“The day is fine.”

The sunlight seeping in by the window was astonishingly clear.

It could now be called full autumn. The wind was cool, the sky was bright. With some time left before the leaves fell, the weather felt all the more precious.

“Have a cup of tea as well.”

“Sir? Ah, yes!”

Lee Geon set down the thing perched on the bridge of his nose and accepted the teacup with thanks.

Mo Yong-woo looked at the object with curious eyes.

“Is that the thing called Aeche?”

“Sir? Ah, this. Yes. Come to think of it, I haven’t shown it to you yet, Branch Chief.”

Mo Yong-woo smiled.

“My apologies. I’ve been so busy lately I haven’t given you proper attention.”

“Haha, please don’t say that.”

Lee Geon picked up the spectacles.

“I obtained them through a trading house. They came from the West, and strangely enough, they make writing look big and clear.”

“Do they?”

“Would you like to try them?”

“I’m fine. It isn’t proper to use another’s belonging so lightly.”

Lee Geon gave an abashed smile.

Mo Yong-woo tilted his head.

“But do you need spectacles? With your inner force you should be able to read letters carved on a grain of rice.”

“As you know, my inner force isn’t a cure-all.”

Mo Yong-woo nodded.

Lee Geon had not originally been of the Mo Yong Clan. He had met Mo Yong-woo by chance; after receiving his favor, Lee Geon voluntarily placed himself under him.

Back then, he was remarkable.

To Mo Yong-woo, Lee Geon was a strong man.

Not just any strong man—a level well beyond himself. Had Lee Geon not been gravely injured then, he wouldn’t have lasted even ten breaths in front of him.

But as great as Lee Geon’s inner force—no, his martial skill—was, its drawbacks were also plain.

For that reason, he could not make proper use of inner force in daily life.

“At any rate, once I got these spectacles, my work sped up. I’m thinking we might try producing them ourselves.”

“It will take a certain finesse of craft. Even if you have the materials, it won’t be easy.”

“Haha, true enough.”

Mo Yong-woo leaned back in his chair.

Lee Geon smiled.

“You look at ease.”

Mo Yong-woo gave a wry smile.

“My body is at ease. Freed from a mountain of tasks, I hardly know what to do with myself.”

“Then your mind is ill at ease?”

Mo Yong-woo merely smiled.

Of course it was so. He carried a heavy concern Lee Geon did not know.

And that concern would be resolved one way or another. The problem was that however it resolved, a greater burden would await him afterward.

Concern, is it.

A shadow of anguish crossed Mo Yong-woo’s face.

He recalled the contents # Nоvеlight # of the letter Yeon Hojeong had sent.

When Mo Yong Yeonhwa comes, you will have to choose. Will you cast them off, or carry them with you? The lives of all those people hang on your judgment.

Mo Yong-woo closed his eyes.

Other people’s lives dependent on my choice....

It was a heavy thing.

He had lived for years bearing responsibility for his subordinates. But this time the depth of responsibility was different.

People unconnected with the martial world. Among them, many who perform good deeds each year. Such people might end up on the street because of a single choice I make.

He sighed.

Lee Geon cocked his head.

“What’s the matter, sir?”

“Mm? Ah, nothing. Just drowsy.”

“Hahaha! We never know when things will get busy again. Best to rest well while you can.”

“True enough.”

The two traded smiles and conversation.

After some time had passed—

...?

The breeze by the window seemed a touch cooler.

Mo Yong-woo spoke calmly.

“Lee Geon.”

“Yes, Branch Chief.”

“Bring her in.”

Lee Geon’s expression hardened.

“Be careful.”

“Don’t worry.”

Lee Geon rose with documents in hand and left the office.

A moment later—

“Branch Chief. Someone has come from the Mo Yong main house.”

“Show her in.”

Clack.

The door opened and a person appeared.

Not a beauty to make one’s eyes fly open, but for some reason a woman who drew the gaze. The luxurious silk suited her very well.

The woman, Mo Yong Yeonhwa, bowed her head.

“Yeonhwa greets Uncle. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Mo Yong-woo rose from his seat.

“Yes, it has.”

Mo Yong Yeonhwa.

In truth, the age gap between them was not large. When Mo Yong-woo was a boy training in earnest with the sword, Mo Yong Yeonhwa was born.

With an eleven-year gap between uncle and niece, a familiar atmosphere could well form.

Yet there was a subtle wall between them—a wall they had raised for each other, unseen but present.

Mo Yong Yeonhwa smiled lightly.

“Has it been a year?” 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

“So it seems.”

“Uncle looks even more handsome than before. If you went out to the marketplace, the ladies would line up.”

Mo Yong-woo smiled bitterly.

“I’m nearly thirty and still haven’t married. I suspect I’ll remain alone.”

“Hehe, you mustn’t say that. What woman in the world would refuse you?”

It wasn’t a topic to be broached easily, even between close relations. Mo Yong Yeonhwa treated him less like an uncle and more like an older stranger.

“I’m fine. I’d rather you marry a good man first.”

“I’m not ready yet. There’s far too much work for the clan.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. So much I can’t think straight. Father makes me do so much.”

“That must be hard.”

“Hard or not, what can I do? Father trusts me that much.”

Inwardly, Mo Yong-woo was puzzled.

