Part 7 - Face-to-Face
Yeon Sang-hyeon looked down at Jeong-a, who was lying on the bedding in her bedchamber.
She had not a shred of inner power, yet she had grasped a barrier-class formation—had even managed to peer into his 'dark domain'.
Those two eyes that shone like gold… I've definitely seen them somewhere…
He closed his eyes for a moment, retracing his previous life. Then, without meaning to, an exclamation slipped from his lips.
"...So that's how it is. You really were that woman."
He and she had never faced each other directly.
And she looked so different from what he remembered that he hadn't recognized her at once.
"How could you have been someone from this clan…"
In his hand was the directive document from the Steward's Office chief that Jeong-a had brought.
"...What a cruelly strange fate."
With a careful touch, he brushed aside the hair that had fallen across Jeong-a's face.
"Fate is a truly curious thing."
All he had done was drive off the underlings that morning.
Yet as a result, in just half a day, someone he had never even come face-to-face with in his previous life had suddenly appeared as his maid.
Smiling, he shook his head.
An unexpected turn of events.
Perhaps that was why the world could still be interesting to him.
He rose from his seat and left the bedchamber.
Before he met her eyes again, he needed to find a way to perfectly conceal his demonic qi.
Better yet, if he could not only hide it but control it, that would be perfect.
Half a day, at most.
Even a single day's portion of time would be more than enough.
It was only a matter of slightly modifying and creating a suitable cultivation method to completely conceal demonic qi—why would it take longer than that?
Yeon Sang-hyeon entered his study, calmly thinking thoughts no martial arts grandmaster would agree with.
"...Sleep well. I'll see you later, Golden-Eyed Witch."
***
The moments before she fainted felt like nothing more than a bad dream.
Jeong-a woke with an astonishing lightness in her body.
How long had it been since she'd slept this deeply?
She'd forgotten the Luoyang Sword Clan, forgotten the Second Young Master and the Third Young Master—as if she'd returned to childhood, to the days she lived with her family.
How long had it been since she'd opened her eyes with no worry, no fear, no anxiety?
She pushed aside the blanket that had been warmly wrapped around her and sat up. Beside her head sat a teapot and cup.
When she drank the tea steeped in cooled water—breathing in its fragrance—she felt as though she could envy nothing in the world.
She had tasted countless expensive teas while working as a receptionist for the Sword Clan, yet she had never encountered tea leaves that soothed the heart like this.
And the bedding she had slept in—old and worn by hands, yet undeniably high-class—was something she had never once in her life been able to cover herself with.
Even the teacup in her hands, chipped slightly at the rim, was an invaluable piece of celadon.
Where am I…?
The room she lay in was antique and modest, yet its lofty refinement felt effortless.
Entranced by the terrifyingly elegant calligraphy on the wall scroll, the carved incense-cedar ornaments of mountains and fields, and the earthenware holding dried petals that exuded a gentle scent, she carefully rose and tidied the bedding.
Then she lifted the ebony-wood shade that had been blocking the intense sunset glow seeping through the papered door, and opened the window.
"Ah…"
The scenery that spread out before her naturally drew an exclamation from her lips.
A vast territory surrounded by forest—so wide it couldn't be taken in at a glance.
Wongakjeong, set at the far edge of the Luoyang Sword Clan, touched nature itself where it stretched outward.
And they had drawn that nature into their embrace and shaped it into a garden.
A broad meadow, low hills, a stream and marshland—and even ponds and a lake.
It was a breathtaking scene woven together with the setting sun.
And above all—
It was February.
Luoyang should have been winter, yet here at Wongakjeong it was spring.
As she stood slack-jawed, falling into the astonishing landscape, an oddly playful voice reached her ears.
"How is it? Beautiful, isn't it?"
The voice yanked her back to reality.
"Ah…!"
The one speaking to her from the yard wore old, plain white clothes.
"Yeah. Sleep well?"
He gave her a small wave.
"Ah, yes. Thanks to you…"
He had the slender build of a youth and the gentle face of a boy.
His snow-white skin and soft features left a strong impression; to her, 'beautiful boy' fit him better than 'handsome young man'.
"Good. That's a relief."
Then he smiled mischievously.
"My neck hurts from talking while looking up, so get yourself together and come down to the first floor."
And without even waiting for her answer, he sauntered around the corner and disappeared.
"Ah…!"
Only then did Jeong-a realize.
That beautiful boy was Yeon Sang-hyeon—the Luoyang Sword Clan's First Young Master, scorned with the derogatory title Swordless.
And she also realized that the place she was standing was his bedchamber… and that at their very first meeting, she had dared to look down at her master while speaking.
***
"...So. Your name is Jeong-a, is it?"
At Yeon Sang-hyeon's languid question, Jeong-a—having regained her usual composure—answered calmly.
"Yes, my lord."
At that, Yeon Sang-hyeon smiled teasingly.
"You were pretty heavy earlier."
Of course, it was a joke.
After gaining the power of The Ruler Of Darkness, there was no way the weight of a single woman could burden him.
"Ah—s-sorry. Forgive me…"
Jeong-a understood.
There were no servants in Wongakjeong right now.
The one who had carried her after she fainted was none other than the Luoyang Sword Clan's First Young Master himself.
Her head spun.
Come to think of it… I fainted in that forest. First I ran into experts dressed like guards, then that terrible formation, and…
She had clearly suffered a horrific nightmare, yet now it was as though she couldn't recall it after waking.
