If You're Unsure, Saying It Out Loud Is One Way
Hoeyeon opened her eyes when Arang poked her cheek.
"...What are you doing?"
"Hoeyeon, it's soft and squishy."
Arang poked Hoeyeon's cheek with her finger the way one might test a rice cake.
"Ow."
"Sorry."
When Hoeyeon sat up, Gayul and Yujeong were already awake; she alone was still lying down.
"...Mmm."
It was peaceful.
In Hoeyeon's life, days this peaceful and unhurried had to be traced back a very long way. She had wandered the world as an orphan, been taken in by Yu Eunha to learn the sword, and after building the dojo and settling down things had grown relatively quiet. Once she inherited the dojo, though, people who claimed to have a bit of skill kept challenging her just to make a name for themselves—but those were more like occasional festivals than real trouble.
...Come to think of it, among her disciples there had been a few who would gather the whole neighborhood like it was a festival and sell food.
"Those brats wouldn't starve no matter where you dropped them..."
"Starve? Is Hoeyeon hungry? Should I dig?"
"Arang's good at honorifics too, huh."
"Ehehe, that's right! Add 'yo' and it's polite, yo!"
"There, there."
While stroking Arang's head, Hoeyeon considered what it meant to be the last one in the household to wake, waiting for someone else to prepare the meal, and heading over while yawning.
"Ungyaaang..."
Arang began to stretch out like a length of soft rice cake.
"Senior Sister! Time to eaaaaaat!!"
The thunder of Yujeong's running footsteps came pounding toward them.
"...Peaceful."
Having reached that conclusion, Hoeyeon yawned at her leisure.
That day truly was tranquil. After breakfast she helped with Yujeong's farming. Arang dashed about excitedly picking beans. In the afternoon Hoeyeon reviewed Yujeong's sword work while Arang watched with sparkling eyes from Gayul's lap. After dinner Arang once again fell asleep using Hoeyeon's thigh as a pillow. Yujeong touched a fox ear for the first time and her eyes lit up like stars.
In the bedroom, just as the night before, Yujeong darted in and claimed the middle spot. Seeing Gayul's expression, Hoeyeon thought, Ah, inside her head.
That's the face of someone planning to get even.
The intensity was far milder, yet it was the same sort of smile Gayul had worn when she laughed about wanting to land one on the man who had chased the three of them with paper scraps.
Was today actually the calm before the storm?
It left her uneasy.
"Your Majesty, please come in. I called you because I wish for your aid in synthesizing a Masu this time."
The speaker was Hoeyeon's grandfather, a man long steeped in official rank. The tone would have earned an immediate beheading if used on a proper emperor, but the other party was no proper emperor.
"What is this? Is this the reason you summoned Us?"
The man with blue eyes and blue hair wore garments that imitated an emperor's, yet the patterns, colors, and cut were all crude. Bandages wrapped from his right hand to his right chest, so the right sleeve dangled empty behind his back.
"Indeed. I wish to create a Masu with the habit of pursuing the cores of other Masu. Fortuitously, the corpse of one who was quite greedy in life has arrived."
Before them stood one bound, growling Masu and one corpse—an elderly woman's, marked by dull-bladed stabs to the mouth and belly.
"I have prepared the ritual formula. Once completed and released, it will seek out Masu cores on its own."
Taking the paper Hoeyeon's grandfather handed him, the false emperor asked,
"Of course We can make it, but why do you need such a Masu?"
"Do you remember Yu Gwiin?"
"The one you revived, you mean?"
"Yes. Yu Gwiin must have died again at the hands of this humble one's granddaughter, and she has likely kept the core the Gwiin left behind."
"As a keepsake? How ridiculous. So you mean to track that wench with it."
"Exactly so."
Hoeyeon's grandfather nodded.
"I think it would be worth meeting her once. Or perhaps not."
"Hoeyeon, would you not have a contest with me?"
Gayul said.
"Huh? You and me? With what?"
A contest needed a category where they could compete on roughly equal footing.
"In martial arts—yet if you bind your left arm to your body, would it not make a fair match?"
"Left arm."
She would be unable to put power into her sword, and balance would grow difficult. Even Hoeyeon thought a match could stand on those terms.
But the reason for a sudden contest—
"Moreover, let us not merely spar, but wager something."
Gayul raised one finger as she proposed.
"Within the bounds of not crossing the line, how about the loser granting whatever the winner demands—one thing?"
The corner of Hoeyeon's mouth curled up of its own accord.
"Sounds fun."
"W-wait a minute. Senior Sister and I..."
"Forgive me, Yujeong. But today I spoke first."
"Ugh..."
The word "first" carried pressure about how Yujeong had claimed the middle spot first for two nights running. Yujeong realized she had no choice but to yield, and curiosity stirred as well.
"Haa... All right."
How skilled was Gayul with a weapon? Seeing her junior sister's eyes sparkle with curiosity, Hoeyeon recalled what she herself had said a few days earlier.
You're quite the martial artist yourself, Yujeong.
"Then shall we prepare."
In the courtyard Hoeyeon hopped lightly up, left, and right, growing used to the balance of having her left arm bound to her body.
"I am ready."
The weapon Gayul chose was a staff—a long staff taller than Gayul herself. After swinging the wooden staff she had made a few times, Gayul said,
"The method or procedure?"
"The same as what you and Yujeong use."
"Good. Then."
