[석혼곡 (Seok-Hon-Gok), Duskwidow Valley Sect]
***
A damp silence clung to the stone walls of the Black Hall.
The only light came from slow-burning green torches on the pristine looking chandelier
The scent of crushed lotus roots mixed with the bitterness of burnt herbs.
So thick it coated the throat with every breath.
At the very center of the hall.
At the highest dais, lay the master of the Duskwidow Valley Sect.
The Poison Queen Supreme Demon.
She reclined on a long, carved platform bed draped in fine black silks.
The shape of her body curved like a languid serpent.
One arm rested beneath her cheek, her long sleeves folding like waves around her.
Her other arm fell lazily across her waist, the fabric barely revealing the outline of her chest rising and falling with each slow breath.
Her pose was that of a lover in repose.
One leg bent slightly inward at the knee.
The other extended, bare toes pointing.
Her ankles were adorned with fine silver anklets.
The black robe she wore folded around her body like the wings of a moth.
Embroidered along the right sleeve, a lotus flower bloomed in shimmering green thread.
Thorny vines coiling subtly around her arm, mimicking veins pulsing with venom.
The robe parted slightly at her collarbone, showing the soft curve of pale skin like kissed ivory.
Her robes were black.
Embroidered with a single green lotus winding down her right sleeve.
Her face, partially veiled in translucent netting, left only her lips visible.
They were the color of polished jade, green and unnatural.
Yet too alluring to look away from.
A servant knelt before her.
The man dared not lift his head.
His forehead touched the cold floor.
Sweat gathered behind his ears, running down his jaw, soaking the collar of his brown robes.
Every muscle in his body trembled.
The air around her was heavy.
Not with heat, but with pressure.
It felt like something unseen was coiling around him.
Watching, pressing into his chest like invisible claws.
"M-Master..."
He began, voice already dry.
"One of your disciples...
...has been killed...
...at the Black Sun Pavilion."
There was a pause.
A silence so still it roared in his ears.
Then she spoke.
"Is that... something I should care about?"
Her voice slithered through the air, smooth, slow, the edges sharp as broken porcelain.
Each syllable was deliberate, seductively drawn out.
But underneath it, an unmistakable threat buzzed like a fly crawling across one's neck.
The man flinched.
"N-No!
Forgive me!
It was foolish!
It was not worthy of your notice, master!"
He stammered, nearly choking on the words.
His palms flattened against the ground.
She said nothing.
The silence returned, heavier this time.
The servant could feel it, like a weight pressing onto his spine.
"But... if I may..."
He whispered.
Another pause.
Sweat rolled down his face like rain.
He waited.
No permission came.
Still, his mouth moved.
"I thought it right... that you should be made aware.
You've shown great care for those you've personally selected.
The disciple who was killed...
...he was one of the three you sent to the Black Sun Pavilion to work as the Demonic faction's investigators."
A shift in the air.
It was slight, but he felt it.
Like a ripple through water.
The torch behind him flickered.
"How did he die?"
Her voice slithered through the Black Hall.
"And who?"
The servant bowed lower, sweat dotting his brows.
"It… it was Jaemu, my lady.
The reports say it happened due to a case in Wuhwa Village concerning the Cannibalism pill.
That's… all we've received."
Silence.
A silence so sharp it could skin the soul.
Then she spoke softly.
"Jaemu…"
She repeated.
"Uhh...always knew how to use his hands.
Never once did he tremble while tending to my late-night aches."
Her fingers traced the rim of her lips, slow… deliberate.
"He could read my breath better than most men read words.
A shame..."
She exhaled lightly.
And the smile that followed was hidden behind her veil...but somehow, the servant felt it on his skin.
"Such a shame..."
"And what about Doyoung?"
She asked, softly.
He responded immediately.
"Doyoung still lives...Master."
"Hmm."
That was all she said.
He swallowed, his throat sandpaper.
"Should I...
...should I send word for Doyoung to return?
A sermon to the Black Hall?"
He regretted the words the second they left his lips.
The Poison Queen smiled.
A single curve of her jade-painted lips.
"Get up."
She said.
He froze.
"Stand."
His legs barely obeyed, but he forced himself upright.
He kept his eyes down.
Breathing became harder, as if the very oxygen in the room was reluctant to be taken.
"Look at me."
He looked up at her briefly, his eyes twitched.
He couldn't.
"Master, I... I am not worthy.
I'm merely a servant, not even a disciple.
I am not allowed to gaze upon you.
If my eyes fall upon your form, they deserve to be gouged out... and fed to the ravens."
"But you did look."
His heart slammed into his ribs.
Her voice was lower now.
More delicate.
Almost playful.
Like a spider stepping along its web.
Then she lifted her hand.
Two fingers pointed forward.
They shimmered with metallic rings molded like claws, silver with green inlays.
The tips rested like predator talons.
She slowly moved her hand in a downward arc, pointing directly at him.
"Does that mean... I should take your eyes?"
The servant nearly dropped to his knees again.
His voice was strained.
"If that is your wish... Master... who am I to refuse?"
There was a beat.
Then she chuckled.
Just once.
A low, sweet, terrifying sound.
"Arise. I admire you."
He blinked.
"Tell the Wraithkeepers to prepare the Widow's Hollow."
He faltered.
"The Widow's Hollow...?"
His heart jumped.
That hall hadn't been opened in years.
It was only used when the Poison Queen held counsel... or when executions were ordered.
And she... never liked company.
Who could she be waiting for?
Still reclined, she sighed, drawing her hand along the edge of the cushion.
"If one of my disciples died... at the Black Sun Pavilion..."
She said slowly.
"...then I should expect... a visit from the Chief Overseer."
The servant shivered.
She hadn't moved an inch.
Still lying there, her ankles crossed, black robes pooled around her, green lotus threads catching faint glimmers of light.
The net veil over her face did nothing to dull the venom behind her words.
It amplified it.
Her presence was a garden of deadly flowers.