Dong Pil led them to the guest quarters in complete silence.
They walked through the pristine courtyards of the Namgoong estate, but the old merchant didn't speak a single word the entire way. Wol expected him to ask something—about the medicine, about the Patriarch's violent reaction, or about what Elder Han had told them. But he didn't.
Wol didn't question it. He preferred to be as uninvolved as possible anyway.
Once they reached the designated room, Dong Pil gave a short, polite nod and left, closing the heavy sliding door behind him.
The moment the door shut, Jo Mak let out a long breath and collapsed backward onto the soft bed.
He stared at the ceiling for a second before speaking. "That guard," Jo Mak said, his voice dropping low. "Something about him... you felt it too, right?"
Wol didn't answer immediately. He was standing by the window, his arms crossed over his chest, looking out at the manicured gardens below. He watched quietly as Dong Pil's figure moved through the courtyards, eventually disappearing behind a distant wall.
"Things might be far worse than we thought," Wol finally replied.
He turned away from the window, uncrossing his arms, and walked over to the wooden chair in the corner of the room. He sat down, resting his arms casually on the handrests.
"There is a possibility," Wol said slowly, "that someone inside the clan is the reason for the Patriarch's condition."
He looked down at his own palm, remembering the faint, unnatural sensation and the distinct, foul odor that had hit the air when the Patriarch coughed up blood.
"Black Lotus Poison," Wol stated flatly. "He was poisoned."
Jo Mak shot up from the bed.
"Black Lotus Poison?!" he hissed, keeping his voice as low as possible despite his shock. "Are you sure?"
Wol nodded. "I have read about it. The characteristics and his physical condition match exactly what I read."
Jo Mak ran a hand through his hair, his mind quickly piecing the puzzle together. "Then it's no wonder Elder Han couldn't figure it out. Even seasoned veterans would have a hard time identifying it because it's so rare. But more than that... it's not immediately lethal unless it's administered continuously over a long period of time."
He looked at Wol, his eyes sharp. "Elder Han probably ruled out the possibility of a poison given for a long time entirely. He must have assumed the Patriarch just fell ill due to lingering internal injuries from the recent ambush on the clan. It was the perfect decoy. That explains why no cure was found all this time."
"Exactly," Wol agreed. "And that brings us back to the guard. He could be an accomplice."
Wol leaned back in the chair. "I noticed it before we even entered the room. Dong Pil is wary of him. When we arrived, Dong Pil specifically told the young lady not to come inside. And when the guard stepped up to stop me from giving the medicine, Dong Pil didn't do a single thing to intervene. That means..."
"That means someone influential from inside the clan is supporting him," Jo Mak finished the sentence, his expression darkening. "Someone with enough authority to make even Dong Pil hesitate. That also explains why he was assigned as the second son's personal guard. He was planted there to keep an eye on him."
Jo Mak let out a short, cynical scoff. "But it seems the second son trusts him blindly."
He fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling again. "...Naive."
Wol didn't say anything to that remark.
Naive.
The word hung in the quiet room. Wol remembered the past. Both he and Jo Mak had been naive once, believing that the world would somehow reward loyalty and endurance. He knew it all too well, and the result of that naivety had been painfully obvious.
Wol pushed the thought away.
Jo Mak sat up slowly, his brow furrowing as he thought it through.
"But Black Lotus Poison..." Jo Mak muttered. "If they wanted to destroy the Namgoong clan, it would have been easy enough to just assassinate the Patriarch while he was recovering from the ambush. Using Black Lotus Poison leads to only one possibility. They need time. Time for someone to replace the Patriarch, using his prolonged absence to slowly take control of the clan while keeping the legitimate heirs in check."
Jo Mak paused, his eyes widening slightly. "Wait... the second son and the daughter were in that room. What about the first son?"
"He is the one running the clan now," Wol replied, his gaze still fixed on the window. "Namgoong Woncheng. Either him, or whoever is standing directly behind him. There is only one logical explanation. A rival sect or the black market is pulling the strings, and someone very important from within the clan is helping them."
Jo Mak exhaled sharply. "So... what should we do?"
