Chapter: 148
Is it like the frozen mice that glare back at a serpent’s gaze?
The Namgoong siblings and Envers were overpowered by the venomous glare of Hee Yeong-Hyun, standing rigidly as they exchanged anxious glances. Certain emotions have a way of dominating people.
What misadventures had led to such an irritated and angry expression in her eyes? It was so intense that even asking if something bad had happened today felt daunting.
Yet, even if they mustered the courage to ask, the outcome wouldn’t have changed much.
Who could possibly shift between male and female forms, harbor hatred for humans one moment only to consider them toys, then love them, don lingerie one day and frills the next, and go completely without them afterwards?
For an Evil God, transcending the realm of living beings, such transformations would seem as meaningless as the whispers of a gentle breeze. Just as assigning gender to a rock or spear brings no change at all.
Its true purpose was to morph form and voice, plunging humans into despair; performing as a human should evoke no emotions whatsoever.
They were simply too close.
There lay a distinction between controlling a character beyond text lines and the performance of an actor playing a role.
Under the orders of a mad sorcerer, this role had nudged its way into the Evil God’s data and gradually seeped in.
With the days passing, in the chaos of one possessing a shell that changed with time, it couldn’t help but acknowledge that something within itself was slowly transforming.
Yet, escaping this predicament was not so easy, so it had no choice but to submit to fate.
Hee Yeong-Hyun initiated her role-play (RP) as the cute and charming Open Faction Master, in accordance with the mad sorcerer’s direction.
Q. What kind of character is she?
A. Hee Yeong-Hyun is a butterfly frozen in reality.
Q. Do you truly believe that?
A. …
===============================================================
Have you ever had a dream?
Anyone who claims they haven’t is certainly a dreadful liar.
“I’ve never had a dream,” is a phrase only those who have lost their dreams utter.
Their failure is so heart-wrenching that they simply brush it off as if it never existed, as if they never wished for it at all.
I was originally a girl named So Yeong-Hyun.
The name, meaning “Eternal Black,” encapsulates the hope for a long life, intended by my father.
I hear that he consulted with a skilled Daoist to get that name. “Yeong-Hyun, Yeong-Hyun, when will you come out?” My father and mother smiled as they patted the belly that bore me.
However, they had no idea I would be born after killing my mother.
The cozy vision of a happy family my father had dreamed of was already torn at the first stroke. He mourned until I turned seven, ultimately concluding, “I’ve never had such dreams.”
Thus, he stripped me of my last name, leaving me with just the name and tossing me into the streets.
As a result, I became Yeong-Hyun.
The girl wandered the streets begging, going through various hardships until a kind-hearted beggar took me in and I became a part of the Open Faction.
He was my predecessor as the Open Faction Master.
He was quite a boastful one. No matter how dark the future seemed, he strutted around confidently that things would work out in the end. Even as the Open Faction teetered under a storm of gloom, he believed that doing good would surely draw the heavens’ assistance.
You might wonder how bright a person he was.
He added the character “희” (Hwi) to my name, calling me Hwi Yeong (희영). He seemed to hope deeply that I would always remain hopeful.
When the Open Faction was thriving, it acted like a nursery, taking care of beggars from each region.
With wealth and power, he could engage in such good deeds. Yet in the current crumbling state of the Open Faction, such activities had become impossible. Still, he persisted.
When I questioned him, “If we continue like this, we’ll truly become beggars. We’ll get sold off to those Hao Sect folks!” he’d respond, “I was also a beggar nurtured by the Open Faction. So, regardless of the circumstances, we must continue to give.”
And then, he died. It was said he was ambushed by a group, but the Open Faction couldn’t muster the resources to ensure his murderer was even identified.
The next Open Faction Master became me.
Since my benefactor died from a blade, I wished to preserve the Open Faction he left behind. Thus, I discarded this and that, cutting down our network and reduing our workforce.
Before I ran out of strength, I sold myself to the Hao Sect at a high price, leaving at least a name behind, and ultimately, I had to cease taking care of the little beggars.
Now, all that remains is the name “Hwi Yeong-Hyun.”
In conclusion, I shall say I have never once had a dream.
Not a single time.
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Clatter.
Hee Yeong-Hyun placed the teacup on the old table with a sound. The liquid, nearly plain water, briefly rippled before settling calmly.
