The Price of a Secret
The sun hung high in the middle of the sky.
After a busy, grueling morning, noon had finally arrived.
Under a clear, cloudless sky, I stepped into the Cheolgang for a moment, letting myself be enveloped by the sweltering heat.
This was the place Dang Ye-ran had used to restore the Sacred Sword, a sanctuary reserved strictly for the chief blacksmith, Cheolgangju.
Upon arriving, I picked up a piece of paper lying on the ground.
It was the talisman I had written and attached to Dang Ye-ran.
"...Hmm."
I picked up the fallen talisman and examined it. It was a blood talisman, drawn in blood.
The spiritual energy that had been infused within it was already completely gone.
I tilted my head slightly as I looked at it.
Is it because I haven't done this in a while?
Normally, the spiritual energy should have lasted at least three more days.
Yet, less than two days had passed, and it was already completely depleted.
As I stood there turning the talisman over with a strange sense of sentimentality, a voice called out to me.
[What is that?] Yoo Chun-gil asked, sounding intrigued.
"A spiritual talisman."
[A spiritual talisman?]
"Yes. To be precise, it's a blood talisman, but its root is a spiritual one."
[...What is its purpose?]
"If I had to describe its purpose... conventionally, people call it a 'connection.'"
That was the name my grandmother from my past life had given it, but I didn't particularly care for it.
Its practical uses were always far too grim to attach such a sentimental name to it—excluding this recent event, of course.
"I usually just called it the Sogwiseon."
[The Lesser Ghost Line?]
"Yes. If you stick this on someone's back, they can hear the voices of nearby ghosts for a very brief moment."
[What?]
Yoo Chun-gil's eyes widened at my words.
"Just to be clear, it's not something anyone can use. The conditions are rather strict."
There were a few prerequisites.
First and foremost, the strength of the spiritual energy possessed by the creator of the talisman was crucial.
Second was the intensity of the ghost's desperation.
Third was the relationship between the recipient of the talisman and the ghost.
Usually, it doesn't work unless they share a bloodline.
Connecting souls through blood, by blood.
It would have been better if the blood used had been Dang Ye-ran's.
But under the circumstances, I couldn't exactly ask her for her blood, so I had to use a bit of trickery.
Deceiving the soul using my own blood.
The process was unpleasant, but it wasn't impossible.
Annoyingly enough, I was quite highly skilled in this particular field.
[...A bloodline, you say...]
Hearing my explanation, the spark of interest in Yoo Chun-gil's eyes faded.
It seemed the requirement of a bloodline was the issue.
[Did you use that to connect that girl with that old bastard Dok-jon?]
"It wasn't really a connection. I was just meddling a bit."
It would have lasted only a fleeting moment anyway.
At most, a few words. It would have depended on the strength of Dok-jon's desperation, but it couldn't really be called a proper conversation.
"Isn't that right?"
Crump!
I crumpled the talisman and turned around. Dok-jon was standing there.
When I asked if I was right, Dok-jon just stared at me silently.
Then, he spoke.
[Thank you.]
It was a completely unexpected expression of gratitude. I froze for a moment upon hearing it.
Feeling awkward, I scratched my cheek.
"Where is this coming from all of a sudden?"
[Since the generosity you showed has comforted my bitter heart, shouldn't I at least offer the words I can give?]
"...Ahem."
[Look at him. Is he blushing right now? What a hideous expression.]
"..."
Yoo Chun-gil cackled.
His mocking laughter instantly cooled the heat rising in my chest.
...Actually, maybe this was for the best?
Thanks to him, my emotions settled down, which felt rather helpful.
Just then.
Creeeak.
The door opened, and someone walked in.
"Hmm."
It was a large, muscular old man—Cheolgangju.
He narrowed his eyes as he looked at me.
"Hello."
"What brings you here?"
"Ah, I had something to ask regarding the Man-wol. I also left something behind, so I stopped by to retrieve it."
I slipped the crumpled talisman back into my robe. I would have to burn it later.
"Ah, the Man-wol."
"I was wondering when I might be able to receive it."
"Since it's made of cold iron, sharpening the blade will take some time. It should be ready in about three to five days."
"...Five days at the longest, then."
So I had to stay here for another five days. That wasn't very pleasant news.
I wanted to get this over with quickly and get the hell out of here.
Being forced to stay this long was definitely not ideal.
As I stroked my chin, pondering this, Cheolgangju spoke up.
"Is that it?"
Cheolgangju asked. That? Wondering what he meant, I followed his gaze.
He was staring at the sword at my waist.
"I asked if that is the one Ye-ran made."
"Ah. Yes, that's right."
So that's what he meant. I nodded in confirmation.
"...May I see it?"
Shring.
At his request, I immediately drew the sword.
It was the same as before. The moment my hand gripped the hilt, a powerful sensation wrapped around my palm.
The dark iron blade revealed itself to the world.
Upon seeing it, Cheolgangju's eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"Heh."
I turned the hilt toward him and handed it over. Cheolgangju took the sword and examined it from every angle.
Eventually, he spoke.
"...Magnificent."
A genuine exclamation of admiration escaped his lips.
Hearing those words, a wave of relief washed over me.
I knew nothing about swords, and Yoo Chun-gil was ultimately just a martial artist, so I had harbored doubts about whether the sword was truly exceptional.
But hearing it from an old man hailed as one of the finest blacksmiths in the Central Plains finally put my mind at ease.
"Did Ye-ran truly accomplish this?"
"It seems so. Is the sword decent?"
"Yes..."
Cheolgangju nodded as he spoke.
"It is easily special-grade... She has forged a masterpiece."
A look of pride flickered in his rough, soot-stained eyes.
When he had threatened to kick her out of the Cheolgang if she failed, his eyes had been terrifying.
