A Grandmother's Gift from the North Sea
“Your grandmother…… prepared these, they say. She'll give one each to those two.”
“Pardon? To those two? Grandmother?”
Seeing Ryeon's startled expression at his sudden mention of her grandmother, Danmok Cheon-gi gave a faint smile.
“Seong probably knows, but no one's told you about your grandmother yet. She was……”
Danmok Cheon-gi began, then paused as if his throat had caught, taking a moment to steady his breath.
“She was originally the eighth sub-palace lord of the North Sea Binggung.”
“Isn't the North Sea Binggung…… ridiculously…… far from here?”
Even Machun-gyo, thousands of li from Hangzhou, wasn't called the outer reaches. They were still part of the same murim world, rubbing shoulders together. But places like the distant North Sea Binggung up north or the South Sea Beast Palace down south were dubbed the “outer murim”—simply because they were so unimaginably far.
That's why everyone was shocked when the North Sea Binggung even joined the fight against Blood Valley…… Wait, no way?
Danmok Cheon-gi watched Ryeon's eyes widen, stars flickering softly over her pupils, and a nostalgic look crossed his face.
“Everyone said she'd be the next lord of the North Sea. She was so full of vigor and boldness, you couldn't believe she came from that frozen north……”
—You! You're Danmok Cheon-gi? The strongest among the later-generation murim folk in the Central Plains?
The memory was still vivid: a woman with a sharp nose and hazy, starlit eyes that sparkled as she jabbed her finger accusingly, then whispering to her companion behind her, “……Danmok Cheon-gi, right? That's the name?”
“With a personality like that, how could she stay cooped up in the North Sea? She bolted from Binggung to see what the Central Plains murim was like. And by chance, she ran into me……”
He'd had no end of trouble dealing with someone who charged at him demanding a spar, no holds barred. He knew she was one of the North Sea's sub-palace lords—a prime candidate for next palace lord—and sweated bullets accordingly, but she couldn't care less.
—I'm not here as some sub-palace lord, so what's the problem? You coward!
Moyong Chwi-ryeo, dragged along with her, shaking her head behind; her face split in a wide, gourd-like grin……
“And then…… she ended up staying here. With this old man.”
It was decades ago, yet the memory rose sharp as yesterday. The chirp of insects drifting over West Lake, the faint trill of a flute echoing from afar, the raucous laughter of drunken revelers blending in Hangzhou's streets—Bingseol-eon walked a step ahead of him then, too. As always, too impatient to stay still.
Then she stopped dead and turned to him.
—Where should we live if we get married?
—Haha, what are you talking about? Who's marrying who?
—You and me, if we get married.
—Why?
—Because I like you.
Danmok Cheon-gi froze, dumbfounded as if punched by a stranger on the street, heat rising to his face. Bingseol-eon, meanwhile, started calculating on her own. Folding fingers one by one, she weighed the Danmok family's sole reliable heir against Binggung's many sub-palace lord candidates, then puffed up proudly, as if making a huge concession.
—Eh, just a whim. West Lake's pretty, so I'll let it slide. Got it?
—No, who said anything about…… who and where and what……
Stammering with a flushed face, he watched her beam like the sun at his flustered state. It couldn't have been easy deciding to stay in Hangzhou, where she knew no one. She must have known she'd be tossing aside the North Sea Binggung she could claim. This journey had only been possible because it was her “last rebellion before becoming palace lord.”
“When the Murim Alliance was founded to face Blood Valley, it was because of her that North Sea Binggung lent a hand. And she did it…… because of me.”
North Sea Binggung, robbed of their sub-palace lord in broad daylight, always glared at Danmok Cheon-gi with cold eyes like fresh snow. Yet they still sent their warriors north to fight Blood Valley. Because it was righteousness.
Murim folk honed their martial prowess for small things—to gain personal insight, protect family—but on a grand scale, to aid the weak and battle the wicked.
Yet it wasn't all smooth. Gathering people for one cause meant coordinating egos. And in the end, after repelling Blood Valley, everyone regretted it.
Even that first meeting—Danmok Cheon-gi regretted it all. He shouldn't have borrowed North Sea Binggung's aid. Shouldn't have let her fight here. Shouldn't have left her in Hangzhou from the start. Shouldn't have married her.
We never should have met.
Then she wouldn't have collapsed in the heart of the Central Plains murim, and he wouldn't have sent her back north, helpless to save her.
No—above all, perhaps his very wish to save lives, that core of his heart, had been wrong.
What meaning did righteousness have if he couldn't even protect his family? Saving every soul in the Central Plains meant nothing if his son died and his wife never woke……
“But why did Grandmother…… go back to the North Sea?”
Ryeon asked, hiding her trepidation. A couple who lost a child sometimes lost the will to stay together. She tensed, fearing he'd say it was because of Hyeon-seong's death—but Danmok Cheon-gi just gave a bitter smile.
“It was a brutal war. Your grandmother was gravely wounded amid it all…… With no other way, they took her back north to try healing her.”
Long years passed after. North Sea Binggung sealed its gates, even to her children. But Danmok Hyeon-yo didn't mind. Closed doors meant hope—her mother was still alive, and might recover someday.
“They say she's much better now. She woke, heard your news…… and was overjoyed. Sent this to repay those who helped you.”
Ryeon gazed blankly at her grandfather. Not his usual stern, playful, or occasionally overwhelming expression.
And a thought bubbled up unbidden.
“Let's go.”
“Go…… where?”
“Let's go. To the North Sea. To Grandmother……”
“Kyunghang Yunryeon is just beginning. Where to now?”
“Ah, r-right…… yes.”
Ryeon touched her forehead, murmuring dazedly. Danmok Cheon-gi, used to her sharp clarity, widened his eyes in surprise, then smiled gently.
“Besides, there's no invitation. We can't just show up out of the blue.”
His voice held a tinge of bitterness.
“This is an invitation!”
Ryeon jabbed fiercely at the elixir box.
“Grandmother gave us something this amazing…… Of course we have to go thank her in person!”
“Even so…… is that okay?”
Danmok Cheon-gi muttered uncertainly. Seeing his hesitation, Ryeon wavered too.
“Did you two…… fight badly…… before parting?”
“No, it wasn't like that. She was……”
Unconscious. North Sea Binggung had decided to take her back. If she'd been awake, would she have refused? Maybe there would have been a fight.
But it was all hypothetical.
“Then we should go talk. Tell her thank you for doing this much. That we've missed her. How much her grandchildren have grown……”
Ryeon listed things haltingly, then met his eyes and steadied.
“Even if we get turned away at the gates, we have to go—even if it's just to get turned away.”
“Turned away on purpose?”
The words amused him; he chuckled softly, then nodded firmly.
“Right. Let's go. To the North Sea.”
“After this Kyunghang Yunryeon ends. Straight away.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Can't we…… speed up Kyunghang Yunryeon somehow?”
Danmok Cheon-gi was just as eager, but Ryeon pressed anyway. He burst out laughing, ruffling her hair roughly.
His laughter rumbled softly through the room.
“Have you ever been to North Sea Binggung?”
“Y-yes……?”
Hwaryun startled, jerking his head up. He'd been mimicking the intricate finger-shadow play that had captivated Danmok Bi and Danmok Seong. Ryeon, having lulled her cousin and brother to sleep, sat by the window gazing at the blooming magnolias.
“No…… how could I…… go to the North Sea? Why the North Sea all of a sudden?”