Chapter 10 "They say a maid heard a horrifying scream at dawn that day."
At the whispering voices behind her, Chang-a's movements froze with a start.
"They say there were clear bloodstains left on the floor?"
"Hey, it's probably a lie. Or it was the wound the Young Lady got."
"That's why I'm saying it! It wasn't that level of blood. They said pitch-black blood was dragged across the floor in streaks. From the Young Lady's room, heading outside…"
At that moment, Chang-a thought,
Just as Young Lady Soyo said, what was coming has come.
To let such bizarre rumors spread… what in the world was the Young Lady plotting—ah, no. Had she set a stratagem?
Three days ago today, Namgung Soyo had quietly called her and given the following instruction.
[Soon, an interesting rumor will spread among the hired staff. Pretend you know nothing, Chang-a.]
At first, she had not understood what it meant, but from yesterday morning, it was impossible not to understand. A truly interesting rumor had begun circulating around the Namgung Clan.
The Young Lady had ordered her to pretend not to know, but in truth, it was not pretending—it was fact.
Chang-a truly still did not understand why, while she slept, such a strange story had begun spreading.
"They say even the escort on night duty heard it. Something horrible is definitely happening in that room every night."
"S-so the Young Lady's true identity is some monster that eats peo—"
"Shh!"
The maids' eyes subtly turned toward Chang-a. By then, Chang-a's lips were already pushed out into a full pout.
The Young Lady told me not to get angry no matter what people say, but…
Even if it was intended, seeing Young Lady Soyo's name tossed around in such reckless backbiting made her insides twist hard.
"Wouldn't Chang-a know the truth?"
"Hey, Chang-a. Have you ever noticed anything mysterious about your Young Lady?"
"Nothing!"
Hmph. Snorting, Chang-a made a show of gathering the new summer bedding and stood up.
The other maids watched and whispered that it wasn't like they were making things up, so why was she reacting so sharply—surely Namgung Soyo had a secret she couldn't speak of.
Idiots. Eating people, my foot… They don't even know what an incredible martial artist the Young Lady is.
Still snorting, she arrived at Namgung Soyo's bedchamber, where her mistress was in the middle of changing into the clothes Chang-a had neatly folded.
"Oh, Young Lady! I told you I'd help you dress!"
"I can put on clothes at this level by myself. It's not like I'm keeping my eyes closed inside my own bedchamber."
"But that's my job, Young Lady. A young lady of a prestigious clan isn't supposed to dress herself!"
"That's a rule I've never heard of—truly bizarre. So you're supposed to stiffen perfectly good hands like dead wood. The hands of prestigious-clan young ladies would grow moss."
Chang-a hurried over and helped Namgung Soyo change.
"Young Lady, a really strange rumor has started spreading among the maids."
"Yes."
"Th-then… when will I be able to learn the truth behind the rumor?"
She had been afraid she would hear an answer like, A mere maid doesn't need to know, but unlike that fear, Namgung Soyo's smile was only gentle.
"The truth is always more enjoyable when you learn it later. So wait just a little, Chang-a. Soon, you'll also learn what is true."
At that, Chang-a's mood lifted at once. As expected, her Young Lady was kind.
Swordsmanship so incredible it made your eyes spin, skin white as a fairy, a beautiful face, always calm and considerate… and someone like that was helping her. She was truly fortunate.
Just what, exactly, was her Young Lady's identity?
Could she be some incredible hermit master in hiding, like that assassin had said?
Lost in such thoughts, Chang-a suddenly lifted her head at the strange sensation against her fingertips.
Huh?
Thinking it might be her imagination, she brushed her hand again. Instead of the silk-soft skin she had been touching until now, she felt a slippery surface, like a badly burned area. It was precisely around the upper part of the left shoulder blade.
"Is there something strange about that spot?"
"Ah, yes! …Um, Young Lady. Have you ever injured this area a long time ago?"
She looked perfectly fine, yet to the touch it felt like tracing a burn. The mismatch was baffling.
Chang-a waited obediently for an answer, but Namgung Soyo only lifted the corners of her mouth slightly, saying nothing.
Does she not want to talk about it? Ha… I really am an oblivious idiot. I shouldn't make slips like this again.
She steeled herself, then left the room—
And immediately, she saw a figure approaching with an oddly familiar gait. After confirming the person's face, Chang-a hurried back into Namgung Soyo's bedchamber.
"Young Lady Soyo! A guest has come to see you!"
At the excited voice that bounced as she spoke, Seol-yeong—who had been nodding off by the window—snapped his eyes open.
"A guest? Oh, looks like the rumor worked pretty well."
Seol-yeong stared at the door with a look that said, What bastard came this time? And then, the moment Namgung Soyo's first guest stepped over the threshold—
"…Ha."
He let out a sigh with a deeply betrayed face.
"Namgung Soyo."
"Lord Hui-myeong."
The one who stepped in without hesitation as if it were his own room was the Namgung Clan's third son, Namgung Hui-myeong.
