When we returned to our quarters, Seonak finally revealed himself as if he’d been standing there all along, appearing with uncanny grace. Geom Mugeuk bowed politely, hands clasped before him.

“Thank you for keeping watch over me,” he said.

Seonak answered with a smile. “It’s nothing. In fact, it’s more comfortable when I can remain hidden.”

There was no way it could be comfortable. It must be exhausting physically, and mentally taxing to watch both the surroundings and me. He was saying it just to keep me at ease.

“How did he strike you?” Geom Mugeuk asked of Myeongshin.

“He was an assassin of the highest caliber,” Seonak replied.

Without sparring him, Seonak had judged his skill just from his gait and hand movements.

Seonak spoke cautiously. “What are your plans now?”

Normally he wouldn’t have asked—he had seen how well my relationship with Myeongshin had grown and then ended. Geom Mugeuk revealed his intention.

“I intend to turn him to my side.”

Seonak, who knew Mugeuk’s ability better than anyone, understood—but the problem was that the target was an assassin.

“Assassins are not to be trusted.”

This was the first time Seonak had been so firm. Mugeuk nodded in understanding. Seonak and Myeongshin existed in opposition; Seonak not only distrusted him but harbored hatred and contempt—though he never showed it openly. Mugeuk knew this, and yet he strove to win Myeongshin’s loyalty because he understood his life. But he could not say as much.

“I won’t trust him. Still, the effort is worthwhile. Even if he never becomes an ally, his hesitation at a critical moment might save our lives.”

Seonak felt it again: as always, the Little Pill Master perceived things beyond his vision. But on the issue of assassins, he had to be unequivocal.

“Assassins are not to be trusted. Please never forget that.”

It was the first time Seonak repeated himself like that.

“I understand. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Only then did Seonak’s expression soften.

“I have a favor to ask you as well.”

“Speak.”

Geom Mugeuk untied the geukpum cheonjam sasa from the hilt of his Black Demon Sword and handed it to him. “Wrap this around your heart and dantian.”

“I’m fine. Little Pill Master, you should wear it.”

Mugeuk loosened his robe to show the layers of geukpum cheonjam sasa already wound around his chest and abdomen.

“I have already wrapped it twice.”

“Wrap it three times.”

“I have wrapped three layers. You can take one of mine.”

Seonak looked at him. “This is a geukpum cheonjam sasa of great heritage. Even the demon lords have worn it. And of course it’s been cleaned thoroughly. You must return it later.”

He would need all of it in the final battle—where Seonak would stand at the forefront. Seonak knew that no matter how much he refused, Mugeuk would not relent.

“Very well. Thank you, Little Pill Master.”

Seonak wound the sash around himself in full view of Mugeuk. Only then did Mugeuk break into a satisfied smile.

“It suits you well. Now, look.”

He drew his sword and angled the blade so Seonak could see his reflection. Seonak’s own face stared back at him, unfamiliar. He had spent his life protecting others; this was the first time he’d felt protected.

“Thank you, Little Pill Master.”

Mugeuk asked gently, “You wish I’d gone straight to see your father, don’t you?”

Seonak had left his father unguarded to follow Mugeuk. He must be wondering whether his father was safe.

“No.”

“Then shall I go out on another errand at once?”

Feigning readiness to depart again, Seonak wore a resigned look. “Since I’ve already come in, shouldn’t I greet him before leaving?”

Mugeuk turned with a laugh. “Where would I go?”

As he stepped back into the building, he called out, “Your son has returned, Father.”

Seonak, his heart light, followed behind.

His father was inside his study, reading the dispatch from Tongcheongak. He understood the situation fully and still entrusted the matter entirely to me. Yes—only with the patience to wait for one’s child to climb back up a cliff alone does that cliff hold any meaning.

“I have returned, Father.”

His father looked up. At that moment our eyes met and Seonak felt it—his father had grown stronger! It seemed training was not mine alone. In the past, I could sense that Father was becoming stronger; now it was unmistakable. Perhaps it was only because I, too, had grown stronger that I felt it so clearly. In any case, it was for the best. Father, become even stronger—so formidable that both the Flowerless Sword and the Martial Unity would seem trivial. I will fill that void for you.

His father’s gaze shifted to Seonak. Seonak bowed respectfully, relief and gratitude softening his features.

“It’s the first time you’ve left my side so long,” his father observed.

Even Seonak was human—he needed to eat, use the latrine, bathe, change clothes. But I could imagine how pressed for time he must have been, how hurried in that brief absence. May no accident have occurred while I was gone!

Seonak murmured that the greatest blessing for a bodyguard was to die before the one he guarded—but also the curse: if you never leave their side and falter for a single moment, the one you protect will die. And none understood this better than Seonak’s father.

“You’d best rest inside for a while.”

A father’s consideration, to alleviate even the slightest worry. He had packed his knapsack already. When his father slung the heavy pack over his shoulder, Seonak cried out in surprise.

“Let me carry that. I will serve you.”

Seonak was flustered—he had never allowed his father to bear burdens for him. But his father smiled.

“Aren’t you fulfilling my orders?”

“My Liege!”

“I will manage.”

Seonak gave him a look that said, Now take it and lead the way.

