Chapter 9

Bukgung Family’s Flying Swallow Manor guard unit’s martial arts men.

They came from different hometowns, families, and siblings, but they all shared one thing in common.

They were all people with sly minds.

If their family background was good, their rank among siblings was ambiguous.

If their rank was good, their origins were dubious.

If their martial arts skill was good, the others were ambiguous.

People pushed down in their own family, pushed down in other families, whose mediocre skill made it hard to rise further.

For such people, the place where they could still swagger without abandoning pride was this: the guard unit of Flying Swallow Manor.

Even among retainers of the same Bukgung Family, those with good skill and background were chosen as the princes’ henchmen.

So those here were, so to speak, the leftovers—those who couldn’t even seize a chance at advancement.

But they were leftovers with strong pride.

And then.

Yeon Mujin crushed their pride mercilessly.

In their narrow world they reigned like kings. Those inferior to them bowed, and the superior ones were not met with.

At the mere name of the Bukgung Family, those ignorant admired them; when returning home they basked in envious looks.

But their behavior wasn’t much different from third-rate thugs roaming the streets.

Training was an afterthought, and their guard duties were half-hearted. On lazy days, they’d find an excuse to skip and no one complained.

After all, wasn’t Bukgung Yoon a bird caged in Flying Swallow Manor? Inside that cage there was nothing that could harm her.

Then one day Yeon Mujin appeared.

Yeon Mujin trampled and mocked their lofty pride.

It would have been different if Yeon Mujin had better origins, been older, or more cultivated. But he was not.

He was a wanderer by origin, young, and had a rotten attitude.

He enjoyed dogfights, had a sharp tongue, and never hesitated to mock.

By any measure there was nothing about him worthy of respect or admiration.

So they became determined. Rage boiled up.

They wanted, by any means, to land a blow on that annoying face!

“How should we avoid him?”

The martial guards were startled and all looked toward Yang Gwan-wol.

Yang Gwan-wol was among the proudest; his origin was Zhejiang’s Pan’an Yang Family, one of the better backgrounds.

And that Yang Gwan-wol had gone to ask Yeon Mujin, who sat in the mess hall.

“What?”

“Your attacks—how should we avoid them?”

That was the question.

Yeon Mujin watched Yang Gwan-wol’s fists tremble; his face flushed, and his clenched jaw made veins stand out on his neck.

Yeon Mujin thought.

‘Look at this guy?’

They had been sparring (violent under the guise of training) for days and eating together, but it was the first time someone spoke to him directly.

When Yeon Mujin remained silent and only watched, Yang Gwan-wol asked him again.

“If someone like you ever attacks the young lady, how should we protect her?”

The changed question pleased him a little more.

Of course that didn’t mean he would answer obediently.

“Asking and using informal speech? How old are you?”

At that moment one could see curses rising to Yang Gwan-wol’s throat.

But Yang Gwan-wol held back. He endured with superhuman patience.

Endure, endure. They say if you endure three times you can avoid even murder, don’t they?

“I’m twenty-nine this year.”

When he answered, the entire mess hall, including Yeon Mujin, fell silent.

Yang Gwan-wol looked at least ten years older than him.

In an unusually cautious tone, Yeon Mujin asked.

“Did you eat something wrong as a child? Anyway, if you’re going to ask, ask politely using honorifics.”

Yang Gwan-wol tried to ask again, but,

“No, damn it. Hearing ‘sir’ from that face makes me feel like the world’s greatest scoundrel. Just use informal speech. It pisses me off.”

Those watching all turned their heads and covered their mouths.

Chewing his food and thinking for a moment, Yeon Mujin asked Yang Gwan-wol back.

“You—what do you do when you meet someone strong in the murim world?”

Yang Gwan-wol answered easily.

“Die.”

“Ha, what a stupid answer. If you meet someone stronger, do you automatically offer your neck and ask to be killed? Would every recruit in the murim world return as a corpse then?”

Yang Gwan-wol flushed and asked.

“Then?”

“What’s ‘then’? Of course you run away.”

“Run away?”

It was an option none of them had ever considered.

Not just Yang Gwan-wol; most of the murim warriors in the mess hall were the same.

For them, it was better to die with honor than to return to their family in ignominy after fleeing. How could they bear the insults they’d hear alive?

But Yeon Mujin said, as if it were obvious.

“Even if it’s unseemly, tuck your tail and run your butt off. You have to live to take revenge or whatever. Do I have to teach you something so simple?”

“But our duty is to guard, isn’t it? A guard can’t abandon their charge and run away.”

Yeon Mujin nodded as if agreeing.

“Of course you can’t run away. Are you thick-headed?”

Yang Gwan-wol thought: should I just kill this bastard?

Yeon Mujin asked again.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to ask. What do you think is the difference between a warrior and a guard-warrior?”

“Not being able to run away?”

This time someone else answered instead of Yang Gwan-wol.

Yeon Mujin clicked his tongue and sneered again.

“That’s what I just said. Where did they pick up so many idiots like this?”

“Then what is it?”

“You don’t need to be picky about the methods.”

“What?”

Their faces were dumbfounded at the unexpected answer.

Yeon Mujin looked at Yang Gwan-wol and asked.

“What’s your name?”

“Yang Gwan-wol.”

“Do you have a title?”

“Centre Beam Divine Blade.”

Yeon Mujin looked at Yang Gwan-wol with a look of disbelief.

“A grander epithet than skill, it seems.”