And his momentum was not normal. His icy, sharp gaze made it look like he had come to reprimand or threaten the room's owner.
Seeing the scabbard hanging at Namgung Hui-myeong's waist, Seol-yeong stepped in front of Yeo Il and gripped his sword. At the swift movement, the first guest snorted.
"You're going to draw a sword at me? Want to die? I'm not here to harm her, so move. I have business."
"State your business while keeping your distance."
"What? Distance? How did such an insolent servant even enter our household… Hoo."
Cutting off his anger midway, Namgung Hui-myeong breathed roughly and forced his emotions down.
"…Hey, Namgung Soyo. I have business with you. Before, you listened to the sound of my sword and went on and on with a lecture about my mind and whatever. Today too, follow me and check whether you sense the same thing. Right now."
For someone in the position of asking, he issued the demand in an extremely high-handed manner, then turned his back and walked out with heavy steps.
Seol-yeong reacted as if it were absurd.
"The sound of a sword? The mind? Don't tell me you even taught that kid the sword? What's cute about a brat like that?"
"I only added a word because his effort was admirable. But now I'm curious whether it helped. Let's follow him, Seol-yeong."
"Good grief… The ones who should come don't show their faces, and only some sword nut got caught in the net."
Yeo Il let Seol-yeong's grumbling pass through one ear. Supported by him, she followed Namgung Hui-myeong at a distance.
Not long after, beneath the peach tree she had seen before, the boy glanced back and checked Yeo Il.
"Seat her there."
His finger pointed precisely to the back of the pond, toward a pavilion with a simple green roof.
The moment she settled in the pavilion, Namgung Hui-myeong's sword dance began. Yeo Il quietly opened one eye to watch his swordsmanship, sometimes checked Seol-yeong's expression beside her, and occasionally laughed to herself.
He looks pretty stimulated.
Seol-yeong had a solid height and a fierce impression, but his age was not much different from Namgung Hui-myeong's.
Yeo Il had taught him the sword only to the level where he would not go out and get beaten, and quick-learning Seol-yeong had achieved impressive progress in a short time.
Since learning the sword, for the past year he had only moved through mountain villages and nearby areas. He likely believed there was no peer his age who could match him.
But the Namgung Clan was one of the prestigious martial families commonly called the Five Great Clans, and it was evaluated as standing at the pinnacle in swordsmanship. They were inevitably on a different level from the random nobodies one met on the road.
That Seol-yeong could broaden his view here was one of the meaningful achievements that made entering the Namgung Clan worthwhile.
Of course, there was a more important achievement elsewhere…
[You have another agenda, don't you? How dangerous is that agenda?]
If Seol-yeong meddled, it could become annoying, so Yeo Il only hoped that Seol-yeong, spurred on by Namgung Hui-myeong, would push himself to his limits and sleep like a corpse every night.
By now, Yeo Il was sipping the tea set before her and murmuring,
"How interesting."
It was only a brief impression, but Namgung Hui-myeong—keen-eared—snapped his eyes wide and turned toward her.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I only found it interesting that you listened to what I said. Hearing the sound of the sword you swing, I can tell you didn't simply laugh it off."
"…Does that mean my hesitation has decreased?"
"Are you curious?"
At her subtle smile, Namgung Hui-myeong's eyebrow twitched.
"If you're going to babble about secrets and whatnot, just shut up. I only came to get it confirmed."
"As you wish."
When she obediently shut her mouth as he wanted, his other eyebrow rose sharply. Yeo Il swallowed a laugh and traced the teacup.
"Is Lord Hui-myeong's swordsmanship the famed Namgung Clan swordsmanship? Of all the sword sounds I've heard, it feels especially bold and domineering."
"…Yes."
"The sword sounds your brothers make are mostly similar. Then the Sogaju (Clan Heir)'s sword must be similar to yours as well."
"What? Hey—don't go spouting that kind of nonsense anywhere. Hah! Comparing my skill to Elder Brother's? Are you out of your mind?"
As if he could endure being insulted but not the Sogaju (Clan Heir) being insulted, he stomped and put his hand to his waist as he shouted. She had felt it on the first day too—this set of brothers seemed to have quite deep affection.
"Is the Sogaju (Clan Heir) truly that extraordinary?"
"Of course! Elder Brother is one of the famed Changpae Saryong. Cheonggeom Ilseom Namgung Jeok-myeong of Changpae Saryong! He's even recognized by everyone as the Ilgyeok as well. That means he's the best swordsman acknowledged by the martial world!"
Cheonggeom Ilseom Namgung Jeok-myeong.
What a lavish epithet.
From what she heard, Changpae Saryong seemed to be a nickname for the foremost four among the rising talents currently famed in the martial world.
And Ilgyeok meant the leader among those four—so Namgung Jeok-myeong's skill far surpassed what Yeo Il had expected.
Yet now he's treated like a butcher who's fallen into wine and women.
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