An Apology Is Not Forgiveness
The office sat drowned in darkness. Behind the flickering glow of a lamplight, Baek Gun-ak's face showed no sign of easing.
How on earth did it come to this?
It felt as though something were lodged in his gut — a suffocating, choking weight. Remembering what a girl who had barely been at the academy a single year had done made him feel absurd; trying to think of what excuse he would offer the other academy heads at tomorrow's meeting left him utterly at a loss; and every time Seo Cheol-yong crossed his mind, his stomach turned over.
How did everything end up in this state?
No — he knew the reason. He had misjudged people. He had known Seo Cheol-yong was a fool and let him be anyway, and he had known Jin Cheong-un was dangerous, but assumed it wouldn't matter to a man of his caliber.
My son. However much money we take and however much we sell our teaching, we are teachers.
One must pursue people, not profit. Do you not see that today's gain will become tomorrow's calamity?
In that moment his father's words brushed across his mind. He had vowed to walk a different path than the old man, and yet those words kept surfacing at every turn, seizing him by the collar.
Baek Gun-ak shut his eyes tightly.
Is this the calamity Father spoke of? Was I truly wrong?
No. Impossible. Without him, Yichang would have long since become a den of black sects like this Taecheong Sect, or the lair of some other Jianghu power. Was it not strength that made benevolence and virtue possible in the first place? White Horse Academy was his dream, his pride, his everything. He had not been wrong. It was merely a momentary lapse...
"Vice Master, someone has come to the guest hall."
The voice from outside the door pried his eyes open.
"Show them in. What was the outcome?"
"They say it went well, thank the heavens."
Thank the heavens indeed. A sigh escaped him unbidden.
"Did you pass along my word to the Head Steward?"
"Ah — he said it would be ready by tomorrow."
"Very well. Then you should turn in as well. Get some rest."
"Are you... going out somewhere, my lord?"
The servant heaved a sigh and spoke with visible displeasure. "It was our carelessness, so however much it galls, someone must go pay respects first."
"Then shall I—"
"Go in."
Baek Gun-ak was a man who never said anything twice, and the servant had no choice but to withdraw.
"Hoo."
He remained sunk in his thoughts a while longer, then let out a short breath and rose from his seat. And then —
"No need to go out. The person you're looking for is already here."
A familiar voice. Baek Gun-ak's head snapped around.
"...!"
Shock settled over his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, thinking his eyes must be playing tricks, but nothing changed. A man was sitting at the long table beside the office desk.
"Jin Cheong-un...?"
He hadn't sensed a single trace of him. To pierce the senses of a man whose perception had reached its very peak — when on earth had he...
"Sit, Vice Master," Jin Cheong-un said, gesturing as though the office belonged to him.
Gulp. Baek Gun-ak swallowed dryly and slowly lowered himself into the seat across from him.
"How... did you get in here?"
"Opened the door and walked in."
"..."
Is this man insane?
He kept his mouth shut and studied Jin Cheong-un carefully. Was he always like this? Strange. Those drowsy-looking eyes and that languid, listless bearing were exactly the same, and yet an inexplicable pressure radiated from him now.
Jin Cheong-un slowly lifted the gaze he'd kept lowered, and tossed the question out as if it were nothing.
"So, Vice Master?"
The tension shot through his body in an instant — and the fact of it stung his pride sorely enough that Baek Gun-ak forced strength into his voice.
"It wasn't me."
"..."
"For the sake of my academy, I could do anything at all. But the one thing I would never do is commit a base, cowardly act that stains the name of White Horse Academy."
"Forming a clique to bully a young upstart — that's not base, then?"
"..."
"Six of one, half a dozen of the other."
Jin Cheong-un's sneer crumpled Baek Gun-ak's face. The man snorted, then abruptly leaned back into his chair and stared into empty air.
"If it had been the old days..."
"...?"
"We'd have drawn blood before a single word was spoken. These days I keep looking over my shoulder, so I've been holding myself back. Have I just gotten old and turned into a mild-mannered elder?"
Baek Gun-ak's eyes wavered.
"I was quietly thinking over what exactly had happened to me, and my kids came to mind."
"..."
"If I got blood on my hands, it'd feel filthy to touch them afterward. I'd be a teacher too ashamed to face my own disciples."
The rambling stopped there. Jin Cheong-un turned his head and stared at Baek Gun-ak in silence — and under that wordless demand, Baek Gun-ak's closed lips finally parted.
