"Namgoong Seolhwa, when you have time, may I ask for a spar?"

"Me too... could I receive your instruction?"

"About the techniques you used during the tournament...."

Interest in Seolhwa—until now only rumor—poured in even before the Dragon & Phoenix Gathering began.

Out to look over the sparring grounds, Seolhwa and Woong were flustered by the sudden attention.

— Why is everyone like this?

— I knew your popularity was high, but... I didn’t realize it was to this degree.

— I want to see Hwarin.

— Exactly. If Hwarin were here, she’d have driven them all off.

Regrettably, Hwarin hadn’t been able to come to the Gathering.

Now ten years old, she was younger than the other late-stage young elites attending the event, and it would have been difficult for her to fit in.

The ones who opposed her participation were her parents, Namgoong Cheongsan and Moyong Yeonhwa.

‘I want to go too!! I’m well past ten and a half, and they’re keeping me out because I’m “young”? That’s dirty!!’

The one who calmed her, when she looked about ready to dash to the Martial Alliance and throw a tantrum at her grandfather, was Soyak.

Since recovering his health, Soyak had thrown himself into the arts; whenever he had a chance, he trained Namgoong forms with Hwarin—and perhaps thanks to that, he handled Hwarin with uncanny ease.

‘Since you can’t go, let’s visit Soho instead. They’re holding a harvest festival.’

‘Really? Great! I’ll ask Mother and Father to come too!’

As if nothing had happened, Hwarin chattered away with Soyak about the harvest festival.

The Dragon & Phoenix Gathering seemed to have fallen out of mind.

"All right, all right! I know everyone’s curious about Namgoong, but crowding her like this is a bit much, isn’t it? The Gathering hasn’t even started—let’s take it slow!"

While they were in a bind from the press of martial artists, someone appeared with a clap sharp enough to pop the air.

Peng Hogwang and Peng Mirang.

"Seolhwa! You’re very popular!"

Bursting in with a hearty laugh, Peng Mirang draped an easy arm over Seolhwa’s shoulder.

"I swear, did everyone come just to see Seolhwa? Ahahaha!"

Whether it was because the Peng siblings were large-framed, or because their voices boomed,

the crowd, suddenly self-conscious, gave way.

That booming presence weighed on Seolhwa and Woong as well, but thanks to the two of them, the situation settled; Seolhwa dipped her head lightly.

"Thank you, Peng Hogwang."

"O... oh? It was nothing...."

Peng Hogwang rubbed his nose, embarrassed.

Watching him with a cool, settled gaze, Mirang asked Seolhwa,

"Anyway, I was going to ask you for a spar too. Looks like that’ll be hard. Isn’t your popularity a little too much, Seolhwa?"

"I’m fine with it. Sparring, I mean."

Sparring with Peng fighters was always a pleasure.

"When you have time—"

"Nope. If you keep nodding along like this, you won’t sleep a wink the whole Gathering, Seolhwa."

Seolhwa tilted her head.

Would I?

‘Can’t I just finish each spar quickly?’

"And your arm—didn’t you injure it?"

Mirang looked down at Seolhwa’s right arm.

It seemed news of her Mount Wudang injury had reached the Peng clan.

"Ah... it’s almost healed now, so—"

"That’s how you make it worse! No! What part of that slender body isn’t worth protecting! Hogwang, isn’t there some way?"

At this rate, Seolhwa would spend the entire Gathering accepting spars with an injured arm.

At Mirang’s question, Hogwang stroked his jaw, turning serious.

"Hmm...."

But the Gathering’s spars were, by all accounts, free sparring.

Anyone could exchange techniques with anyone whenever they wished; that was the appeal of the conclave.

No clever workaround came to mind; they were mulling it over in low tones when—

"If you limit the right to spar with Namgoong to a few who first spar among themselves and win, that should solve it."

Chwak— With that sound, someone approached.

Fanning himself, steps neat and composed, came the Jegal clan’s eldest son, Jegal Hwi.

Having already greeted the Peng siblings, he came straight to Seolhwa.

He inclined his upper body slightly to meet her eyes, the gaze over his fan curving with a smile.

"Had I known you’d arrived, I should have paid my respects at your quarters."

Seolhwa’s brows sank—she had been about to ask how his body was.

"Why my quarters?"

"To express my thanks. I owe my life in that beast cave to you."

Looking at Hwi—who couldn’t possibly know she was the one who had thrown him into that cave—Seolhwa, too, wore a small smile.

"I should be the one thanking you. For staying at my uncle’s side to the end."

"When someone asks you, you do your utmost."

Come to think of it, before leaving the Alliance over the Beggar’s Union affair, she had asked him to look after her uncle.