"We can't leave the Patriarch to die," Wol said. He finally turned away from the window and looked directly at Jo Mak. "We need information. Recent shipments, major envoys who have visited, any recent clan events. I need to know everything about the first son, the clan elders, and the high-ranking officers."
Jo Mak blinked. He hadn't expected Wol to be so aggressively forward with a plan, but he understood the urgency. He stood up from the bed, stretching his neck.
"Leave that to me," Jo Mak said, a faint smirk returning to his face. Since he was already in a completely different persona, he could easily slip into the lower districts and tap into the local beggar network for information without drawing suspicion to his real identity.
Wol nodded once. As Jo Mak left through the front door, Wol moved to the corner of the room. He carefully peeled off the flawless mask Elder Han had crafted, leaving it hidden beneath his extra clothes. If he was going to do this next part, he needed to do it as himself.
He didn't use the door. He slipped out through the window, melting into the shadows of the estate.
The antique shop was quiet.
Unlike yesterday, Dong Pil wasn't snoring in his bamboo chair. The young boy was nowhere to be seen. The old man was sitting alone behind the dusty counter, staring blankly at the wall with a cup of wine in his hand, lost in heavy thought.
The bell above the door didn't chime. Wol approached silently and took a seat on the wooden stool directly next to the counter.
Dong Pil's eyes shifted immediately. It was unusual for someone to simply walk in and sit next to him without browsing the store, and his instincts flared.
"Elder Pil," Wol said softly.
He didn't use his real voice. He replicated the exact pitch and tone of 'Chung Mu'—the disguised mercenary from earlier that day.
Dong Pil's body instantly tensed. He recognized the voice immediately.
"Who are you?" Dong Pil demanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous, guarded growl. He stared at the teenager's unfamiliar face.
Instead of answering, Wol reached into his robe and pulled out a small, dark wooden plaque. He placed it quietly on the counter. It was the token Elder Han had given him before they left, promising that Dong Pil would help them if things went wrong.
Dong Pil stared at the plaque. He carefully picked it up, running his thumb over the intricate carving. It was undeniably Han's. Unlike a simple letter, this plaque was not something Han would give to just anyone.
"What is your purpose for coming here?" Dong Pil asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked back at Wol. "This plaque is not something anyone can have. So why did Han send you in disguise?"
"I had some personal matters to attend to," Wol replied smoothly, "and I couldn't afford to share my true identity publicly. Elder Han had medicine that needed to be delivered to this city, so I helped him. But beyond that... he is a benefactor of mine. I thought I could help him a little, but as you know, the situation here was much worse than I thought."
Wol kept his gaze steady. "I wouldn't have removed my disguise and come back here if it wasn't serious."
Dong Pil studied the boy's calm demeanor for a long moment before setting the cup of wine down.
"What do you know about the Patriarch's health?" the old man asked quietly.
"As you saw, the way he reacted to the medicine yesterday was abnormal," Wol said. "It is not just lingering internal injuries from the ambush. He has been poisoned."
Wol leaned in slightly. "Do you know of the Black Lotus Poison?"
Dong Pil's hand jerked. The wine cup slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the wooden counter and spilling across the floor.
"Black Lotus Poison?" Dong Pil breathed, his eyes wide with disbelief. "How is that possible?"
"I am sure of it. The physical characteristics and the reaction confirm it," Wol explained calmly. "Because it requires continuous exposure over a long period of time to become lethal, Elder Han likely ruled out the possibility of poison entirely. But the black blood and the foul smell confirmed it for me."
Wol let the silence hang for a second before delivering the final blow.
"Which means someone from the inside has been poisoning the Patriarch for a long time. They wanted time. They needed the Patriarch's seat to be vacant, but not empty, to keep the legitimate heirs in check while they seized control of the clan."
Dong Pil looked at the table. His fist clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned stark white.
"Those bastards," he muttered, his voice trembling with a mix of quiet rage and betrayal.
Wol leaned in closer. "I need to know what you know about this," Wol said, his tone pressing but even. "Since the beginning, you were wary of the guard. He is related to this, right?"
Dong Pil rested his palm flat on the wooden counter, taking a slow, shaky breath to calm himself down.