"One of the tournament staff bribed a servant and mixed the concentrated essence of baekmohongcho into the drinking water meant for the participants."
"Baekmohongcho."
"I'll say this up front — it isn't poison, it's an herb from Yunnan—"
"An herb, yes. That's enough explanation."
He knows? Even Baek Gun-ak had only just learned of it from Seo Cheol-yong himself.
Jin Cheong-un went on. "So. Whose doing was it?"
Baek Gun-ak let out a short sigh and spoke slowly. "It was Sect Leader Seo of the Taecheong Sect."
"Him, then."
Jin Cheong-un nodded. Calm, more than I expected.
The moment Baek Gun-ak quietly relaxed, the man suddenly asked, "Where is he now?"
"Word is he's drinking at a tavern... what, you—"
Screeech. In that instant Jin Cheong-un shoved back his chair and stood. Baek Gun-ak frowned.
"Where do you think you're going? We still have matters to discuss."
"Later."
Before anyone could stop him, Jin Cheong-un strode unhurriedly out the door.
"Whatever you have to say can wait until I'm back."
Baek Gun-ak rose a beat behind and hurried after him. "Wait — where are you going? Hold on a moment!"
He stepped through the doorway in pursuit — and froze solid.
Had his exhaustion made him see things? Had some spirit bewitched him? The corridor sat empty in the dark. Yet when he slowly turned to look back into the office, his eyes found the chair Jin Cheong-un had pushed aside as he rose.
Baek Gun-ak's gaze shook violently.
"Bring more wine!" Drunk into a stupor, Seo Cheol-yong slammed his bottle down on the table.
"Master, the sun's about to rise — why are you doing this? This tavern's long past closing, so if we could just—"
"You too, boy? You dare look down on me?"
"N-no, of course not, I would never—"
"Then shut your mouth and fetch more wine!"
The disciples of the Taecheong Sect heaved sighs of helpless exasperation. Seo Cheol-yong kept gulping down liquor, wallowing in self-pity.
"I gave such loyal service... My honor was trampled so cruelly — how was avenging myself a crime..."
Tears began welling in his eyes as he mumbled on. "I didn't know. How was I supposed to know it'd cause jeolmaek? It wasn't even poison — it was medicine. Medicine..."
And then —
"Huh?"
"Th-that..."
Something strange in his disciples' expressions made Seo Cheol-yong turn his head, his face scrunched up tight.
"What? What is it?"
As his drunken head lolled around, his eyes stretched wide enough to tear.
CRASH!
Seo Cheol-yong shot to his feet in horror — and swayed on his feet. There, at the entrance of the tavern, Jin Cheong-un was walking in at a steady, unhurried pace, straight toward him.
"S-stay back!"
"Master Jin! What brings you all the way out here?"
Reading the lethal air around the man, the Taecheong disciples rushed forward in a panic —
Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!
— and dropped like flies, felled by a few flicks of his hand as though he were swatting insects.
Seo Cheol-yong cried out in terror. "You — you dare strike my disciples!"
"So you do worry about your own students."
His tongue tangled. Flinching back at Jin Cheong-un's steady approach, Seo Cheol-yong snatched up the blade he'd left leaning against the table.
"..."
His hand closed around the hilt — but he never managed to draw it. Slowly, his fingers slipped from the grip and fell away.
Seo Cheol-yong dropped his head to the floor, his face contorted.
"I didn't know... I swear I didn't know that's what it would do."
"..."
"You humiliated me in front of all those people! I only meant to play a little trick on you — never in my wildest dreams did I imagine it'd cause that... that jeolmaek thing!"
Jin Cheong-un's footsteps stopped dead. Seo Cheol-yong's body trembled.
"...I'm sorry, Master Jin."
"..."
"I truly never thought anything like this would happen. It was just a fit of temper — how was I to know it would come to this..."
"..."
"It's my fault. Whatever punishment you see fit, I'll take it gladly..."
His ragged, cowed mumbling sounded almost like sobbing. Jin Cheong-un simply stared down at him. Then, with a single quiet sigh, he tossed the words out flatly.
"So what am I supposed to do about that?"
"...?"
"You didn't mean it, and an apology undoes it all? Is that how it works?"
Jin Cheong-un snorted. "Well, whatever — you'll take it gladly? Good. Glad to hear it."
"...!"
At that very instant —
THUD!
A merciless blow drove into Seo Cheol-yong's solar plexus.