“Very well. Just don’t die on me.”

His father left the room, knapsack in tow.

“How dashing you look carrying Father’s pack.”

It was sincere—I had never seen him like that. Watching Seonak fidgeting, I called out loud enough for my father to hear.

“Stop staring! Those shoulders could bear Mount Tai itself—I’m going to wear out under your gaze!”

Myeongshin returned three days later. He delayed coming at once so as not to appear impatient.

“Shall we drink?” I asked.

“Gladly.”

Before departing, he handed me a wooden box containing hidden daggers.

“Truthfully, I can accept swords or other weapons, but not concealed daggers. Do you think the Iron Workshop of the Demon Sect would not attempt to kill me if they saw these?”

Last time he’d insisted the sect’s artisans were not jealous enough to kill him—which had bruised his pride.

I examined the daggers. “My Master Craftsman Kwak must not see these. It would be troublesome if he asked me to kill you.”

Myeongshin brightened. “Then since I received daggers as a gift, today it’s my turn to buy the wine. Last time I chose poorly; you pick today.”

He nodded casually, but his heart thundered. Today? But he must not arouse suspicion if we left the town. He must decide carefully.

And so the two of us set off toward the marketplace again.

“May I ask something?”

“Go ahead.”

“This Golden Dragon Clan—these people are far beneath you in rank, aren’t they?”

Myeongshin answered nonchalantly. “You’ve lived a life of orders and obedience; I don’t know. We must do as we’re commanded. What choice do we have?”

“It sounds like an excuse coming from you.”

He felt the sting in my words. “You investigated me, didn’t you?”

The Demon Sect’s intelligence was famed as the best in the martial world. After intertwining fates like ours, they could not have been ignorant of me.

“Yes.”

I answered candidly. “What does that report say about me?”

His reply was immediate. “Myeongshin—second in the Registry. Three rules govern his kills: he does not kill children, he does not kill the unskilled, and he does not kill the innocent.”

So far, nothing I hadn’t expected from the Demon Sect. But then he added something that startled me.

“Recently, you’ve clashed with the head of the Registry over that matter.”

I flinched. Only the two of us knew of that incident—how could he know? I feigned ignorance. “Clashed? Why do you say that?”

We stopped walking. I waited.

“You are a type of assassin I have never seen before.”

His gaze was solemn. “No modern assassin lives by such principles. You sound like a figure from legend. If your leader were that kind of man, there’d be no problem—but he is not.”

We continued by the roadside.

“Honestly, I dislike assassins. I’d rather they work alone than call them friends. Yet I became curious when I heard you adhered to those rules.”

After a pause, he added, “I suppose that’s why he sent you. He must have reported that I found you intriguing. If someone else had come a few days ago, I’d have killed them on sight—eliminating any enemy while the chance remains. In that, your leader is clever.”

I had not realized the depth of his knowledge about me.

“Why tell me all this? Is it because you’re confident you can handle me?”

He shook his head. “What have you heard so far? That I find an assassin like you interesting. I wondered if such an assassin might become a friend.”

In that instant, I felt the urge to draw my dagger and stab him in the throat—because he was off guard. Feeling that urge meant he might be sincere.

“Are you planning to use me to destroy the Registry?”

Feigning surprise, he laughed. “You already guessed?”

I could not discern his true intent. A flock of birds passed overhead, and our gazes rose together.

“A Demon Sect Little Pill Master befriending an assassin—does that make any sense?”

“A Little Pill Master can befriend an innkeeper as well,” he answered quietly.

I knew that to be true. Innkeepers could close at any time; we could not.

“You worry about losing customers if you rest for a day. But you have no such concerns—you have people waiting to kill you. You don’t worry?”

A flicker at the corner of my eye—I endeavored to keep my relations with him cordial, yet he kept pricking at something deep within me.

“It’s not merely annoyance at never being able to leave. It’s that you can’t fathom changing the life you know.”

My expression hardened. “Don’t speak lightly of matters you know nothing about. What do you know of me? You judge me by scraps of intelligence your agents collect.”

“Isn’t that still you?” he asked. “Your report of me, my report of you—aren’t those our realities? Is there some ‘true me’ hidden behind others’ perceptions? Then we live in misunderstanding. Is that not # Nоvеlight # flawed?”

I could not retort.

“What others see is us. We might hope to be grander, more noble in truth, but the you and I written in those reports—that is who we are.”

I wanted to deny it—that I was better than the image in their reports. In that moment, I realized for the first time that I wanted to be better. Perhaps even my principles for killing were born from that desire.

“Why do you do this? If you truly wish to be my friend, speak your mind.”

I swallowed the retort I had for leading me to the Registry’s ruin. How dare he presume to dig so deeply?

Our eyes met on the road, and fate could turn on our words.

“To be honest, it’s not for you but to protect myself,” Geom Mugeuk said, his eyes clearer and deeper than ever. “I do not wish to drag someone like you into my path. Somewhere in this world, I want there to be a fine assassin who, for the price of a single copper coin given by a wronged child, kills villains. I do not wish to kill such a man on my journey. Yes—that is not for your sake, but to protect myself.”

Then Mugeuk drew a single coin from his robe and offered it to me.

“This coin is the fee to protect me.”