"You are right," the old man admitted, his voice rough. "He was originally appointed to keep an eye on the second son. But the shared grief and helplessness of the past few months seemed to bring them close. Now, the second young master trusts him blindly."
Dong Pil clenched his jaw, his fist tightening again. "I knew they placed him there. But I thought they were just making use of the Patriarch's sudden illness to secure their own positions. I never thought..." He closed his eyes, the reality of it setting in. "...I never thought it was all a deliberate ploy. That they were poisoning the very hands that fed them. Those snakes."
"Who are they?" Wol asked.
Dong Pil opened his eyes. A deep, lingering bitterness flashed across them.
"The elders under the first young master," Dong Pil replied. "At least, that is how it seems in public. But the real person pulling the strings, the one they all truly follow... is the Grand Elder. The Patriarch's uncle."
The old merchant looked down at his own worn hands.
"He is the one who orchestrated this," Dong Pil continued, his voice heavy with regret. "He used his influence to slowly force out all the elders who served loyally under the Patriarch." Dong Pil let out a dry, self-deprecating chuckle. "...Including me."
He looked back up at Wol. "Now, they practically control the entire Namgoong territory. The first young master is greedy and arrogant, and he is blindly following the Grand Elder's 'guidance.' The Grand Elder is just using him as a puppet to seize absolute control of the clan."
"Why the Patriarch's uncle?" Wol asked, his voice steady. "What is the reason for him to do this? As the Grand Elder, he must already possess power and authority second only to the Patriarch himself, right?"
Dong Pil didn't answer immediately. He picked up an empty clay cup, poured himself another measure of cheap wine, and took a slow, bitter sip.
"It stems back to the Patriarch's father," Dong Pil explained, wiping his mouth. "The previous Patriarch. He succeeded the clan head position over the Grand Elder, even though the Grand Elder was older and officially next in line to be the heir. The reason for that bypass was simple—the Grand Elder's underhanded, ruthless methods in the past didn't sit well with the proud, righteous aesthetic of the Namgoong family."
Dong Pil stared into his half-empty cup. "Then, the previous Patriarch died in the Great Demonic War. Again, instead of passing the seat to the Grand Elder, the deceased Patriarch's son—the current Patriarch—was chosen. He was backed by a faction of loyal, veteran elders who had fought alongside his father."
Dong Pil let out a heavy sigh. "But time is cruel. Those loyal veterans all died of old age or various injuries over the years. Now, the entire new council of elders are nothing but the Grand Elder's dogs."
The old merchant set his cup down with a thud. "He knew that if he simply killed the Patriarch and took the seat now, he would immediately fall under heavy suspicion from the other great clans. So, he is using the first young master as a puppet to legitimize the transition. But now that I think about it... this has all been his ploy from the very beginning."
Wol listened quietly. In his mind, he weighed whether or not he should tell Dong Pil about the likely involvement of the black market or another rival sect. After a brief moment of hesitation, Wol decided to keep it to himself. Not yet, Wol thought. This is enough information for now. There is no need to make him more anxious than he already is.
"That explains the situation," Wol said out loud.
He leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he formulated a plan. "If we are going to rescue the Patriarch, first we have to report this to Elder Han immediately. He is the only one who can craft a proper antidote for the Black Lotus Poison. In the meantime, we have to secretly gather people who are absolutely trustworthy and collect undeniable evidence to back our claims."
Wol looked at the old man. "Since there are eyes everywhere, we cannot be obvious about it. I will leave the gathering of trusted men to you, Elder Pil. I will deal with the guard."
Dong Pil nodded slowly, though a deep frown creased his forehead. "How? He is always by the second young master's side, and his martial arts are not weak."
Wol waved a hand dismissively. "He must be desperate now. The medicine I gave the Patriarch completely disrupted his controlled timeline. The guard is going to have to do something quickly if he wants to maintain control over the Patriarch's failing condition."
Wol's eyes glinted with cold calculation. "He will have to make contact with whoever is supplying the poison or sending him orders. When he does, we will track the source. We will trace the enemies one by one, and we will find our evidence."