The woman who entered the village walked on, plodding, her face blank.

She still could not believe what she had just witnessed.

Clang— cla-clang! Clang—!

‘Is... is that even possible...?’

A mere thin stick had knocked aside a sword.

Each time sword and stick met, the sound rang out as if steel had met steel.

The bandit who had charged in with a blade wore open bewilderment; the girl with the stick was composed.

In momentum and in strength, the gap was already overwhelming.

KRAAANG—!!

With a light sweep of the stick, the sword went flying.

It whistled through the air — whoom, whoom — and sailed about one jang before planting into the ground.

The man dropped to his knees.

What lowered before his eyes was the sharpened tip of a candied-hawthorn skewer.

The girl who had overpowered the bandits in an instant escorted the woman to the village edge and then went her way as if nothing had happened.

As she turned and walked off, there was, oddly, a faint scent of dumplings about her.

‘Was I dreaming...?’

The woman stopped and slapped her cheeks — smack, smack.

The sharp sting snapped her into focus.

Not a dream, after all.

“I didn’t even manage to thank her properly.”

She’d probably never treated the girl warmly, the way others did.

“I’ll make something tasty and bring it over.”

They said words came easily in that house — the kind of place some of the aunties visited just for the joy of chatting.

‘I’ll definitely go soon.’

She hurried her steps.

The captured bandits had been tied to a tall tree — high enough that even if they came to, they would not soon escape.

She needed to get back, report what had happened, and see to the follow-up.

Tat-tat—

Greens poking from her basket bobbed and fluttered with her quickened pace.

****

Ah.

A dumpling burst.

...

Namgoong Seolhwa gazed gloomily at the wreckage of the burst dumpling.

It had been a long time since she’d gotten dumplings.

What a waste.

She picked out those that had kept their shape and set the burst ones together in one place.

The intact ones would go into soup; the burst ones she would steam all at once.

After sorting the dumplings and setting them on the fire, she returned to the porch and dropped down beside the coil of the motionless snake.

She looked up at the blue sky, then down at her hands.

‘Is this... normal?’

When she handled wood more easily than others, she had simply thought herself a bit strong.

Or perhaps, before losing her memories, she had done similar work.

But what about today?

‘I looked... used to fighting.’

It had been a dangerous situation, and she had indeed thought to save someone, but she had not imagined she alone could defeat five.

They were not ordinary men either, but bandits seasoned to violence.

So at first, she had only meant to divert their attention.

She had hidden in the brush and thrown stones so the captive woman could run.

And then—

With each stone she threw, a bandit fell.

At the time she had thought herself lucky that each throw struck a vital point.

And when she faced the one with the sword—

‘It was easy.’

The fact that she held only a stick meant nothing.

His movements were slow; each attack was blocked; with every swing he gave ground.

It had not even been a fight — merely one-sided suppression.

Was that...

‘Normal?’

What kind of person had she been before she lost her memories?

“...A name...”

Murmuring as the old woman’s words rose to mind, she saw the snake beside her snap its head up.

Namgoong Seolhwa looked at it.

Its small black eyes gleamed.

“?”

When she stared, the snake slid down into the yard.

Then, astonishingly, it began to write on the packed earth with the tip of its tail.

[Seolhwa]

“Seol... hwa...”

As she slowly read the letters the snake had drawn, it sprang and wriggled, as if in delight.

As if to say her name was Seolhwa.

‘Did it... give me a name...?’

More than that — how did a snake know letters?

The snake rejoiced for quite a while.

Namgoong Seolhwa watched it for a long time, eyes puzzled.

****

Thoom—!

The tree toppled, limp — so thick that even if she wrapped both arms around it she could not span it.

With only a few strokes of the axe she had felled that massive trunk; wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, she let out a breath.

‘Found good timber.’

Large, properly seasoned — it would burn well.

She stood off a bit, considering into how many lengths she should cut it.

“Hey! Where are you! Hey—!”

A voice called from far off.

It sounded like someone was calling her.

Namgoong Seolhwa drove the axe into the spot she meant to section and headed toward the sound.

Not far from the house she saw who it was.

The very woman who had nearly been harmed when the bandits ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) surrounded her.

“Hey—!”

The woman also spotted her and came running, breathless.

