
She took up her own wooden sword and drew it downward exactly as Evan had done.
"Like this—"
After a few downward cuts, Mok Yeon-hwa felt something was off and faltered. No matter how she looked at it, her own sword felt clumsier than the one Evan had swung.
…That's impossible.
She had learned the sword under her father since she was a child. She'd trained in the same dojo even before her father had opened it to the public — by pure years alone, she had been swinging a sword for well over twenty years.
After all that time, her sword was less polished than a boy who'd taught himself for five years? It couldn't be. Absolutely not.
Convincing herself it was just her imagination, she told the questioning Evan that it was nothing and swung again.
…But a single point of unease still lingered in her heart.
"That's all for today's lesson."
"Ah, yes."
"Well? Was the class difficult?"
"It was fine. Better than the people on the street who offered to teach me swordsmanship."
Evan thought back over the techniques he'd learned that day. The training methods were ones he'd never tried before, and they felt genuinely fresh.
Turning the act of swinging a sword into a formal pattern, then perfectly replicating that pattern?
It was almost like saying there was a correct answer to swordsmanship. It was different from Evan's own sword — the one he'd swung without answers, fighting imaginary enemies in his mind.
I think there's something I can learn from this.
He felt a faint itch at the back of his mind — an instinct that training of this kind could teach him something real.
That alone made it worth the money, he decided. He offered a light farewell and left the dojo.
Mok Yeon-hwa watched him go, staring blankly at the front gate for a long moment. Then she took up a real sword and stood in the center of the floor.
— How did that boy swing his sword?
Gripping the real blade, she called up Evan's technique in her mind. The movement of his arms, the placement of his feet, the single downward strike that connected it all — every detail painted itself vividly behind her eyes.
Once. She brought the sword down, and her body itself told her this wasn't it. Evan's sword had never made such a dull sound.
Again. She gripped the sword and swung. Failure.
Again, relaxing the tension in her arms. Failure.
Again, minding her center of gravity. Failure.
Again. Failure.
Again, again, again, again, again.
"…Why?"
No matter how many times she swung, she could not do it the way that boy had.
Faced with that truth, Mok Yeon-hwa quietly looked down at her own sword.
She could not understand why she was unable to follow after him.
In the morning, I woke up, finished breakfast, and headed straight for the dojo. I'd already informed the guild that I'd be training.
When someone of the Sword Saint's caliber said he was going to train, nobody was going to stand in his way. The stronger I got, the more commissions the guild could hand me, after all.
I wonder what I'll learn today…
"—I said no, didn't I?"
"So you think this is justified…?!"
Voices near the dojo. I leaned out slightly and looked toward the sound. There, the adventurer who'd taught me swordsmanship for money not long ago was shouting at Instructor Mok Yeon-hwa.
Curious, I eavesdropped — and immediately understood what the fight was about.
"You're selling the swordsmanship you learned at our dojo for money? Right in front of the dojo, no less?!"
"We paid for what we learned. Where we sell it is our business. Isn't that right?"
"Yeah, yeah. If you want us to take our business elsewhere, either pay us off yourselves — or find some other way to keep us happy."
"You shameless bastards! Did you never even learn what morality is?!"
"That's right. We didn't have parents, so we never learned that stuff. But we did learn one thing."
The three adventurers, apparently confident in their numbers, rested their hands on the weapons at their hips.
"—There's nothing illegal about this. If you've got a problem, try us."
"You… you damn adventurers…!"
I figured the instructor would win if it came to a fight — but in the end, she didn't lunge. She bit down hard on her lip and stared at the adventurers.
"Why? Why are you doing this? What did we ever do to you…?!"
"There's only one reason, really."
Seeing that she wouldn't dare attack, the adventurers snickered among themselves.
"Because it's fun."