Grandfather Awakens
“If I get good at playing the flute, will you play the pipa for me, Uncle?”
“When it comes to the pipa in our house, no one beats me.”
Danmok Hyeon-u had just gotten those words out when he suddenly launched into a nonstop ramble about how they'd celebrate Ryeon's birthday next year.
Seol Gwan-hui, who had been listening quietly, even joined in.
They'd hire the top chef in Zhejiang Province for the food, call in a specific music troupe for the performance—though Danmok Hyeon-u would handle the pipa himself—and keep the birthday gift a secret until the day. They'd cut paper flowers to paste on every lantern so they'd glow all night long.
Ryeon worked her lips, but said nothing.
No one in the family had held a birthday celebration during the years she'd been in her coma. Little Danmok Bi, too young to have one himself, didn't even know what they were. And Danmok Hyeon-u, who should have been at the peak of his playful youth, had spent that time shrouded in darkness and silence.
Yet here he was now, grinning as he talked about personally cutting those paper flowers for his niece's birthday lanterns.
If she could, Ryeon would cut a thousand—no, ten thousand—of those flowers herself. But oblivious to her feelings, Danmok Hyeon-u scooped her up with a crinkle-eyed smile.
The flute nearly slipped from her grasp in the process, snapping the wistful look from her starry eyes as tears vanished in an instant.
“Whoaaa!”
“Wh-whoaaa!”
All through dinner, Gyeon Wiun said not a word.
Her servant, Jong ssi, filled the silence instead, exclaiming everything from “Whoa” to “My goodness,” with hundreds of thousands of words in between. Still, Gyeon Wiun remained silent.
But Jong ssi didn't seem bothered by her mistress's demeanor. She was too busy to notice.
“Wow. In my wildest dreams, I never thought I'd meet someone who topped the imperial exams... I figured that was something only bestowed from the heavens.”
‘How did Danmok Ryeon know? Was it just coincidence?’
“The young master must've been pretending to waste his days in debauchery all along, right? Goodness, how much your father must've worried... and now this brilliant top score.”
‘Can it really be coincidence? That little girl gave me that roundabout advice, and she bet everything on Gyeon Wihak topping the exams—and he actually did... All of this, just coincidence?’
A chill raced up her spine.
“Miss, wasn't sending the Fragrant Forest Sword a bit much? It's no ordinary treasure. If your father finds out...”
Gyeon Wiun finally responded.
“What would Father say if he knew? He'd be thrilled for his son's success and call it praiseworthy.”
“Well... you're probably right.”
The servant agreed in a slightly embarrassed tone.
Not long ago, Gyeon Wijeong and his gambling buddies had all ended up at a physician's after getting beaten by street thugs. Apparently, they'd borrowed money from the gang to gamble.
They'd been sternly warned that one more dip into gambling or drink would cost them their wrists.
Half of the parents in Gyeon Wijeong's crew had raged about hunting down and killing the thugs, while the other half grieved in public but secretly rejoiced. Word was, the boys jumped at the sight of dice now.
Gyeon Wijeong hadn't been hurt quite that badly, but he'd taken some bruises and was bedridden. With his gambling friends scattered, he had no one to hang out with and was just killing time at home.
Gyeon Eonjo had taken one look at his state, sighed, and handed full management of the escort agency—temporarily under Gyeon Wiun—to her permanently. It had originally been Gyeon Wijeong's role.
‘That worked out just like she said it would.’
Gyeon Eonjo, usually rational and aloof, seemed both conflicted and impressed upon realizing his rational second daughter had schemed to worry about her eldest brother's future.
“How did he figure out it was you right away, Miss?”
“Hiding something from Father inside the merchant group is hard, but getting him to notice? That's the real challenge.”
Jong ssi beamed, nodding in agreement.
“He must be thrilled.”
“I've seen it with my own eyes—too much joy can make you keel over.”
Gyeon Eonjo had stared at the plaque his confidant brought, wide-eyed in disbelief, nearly toppling backward. Even now, he'd kept the festivities going outside so the household could celebrate, but he'd shut himself in his quarters, claiming his heart was racing too much. According to the servant, he kept staring at that top-score plaque over and over.
