Seolhwa drew her brows together.

What had he ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) just said?

Marriage?

“...No matter how much I like candied hawthorn, you didn’t think I’d consent to marriage over something like this, did you?”

Jegal Hwi’s eyes went momentarily round.

Then he burst into a hearty laugh.

“How could that be? Do I look that shameless to you?”

“Right now, a little.”

“...”

Jegal Hwi stared fixedly at the paper pouch of candied hawthorn he’d brought.

Then, perhaps belatedly embarrassed, he let out a light laugh and snapped open his fan—chwak—flutter.

“I met Young Master Woong on my way in. No—more precisely, I happened to see the two of you speaking.”

“Did you listen to our conversation?”

“I had no such intention.”

He simply hadn’t been able to let pass words that drifted to him naturally.

He knew he shouldn’t listen; but once the words lodged in his ears, they refused to be ignored.

He had turned to retreat—too late—when Namgoong Woong had walked in his direction as the conversation ended, and the two had inevitably met.

Woong had looked flustered, but gave a slight nod and passed by him.

“You wish for Young Master Woong to become the Namgoong Clan’s Little Clan Lord.”

“Yes.”

“Even knowing the clan’s will rests with you rather than him, for him to step up and say he’ll take the seat—that will not be easy.”

“Ah....”

I hadn’t thought of that.

So that’s possible.

Woong might be in quite an awkward position.

“So, while pondering solutions with my meager insight, a good method suddenly came to mind.”

“And that method is marriage?”

“I am set to become the Jegal clan’s Little Clan Lord.”

She already knew the Jegal clan had named him to that post.

“If you marry me, you will, as a matter of course, be someone for whom becoming Namgoong Clan Lord is difficult.”

The wife of the future Jegal Clan Lord.

The Namgoong would hardly set the mistress of another clan as their Clan Lord; naturally the clan’s intent would shift to Woong.

“If marriage feels burdensome, an engagement will do. Once Young Master Woong becomes Little Clan Lord, you can break the engagement.”

Jegal Hwi’s eyes curved—sing.

An engagement followed by a broken engagement.

Not a bad proposal.

It would meet Woong’s desire for a “reason he could accept.”

It would tidy up every potentially troublesome point.

Even if she later returned after Woong had taken the seat, they would not strip him of it.

“You’re thinking it’s not half bad.”

“A little.”

Jegal Hwi’s lips traced a mild arc.

“But I won’t be accepting it.”

“...Why not?”

“Because that would be running away.”

If she got engaged to Jegal Hwi, matters would resolve easily—but that would be avoiding the problem rather than facing it.

“Talk it through, understand each other, and it’s a problem we can solve.”

Only today had she come to grasp Woong’s position.

If they spoke again, she thought she had some idea of how to unwind it.

“My family loves me, and I them. I believe they’ll fully understand why I don’t want the Little Clan Lord’s seat.”

Without having to invent an excuse like an engagement.

“So—thank you, but no.”

“....”

Jegal Hwi’s lips parted slightly.

A faint breath slipped out—ha—between them.

“I expected you to refuse, but it stings more than I thought.”

“I’m surprised there was anything to sting.”

It was a light suggestion.

Acting wounded, really.

“Is that what you think?”

He looked straight at her.

“?”

She met his gaze, puzzled; he smiled, rose from his seat.

“Night grows late; I’ll take my leave. The candied hawthorn was good.”

“Likewise.”

“From tomorrow on, there’ll be plenty of fun.”

“Have you drawn your opponent?”

He had been the first to draw a rod.

Curious despite herself, she asked; his expression turned playful.

“There is no opponent. What I drew was a blank from the start.”

“...Pardon?”

“In any gathering, someone must set the mood. A plant, so to speak.”

“Ah.”

Come to think of it, he had drawn first—and then the rush had followed.

If he hadn’t stepped up to draw, everyone might have kept watching each other, letting the mood turn awkward.

“You truly are... impressive, Young Master.”

“Do you know that every last one of them wants, at least once, to share a bout with you?”

Meaning: it was Seolhwa, who had created competition fierce enough to warrant drawing lots, who was truly impressive.

“In any case—see you tomorrow, young lady.”

“Yes. Rest well.”

He dipped his head slightly to her and left the room.

Passing through the corridor where he had overheard Namgoong Woong and Seolhwa’s conversation, he stepped outside to a moon bright and high.

“...”

Jegal Hwi stood for a moment before the pavilion and looked up at the moon, shining gold.

What had been so urgent that he’d bought candied hawthorn at night and sought her room?

The Gathering was only just beginning.

What made him this impatient?

That bright moon, or this cool breeze?

“A bright moon and a clear wind.”

He turned toward his quarters at last,

his steps so neat and decorous they made no sound.

****

[The Flesh Curtain Lord is still summoning killers south of Hunan. We’re spreading word that the Martial Alliance is moving, but there’s no sign they’re backing off. The Flesh Curtain’s movements are suspicious; my Lady, please return as soon as possible.]

