Whispers of the True Heir
Inside the box lay an ornament crafted from the iridescent feathers of a puffback bird, a delicately carved norigae of sheep-fat jade, silk mourning robes and matching shoes woven with Sichuan's finest gold thread, a leather belt, three wild ginseng roots, and three jade dew pills, all neatly arranged.
As the carriage wheels rumbled along, Danmok Hyeon-yo suddenly spoke up.
"Honestly, isn't the idea to overwhelm us with money and crush our spirits?"
Danmok Hyeon-yo inwardly thought the gifts excessive, but with Song Yeongnang beaming before her, insisting they came with the best intentions, she couldn't very well shout, 'Do you think we'll cower before trinkets like these?!'
"Who scatters this much wealth into the void just to humble someone with coin?"
"Some give money with the worst of motives, Lady. You might not know it, being so sheltered..."
Danmok Hyeon-yo started to retort but trailed off, her energy sapped for no good reason. Truth be told, she didn't want to discuss money with Wijicheong, who had even pawned her own possessions to fund the betrothal.
"They said the children's sparring helped them a great deal—Lady Song and Lord Geum both mentioned it. They've wanted to repay the favor ever since."
"What help could come from kids brawling? It's ridiculous to give this much for that."
Danmok Hyeon-yo kept denying Wijicheong's words out of spite, but she flinched and fell silent when Danmok Seong stirred in her sleep. Her gaze softened as she gazed down at her daughter's peaceful face.
Seong-ah...
When they named her Danmok Seong, her husband Seok Ban-an hadn't objected, knowing how crushed she was under her brother's shadow. Half the reason she put a sword in the girl's hand was that it was expected in the Danmok household; the other half was her hope that, like her brother Danmok Hyeon-seong who achieved everything with a single blade, her daughter would rise to lead the clan to greater heights—the most reliable man in the world, whom she'd believed would take their house even higher...
"Children try hardest when they're doing what they love, it seems."
"...!"
Danmok Hyeon-yo flinched, her shoulders trembling as she turned to Wijicheong. But before she could muster a rebuttal, Wijicheong smiled gently.
"Ryeon-ie was always so quiet just learning swordplay, but now that she's studying with her cousin, she lights up with joy."
Realizing she'd overreacted out of her own guilt, Danmok Hyeon-yo worked her lips silently. Yet until the carriage reached the Danmok estate, Wijicheong said not a word about Seong's future, leaving Danmok Hyeon-yo equally speechless.
In the dead of night, a modest drinking table was set in the study, where an elderly man with a face marred by harsh scars sat across from a middle-aged one.
"How was the Geum estate?"
"Impressive—grand beyond words. Even in our clan's heyday, we didn't match it, did we?"
"That so?"
"They say they've got money to burn. Where does it all come from?"
"Lord Geum's got talent for it."
"And a fine wife too?"
Song Yeongnang's wife's family were titans of commerce in Namjik-rye. Danmok Cheon-gi didn't deny it.
"I was surprised. Things were warmer between them and us than expected. I half-worried Lady Hyeon-yo might stab someone there..."
"That girl's hot-blooded, but not so lacking in judgment!"
Danmok Cheon-gi scowled and grumbled. Honest assessments of one's children always tasted bitter.
"Anyway, it went smoothly. But the lord's cultivation... it wasn't what I remembered."
Danmok Cheon-gi tilted his teacup.
"Before Seong and Geum Jongha's match, there was Ryeon-ie's with him. She wrote out the recap in a letter."
Danmok Han-so clicked his tongue, looking aggrieved. He knew exactly what had happened from that alone.
"She gave the enemy enlightenment?"
"Can't say they learned from the sparring, exactly."
"Those brats knew Ryeon-ie would drag them through recaps after, didn't they? Only the weak profit..."
Danmok Han-so grumbled for a while before calming at Danmok Cheon-gi's question about the matches, then spoke briskly.
"The spars went fine. Both Geum Jongha and our young lady Seong have talent. If I had to pick a winner, it'd be Seong-ie—not bias, but their dao arts don't suit that Geum girl."
"The Geum Wu Dao?"
"No plans to raise her myself, but she'd fit our Black Wind Unit Heavenly Blade better. Geum Wu Dao shines in precise, delicate movements, but she's all raw power and instinct."
"You know it well."
"Can't claim the sword if you can't best the Geum estate next door. I burned the midnight oil mastering it."
"Hm. Our clan's sword lore runs deep, and with our forebears' legacies, mastery comes easier."
"I said no."
"Did you raise yourself alone? The clan nurtured you! We must at least listen, even if we don't follow every word."
"Haven't I repaid what I owe?"
"...!"
Danmok Cheon-gi gaped, then closed his mouth. Mention Ryeon's balsa sesu, and even he would be speechless.
Danmok Han-so grinned mischievously.
"I've gained from Ryeon-ie too—doesn't that balance the scales?"
"I owe the debt, but Ryeon-ie paid it. How can I argue?"
"Fair enough."
Danmok Han-so nodded and continued.
"Have you named a successor? I've only been back a month, so I'm out of the loop."
Danmok Cheon-gi scowled mid-sip at the off-topic remark. Danmok Han-so met his gaze squarely.
"What successor?"
"Young Lady Ryeon, of course."
Naming an heir was Danmok Cheon-gi's sole prerogative, but Han-so's stature allowed such boldness. Especially since Danmok Ryeon was the firstborn of his flawless eldest son and heir, Danmok Hyeon-seong. In another clan, she'd already be young lord; had Hyeon-seong lived, she'd be the honored eldest young miss.
"She's not even ten, and it's barely a year since she awoke—thanks to you."
"All the more reason to announce it now, Supreme Patriarch!"
"I'm telling you to temper that impatience of yours."
His temperament—forged young by wielding an unconventional weapon and rising to the peak—wouldn't be ordinary.
"You threw a fit refusing to teach the kids dao arts a month ago. Remember?"
Danmok Han-so ignored him, pressing on flatly yet firmly.
"You know it too, Patriarch—she'll take our clan to new horizons."
Danmok Cheon-gi's hand trembled faintly as he set down his cup.
"I showed the Black Wind Unit Heavenly Blade before those young ones. Had to see what she'd pursue. And Ryeon-ie grasped it perfectly after one look."
"How do you know she truly understood?"
"I told her to mimic it—no hesitation, no fumbling, flawless execution. How could she not?"
"Hahaha."
Danmok Cheon-gi chuckled lowly, amused that Han-so had been stunned the same way he had.
Danmok Han-so shot him a sideways glance, inwardly grumbling. He'd nearly fainted on his feet; only years of experience kept him upright.
"Ah, great expectations for young Lady Seong too. Swords don't suit her—dao does. How'd you know to push her my way?"
"Well..."
"Your eye saw something special, no doubt. Still surprised me. With Lady Hyeon-yo's temper, she'd never let Seong touch a blade otherwise."
Indeed, Danmok Cheon-gi agreed silently. Mention it was Ryeon-ie's idea, and Han-so would demand she be young lord on the spot.
"Told you Seong would excel. But Ryeon-ie? No plans for dao?"
Danmok Han-so grew serious.
"Whatever weapon Ryeon-ie wields, it won't matter. You know that better than I, Patriarch."
"Hm."
Danmok Cheon-gi closed his eyes, slowly extending his senses. The steward had withdrawn; silence blanketed the room like death.
"Why...?"
Danmok Cheon-gi stared at Han-so, then hid his mouth behind his cup, speaking softly, masking his true feelings.
"Ryeon-ie will have it rough."