“First, we'll commission a fine wind-resistant robe and send it to him. Then procure new brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones for the Bamboo Grove Academy. It's only right to repay his friends and teachers who guided him there.”
Gyeon Wiun spoke with cool composure.
Only then did Jong ssi snap to attention and bow deeply.
Gyeon Wiun's eyes swept over the clan's exhilarated mood. While everyone chattered with abandon, she alone gazed coldly into the future.
“And we need to adjust Qinglian Water sales. Recall all the premium grade that's currently on the market.”
For days, Ryeon took daily walks around Wolyeongjae without fail.
Danmok Cheon-gi, struck by sudden inspiration, seemed to be meditating deeply, circulating the clan's secret heart formula over and over.
She could feel the air being drawn into Wolyeongjae against her skin, so as she strolled the grounds, she gently infused her spiritual energy into every strand of it.
Each time that power brushed his dantian, she prayed it would fully heal his wounds and restore his strength.
“You called for me, young miss?”
Today, during her walk, she'd summoned the chief steward.
The flow of qi around Wolyeongjae signaled that Danmok Cheon-gi was about to conclude his enlightenment and return from the depths.
Gang-rip approached Ryeon cautiously, holding his breath so as not to disturb the subtle shift in energy inside.
Ryeon had paused briefly, staring at the ducklings on the pond with a dismayed expression.
“Look at this, Gang-rip. It's so ugly...”
“Th-the ducks at Wolyeongjae are mallards, young miss. Oh dear, but it's not ugly—more like, colorful? Yeah, that's it.”
Gang-rip, who had come with her, quickly made excuses. He knew Danmok Cheon-gi often teased Ryeon by calling her his little duckling.
“It's ugly!”
“...Well... they say pretending to be plain and ugly as a child keeps the spirits away. The Grand Patriarch treasures you so much—he notices every little thing...”
“Grandfather would kill any spirit that came for him.”
“That's... well, hearts aren't always so straightforward... right?”
Ryeon pursed her lips in full pout and sprang up from the pond's edge.
At that moment, oblivious to her feelings, the ducks quacked and waddled toward her. Soon the pond's edge was packed with them.
Ryeon reached out to one of the mallards.
Gang-rip startled and tried to stop her.
“Oh no, young miss—even if we feed them and leave them in the pond, they're wild and fierce...”
“Huh?”
The mallard twisted its neck halfway around, rubbing its head affectionately against Ryeon's hand.
Gang-rip's eyes went wide.
These were the same ducks that went berserk when he fed them, yet now they acted like lambs.
As if introducing her to its young, the mallard nudged the ducklings toward Ryeon.
The mottled little ones came waddling right up to her hands.
With a helpless expression, Ryeon played with them for a bit before suddenly looking up at the empty air.
“...Grandfather's awake. Let's go.”
Danmok Cheon-gi sat quietly at the desk where he'd shared meals with Ryeon, eyes gently closed.
His hair had turned even more transparently white at the tips, but his complexion was bright, and the aura pouring from him filled the empty room.
“Grandfather!”
The door slid open with a rattle, and the tiny girl dashed in. Danmok Cheon-gi's eyes snapped open.
His gaze burned fierce and bright.
“Ryeon-ah.”
“How's your body feeling?”
Gang-rip, looking like his soul had fled, glanced nervously at Danmok Cheon-gi as he set down lukewarm tea and thin porridge.
Normally, one waited for an enlightened master to emerge before the household paid respects with deep bows of congratulations. But Ryeon had flung open the door without hesitation, nearly stopping his heart.
“You've had your eyes closed for days. Have some tea, Grandfather.”
Danmok Cheon-gi gazed at the small teacup she offered, then slowly brought it to his lips.
He clearly felt the pure, clear energy start at his mouth and slowly spread through his body.
He felt it tenderly caressing the old scar on his left waist.
All the faint sensations from before now appeared crystal clear.
The endlessly blooming and withering within the little girl before him, the frail and delicate body cradling it, and the starry eyes enveloping it all—vividly sharp.