The Flesh Curtain’s movements were suspicious.

The Flesh Curtain belonged to the Blood Cult; the Flesh Curtain Lord was likely one of the three Blood Lords whose identities were unknown.

News that the Flesh Curtain was preparing for war with the Sado Union had arrived only three days ago.

‘Has the Blood Demon decided to tidy away the Sado Union?’

The Blood Demon, like her, possessed memories of the previous life.

He knew the Sado Union was a force that hadn’t existed then, and yet he had shown favor to her, the Shadowless Demon God.

Why, then, was he now moving the Flesh Curtain to strike at the Sado Union?

‘Because the time has come.’

Time for the Blood Cult to rise from the undercurrent and show itself to the world.

In Seolhwa’s hand, the Hao Sect Lord’s letter went up in flames—fwooosh.

What had been a letter crumbled into black ash and piled upon the table.

Seolhwa’s gaze, fixed on the soot-black remains, sank cold.

‘The Blood Demon has begun to move.’

Soon the Interdiction would vanish, and the name of the Blood Cult would set the world abuzz.

Common folk who didn’t know the cult’s true face would chant its name—reviving the dead, aiding blood vengeance.

She recalled Hidden Moon’s recent words.

‘The Lord is targeting you.’

‘Please be careful.’

If that were true, then, just as he now sought to prod the Sado Union, he would approach her in some fashion.

‘After the Gathering ends, I should keep away from the main house for a while.’

By chance, the Martial Alliance and the Sado Union strongholds lay close; she would stay with the Alliance and oversee Sado affairs.

‘Grandfather is at the Martial Alliance, and Jegal Myeong’s arrays are there.’

Even in the previous life, the Blood Cult had not easily meddled with the Jegal clan’s arrays. For now, it was the safest choice.

First reside at the Alliance and watch the situation; when the time came....

“...”

Seolhwa looked down at her hand—at some point clenched tight with unease.

When the time came.

She had known that time would come; she had been waiting. Yet facing it, she was afraid.

The Blood Cult would seat itself swiftly; the Blood Demon would rule like a god.

She had trained for that day, changed much of the past—but....

‘Can I truly defeat the Blood Demon?’

Can I protect everyone from him?

Thoughts chased thoughts, feeding on themselves, swelling Seolhwa’s anxiety.

Just as that unease began to swallow her—

Knock, knock.

“Sister, it’s Woong.”

Namgoong Woong’s voice came through the door, seeking Seolhwa.

They were to go together to the sparring grounds—the matches had begun almost the instant breakfast ended.

“Mm, I’m coming.”

With a complicated smile, Seolhwa rose.

On impulse, she glanced back at the bed before leaving.

She met the eyes of the Imoogi, head lifted, staring holes through her.

“Are you really staying in?”

The Imoogi, whose face said it had many things it wanted to say, snorted—hnn—and flopped down.

[I detest noise. I’ll amuse myself just fine; go on.]

“I’ll be back.”

[Bring sweets.]

Leaving behind the lazy, unreadable serpent, Seolhwa stepped out.

****

“Did you see that just now? How does a sword path curve like that?”

“Wow, the power—if it were me, I couldn’t have parried....”

On the sparring grounds, a Shaolin monk and a Mount Hua swordswoman were in the middle of a bout.

Boom— Kwaang—!

“Monk Hyeon’s fists are formidable as ever.”

Namgoong Woong admired Shaolin’s fistwork.

Each time Hyeon stomped, the ground seemed to shake; all who watched could not hide their astonishment.

“She looks stronger than at the tournament.”

Hyeon’s opponent was Mount Hua’s Jin Ye, who had faced Yu Gang in the main bracket.

Her sword was faster and more aggressive than when Seolhwa had last seen it.

‘If before it was a sword that couldn’t finish, now it clearly knows its end.’

Did she find insight in the match against Yu Gang?

The sword tip was alive.

“I hear Mount Hua requested the bout first.”

“Really?”

Seolhwa looked at Jin Ye, a little surprised.

Perhaps it was her calm, cool impression—

she didn’t seem the type to step forward first.

‘Prejudice, then.’

Boom— Kwagagagak!

Golden inner force and soft rose-hued inner force wove into a sight truly spectacular.

The two were evenly matched; it was hard to guess who would win.

As the engrossing match continued—

Ku-gu-gu-goong—

“!”

At a different kind of tremor than before, Seolhwa lifted her gaze.

Her expression darkened.

But no one else seemed to sense anything amiss yet; they were still busy cheering the bout.

[Namgoong Seolhwa!]

The Imoogi’s voice turned her unease into certainty.

That instant—

Ku-gu-gu-gu-goong—

‘The array... is breaking.’

Someone was breaking the array Jegal Myeong had laid down himself.

“Sister, just now I felt—”

Woong, sensing something strange, turned to her at the same time—

[Get clear!]

Taat—

“...Sister?”

Seolhwa moved—toward the sparring stage.