Had he remembered Namgung Chu-myeong's steadfast face at her words?
Seol-yeong covered his mouth with his fist, then quickly turned away. A moment later came the sound of him swallowing down a dry retch.
"Sorry, noona. My stomach, for a moment…"
"So naive."
"I'm not naive…"
"For someone seeing it for the first time, it is enough to shock them. There is no need to be embarrassed."
Yes. In truth, Yeo Il was also quite shocked. It had been far too long since she last saw a human-skin mask.
Those capable of crafting a human-skin mask were exceedingly rare. Their numbers were few and their whereabouts unknown. Even organizations that made contract killing their trade found them difficult to obtain.
Which meant—
"Something extraordinary has infiltrated the Namgung Clan."
Who was wearing Namgung Chu-myeong's human-skin mask? What were they affiliated with? And for what purpose had they hidden themselves here?
Given the circumstances, Yeo Il could not help but suspect Salmak.
"But they said they vanished without a trace."
Over the past half year, as she traveled the martial world, Yeo Il confirmed it with her own eyes.
Salmak had truly disappeared.
On a whim, she gathered every rumor related to Salmak, yet none bore fruit. Every one was absurdly inflated false gossip.
Thus, she did not believe the fake Namgung Chu-myeong was from Salmak. Above all, infiltrating in such a brazen way—so brazen it made one click their tongue—was not their method.
Then did Namgung Jeok-myeong know that the current Namgung Chu-myeong was a fake?
"This is more complicated than I thought."
It was too early to draw conclusions.
But one fact was clear.
A quiet yet enormous storm was sweeping into the Namgung Clan.
________________________________________
Several days later, Namgung Jeok-myeong sent word to Yeo Il.
"After making inquiries, we located that person's relatives in a village near Hubei Province. We plan to dispatch people soon, so the Sogaju (Clan Heir) asks that you wait a little longer."
Not only had he moved quickly, he informed her immediately. It was unexpected.
"I thought he would delay it appropriately and drag things out."
For Yeo Il, it was good news.
"Tell Lord Jeok-myeong that I will accompany him."
The servant could not hide his surprise.
"Lady Soyo will go in person?"
"Yes. My heart is desperate to confirm my mother's relatives with my own eyes."
"Yes, understood."
The servant bowed and withdrew. Yet before an hour passed, he returned.
"The Sogaju (Clan Heir) says he understands your feelings. However, with your current health, you cannot travel a journey that takes more than four days. He asks that you remain in the clan."
At those words, tears slid down from the corners of Yeo Il's eyes.
Startled, the servant hurriedly lowered his head. Yeo Il wept silently for a long time. Her breathing grew rough; she coughed, then collapsed.
"L-Lady! Lady Soyo!"
Chang-a rushed forward to support her. With the flustered servant's help, they laid Yeo Il on the bed. Chang-a fanned her with reddened eyes.
"Waaah. What are we to do with our young lady… She is so soft-hearted that once she keeps something inside, she suffers for an entire season…"
Wiping her eyes, Chang-a pleaded earnestly.
"Please… please deliver the message properly. She was driven out of the clan at such a young age, lived in a foreign land, returned to Anhui Province late, and every single day she only waited for news of her mother. She wished for nothing else—only that!"
"..."
"Now that we have finally found a trace… Waaah. What if her health worsens even more?"
"…Fine. I will convey that the young lady collapsed."
That night, even after sunset, Yeo Il continued to cry.
"Waaah… h-hic…"
Of course, half of it was Chang-a's crying.
Chang-a sobbed over the sweets, tea cakes, and picture book Yeo Il had given her. Only at the hour of the pig did she exhaust herself and fall asleep.
Had word spread that Namgung Soyo collapsed from inner anguish?
That night, the fourth assassin in three days infiltrated.
"If you quietly offer your neck, it will end without pain—ugh."
As always, Yeo Il subdued him easily. As always, she intended to ask, "Who sent you?"
Then she noticed something strange in his eyes.
He was flustered, yet calm at the same time. There was no sense of desperation to live or die.
As though he was certain she would not kill him.
In an instant, Yeo Il's gaze turned cold.
"Who is it?"
"..."
"Who told you that I would spare you?"
The moment his eyes widened—
Yeo Il struck his acupoint and rendered him unconscious.
Seol-yeong strolled over in the darkness, stuck out his tongue, and frowned at the fallen assassin.
"What now? Should I toss him into the garden like before?"
Yeo Il looked down at the assassin and slowly shook her head.
"No. I am thinking."
"Haa. These bastards are persistent. This is already the fourth time. After being beaten like that, they keep sending assassins. Do they even intend to kill you?"
"There is only one answer. Either the assassins are dealt with before they can report failure. Or, as you said, they never intended to kill me."
Seol-yeong's sleepy eyes sharpened.
"It seems to be the latter. This one knew I would let him live."
"Then… someone has no intention of harming you, yet keeps sending assassins day and night? And that someone is Namgung Jeok-myeong?"
"Who knows."
After brief contemplation, Yeo Il took out paper and brush and wrote something.
"Attach this to his chest, then leave him in the garden as before. But hide nearby and watch whether anyone comes to retrieve him."
"If someone does, what then? Should I grab them by the collar and drag them here?"
She shook her head and quietly explained the next step.
Near the hour of the ox, beneath a pale moon veiled by thin clouds, while the Namgung Clan lay silent—
A loud shout shattered the quiet.
"An intruder! An intruder! A highly suuuuspect intruder killed someone and ran!"
The booming voice was loud enough to rouse every sleeper.
As she lay on her bed, the corners of Yeo Il's lips lifted faintly.
There was no one better than Seol-yeong at drawing attention.
"So the assassins we spared were indeed being retrieved quietly."
This time, the retrieval had failed. The other side would surely be shaken.
Lights flared one by one throughout the clan. Noisy footsteps echoed back and forth.
Yet instead of rushing out, Yeo Il sat in her chair and waited.
Time passed.
The hurried footsteps along the corridor grew closer, like wind.
Listening as though to the strings of a pipa, Yeo Il recalled the slip of paper she had attached to the assassin's chest.
I killed your target.
A sentence no one would understand.
Except for one person.
The one who had been sending assassins after her.
Tak—
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