I spoke the words I had been holding back to the Blood Night Palace members.

"At the very least, Elder Heo... this rare, old senior who embodies true manhood..."

"……."

"I hope he leaves with the thought that those remaining here will be able to live well."

Only then did I glance down at my bloated stomach.

"I ate too much. When I came here, all I had was some jerky. The meal was truly delicious."

The Blood Night Palace Lord nodded.

"I'm glad you ate well."

"Give me a room. Since we've summoned the physician, I shouldn’t just leave first. I’ll stay here, sleep, train, drink, chat..."

And take a shit too.

"If I spot any suspicious-looking guy wandering around, I'll assume he's one of the Cult Leader’s men and kill him."

Only then did those eating with me chuckle awkwardly. It seemed they were finally getting used to the way I spoke.

The Blood Night Palace Lord nodded.

"You're an honored guest, after all."

I made a Buddha hand gesture toward Gyo-yeong, who was staring at me.

"……I'll even practice flicking foreheads."

I laughed alone. When no one else laughed, I stopped.

"……Let’s get up."

***

Summoned by the Haomun Lord, Moyong Baek arrived at Heo Gyeom’s quarters and spoke cautiously outside the door.

"……May I come in?"

After a moment, Yongmyeong came out with a bewildered look.

"Who… are you?"

Moyong Baek introduced himself.

"I am the physician summoned by the Haomun Lord."

"The Lord summoned you?"

"Yes."

"Where is the Lord?"

"He came up to the door with me, but told me to go in alone… and left."

Yongmyeong stared at Moyong Baek with a baffled face.

'Master doesn’t really like physicians...'

From inside, Heo Gyeom's voice rang out.

"Bring him in."

"Understood. Please come in."

Following Yongmyeong’s guidance, Moyong Baek entered a room filled unusually with bamboo decorations.  Besides the bamboo, there were no paintings, no furniture — a simple, sparse room.

Moyong Baek bowed politely to the old man wearing white robes.

"I am Moyong Baek of the Moyong Medical House."

Heo Gyeom turned from the window and replied. 

"If the Haomun Lord called you here, you must be a very skilled physician."

Moyong Baek hesitated for a moment, then smiled faintly and replied.

"I am indeed very skilled."

Heo Gyeom laughed and extended his hand.

"Thank you for coming all this way."

Moyong Baek took a deep breath as he glanced around the room.

"If I may ask, is this the scent of bamboo wafting in from outside the window?"

"Yes. Why do you look so surprised?"

"I heard bamboo only flowers once every few decades. It’s an unfamiliar scent."

Heo Gyeom nodded.

"Now that you mention it, you're quite young. Let’s sit."

The two sat across from each other at a long wooden tea table, gazing at one another. Moyong Baek asked,

"Senior, may I know your age?"

"I am one hundred and eleven years old."

"I would have guessed around seventy. I was off by about forty years, it seems."

"Were you trying to be funny?"

"I was being accurate. Perhaps I should have guessed even younger?"

Heo Gyeom laughed aloud and extended his arm.

"Will you take my pulse?"

"Yes."

Moyong Baek reached out, but first touched Heo Gyeom's palm.

"You were a swordsman, weren’t you?"

"A swordsman?"

"Yes."

"You came here without knowing anything about me?"

Blinking, Moyong Baek answered.

"The Haomun Lord sent a letter…"

"And?"

"He told me to hurry over as fast as possible."

"Were you his subordinate?"

"I’m not. The Lord is my patient."

"Hahaha."

"If not a swordsman, then perhaps a saberman? Or did you use a spear? This is not the hand of an ordinary man."

Heo Gyeom replied.

"No... I was..."

He found it difficult to say the word assassin. Once, it had been a point of pride. But now, at the end of his life, looking back, that pride had turned entirely into regret. Lately, maintaining his composure had become harder because of it.

As if confessing a sin, Heo Gyeom said to the young physician,

"I was once an assassin, long retired."

Moyong Baek's eyes widened.

"Ah, I see."

While feeling Heo Gyeom’s stone-like palm, Moyong Baek finally moved to take his pulse.

"……You lost your internal energy?"

As soon as Heo Gyeom nodded, Moyong Baek quickly withdrew his hand. He needed a moment to compose his bewildered thoughts.