She was so flustered that dirt smeared her clothes in several places, one spot was torn, and one shoe had come off — she was down to a stockinged foot.

“T-they’re here...!”

The woman seized her and cried out.

Her voice was nearly a wail.

“They...! They said to bring you...! Sob... The villagers...!”

“!”

Namgoong Seolhwa’s eyes trembled, fine and quick.

“...What did they do to the villagers?”

The woman stared, a little startled.

It was the first time she had heard the girl speak.

At last tears spilled as the woman answered.

“They’ve taken the villagers hostage. If we don’t bring you... they’ll kill one every hour. Sob... What do we do...”

“The magistrate?”

“It’s useless.”

Despair shaded her face.

“The day you caught those men, we already handed them over once. But the yamen — they’re the ones who let them go so they could take revenge...!”

In backwater country beyond the imperial eye, corrupt officials were common.

With little chance of rising to central office and salaries meager as they were, they took money from bandits and local bullies and watched their backs.

Thus bandits ran rampant, and those who died were always powerless common folk.

With the officials in league with them, there was nowhere to appeal.

“What do we do... How can we... Sob...”

She clung to Namgoong Seolhwa and wept.

The grip on Seolhwa’s hem spoke pure fear.

“I’m sorry... I know they mean to kill you if you go... but...”

If she did not bring the girl, the villagers’ lives were at risk.

Knowing the bind the woman was in, Namgoong Seolhwa felt no resentment.

She gently set the woman aside and went back to where she’d been working.

She took up the axe she had left stuck in the trunk and returned home; the anxious woman hurried up as she arrived.

“Y-you’re going...?”

Namgoong Seolhwa nodded.

“How many?”

“T-ten...? Fifteen...?”

She nodded again.

She could not promise a victory.

But if she did not go, villagers would die.

There was only one choice.

“Stay here.”

They were after her; there was no need for the woman to go back as well.

“W-wait—”

Tak—

Leaving the woman behind, Namgoong Seolhwa streaked down the mountain.

Trees and brush flashed past; a sharp wind hissed past her ears.

...

Before her eyes, the girl vanished in an instant, and the woman froze in shock.

Only a thin veil of dust drifted where she had been standing moments ago.

****

Tap...

At the village gate Namgoong Seolhwa slowed her rough breathing.

She calmed her breath and looked around.

Whooo...

The air was not as it usually was.

No children’s riotous laughter; none of the adults’ ceaseless talk — only quiet.

A chill wind she’d never noticed here before brushed her ears.

It sounded like the sobbing of a woman.

Step.

When her breath had evened, she entered the village, slow and steady.

Inside, it was chaos.

A collapsed wall and a broken gate.

Shards of shattered bowls rolled; shoes, whose owners were unknown, lay strewn.

Each time she saw the blood smeared here and there, her chest seemed to drop.

In the distance she saw the old woman’s inn — the one whose owner had saved her.

Its door too was broken and flung wide; the inside was likewise a wreck.

...

Somewhere, sobbing could be truly heard.

Not far.

Namgoong Seolhwa clenched her fist.

She turned toward the sound.

It was the small market where villagers set out their mats and sold their goods.

The closer she drew, the louder the sobbing grew.

“Be quiet!”

And a voice pressing that sound down came with it.

Every stall lay overturned; the villagers were gathered at the center.

The men were bound and forced to kneel in a line; opposite them, women and children wept in muffled breaths as they looked at their fathers and sons.

Lest they draw the bandits’ notice.

Mothers clapped hands over small mouths and sobbed in silence.

“Deputy Stockade Lord, time’s up.”

“Bring one.”

Sniggering, the bandits picked one of the bound men.

“No! Seoi’s father! Seoi’s father!!”

“Daaad—!”

The chosen man’s wife screamed.

Women nearby clutched her children in haste and tried to hold her back.

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?! Do you want to die?”

At the brief commotion, the man called Deputy Stockade Lord barked.

He pulled up the big broad saber he had planted upside down in the earth and started to rise when—

“Deputy Stockade Lord...!”

A subordinate glanced past him and called out.

“What!”

“She’s here. The... girl.”

The Deputy Stockade Lord turned, face thick with annoyance.

A girl walked forward — pat, pat — step by step.