But now, he looked like a grandfather thinking of his beloved granddaughter.
Indeed, his gaze bore a striking resemblance to the way Dok-jon used to look at Dang Ye-ran.
Leaving the Cheolgang, I headed straight to my next destination: the residence of the Dang Clan Leader.
"Excuse me."
When I stepped inside, the Poison King was already seated, waiting for me.
Since I had requested an audience this morning, meeting him was not difficult.
"Greetings."
At my greeting, the Poison King looked up at me.
"Welcome. I heard there was quite a commotion this morning."
I clicked my tongue inwardly at his blunt opening remark.
He was referring to my duel with Dang Cheon-il.
News sure travels fast around here.
There had barely been any onlookers, yet he had already caught wind of it.
"...Yes. There was a minor incident."
"Is that so?"
The Poison King nodded at my response.
"..."
"..."
And with that, the topic was dropped.
As if to prove his past words, the Poison King did not blame me, nor did he press for details.
—No matter what happens, as long as there is no killing, I will not intervene.
He was keeping his promise to stay out of it, whether I beat Dongnyong to a pulp or not.
"Also, I heard the sword has been completed."
"Ah. Yes, that's correct."
Just as I had shown Cheolgangju, I presented the Sacred Sword to the Poison King.
The Poison King's eyes widened slightly upon seeing the weapon.
"It is the sword forged by Lady Dang."
To be precise, it was a repair, but considering the blade had been entirely remade, calling it a mere repair felt somewhat inaccurate.
"..."
The Poison King quietly stared at the dark iron sword.
I couldn't read his expression. He appeared stoic, yet there was a clear trace of emotion hidden beneath the surface.
"Cheolgangju said it is at least a special-grade sword."
"...I see."
After a long pause, the Poison King finally averted his gaze.
Seriously.
Was that it?
Why was everyone in this family so incapable of being honest?
Was the surname Dang cursed with stubbornness?
Perhaps it was.
Sheathe.
I slid the drawn sword back into its scabbard and continued speaking to the Poison King.
"Since the sword is complete... as I mentioned before, I will exclude one sword from our agreed-upon conditions."
This was something I hadn't told Dang Ye-ran.
Since I was going to use this dark iron sword, I had to forfeit a portion of the rewards I was due to receive from the Poison King.
Specifically, the claim to one special-grade sword.
Well, it's not like I lost anything in the end, so it's fine.
I gave up one sword, but I ended up with another.
While that part was great, I couldn't help but wonder.
Is this really okay?
Honestly, I had my doubts.
I was using it because I was told to, but was it really acceptable for me to wield this?
I'm supposed to be a member of the Orthodox faction, in my own way.
The Demonic Cult had waged a massive war against the Orthodox factions in the past.
And this was the Sacred Sword wielded by none other than the Cheonma, the leader of that very cult.
Even now, I questioned whether it was right for me to carry it.
...And the old man who told me to use it is an even bigger problem.
Yoo Chun-gil, the Sword Saint, hailed as a hero and a living legend of the Orthodox faction.
That very old man had told me to use the Cheonma's sword.
It's utterly ridiculous.
If the world found out that the successor of the Sword Saint was wielding the Cheonma's sword, people would lose their minds.
To make matters worse...
Why on earth did she engrave this on the blade?
Engraved clearly on the dark iron blade were the characters for "Sword Saint."
It was undoubtedly Dang Ye-ran's doing.
Haha...
An indescribable mix of emotions welled up inside me.
Is this really okay...?
Was it truly fine? Could I really use this sword?
Despite the lingering doubts, the conclusion remained the same.
Of course I'm going to use it. What else would I do?
It wasn't just any weapon; it was a special-grade sword. Where else would I find something like this? Besides, so what if the Cheonma used it in the past?
It's not like anyone will recognize it anyway.
Since it had been practically remade from scratch, no one would know.
I comforted myself with that thought.
I had to. Now was not the time to let my mind wander; I needed to keep my focus and steer the conversation.
"Anyway."
I spoke up to shift the mood. The Poison King's eyebrow twitched slightly.
He likely knew what I was about to bring up.
"I believe it's time we discuss the matters we couldn't finish last time. Would that be alright?"
"I am listening."
There was a lot to discuss with the Poison King.
From matters regarding the Patheongung, to the items I was supposed to obtain from the Secret Vault, and the rewards he had promised to bestow upon me.
I intended to bring up every single one of them and claim them all.
I wouldn't leave a single thing behind.
I was going to squeeze out every last drop of what I was owed before leaving the Dang Clan estate.
But before that...
I shifted my thoughts and glanced to the side.
I stole a quick look.
[Hmm?]
When I directed my gaze toward Yoo Chun-gil standing beside me, the old man wore a puzzled expression.
His eyes asked why I was staring at him.
In response, I flashed him a sly grin.
[...What is with that smile?]
Yoo Chun-gil reacted warily to my grin.
It was the first time I had ever seen the old man look anxious.
Had he realized the intent behind my smile? The look on his face was truly priceless.
[Kid. I asked why you are smiling!]
The old man asked urgently, but I ignored him.
"It's nothing else, Clan Leader Dang."
"Speak."
"I'm just asking out of curiosity..."
I looked straight into the Poison King's eyes and spoke.
"Is the thing you are searching for the Mancheonhwawu?"
[What?!]
At the mention of the legendary technique, the Poison King's eyes shifted instantly.
Beside him, Yoo Chun-gil stared at me as if I had completely lost my mind.
The look in his eyes was absolutely thrilling.
How do you like that, old man?
I had been so sick of him messing with me every single day.
"If so, I believe I might be able to offer you some assistance."
This time, it was my turn to screw over the old man.