Envers bowed his head slightly.
“Thank you.”
“It’s lukewarm tea; if you delay, it will cool considerably.”
“Then I shall drink and begin.”
“…”
Her implication seemed to be, if he didn’t want to drink cold tea, he ought to state his business and leave quickly; however, Envers interpreted it as, “Ah, she likes iced tea.”
The only one to clearly understand her intention was the sharp Namgoong Myung, who was growing increasingly anxious, thinking, Shouldn’t we get out of here fast?
Hee Yeong-Hyun figured that if she pointed fingers subtly, the conversation would lengthen. So, she spoke directly.
“What’s on your mind?”
“What’s on my mind… what do you mean?”
“What I mean is, why would you bring up the news about the 13th Open Faction Master who went missing 30 years ago with the Heavenly Demon… Do you think you can just treat such bleak matters with a mere fib?”
“I have woven no falsehoods.”
Thump! Hee Yeong-Hyun slammed the teapot down fiercely. The table shook, ripples spreading across.
“Then tell me how you gained that knowledge!”
“…So, there’s a wizard who manipulates dimensional powers, and he told me that the Heavenly Demon and the Master, the former Open Faction Master, were…”
“Ha, it seems you aren’t even trying to conceal your lies now?”
“…”
It was an unbelievable tale.
Even Envers, who had gone through it himself, stumbled while explaining how to share with the inhabitants of this world. Just then, unexpected support arrived.
Namgoong Myung sat upright, hands tightened into fists resting on his knees.
“I-I have something to say!”
“Go ahead, young master.”
“Master Cheong-hwi is a distinguished sorcerer! I witnessed him conjuring dark clouds that filled this entire building with my own eyes!”
As the momentum of the conversation wavered, Envers felt gratitude towards Myung and added, “There may be falsehoods. But both you and I understand that true martial arts bear no falsehoods. I will hand over the Dog-Beat Stick Technique, and you can validate it that way.”
“Who could tell if it’s fake martial arts?”
“If you can’t tell the difference between real and fake, then a fake martial art can still be helpful. If it’s a fake so intricate that it rivals the authentic one, then that too can be beneficial.”
Inhale. Envers took a breath, speaking confidently.
“If you were truly that skeptical, instead of unearthing the tea and chatting, you would’ve tossed me aside long ago. So, you must have needed something enough to want to give me a chance to prove myself, right?”
“…”
“Then do trust me once. I will prove that my words bear no falsehood—”
Chill!
Suddenly, a cold rush ran down his neck, and Envers quickly raised his arms to shield his throat and chest.
Namgoong Myung and Namgoong Seung-Ah similarly placed their hands on their swords at their waists, adopting a hasty defensive stance.
In mere moments, the temperature in the room dropped sharply, and the mere aura was enough to set Envers and the Namgoong siblings on edge. Hee Yeong-Hyun was undeniably a master of martial arts. A bead of cold sweat trickled down Envers’ neck.
“…Whoosh.”
From under the hem of her sleeve, a vicious dagger emerged briefly, only to be retracted like a cat digging its claws back in. The murderous intent began to recede.
As winter’s snow gathers quietly, a sense of longing and regret settled upon Hee Yeong-Hyun’s eyelids. It seemed she had somewhat recognized the truth in Envers’ words. She looked down at her sleeve and said,
“Do you find it strange? Claiming the name of Open Faction while resorting to mere memorization.”
“…I’ve learned the techniques of strikes, postures, and grappling, but indeed, I’ve never learned the memorization technique.”
“Yes. The Open Faction has changed. Having lost its foundational martial arts, we had to resort to whatever we could salvage.”
Hee Yeong-Hyun, whether troubled or not, downed another cup of tea and continued explaining.
It was said that there had been severe internal strife.
After the former Master and all his loyal beggars perished under the Heavenly Demon’s hand, the Open Faction splintered into three.
“Where should we align? Who will be the next Master? Who will take more of the spoils?”
Had there been one person of legitimate authority or one individual with unparalleled martial skills, it might have been easier, but since everyone was equally lost, the chaos only intensified.
Amid that chaos, the Open Faction lost its identity.
There seemed to have been a high ideal uniting the beggars, but now, without anyone to teach them, without martial arts to pass on, all was forgotten.
Some betrayed, others fled, and at last, Hee Yeong-Hyun ascended to the post of Master.
