Tok, tok.

Neat footsteps rang down the empty corridor.

A woman stopped before the door, a wooden tray in hand with simple rice balls wrapped in lotus leaves and tea.

Knock, knock.

She knocked, but no answer came from beyond the door.

Even so, the woman opened it and went in.

The room was dark and cool.

Beyond the basic furnishings, there were no carvings on the walls, no small ornaments; even the window screen was plain cloth without a pattern.

Perhaps because of that,

the spacious room felt as if it were hollow and empty.

Tak—

The woman set the tray on the table, then drew the screen aside to let sunlight in.

Sunlight pried into the dark room and fell upon the one curled on the hard wooden bed.

Seeing those shoulders, the woman gave a pitying smile.

After securing the drawn screen to one side, she approached the bed,

sat beside the curled figure, and gently stroked her back, speaking in a soft voice.

“Little House Lord, please wake up. I’ve brought your meal.”

But the curled figure did not stir.

“You must eat something. You haven’t been able to eat today either. You’ll ruin your health at this rate.”

Even at the woman’s earnest words, she did not move.

The woman let out a low sigh.

“What did you receive reflection for this time? Did you let an enemy go again?”

“...”

“You did well. Truly, you did well.”

The woman softly smoothed her back.

“Even if you were put under reflection, you wished to protect someone, didn’t you, Little House Lord? Then that’s enough.”

If you protected the one you meant to protect, that is enough.

As if used to this, the woman soothed her.

It wasn’t your fault.

You did the right thing.

After consoling her for quite some time, yet getting no response in return, the woman rose.

There was nothing to straighten, but she set up the fallen sword, tied off the loosely-hung screen tight, then looked back once more.

Her gaze on the curled body was tender with sorrow.

“I’ll leave the food here, so please eat.”

She was just about to step out when—

“Take it away.”

The cold, split voice caught the woman by the ankle.

“Don’t you know you get punished if you bring me food? If you don’t want to die, you’d better take it back.”

The woman turned toward her again.

She still had her back turned, yet she worried for the gentle woman’s life.

“I’ll be fine. I won’t be punished.”

“My reflection is by the Lord’s order. Are you saying you’ll go against the Lord’s will?”

“All the more reason I’ll be fine, then.”

“...”

She slid up, slowly, to sit.

From her body, a thick, dark red killing intent seeped and coiled.

It was a force that rose by nature even without harboring the intent to kill.

“Why do you always say I did nothing wrong?”

Her eyes, wrapped in murderous aura, were filled with wariness.

“I let the enemy go.”

In clashes with the Martial Alliance—who mined the Blood Cult for information and struck the cult—she had again and again let their warriors go.

For that, each time she was put under reflection, this woman would come bearing food; she could not understand her.

“I could have killed them, but I didn’t. How is that not wrong?”

“Because you did not refrain from killing them—you could not kill them.”

“...What?”

“Was it not that you could not?”

Her eyes flickered, briefly.

The woman was right.

It wasn’t that she didn’t kill; she couldn’t.

Each time she tried to swing her sword at the Martial Alliance warriors, her body seized as if bound and would not move.

She did not know why, but a strong compulsion rose up—somehow, that she must not kill them—and in the end she let them go again and again.

“You are not someone who fits this place, Little House Lord.”

She knit her brows.

She was the Little House Lord.

The Blood Cult’s Little Cult Lord.

To tell the Blood Cult’s Little Cult Lord she did not fit the Blood Cult was an insult.

It should have been an insult.

Yet somehow, she did not feel bad.

“Perhaps because I, all along, thought so myself.”

A curl of derision touched her lips.

Could one who could not properly cut down even a single enemy of the Blood Cult be called the Blood Cult’s Little Cult Lord?

As she turned the question over and over, she had faintly sensed that this was not her place.

Hearing the woman voice what she felt made something sharpen within her mind.

“I’m leaving this place.”

In that instant, something curious flickered in the woman’s eyes.

After a slight hesitation, she asked,

“Did someone... tell you to leave...?”

“No. I decided it myself.”

“...!”

“You’ve always brought me meals; you might get caught up in this...”

She broke off, brow furrowing.

For some reason, the woman’s face, listening to her, looked bright.

“Yes. You’ve thought well. If you, Little House Lord, decided it yourself, then you should do so. When will you depart?”

