Golden Lotus Rain and Tang Hojin were the two who had been waiting for a seat to open.

“We haven’t seen you since Shanxi. Have you been well?”

Golden Lotus Rain greeted her with a bright face.

Seolhwa had met them as the Shadowless Demon God, but from their perspective, this was the first time seeing her since the Greenscale affair.

Seolhwa rose as well and welcomed the two with equal warmth.

“I heard about it. You were both badly hurt in the Shanxi battle. I’m sorry I couldn’t fight by your side.”

“No, it’s fine. You were in Shaanxi on the Alliance Lord’s orders.”

After sending the corpse of the Outlands man she had killed at Greenscale to the Martial Alliance, she had traced their trail and investigated Shaanxi.

That was the mission the two believed Seolhwa had undertaken.

“I also heard you were injured on Mount Wudang. Are you all right?”

Tang Hojin asked, worried.

“I’m fine. It’s been a while, and I rested well and recovered.”

It had been “reflection,” but she had, in fact, rested plenty.

“I hope you won’t overexert yourself.”

Golden Lotus Rain, too, cast a concerned look over the bustle.

Once the mood loosened after the lot-drawing for sparring with Seolhwa, the young elites busied themselves inviting each other to spar.

Praising one another’s arts and setting up bouts—it finally felt like the Dragon & Phoenix Gathering had truly begun.

“A spar! They’re sparring now!”

“Waaah! Awesome!!”

Whatever anyone said, the flower of the Gathering was the sparring.

Someone looked about to open the first exchange with bold gusto.

The ones striding forward through the cheering crowd were none other than Peng Mirang and Mount Namhae’s Man Wonchang.

“Left-Handed Sword! I really wanted to cross blades with you!”

Though for some reason, Man Wonchang looked like he was being dragged along by the shoulder, swept up by Mirang.

To cheers and applause from the young elites, the two headed for the sparring stage.

“A heroine indeed.”

Very Peng-like.

“Are you not going to watch, sister?”

Woong had slipped to her side before she knew it, attending to her with care.

“Of course I am. Shall we go have a look?”

“Sounds good!”

“Yes.”

The four of them melted into the crowd and headed lightly toward the stage.

The sparring grounds were brightly lit so that matches could continue late into the night.

Soon—Kang— Ka-kang!—the ring of steel and a roar of cheers rolled across the grounds.

It was the sound marking the true beginning of the Dragon & Phoenix Gathering.

*****

By the time they returned from the sparring grounds, it was already deep night.

Once ignited, the young warriors’ heat refused to cool, blazing without a pause.

If not for Vermilion Bird Division Lord Yu Pyo telling them to rest since they had not yet shaken off the travel weariness, the fervor might have kept them crossing blades until dawn.

[Humans. Disgustingly noisy.]

The Imoogi, which had at some point fled back to the lodgings, flicked its tail—tak, tak—and greeted Seolhwa.

She snorted a laugh at the sight and had just stepped into the room when someone knocked.

‘Who is it?’

Could Young Master Hwi really have come... at this hour?

Her brows drew together for a moment, but a familiar voice came through the door.

“Sister. May I come in for a moment?”

It was Woong.

At his voice, Seolhwa’s expression brightened as if the frown had never been.

“Mm. Come in.”

The door opened, and Woong hesitated, hand on the door.

“It’s fine, come in.”

“No. You should rest. I’ll be brief.”

“Do you have something to say?”

Woong’s hesitant face was shadowed.

In truth, it hadn’t only been now.

She hadn’t known since they’d left separately from the main house, but when they’d met at the Martial Alliance, there had been a dimness to his complexion.

From time to time he seemed deep in thought, and when their eyes suddenly met, he would look away without reason.

“What is it? Tell me.”

“Sister....”

“Mm.”

“Are you... planning to leave the main house?”

“...What?”

Seolhwa knit her brows.

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard you refused the Little Clan Lord’s seat. And that you recommended me for it.”

“Ah.”

So he’d heard that.

Namgoong Mucheon and Cheongun had both reacted as if it were unexpected when she told them she wouldn’t become Clan Lord; it was only natural Woong would as well.

Only—

“I said I wouldn’t become Clan Lord. I never said I’d leave the clan.”

“Truly?”

“Mm. I’ve never even considered it.”

Color returned to Woong’s face for an instant. But the smile didn’t last.

“Why are you giving up the Little Clan Lord’s seat? I also think you suit that position far better than I do.”

“No.”

Seolhwa shook her head, firm.

“That seat is yours.”

Namgoong Woong—who loved the clan more than anyone, who would stand in front of the old and the weak and protect them to the very end.