So he remembered a passing remark.

Maybe he just had a good memory, but it was undeniable that he had tried to guard Namgoong Cheonghae to the end.

Seolhwa bowed her head once more, formally.

"Truly—thank you. My uncle said he endured thanks to you, Jegal Hwi."

"...Is that so."

To such a courteous thanks—offered in response to what he’d meant half in jest—Jegal Hwi, uncharacteristically, was a little wrong-footed.

He hadn’t intended to milk the Mount Wudang affair. Moreover—

‘Because of that, the Deputy Strategist now walks with a limp.’

Since the rotted wound had to be cut out, muscle damage had been unavoidable.

Not having to amputate had been a stroke of luck amid misfortune, but even so, Namgoong Cheonghae had come away with a limp.

Which meant he couldn’t claim to have protected him completely.

"You really are impossible to beat, Young Lady."

"?"

Jegal Hwi chuckled and straightened. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"Come to think of it, I don’t see the Mounted Pursuit Chief. I heard he was acting as patrol lead."

"Ah, the Chief had other business—he went to Hunan last night."

"Did he."

Hwi hummed, thinking, and tapped his chin with his fan.

"In that case, I really should come pay my respects at your quarters."

"How did we arrive at that?"

"I have something urgent to discuss."

With an unreadable smile, Jegal Hwi turned, perfectly at ease, and struck up small talk with Woong.

He was, to the end, a man whose depths were impossible to read.

****

Evening came, and the Dragon & Phoenix Gathering began.

Its opening was a grand banquet.

With the water-lit lake as a backdrop, music flowed; the late-stage young elites attending the Gathering freely enjoyed the atmosphere.

"The arts you showed during the tournament—are they a proprietary canon?"

"I’ve admired the Mount Namhae swordwork for a long time. Have you really fought pirates?"

"Isn’t it frightening, living so close to the Hundred-Thousand Mountains? The Demonic Sect is there."

In the lively bustle, Seolhwa and Woong, too, chatted comfortably with the other young elites.

Since those at the same round table conversed among themselves, people didn’t swarm Seolhwa the way they had during the day.

Then—

"All right, all right! Your attention, please!"

Once again, a clap like popping air drew every gaze in the hall.

It was Peng Hogwang.

"Before the banquet, I took an informal survey! It turns out most of you here want to spar with Namgoong! Why, it’s mirror-flower, water-moon!"

Flowers in a mirror, the moon in water.

You can see, but cannot touch—meaning that, for now, sparring with Seolhwa was out of reach.

At Hogwang’s joke likening Seolhwa to flowers and moonlight, the hall broke into cheerful laughter.

Given her striking beauty, it wasn’t exactly wrong.

"So, Young Master Jegal here proposed a stratagem. Now!"

Taang—!

Hogwang set on his table a canister stuck with thin rods.

"Those who wish to spar with Namgoong, draw one each! ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) Those whose numbers match at the tips will face each other first; only the winners earn a chance to spar with her!"

The hall rippled.

The Gathering allowed free sparring; if you drew lots, you might have to face someone you didn’t want.

Just as a dissatisfied mood threatened to spread—

"Namgoong suffered a right-arm injury on Mount Wudang. It hasn’t fully healed, yet she has agreed to spar a few bouts for the sake of the Gathering."

Jegal Hwi’s even, orderly voice carried.

"As fellow martial artists, I trust you can understand her inconvenience. Since her time and strength are limited, picking the stronger ones first should also serve those who want to watch worthy matches, shouldn’t it?"

If you can’t have a match with her, at least watching her spar is what a martial heart desires.

Many wish for it; the slots are few; competing for the few is only natural.

"Those who don’t like it—don’t draw. Sparring at the Gathering is free."

With that, Jegal Hwi was the first to draw a rod.

As he carefully checked the number at the tip, the hall tensed along with him.

Presently, as he smiled and set it down, Mirang—seated at the same table—sprang up and drew one.

After that, a rush.

Those who wanted to spar Seolhwa drew rods, then bustled about matching opponents; the banquet hall, naturally, turned lively again.

"It seems you’re the star of this Gathering after all."

"It’s a little embarrassing."

"Haha. By nature, martial folk revere the strong."

Woong laughed and rose from his seat.

Seolhwa arched a brow up at him.

"Where are you going?"

"I thought I’d draw one, too."

"What? Why would you?"

You can spar all you want after we go home.

"Isn’t it awfully fun?"

Laughing, Woong headed for Hogwang’s table.

Just as Seolhwa let out a helpless little laugh watching him insist on drawing a rod—

"Young lady!"

Two people stepped up to fill Woong’s empty seat, as if they’d been waiting.