'A hundred and eleven years old. Internal energy lost. An assassin by origin. How has he survived until now?'

The strangest thing was that, despite everything, there was no major problem with his health.

Moyong Baek stared at Heo Gyeom silently.

'Did he try to take his own life?'

Heo Gyeom, sensing that the young physician was trying to gauge his skills, asked,

"What’s my condition?"

Moyong Baek replied.

"Honestly, you’ve managed your health exceptionally well. Maintaining it like this is itself an amazing feat. Forgive me, but it seems you've also spent a long time on mental discipline. If the Haomun Lord could even touch the edge of your composure, he would be able to overcome his madness in no time."

Heo Gyeom laughed.

"I don't think so. It's simply a difference in how we live — a difference in mindset. I had no choice but to train myself to maintain composure in order to survive. There was no special method."

"Is that so? Well, if the Haomun Lord had to learn the ways of an assassin from you, he wouldn’t even last ten days before running away. The assassin's path requires training the heart first, and the Lord’s temperament doesn't suit it."

Heo Gyeom chuckled.

"Now that you mention it, that's probably true."

Moyong Baek smiled silently. Noticing Moyong Baek’s expression, Heo Gyeom asked,

"Young physician, is there a reason you keep mentioning the Haomun Lord?"

"There is, actually."

"Let’s hear it."

Moyong Baek touched the wooden tea table, running his hand over a slight crack.

"This tea table is cracked."

"It's an old piece..."

"Senior, the Haomun Lord is just like this cracked tea table. Madness seeps in through that crack. What’s unusual about him is that he has no real desire to mend it. He doesn’t try to cover it up, hide it, or force something in to seal it. Instead, he knows exactly where the ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) crack is. He knows how large it is. He knows when it hurts the most. He has reached the point of being able to observe his wound objectively."

"Mm."

"The Lord is living with a crack in his heart."

Heo Gyeom asked,

"Then what about me?"

Moyong Baek replied.

"You, Senior, have no cracks thanks to your composure. Even if one had formed, you would have mended it without leaving a trace. As a highly skilled assassin, you would have erased all signs perfectly."

Heo Gyeom nodded.

Moyong Baek smiled faintly as he continued.

"But Senior, originally, every human has cracks in their heart. Conversely, someone who never suffers wounds in their heart, no matter what happens, has drifted far from their humanity. Perhaps you, Senior..."

Moyong Baek pointed to the crack in the wooden tea table.

"Recently, it seems a crack has formed in your heart. You must have been carrying heavy worries. Before, you could erase them with your composure, but now the wound might have grown deeper."

Heo Gyeom stared quietly at the crack on the table.

"……Seems I was afraid of the Cult Leader all along."

"You mean the Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult?"

"Yes."

"Because his martial arts are strong?"

"No. If I put it in the physician’s terms, that man no longer has cracks in his heart."

"I see. From what I’ve heard, he wasn’t always that way?"

"He had limits once, but it seems he has erased even those."

Moyong Baek nodded.

"Then, it’s not that you, Senior, fear death. You must be more worried about those who will be left behind."

"I must be too old."

"That's not necessarily it."

"Why do you say so?"

Moyong Baek looked at Heo Gyeom.

"……Senior, you did not retire from being an assassin simply because you put down your weapons or lost your internal energy. True retirement comes only when you lay down the assassin’s heart. A true assassin has no cracks in their heart. But one who has retired and returned to being a person gains cracks in their heart again — because they have learned compassion. It took you a very long time, Senior."

Heo Gyeom stared at the table.

Moyong Baek said,

"I have cracks in my heart. The Haomun Lord has them too. And now, you have recognized yours as well. In the past, you would have erased them with an assassin’s mind. But now..."

"Please continue."

"It is an illness of suppressed anger."

Heo Gyeom looked startled.

"Suppressed anger?"

"Yes. In some ways, your condition is similar to the Haomun Lord’s. He, too, often fluctuates wildly. But you have far greater mental discipline than he does, so you will handle it better. For now, I will inform the Haomun Lord that your condition is suppressed anger—"

Heo Gyeom quickly raised his hand.

"No, don’t tell him."