If she hadn’t annihilated the clan in her previous life, Woong would have become the Namgoong Clan Lord as a matter of course.

Even in the previous life, when Namgoong Cheongsan was Clan Lord, Woong had been Little Clan Lord.

In this life, from the start, she and Woong hadn’t stood at the same point.

To seize his place with the cowardice of acting as if she had accomplished great things by using knowledge of a future she alone knew—was absurd.

“I told you. You’re better than me.”

Woong drew his brows, faintly.

He’d heard the same words from Seolhwa once before.

“Don’t take it too hard. You’re several times better than I am.”

Back then, when he’d been so awed by her insight and martial prowess that he’d felt small.

Those were the words she’d given him.

“That was to bolster my confidence....”

“I don’t make empty remarks.”

“...”

“You’ll do well. I believe in you, Woong.”

That he would lead the clan better than anyone—and protect it.

She had no doubt.

At Seolhwa’s words, laden with trust, Woong fell silent for a while.

Whatever he was thinking, he kept his lips pressed together, then clenched a fist and spoke.

“I also... believe you would be a far greater Clan Lord than I. Thus... I still don’t understand your intent.”

“...”

“If there’s a reason you won’t take the seat—one of those reasons I’ve failed to grasp again—please tell me. Then I think I can accept it.... Well then... rest, sister.”

Woong bowed to her and turned to go.

Seolhwa stared blankly at the open door, a little surprised at his more resolute response than she had expected.

“One of those reasons I failed to grasp... this time too....”

Right.

Until now, Woong had been swept along, knowing nothing of the future she’d changed at will.

When he’d had to lose his brother and mother overnight; when he’d had to endure their grandfather’s death.

Even now.

Seolhwa had never once explained or helped him understand.

She had tried not to hide things from Namgoong Mucheon or Cheongun, but as for Woong, who was the one being swept along—she had never tried to anticipate his heart.

“It must have been quite bewildering....”

For Woong. For Hwarin as well.

For the other households of the Namgoong Clan.

Seolhwa let the outer robe she’d been folding slip from her hands and sighed long.

“I really am someone who can’t look around me.”

Was this because her nature had been altered by the Blood Cult—or had she always been selfish?

“What kind of person was I before I lost my memories?”

Suddenly, she was curious about her true self before she’d been seized by the Blood Cult.

She wanted to reclaim the memories she’d lost.

Thinking so, she looked down at her hands—when a presence stirred at the door.

Knock, knock.

She lifted her gaze toward the door at the sound of knuckles on the door that stood ajar.

This time, the Jegal Hwi who’d said he would come was indeed standing there.

“It seems I’ve come at a poor moment.”

Jegal Hwi laughed lightly.

“What brings you?”

“I heard you like these.”

He lifted the paper pouch in his hand and gave it a small shake.

“Candied hawthorn.”

“...”

“It’s best eaten before it turns sticky.”

Seolhwa let out a low breath.

“Come in first.”

He had said he had something urgent to say. Turning away a visitor at the door would be strange.

“Then, pardon the intrusion.”

Jegal Hwi stepped in with an easy stride and closed the door.

He set the paper pouch on the table, took out two skewers of candied hawthorn, and held one out to Seolhwa.

She accepted it and took the ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) seat across from him.

“May I have one as well?”

“You bought them. Do as you like.”

“Then I won’t hold back,” he said, and bit into a strawberry—crunch.

He winced at the first rush of sweetness, then, as he chewed, his expression gradually brightened.

“It’s good.”

“You’ve never had it?”

“I don’t much care for sweets.”

“Then it won’t suit your taste.”

Seolhwa also bit—crunch—and took one into her mouth.

One gone, then another—crunch.

Contrary to saying it was good, Jegal Hwi didn’t touch the rest; instead, he watched Seolhwa with a pleased look.

Only when she had devoured the skewer save for one in an instant did Seolhwa notice his untouched portion.

“You truly do like candied hawthorn.”

“Yes. I do. But how did you know?”

“I heard it from the Deputy Strategist.”

“Ah.”

He had said they’d been confined together in the dungeon for a long time.

They must have talked about all sorts of things; it wasn’t strange.

“Only....”

“?”

“I didn’t see it.”

Seolhwa drew her brows, faintly.

Didn’t see what?

But judging by his small smile, he didn’t seem inclined to explain; she ignored it and popped the last one into her mouth.

As she finished the skewer in a blink and set the stick—tak—on the table, she asked,

“So, what is it you urgently wanted to say?”

Following her lead, Jegal Hwi set his remaining skewer back into the paper pouch, joined his hands, and smiled mildly.

“Young lady.”

“?”

“Will you marry me?”