“It—my family gave it to me…”

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. If you, as warriors, risk life and death with someone, you should fight according to your epithet—care for your family’s prestige, avoid cowardly acts… Though I find it stifling. Regardless, that’s how it is.”

The murim men nodded.

Being born into a good family means you must be mindful of the family’s reputation.

No matter how much they were like idiots.

“But guards don’t have that. Whether you ambush, swarm, deceive, or use poison, it doesn’t matter. Why? Because you have the justification of protecting your charge. What you should care about isn’t your family or epithet’s name value but only the safety of the charge. That’s the difference between a warrior and a guard-warrior.”

Yeon Mujin looked at the martial men and said in a low voice.

“If you can’t even cast off that pride, you don’t deserve to shoulder the name of guard.”

Most of the murim men reddened and avoided his gaze.

Had they ever resolved to throw away face, pride, and life for Bukgung Yoon even once? None of them had.

Yeon Mujin was right. What kind of guards were they?

“How to protect? My answer is this: use any means necessary. Don’t be bound by names like Centre Beam Divine Blade or whatever—do everything you can. If you still fail to protect, it’s a lack of your ability. Then die cleanly. There’s no grievance in lack of ability. Well, has that answered you?”

“Hmm…”

Yang Gwan-wol swallowed his bitterness.

Yeon Mujin set down his clean plate and rose from his seat.

He bowed toward the kitchen with a respectfully different manner than when facing the martial men.

“It was delicious again today, chef.”

For reference, their dinner that day was duck blood soup.

None of the others, except Yeon Mujin, dared touch it.

The main chamber of Bukgung Family’s Flying Swallow Manor.

Bukgung Yoon, the lord of Flying Swallow Manor, and housemistress Wang Ga-hwa sat together.

Wang Ga-hwa was smoothing Bukgung Yoon’s silk-like hair.

An outsider might see it as a beautiful, timeless moment, but for the two involved it was not so.

“Lady Wang.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“The main house requested sending murim men for this schedule, I heard.”

Wang Ga-hwa’s hand froze as she combed.

“…Where did you hear that news, my lady?”

“I overheard the attendants in the hall talking as I passed by.”

Though she was officially the lord of Flying Swallow Manor, she had to eavesdrop on attendants’ talk.

But Bukgung Yoon asked calmly.

“We’ve decided not to dispatch murim men from our Flying Swallow Manor. You don’t need to worry, miss.”

“Who decided that?”

“Of course I and guard head Jeong Yeo-gwang decided together.”

“Without a single report to me?”

“Hohoho. If we reported even these trivial matters to you, your lovely hair would be ruined.”

Bukgung Yoon bit her lip secretly at Wang Ga-hwa.

She wanted to strike Wang Ga-hwa’s hand and demand an explanation, but she held back—she knew too well nothing would change.

“I see. Then what happened to this month’s cooks’ monthly stipend negotiations? I thought they were in progress.”

“We froze it.”

“…It seems it was frozen last year and the year before as well.”

“Of course. You must manage funds frugally to keep the estate’s finances healthy. Your housemistress has it handled, so you needn’t worry.”

Bukgung Yoon sighed inwardly so Wang Ga-hwa wouldn’t hear—a suffocating, hot sigh.

Wang Ga-hwa explained nothing to her. No matter how politely she asked, it was useless.

It made no sense. This was her estate granted by the family lord, and yet.

Bukgung Yoon, sinking in powerlessness, suddenly thought of one person.

“By the way, what happened to the new guard who arrived this time? I don’t think I’ve seen him since the last meeting.”

Drip-drip!

There was the sound of Bukgung Yoon’s hair being snatched as Wang Ga-hwa swept it aside.

Bukgung Yoon startled and turned around.

For a moment she saw Wang Ga-hwa’s expression soaked in venom.

But Wang Ga-hwa quickly composed herself and replied.

“Ah, ah, he’s probably been excused from duty for a while due to new recruit training. Guard head Jeong will handle it. I don’t know the details.”

“Training? A new recruit? He’s a murim man already vetted by passing the Bukgung Guard Tournament.”

“Still, Flying Swallow Manor has its own rules, doesn’t it?”

“I see. Then please tell head guard Jeong that I want to meet my guard Yeon.”

“Why do you want to?”

Wang Ga-hwa’s voice snapped sharply.

But Bukgung Yoon didn’t flinch.

She instead looked Wang Ga-hwa straight in the eye and said.

“Why? I’m saying I want to meet my own guard. Is that a problem?”

For a moment Wang Ga-hwa and Bukgung Yoon glared at each other in silence.

Wang Ga-hwa was the first to break her expression.

“Since you ask so earnestly, I’ll request Guard Jeong on your behalf. Don’t worry. This Lady Wang will take care of it.”

Wang Ga-hwa said that, but Bukgung Yoon knew it wasn’t true.

‘Lady Wang will take care of it’ meant she wouldn’t grant the request at all.

Wang Ga-hwa had brushed aside her words more than once.

“Oh dear, look at me. I just remembered there are things I must attend to today.”

Wang Ga-hwa set down the comb and walked out of the main chamber.

She left without apologizing for the snatched hair.

Left alone, Bukgung Yoon stared at the tangled, broken strands in her comb for a long time.

Something seemed to be writhing and stirring inside her.

This feeling hadn’t improved for a very long time.

Bukgung Yoon clutched her chest and murmured softly.

“…It’s suffocating.”