Servants bustled about the guest quarters, their hurried footsteps echoing through the halls. A young servant, startled by the sudden appearance of Namgung Mucheon in the courtyard, nearly jumped out of his skin.
"G-Greetings, Clan Leader!"
The servant hastily bowed, the bloodstained cloth in his arms slipping to the ground with a soft thud. Namgung Mucheon’s gaze lingered on the cloth just as Seop Mugwang arrived behind him.
"Whose blood is that?"
The servant trembled under the weight of the question.
"I-It belongs to the honored guest, my lord."
For a moment, the air seemed to freeze. Before things escalated further, Seop Mugwang stepped forward.
"Explain in detail what happened."
The servant bowed even lower.
"A loud noise came from the guest’s quarters. When I went to check, I found the honored guest with a deep wound on her arm, bleeding heavily. We rushed to call a physician and tend to the injury, but we didn’t have time to ask what happened."
"Where is the guest now?"
"In the main hall of the Heavenly Guest Room."
Without another word, Namgung Mucheon and Seop Mugwang headed straight for the main hall. The closer they got, the darker their expressions grew.
(Clan Leader, something’s off. That wasn’t the scent of just one person’s blood.)
(I know. But not now.)
Though they had sensed the overwhelming stench of blood from afar, now only the faint metallic tang from the child’s wound lingered in the air.
‘This is absurd.’
For a moment, they had feared a massacre had taken place in the Heavenly Guest Room. What in the world happened? --- Ilhwa sat calmly as the servants tended to her wound, her expression unreadable. She showed no sign of pain or fear, which only unnerved the servants further.
(Is she really a child? She’s not even crying.)
(But how did she get hurt? Out of nowhere? Why isn’t she saying anything? Someone should ask.)
(I don’t know. You ask. She’s kind of scary…)
None of them dared to speak to her. An eerie tension filled the room, pressing down on them despite Ilhwa’s silence. When the bleeding had mostly stopped, Ilhwa lifted her gaze toward the door.
The servants, already on edge, followed her line of sight. A moment later, the door opened, revealing Namgung Mucheon and Seop Mugwang. The servants immediately stood and bowed.
"Greetings, Clan Leader!"
Namgung Mucheon’s eyes remained fixed on Ilhwa as he entered. Ilhwa rose and bowed in return.
"Greetings, Clan Leader."
"Everyone, leave."
At Seop Mugwang’s gesture, the servants quickly filed out. After a brief glance at Ilhwa’s wound, Seop Mugwang bowed to Namgung Mucheon and exited as well. Now, only Ilhwa and Namgung Mucheon remained in the room, sealed off by a thick barrier of energy.
Namgung Mucheon studied her wound intently. Feeling his gaze, Ilhwa spoke first.
"I couldn’t sleep, so I was training. I made a mistake and got hurt. It’s not serious. I’m sorry for causing concern."
"I can help you. So don’t hide it—tell me what really happened."
"Nothing happened. I just mishandled my sword."
Namgung Mucheon glanced at the cheap iron sword leaning against the table. A faint smear of blood stained its edge. A suffocating weight settled in his chest.
Was it because she carried such a shoddy weapon? Because she had injured herself while training with it? Or because of her unnerving calmness despite it all?
Blood still seeped from her wound, trickling down her fingers. Namgung Mucheon knelt before her, pressing on her pressure points to slow the bleeding before carefully wiping the blood away with a clean cloth. Ilhwa remained still, accepting his ministrations without protest.
"I’ll believe your words," he said, the soft sound of cloth against skin filling the silence.
"So believe in me as well."
Once the bleeding was fully stopped, he pressed the cloth into her hand and stood. His gaze bore into her.
"As long as you remain in Namgung, I will protect you. Even if you harbor other intentions, I will trust you. Understood?"
Ilhwa lowered her eyes briefly, then nodded.
"Yes. I’ll remember."
Namgung Mucheon’s brow twitched slightly, as if her answer wasn’t what he’d hoped for. But with a quiet sigh, he nodded and turned away.
"Good. The Medicine Hall Master has arrived—get treated. I’ll see you tomorrow evening."
With that, he left. The energy barrier dissipated, and the sound of voices outside reached her ears—the Medicine Hall Master and Outer Hall Master Namgung Yeom conversing with Namgung Mucheon.
‘So they noticed after all.’
Ilhwa sat back down. Earlier, while trying to sleep, she had heard a voice. Distant at first, it had grown clearer, commanding her: ‘Kill them.
Kill them all. Slaughter every last one in Namgung and bathe the ground in their blood.’ By the time she regained her senses, she was already gripping her sword.
A servant had knocked, asking if something was wrong—just as she swung the blade. In that moment, she chose to slash her own arm instead. The sharp pain brought her back to her senses, and the sound of the sword clattering to the floor brought the servants rushing in.
‘How did Namgung Mucheon and Seop Mugwang know?’
She had no idea how they arrived before the physician. But one thing was clear—they knew this wasn’t just an accident. Their words and actions made that much obvious.
‘I need to be more careful.’
Experts like them weren’t easily fooled. This time, they let it pass—but they wouldn’t overlook it forever. More importantly— ‘What was that?’
Ilhwa stared at her hand. The voice had unmistakably belonged to the Blood Demon. No one had possessed her body—she had simply moved on her own, compelled by its command.
‘Was I bound by a Blood Oath?’
The Blood Demon never trusted easily. Before imparting its Blood Arts, it always forged a Blood Oath to prevent betrayal. Those bound by it suffered excruciating pain if they disobeyed and could never kill the Blood Demon.
But the Blood Demon, in turn, could not kill those bound to it either.
‘In my past life, I definitely died by the Blood Demon’s hand.’
Meaning—she hadn’t been bound to it. So this wasn’t a Blood Oath.
Then what?
A knock sounded at the door.
"Coming in~!"
The Medicine Hall Master’s cheerful voice rang out. Ilhwa watched the shadow at the door.
‘If there’s something wrong with my body, I should be the first to know.’
She needed to understand what was happening to her—whether it posed a threat to Namgung, whether returning here had been a mistake. Only then could she decide—whether to prepare or leave. And for that— ‘The Medicine Hall Master.’
She was necessary. --- "Tsk tsk… This must hurt." The Medicine Hall Master frowned as she treated Ilhwa’s wound.
Seop Mugwang stood guard nearby, arms crossed, leaning against a pillar—clearly aware this wasn’t just an accident. His pensive expression said as much.
"This might sting a little. I’ve lit incense to dull the pain, but it won’t be completely gone. Tell me if it’s too much, alright?"
"Yes."
"Not even crying from a wound like this? You’re a tough little kitten, aren’t you?"
The Medicine Hall Master kept the mood light with gentle teasing as she worked.
"There’s another injury. Could you take a look?"
The Medicine Hall Master blinked in surprise. Behind her, Seop Mugwang’s frown deepened.
"Oh? Another wound? Where?"
Ilhwa glanced at Seop Mugwang. Noticing her gaze, he scowled harder.
"What? Where else are you hurt? Huh?"
"My abdomen."
"What? Your abdomen? Let me see!"
"From my chest down to my abdomen."
Seop Mugwang froze mid-step, his face twisting in horror.
"You want me to look?!"