I definitely saw something… was it a dream…?
Shock beyond what she could bear had tangled her memories, then erased the parts she couldn't possibly endure.
Watching Jeong-a's confusion with a quiet gaze, Yeon Sang-hyeon spoke again.
"Luckily, I found you collapsed while I was out for a walk. Even if Wongakjeong is warm, if you'd been discovered too late, it could've ended badly."
At those words, Jeong-a rose from her chair, dropped to her knees, and bowed her head to the floor.
"I will never forget the grace you showed in saving this lowly life."
Yeon Sang-hyeon waved a hand.
"Alright. Get up."
Then he unfolded the directive document on the table.
But Jeong-a didn't look like she intended to stand.
"From now on, as I serve you, I will not spare this body, and with my very life—"
"Enough", Yeon Sang-hyeon cut her off.
He looked at her over the top of the document.
There was no emotion in his eyes.
"And in the first place, I never said I would accept you. Are you deciding on your own to serve me?"
He shook the directive paper slightly.
"Or is this order from the Steward's Office chief giving orders to me, the First Young Master?"
A bolt of lightning seemed to strike Jeong-a's mind.
Now that she thought about it, she had simply assumed she would serve him.
"...Please kill this lowly one!"
No—she had intended to undergo an interview with the First Young Master.
But everything had become twisted when she fainted in the forest.
"Hah. I save you, and you decide to serve me however you please—now you're asking me to kill you."
Jeong-a lowered her head even further.
"...I beg your forgiveness."
Yeon Sang-hyeon clicked his tongue, took a sip of tea, and spoke again.
"In the first place, I never asked for a maid. I only needed a servant or maid who's good at odd jobs…"
Jeong-a hurriedly replied.
"I started working in the Luoyang Sword Clan doing all manner of menial tasks. I may not meet your standards, but I will do my utmost—"
"Is that so?"
Yeon Sang-hyeon gave a small nod, then spoke in a serious tone.
"Then one most important problem remains."
Jeong-a swallowed hard.
Though hidden behind the insult Swordless, the First Young Master was said to be unrivaled not only in poetry, calligraphy, and painting but even in assorted arts.
What condition would he set?
"Can you cook rice?"
"Yes…?"
Without thinking, Jeong-a lifted her head to look at his face, then hurriedly lowered it again.
"Rice. Cooking. Can you cook?"
His voice was deadly serious.
"I can, but compared to a professional chef, I would never dare—"
As Jeong-a stammered at the bewildering question, Yeon Sang-hyeon slapped his knee.
"So do you have confidence or not?!"
Jeong-a answered reflexively.
"I have confidence!"
"Good! You pass!"
***
Jeong-a stared blankly at the flames in the small stove.
In a shabby work outfit she'd found in the maid quarters, her face smeared with soot, and an apron stained with side-dish broth—she looked nothing like the refined young lady she once seemed to be.
It had been so long since she'd worked in a kitchen that it was dizzying.
But her outstanding memory, her deft hands recognized wherever she went, and her 'eyes' combined—until now all that remained was to wait for the pot of rice set over the fire to finish cooking.
That was chaotic…
Warming her hands over the flames, she let out a small sigh.
It all began when she collapsed in the forest because of that formation.
To think she'd been carried by the First Young Master himself, awakened in his bedchamber…
And after that, the string of humiliations—what on earth had she been doing?
Looking back, her face felt hot with shame.
She had been called the 'Ice Flower' by the strange visitors and high officials who came to the Luoyang Sword Clan—yet she had lost her composure this easily.
I thought I could keep my cool even if a blade was suddenly at my throat…
Even experts capable of sensing qi had never realized that Jeong-a noticed their qi.
And yet she had been thrown around so absurdly.
This is all because I collapsed out of nowhere on that forest path—
Her hands rubbing together before the fire suddenly stopped.
"...No."
When she had awakened in the First Young Master's bedchamber, she had felt unbelievably refreshed, her mind clearer than ever.
Even if she hadn't grasped the situation, it wasn't enough to make her lose herself in everything that followed.
Looking down at the First Young Master and speaking had been improper, yes—but it wasn't something that should have shaken her that badly.
That level of mistake was something she could have handled smoothly, given her years of experience and tact as a receptionist.
And what about the conversation after?
With only a few offhand remarks, he had made her behave like a rookie maid being put through an initiation.
The things that had flustered her, her mistakes, and the fact that only now she was looking back and sensing something strange—
All of it came from…
...The First Young Master.
From the very first meeting to the very end.
He never once gave up the initiative. He shaped the flow of the conversation exactly as he wanted, and he shook even her—Jeong-a, praised as an Ice Flower for her composure.
That man is 'Swordless'…?
The same man the servants had been so unruly toward this morning that he'd been forced to drive them out?
Yeon Sang-hyeon's image as he spoke with her rose in Jeong-a's mind.
Reclining in a wide, soft chair, relaxed and unhurried.
And despite the smile at his lips—those eyes, endlessly indifferent.
He didn't look like some 'Swordless' at all, but rather…
Goosebumps raced across her entire body.
"Is the rice still a long way off?"
"Kyaaa!"
At his sudden voice from behind, Jeong-a jolted up as if she'd sprung into the air.
"Oh—sorry. I guess I startled you."
Standing at the doorway, the First Young Master gave an awkward smile as though apologizing.
Jeong-a couldn't answer a single word.
Only then did she realize.
Her 'eyes' couldn't read anything from him.