"Sir?"

Heo Gyeom spoke with a complicated expression.

"I can endure it. The Haomun Lord is bearing it too; how could I not?"

"Senior, that brat isn’t bearing anything. He has no intention of enduring his anger. He just explodes whenever he wants and vents his frustration. He’s truly a rotten fellow."

"Ah, he vents on the people around him?"

"Yes, Senior. He has a terribly foul temper. You should coax him into fighting the Cult Leader directly. Still, seeing how he rushed to summon me, he must care greatly for you. To be honest, when I was on my way here, I couldn’t tell whether I was coming to treat a patient or being kidnapped."

Heo Gyeom laughed.

"I don’t know either. He keeps calling me a 'man’s man' and seems to like me for it."

"Not long ago, he apparently beat about a hundred bandits to death. When I went to treat someone, I found the patient lying half-dead under the scorching sun, moaning. I couldn’t tell whether he wanted me to heal him or not — truly a terrifying man."

"Ah, aren’t you close to the Haomun Lord?"

Moyong Baek nodded.

"Closer than mere acquaintance, but he’s still my patient first. Even if we’re friendly, because of his temper, I must still watch my words carefully. Otherwise, even I might get beaten."

Heo Gyeom, trying to suppress his amusement, chuckled quietly.

"I see."

Moyong Baek gently clasped Heo Gyeom’s hand and said,

"In any case, Senior, suppressed anger, like a cold, comes suddenly and, if endured, disappears just as suddenly. You are handling it well. You will recover. The Haomun Lord is enduring it too, so you cannot afford to lose."

Heo Gyeom nodded.

"I will overcome it."

"Honestly, Senior, you don't even need medicine or acupuncture. I’ll take my leave now."

When Heo Gyeom tried to stand, Moyong Baek supported him.

"I’ll leave it at that, Senior. Thank you for listening to a local physician’s rambling."

Heo Gyeom nodded.

"Thank you."

"Yes, then."

Moyong Baek met Heo Gyeom’s gaze once more, bowed deeply, and stepped outside.

Yongmyeong, who had been waiting, stood up.

"Are you leaving?"

Moyong Baek answered calmly.

"He might struggle a bit more in the hot summer. If it gets tough, mild heat exhaustion might occur. You, as his disciple, should learn how to preserve plums and give them to your master occasionally. Since you're practicing a martial art that demands high endurance, it’ll benefit you too."

Yongmyeong bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Good then."

Moyong Baek walked out from the quarters and retraced the path he had taken with the Haomun Lord. Along the way, he noticed a large tree.

"……Lord?"

A moment later, with a rustling sound, the Haomun Lord lightly dropped down from the tree.

"Done?"

"Yes. Why were you up in the tree?"

The Haomun Lord glanced around and said,

"Just mimicking an assassin. It’s surprisingly fun."

"……You always seem to be enjoying yourself."

"I try to. By the way, it seems the Demonic Cult has planted spies here."

"I see."

The Haomun Lord held out his hand as if suggesting they walk.

"Let’s take a stroll. How was the Senior?"

Moyong Baek lowered his voice.

"Suppressed anger."

"Oh, is that all? Good."

"His strength has weakened greatly. He seems to have little appetite too."

"Hmm, then what should we do?"

"Plums stimulate the appetite. There shouldn’t be any serious problems."

The Haomun Lord nodded.

"As expected of our Physician Moyong. You rushed over on short notice — well done. There will be more times like this. You should find yourself a disciple soon…"

Moyong Baek stopped walking.

"Sir?"

"Why so surprised?"

"You’ll summon me often?"

The Haomun Lord answered flatly.

"Isn’t saving people important? If I knew medicine, would I have called you? I would have treated him myself. But since I don't, you had to rush over here by carriage. Meanwhile, I ran here from the Black Rabbit Pavilion on my own two feet, chewing jerky. Let’s go."

Moyong Baek, having lost all words, finally answered.

"Yes..."

As he walked with his hands clasped behind his back, the Haomun Lord muttered,

"Maybe I should try eating some plums too?"

Moyong Baek replied,

"Just drink."

"Excellent. Let’s go have a drink."

"……."

Moyong Baek could do nothing but get dragged away by the patient.