Did this child ever talk like this?

They had traded only a few lines, but he felt a change in her.

He did not know exactly what the change was. But one thing was clear: unlike before, the solid wall around her had a distinct crack.

She grumbled about being busy yet quietly boasted—a face he had never seen.

Has something shaken her heart of late?

Then again, now was not the time to worry about Mo Yong Yeonhwa.

“I’ve kept you standing too long. Sit.”

“Yes! Ah, you were having tea.”

“It’s not bad.”

“May I have a cup as well?”

Mo Yong-woo flinched.

Make me tea?

Even if she had fallen from the clan’s grace, for a niece to say that to her uncle was improper. It strayed far beyond decorum.

He looked at her.

She smiled.

“Is there something on my face?”

There it was.

The more they spoke, the more he saw it—he could feel her change.

She’s forcing a smile.

It was a mask entirely different from the one she usually wore. To his eyes, she was clearly overextending herself.

Gazing at his niece, he tossed out a question.

“You’re telling me to brew tea for you?”

“Yes.”

She tilted her head with a smile.

“Why? Is there some reason you cannot?”

“......”

“You aren’t offended, are you?”

He was not offended at all.

If anything, her reaction eased him—enough to loosen his tension.

It was so unexpected that, for a moment, he wondered if it were a trap. But his instincts knew at once it was not.

I don’t know why....

Beyond the smiling face, he felt a self held together unstably.

I’m relieved, in a way.

He had feared her.

Not her existence as a niece, but how far she might go astray. He did not want her to live as cold a life as his elder brother.

He rose.

“I’ll brew the best we have.”

“Thank you. There’s no one like you, Uncle.”

“Your words are kindness.”

He kindled the brazier under the window. Then he poured water and let it warm slowly.

As she looked around the office, she spoke.

“There are more books than before.”

“I read a lot in my off hours.”

“Hee, do you? These days what do you—”

“Once you finish the tea, return to the main house.”

Her eyes hardened.

It felt like a conversation flowing naturally had been cut with a snap.

She looked at him.

His back, turned as he warmed the water, looked like that of a scholar.

“I’m sorry. I must have misheard. What did you say?”

“I said, once you finish the tea, go back.”

“Uncle.”

“I’ve seen your face. That’s enough. I don’t think there’s more for us to discuss.”

It was rather cold.

She was inwardly taken aback; and as much as she was, a slow anger rose.

“Nothing to discuss, with me?”

“Yes.”

“I doubt that. That can’t be.”

“Whatever you say, my intent is clear. It seems there’s no need for further talk between us.”

He turned.

She flinched. Her uncle was looking at her with a bitter smile.

“You’ve no real interest in my private affairs, do you?”

“I—”

“I know.”

He nodded, cutting her off.

“You came because the Clan Lord ordered it. Weren’t you planning to observe how things run here and then notify me you intend to swallow the Zhejiang Merchants’ Alliance?”

“......”

“I have no intention of listening to that notice. That’s why I told you: have a cup of tea and go back.”

Her face went rigid.

“No intention of listening... That’s unexpected. I didn’t think you would be this discourteous.”

“I, too, am surprised. I didn’t think you’d be that broken.”

“......!!”

“I don’t know if my brother understands your condition, but wounds of the heart aren’t easily healed. Put yourself in order first.”

“...How amusing.”

Plain anger lit her eyes.

“I’m here representing the main house. Even if you are my uncle, you should show me the courtesy due.”

“Even if you represent the clan, a niece is a niece. Even if the law of the world has fallen to the ground, your manner of speaking is far too rude to let slide.”

“......!!”

“Go back to the clan and rest a few months. What you need is not excessive work but time to look within.”

Her eyelids trembled.

Excessive work? Look within?

You—!

A curse almost leapt out. Her precariously held self-respect nearly shattered.

Yeon Hojeong and those merchant brats had disrespected her—now even an uncle expelled from the clan disrespected her.

Bang!

She shoved back her chair and rose.

“Branch Chief Mo Yong.”

His eyes deepened.

She continued, coldly.

“Bring me the merchant-house logs. All of them.”

It was an unhesitating command.

He shook his head.

“There are no such logs. And even if there were, I wouldn’t show them to you.”

“Branch Chief! I’ll say it again! Bring the documents at once!”

“As your uncle I’ll say it again: if you won’t have tea, then go back.”

“You—!”

Shaking with anger, she shouted toward the window.

“Red Wind Squadron Leader! Get in here, now!”

“Don’t do that,” said Mo Yong-woo, shaking his head.

“Silence!”

She ground her teeth.

“I’ve treated you with an uncle’s courtesy, and you’ve forgotten all sense of rank. Be glad my father hasn’t purged you!”

He remained silent.

Bang!

The office door opened and Cheon Ilsang entered.

“You called, Young Miss.”

She pointed at Mo Yong-woo.

“Subdue him at once! We’ll escort him to the main house!”

“......”

“What are you doing! At once—”

Her eyes went wide as a full moon.

Thud!

Cheon Ilsang pitched forward, face-first.

Behind the fallen man stood Lee Geon.

“Yeonhwa.”

Startled, she looked to Mo Yong-woo.

His eyes shone an icy blue.

“Return to the main house. Now.”