BANG!
Follow-up strikes rained down before he could even tell where he'd been hit, blurring his vision. But he couldn't lose consciousness — because with every hit, a hammering pain forced his mind awake against his will.
CRACK!
"Gahk—!"
WHAM!
"Ughk!"
CRACK!
"Kuh! S-stop, spare me...!"
Slam! CRASH!
He had no breath left for screams, moans, or a single coherent word. Dodging was useless, blocking was useless — even when he used footwork, Jin Cheong-un's hands and feet arrived like ghosts, right where he stood, and when he raised an arm to shield himself, the forearm behind it screamed as though about to snap.
He couldn't even pass out. The instant his consciousness started to slip, the shock wracking his whole body dragged his mind back open against his will.
KA-BOOM!
Seo Cheol-yong burst clean through the tavern wall and was flung outside. Face-down in the dirt, he writhed and crawled.
Crunch. And from inside the ruined hall, Jin Cheong-un came trudging slowly out, stepping over the shattered debris.
"H-hrrk!"
The eyes of the broken, bloodied Seo Cheol-yong drowned in pure terror.
And right at that moment —
"Master Jin! STOP!!"
Du-du-dung! From the far end of the street, a company of martial artists came flying in on lightfoot technique.
"I hoped I was wrong — what in the world is the meaning of this!"
Only then did Jin Cheong-un, standing frozen mid-swing, turn his head. Panting hard, out of breath — it was none other than Baek Gun-ak and the warriors of White Horse Academy.
So fast... when did they...
Baek Gun-ak looked at Seo Cheol-yong's ruined state and could not hide his bewilderment.
"I understand your anger. But this is enough."
"Why should I stop?"
Baek Gun-ak gritted his teeth. "Then let me apologize like this."
And to Jin Cheong-un's astonishment, the man bowed at the waist.
"As Vice Master of White Horse Academy, and as the one responsible for presiding over this tournament... I offer my formal apology for the disgraceful events that occurred. I swear on my name that the culprit will receive fitting punishment. So please, stop."
A clean admission of fault. A clean apology.
"As a token of contrition for this affair, I've already had the Head Steward prepare elixirs and wound salves. And I will see to it that the assets of the Taecheong Sect and of Seo Cheol-yong are liquidated, with a portion sent to you. So will you not stop here?"
Even clean restitution for the damages.
Jin Cheong-un regarded him with a stony face. A complicated man, truly. A petty villain, yes — but a man with conviction, not merely greed. He'd been twisted by nature to begin with, and it seemed that thanks to a fine father, he'd at least turned out this decent.
"Fine. I'll accept that apology."
Only then did Baek Gun-ak let out a long, long breath. That sigh carried not just relief, but a bitter lament for the fate that had made him bow his head. Still — it was done. It had ended well, so...
Step.
Jin Cheong-un turned his back on Baek Gun-ak.
Still trailing currents of lethal qi as thick as ever.
"...What are you doing now?"
Jin Cheong-un cracked his knuckles with lazy indifference.
"Accepting an apology and forgiving you are two different things."
Now he wasn't even bothering with formalities. Baek Gun-ak's face went rigid.
"What more could you possibly want from us?"
"Do wrong, take your punishment. That's all."
"And I'm offering exactly that—"
"Then why is it you deciding what it is?"
Baek Gun-ak's eyes went blank. Then his expression twisted violently.
"You mean to see this through to the bitter end? After I bowed and apologized with such sincerity!"
Unable to bear it a moment longer, Baek Gun-ak clenched his fists, teeth bared.
And in that instant —
Whoosh! Jin Cheong-un's figure vanished.
Baek Gun-ak sucked in a sharp breath and thrust both arms forward —
KWAAAAANG!
A thunderclap like a bursting dam split the dawn-lit street. It was only when his consciousness flickered out and flickered back that Baek Gun-ak realized the sound had come from his own jaw.
"Guhaaak!"
"V-Vice Master!"
"This insane—!"
A dozen or so White Horse warriors scrambled to surround their fallen leader. Jin Cheong-un bent down, picked up a suitable piece of rubble rolling across the ground, and brandished it overhead like a cudgel.
"I see — you were planning to wrap this all up with a nice warm ending. Says who?"
His two eyes flashed.
"One of my kids nearly died, and the other got ambushed in a match he fought fair and square — and I'm supposed to accept an apology and call it even? You were writing a script, you bastards."