“...Tonight.”

The woman nodded again.

“Yes. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She hesitated a moment, then approached her—who watched with a faintly puzzled look—and,

after another moment’s hesitation, carefully embraced her.

Startled, her eyes widened a fraction.

“You must always be healthy. Take care. Don’t get hurt, and don’t fall ill. From afar, I’ll be cheering for you.”

Pat, pat.

With a last gentle rub of the hand, the woman released her.

Her eyes were rimmed red.

She gave a small, warm smile and hurried out of the room.

From the cup, not yet cooled, steam curled upward.

****

Hah, hah—

Her breath rose to her throat; cold sweat ran.

Seolhwa ran without stopping and glanced back at the lights chasing her.

After she said she would leave,

the woman brought more food, telling her to gather her strength and flee.

Was it a warmth ill-suited to the Blood Cult?

Had she trusted the woman too much?

There was poison in the food the woman brought.

“My qi and blood are scattering.”

Her inner power dispersed; her consciousness was foggy.

A dispersing-meridians poison?

She could not know its exact name.

Not long after eating and slipping out of the Blood Cult, she felt her body go wrong.

And then came the pursuit behind her.

“The cult shouldn’t have learned I was gone this fast.”

When one entered reflection, almost no one came to look in on you.

Even so, for them to be on her heels this quickly meant—

“That woman told them.”

I shouldn’t have trusted her.

Knowing there are no normal people among the Blood Cult, she had let her guard down.

No—perhaps she should have felt something off from the moment that, even during her reflection, the woman came and went freely.

Throb—

Seolhwa pressed her temple, brow drawn tight.

Her head felt as if it would split.

Crack— crsssh—

“!”

Close by, she felt presences racing in fast.

Seolhwa glanced toward them and pushed her speed a little more.

Hah— hah—

After she tore through brush and ran between trees for some time—

Kwoaaaaa—

Beyond a dense screen of scrub, she burst out onto a vast cliff edge.

The roar of rough waters echoed up the gorge.

“Ha... haa....”

Seolhwa looked down into the far darkness.

As her eyes adjusted, she made out the white-crashing torrent.

Step.

Before she knew it, the pursuing presence had closed right up behind her.

There was nowhere to run.

Judging so, Seolhwa turned.

“...Hidden Moon.”

The holder of the Second Moon Medallion.

The Blood Demon’s right hand.

The most lethal killer in the Blood Cult revealed himself beneath the moonlight.

“Little House Lord.”

“...”

“Your complexion looks quite poor.”

Seolhwa glared at him, fierce.

Even with her inner power scattering from poison, the killing aura pouring off her was so thick it could wither the grass around.

Watching that suffocating aura, Hidden Moon brought a hand to his waist.

Seolhwa flinched and shifted into attack—when—

Thud—

“...”

Hidden Moon unbuckled his sword and tossed it to her feet.

“You left it behind.”

She looked at him with wary eyes.

Among the Blood Demon’s killers, he was the hardest to read.

Even so, he was the one the Blood Demon trusted most.

“...What do you mean by this?”

“A martial artist cannot step onto a field without a weapon.”

“...”

“If you are the Little House Lord, that will be more than enough to protect yourself.”

Seolhwa looked down at the sword again.

It was an ordinary blade, standard-issue in the Blood Cult.

With that, even if he handed it over, Hidden Moon would not be suspected.

Clack—

Seolhwa picked it up and belted it at her waist.

Even as she did, she never relaxed her vigilance toward Hidden Moon.

“This way!”

“Hurry!”

By now the pursuit must have drawn near; the noisy shouts of the trackers reached them.

Seolhwa, sword belted, was about to # Nоvеlight # secure a retreat—

“If possible, live forgetting everything.”

“!”

Without her noticing, Hidden Moon had stepped in close—so near their breaths mingled.

She had not let her guard down—yet.

The instant Seolhwa moved to draw reflexively—

“Please, recall nothing at all.”

Thud—

Hidden Moon gave her shoulder a light push.

Behind her lay the vast drop.

“...!”

A fierce wind cleaving the gorge brushed past Seolhwa’s body.

Then came the splash—

And the gorge filled with the roar of raging water.

<Return of the Namgoong Clan’s Granddaughter>

Part 2 — Extra Stories: End