Hoeyeon placed one hand on the sword's hilt and bowed at the waist. Gayul stepped one foot back, rested her empty hand over her heart, and bowed at the waist. Like etiquette taught and practiced thousands upon tens of thousands of times since childhood, the motion from start to finish was as graceful as a dance.
Court etiquette? I should ask later.
They raised their heads. Hoeyeon drew her sword; Gayul gripped the staff with both hands. What each would demand if she won, both had already decided.
"Then I shall go."
Gayul's staff came down toward Hoeyeon, and the match began. From the moment she received the first exchange, Hoeyeon realized: Gayul's staff technique was of considerable level.
"Hup!"
The staff that had once been slid aside by the flat of the blade returned to aim for Hoeyeon's head. Dodging it, Hoeyeon thought,
It's hard to close in.
That was only natural against a long-reach weapon, yet it was especially difficult because of Gayul's skill. If she tried to approach, a thrust came; if she deflected that, Gayul rotated the staff to strike from the opposite side. With both arms free she might have tried a contest of strength, but with only one hand able to grip the sword that was impossible. And unable to get inside, even blocking and deflecting the attacks Gayul poured out was overwhelming.
"...Evenly matched..."
As Yujeong muttered while busily tracking their movements with her eyes, Arang spoke from beside her.
"Hoeyeon can't do anything!"
"Right. She's focusing only on dodging and blocking... But conversely, Miss Gayul hasn't landed a proper hit even once either."
"Uwoong!"
The fight was even. Both Hoeyeon and Gayul knew it. At this rate one of them would make a mistake or waver, and that one would lose.
And Hoeyeon was surprised—more by the expression Gayul wore than by the high-level staff work itself. Gayul was desperate. She sincerely wished for victory. Not merely out of competitiveness. She wanted to win the prize. She wanted Hoeyeon to grant her something, and she wished for it so earnestly that her face had become that desperate.
It made her curious. A ticklish fire seemed to bloom inside her heart. Not simply asking as a favor, but with words that could not be refused—what on earth did Gayul desire? What command would Gayul issue? What would it feel like to wait for that command, bound by the promise of the match, having to obey whatever it was? And when the command finally fell, what would it feel like to follow it, bound by the promise and never able to refuse?
Surely it would be sweet and deliciously spicy at the same time.
At that moment the sun hid behind the clouds. Deflecting every fiercely, continuously more fiercely pouring staff strike, Hoeyeon thought,
If I pretend to make a mistake because of that when the sun comes out again, I can fool everyone.
Except Arang in her original form—but for now. The clouds nearly finished passing the sun; the edge of the clouds glowed white. Hoeyeon lowered her head. Then she dropped her stance completely low. Because she took a movement utterly different from before, Gayul's response lagged for an instant. The sun emerging from behind the clouds and their movements stopping happened simultaneously. Hoeyeon's sword, pressed against Gayul's side, glittered as it caught the sunlight. Gayul's staff was stopped in midair.
But that would be wrong.
Letting Gayul win by going easy on her when she was trying so desperately would be insulting Gayul, whether she got caught or not. They slowly withdrew their weapons. Then they exchanged the same courtesies as at the start, and Gayul said,
"I have lost. You are excellent as expected."
"You were amazing too."
Returning the sword with one hand and untying the string that bound her left arm, Hoeyeon said,
"Compared to you or Yujeong it is nothing. Merely one of the skills I learned long ago."
Gayul asked with a smile,
"So—what does the victor desire?"
Though of course disappointed at losing, her expression was curious about what Hoeyeon would want. The thoughts that had passed through Hoeyeon's mind during the fight resurfaced, but now was not the time. It was a thought alluring enough that she might return to it someday. Yet when she accepted the match, Hoeyeon already clearly had something she wanted Gayul to do.
"Confess to me."
"A confession? Depending on the type of question, even for you there are secrets I cannot speak of—please understand that."
"Not a secret confession..."
Saying it with her own mouth was more embarrassing than she had expected.
"A confession of the heart."
"...A confession of the heart."
"Yeah."
Hoeyeon looked straight up into Gayul's eyes and said,
"Tell me the feelings you have for me."
"You bid me to speak of my heart."
Understanding, Gayul's cheeks slowly flushed red.
"Must it be that?"
"Yes."
"Must it absolutely be in words?"
"Yeah. Say it in words."
"...To confirm."
Gayul drew a breath.
"You wish to hear me, with words I myself have arranged, from my own mouth, tell you what feelings I hold toward you?"
"Yeah."
"..........................."
Gayul turned her gaze to the side. The ear that faced this way was red again this time, and Hoeyeon thought once more that it looked like a flower petal.
"...............I... understand."
It was a small voice.
"However, grant me a little time."
"By tonight, before we sleep."
"That is far too short. Can you not give me a week, or at least three days?"
"No. By tonight."
Gayul's gaze, unable to turn any further aside, sank downward. It was red—a red so enticing she wanted to grasp it with her hand.
"............I understand."
A small voice that barely managed to move her lips.
"Then I'll be looking forward to it."
Saying that, Hoeyeon went into the house, pressed her back against a wall in a place absolutely invisible to Gayul in the courtyard, and slid down to sit. She placed a hand on her chest and exhaled. She had pretended otherwise in front of Gayul, but she was just as embarrassed. Asking her to tell me the feelings she holds for me?
"...I basically confessed first, didn't I."
Hoeyeon muttered and covered her face with both hands. Her breath, and her face, were hot.