“To survive, we had to transform. I shed the useless wings, and without hesitation tossed aside both front and back legs. We have become like snakes, hanging grimily in the sewers, filled with a stench of lethal poison.”
Most of the beggars had left the Open Faction. They would either remain beggars, turned rogues with their former skills, or become entertainers or courtesans.
And the few who could not escape—were Hee Yeong-Hyun and a handful of others.
They were not strong enough to seize the name of the Open Faction; rather, they were the last to cling tenuously to the dirty and tattered name of the Open Faction.
“We are now neither beggars, nor courtesans, nor wielders of clubs. We neither wear soiled clothing nor beg.”
Railing beneath the shadow of the Hao Sect, they clung only to their mere lives.
“Then what meaning will the return of the Dog-Beat Stick Technique even hold now?”
Now they were nearly lost to the concept of what the Open Faction even was…
“…”
Now, Envers had nothing to answer her with. He could only empathize with her sense of loss, even if vaguely.
To them, who had lost everything and just held onto the name of the Open Faction, what value would returning the Dog-Beat Stick Technique hold?
Would transmitting the shell of a martial art that captures dogs even be meaningful?
[Returning the Dog-Beat Stick Technique to the Open Faction flowing with history.]
He couldn’t answer, nor could he simply say he would return it. To present martial arts to a dead entity like the Open Faction—would it serve to lift them up once more?
Still…
“…I will come back later.”
“Later, you say?”
“Yes. I’m sensing something that seems unfathomable yet essential to you. When I can articulate to you exactly what that is, I will return.”
“…”
With a shudder, Hee Yeong-Hyun waved her hand. Envers stood awkwardly, followed by the Namgoong siblings, who also rose uncomfortably.
As the three of them stood together awkwardly, crossing the threshold, Yeong-Hyun managed to whisper just enough to be heard.
“Next time, clean off the dust sticking to your tail before you come back. If there is a next time, that is…”
“…?”
Envers blinked, confused by her intent, but she seemed unwilling to elaborate.
As the three exited the building, Namgoong Myung subtly commented.
“…When she says to remove the dust, it indicates a sort of grooming. She might be implying you should dress nicely and come back, Master Cheong-hwi?”
“Myung, does that mean… that lady has an interest in the sorcerer Cheong-hwi?”
“…I don’t think it could be that way…”
Considering how filled with rage she seemed, if there were any interest, wouldn’t she not have acted like Luna?
Envers found his face flushing as memories of a moonlit night drifted back.
Because of this distraction, he ultimately failed to spot the shadow that slipped into the crowd, stealthily following them.
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The day before the birthday celebration of the head of the Namgoong Clan, Namgoong Chae-gong.
The three were engaged in practice at the exclusive training ground of the Namgoong family. However, the atmosphere was starkly different from usual; two were seated in a lotus position, concentrating, while the other fidgeted, glancing sideways uncomfortably.
This scene evoked images of a private classroom, where Namgoong Myung was extensively receiving teachings on the secret art of “Gaze Insight” from the sorcerer who came from the West.
As for Namgoong Myung, he found the training immensely enjoyable, grinning with his eyes closed.
“Is it the back of your neck, Master?”
“A pity.”
“Umm… is it a hand?”
“It was the wrist.”
However, on the other hand, Namgoong Seung-Ah’s frustration was palpable. Having an innate difficulty remaining still, the concept of “gazing” felt particularly annoying to her.
“…Is it… the shoulder?”
“No.”
“…The breast?”
“No.”
Even Selvier had turned crimson as he erupted just moments later. Envers silently counted to three within, one, two, three.
Bang!
“I give up! Are you seriously trying to toy with me, Master Cheong-hwi?!”
“It’s slanderous. I learned this from Luna… well, the lady named Wol.”
“In essence, you’re saying that just by sensing a gaze, how could one become aware of such feelings—”
“Is it the crown of my head, Master?”
While Seung-Ah had been quibbling, and Envers had been dodging inquiries, both turned to Namgoong Myung. The boy, with his eyes gently closed, finally gathered his focus and declared.
“It’s the face.”
“…It hasn’t even been three hours yet!”
Then, as they tested Gaze Insight further, Namgoong Myung had notably grasped the art of sensing gazes with remarkable skill.
The precision was high, and he was growing increasingly adept.
He now imagined incoming attacks following the direction of the gazes and began to feign moving his body as if dodging. Those movements appeared fluid and effective.
Namgoong Seung-Ah seemed to have grown restless witnessing that and tightly closed her eyes, plopping down in her spot while raising her voice.
“Ugh… look at me soon, Master Cheong-hwi! I’ll catch up right away!”
Oof…
Envers, prioritizing Seung-Ah’s insistent calls, focused his gaze on Namgoong Myung. This young boy was truly a genius with superb instincts from birth.
Another three hours passed, and yet Namgoong Seung-Ah could not grasp the art. Envers worried he might create a rift between the siblings. However, that was concern wasted.
“How is it that you excel so much in martial arts?!”
“Ugh, sister! You’re hurting me!”
Namgoong Seung-Ah, while being consumed with jealousy, managed to cool her emotions by ruffling her brother’s hair. The scene seemed remarkably familiar.
“Is this a common occurrence?”
“Yes, Master Cheong-hwi. Myung tends to pull this far ahead. He has even heard the head say, ‘You are the most talented of them all.’”
“That seems like an exaggerated compliment. You too have remarkable beauty and martial talent, and while I’m leagues away from you!”
“You’re comparing yourself to someone like So-gong? What’s the age difference between the two of you?”
Namgoong Myung awkwardly chuckled at the excessive praise. Envers felt a familiar pang in his heart as unconsidered memories flooded in. He hesitated for a moment before asking gently.
“…Are you… close with your brother?”
“Yes! Elder So is incredibly busy, so we don’t get to spend much time together, but… he always cares for me. Last time, he even bought me an amulet!”
“That must have been quite wonderful for you.”
“Yes. If I have one dream… it’s serving beside elder So when he becomes the head of the clan. And I will surely help the family prosper!”
Twinkle, twinkle. Sparkling eyes bathed the boy’s gaze.
“I’ll be the right arm of Elder Rodelus!”
The fleeting memory of the past stuck heavily.
Envers couldn’t bear to face it and shut his eyes tightly.
“…You will undoubtedly achieve it.”
Within the closed eyelids, gazing upwards toward the sun leaves a dark blemish; the faded memories of youth lingered on.
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“This way for the roasted pig, come on, over here!”
“Quickly set up the tables and hang the flags over there!”
The preparations for the banquet were boisterous. Workers busily scurried about carrying furniture and food, while the Namgoong family members dressed in their finery chatted amongst themselves.
In the distance, Namgoong Myung and Namgoong So exchanged warm greetings, appearing amiable siblings.
Observing that scene with downcast eyes…
Envers felt a sense of calm in the clamor.
“…”
There were moments when he felt as if he were lost. What meaning there was in diligently honing one’s martial arts. With vague dreams of returning to that mansion, proving himself, and making those who had disrespected him kneel… was it not too late for all that?
[Dreams: Returning to the Redburn Mansion to showcase my skills, making those who looked down on me submit, and becoming the right arm of the head of the clan…?]
Could that ever come to pass?
With a body that begins to ache when he exerts magic, would that dream ever be attainable?
“Then what meaning does the return of the Dog-Beat Stick Technique even hold now?”
Hee Yeong-Hyun’s words echoed in his ears, laden with profound skepticism. Would the future improve? Could he collect the fallen fragments?
“…I.”
In the midst of that confusion, as if sunlight and moonlight were brushing against one another, events began to unfold.
Tap, tap, tap!
The sound of rapid footsteps rang out, and the guards of the Namgoong family formed a circle around Envers.
When he lifted his head, a sorcerer from the reception hall approached, fanning himself with a folding fan.
“What’s going on here?”
“Hmph, pretending to be innocent, but it ends here. With my supernatural abilities, I’ve kept a close eye on you and saw exactly what you’ve been up to outside!”
“…?”
Does he refer to visiting the Hao Sect alongside the Namgoong siblings?
“I hear you’ve charmed the floundering Open Faction with the learned Dog-Beat Stick Technique? Then tell me, where did you procure the Dog-Beat Stick Technique, given that it vanished along with the Heavenly Demon?!”
“No, what I mean is…”
“The answer is obvious. You are entangled with the Demon Cult—!!”
“…?!”
The shadow of a demonic claw reached out.
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