The intent to kill. The thought of taking a life. For Seolhwa, who had lived as an assassin for so long, it was nothing more than a natural instinct.
Kill the opponent.
And survive.
For her, the only choice to survive was death. That was what the Blood Demon had taught her. Years of such lessons had become habit, and habit had become instinct.
Now, it was an inseparable part of Seolhwa.
‘The crimson energy.’
While fighting Pawol, when her own energy began turning red, Seolhwa faintly realized it. Even though she had learned the Namgung’s internal method, her energy would never be blue. It was said that the color of one’s energy reflected the heart of a warrior.
But she did not long for the azure sky. Knowing what awaited in the future, she could never do so.
“No one welcomes a blood-red sky. Kekeke… The blood on your hands, that cruel heart of yours, in the end, it will drag you down!”
Puk— The mad laughter froze on Pawol’s face, his complexion turning pale in an instant. His eyes rolled sideways, wide with shock. A cold, emotionless face was suddenly right beside him.
“If you’re a dog, you should’ve just done what you were told.”
Crunch.
Her sword twisted as it pierced through his already wounded shoulder once more.
“Ghhhk…!”
“When you do things you weren’t ordered to do…”
“W-wait…!”
At the same time as his desperate cry— “You die.” Shaaak— The sharp blade slashed through Pawol’s arm. Her sword was now brimming with crimson energy.
“Gyaaaaaah!”
Pawol collapsed with a scream of agony.
“M-my arm…! Aaagh!”
Pain and emptiness surged together. Seeing his arm lying severed on the ground, his face turned ashen.
“Y-you crazy…! Ghhhk!”
Bloodshot eyes glared at her, but soon they were consumed by fear. The energy surrounding her flickered like a blazing crimson flame. Blood dripping from her wounds seemed to blend into her aura.
Yet her expression showed not the slightest ripple of emotion. She looked like a demon from the depths of hell.
‘I’ll die!’
I’m going to die! That demon will surely tear me apart!
‘Before that…!’
Pawol frantically pulled something from his robes. But— Puk— “Ghhhk!” A dagger flew in an instant, piercing through his hand.
It was the very dagger Pawol had once thrown at Seolhwa.
Clatter.
Seolhwa picked up the object that had fallen from his hand. It was a bell tied with a red string.
Jingle— “…!”
At the clear sound of the bell, Seolhwa felt her mind waver. Her ears rang, her vision dimmed, as if reality itself was slipping away. Just before her consciousness was about to snap, she barely managed to steady herself.
She clenched the bell tightly in her hand to stop it from ringing.
“…!”
Boom—! Puff—!
With a loud burst, white smoke spread around them.
“Cough, cough!”
She instinctively stepped back, covering her nose and mouth, but the brief breath she took in made her cough violently. Through the thick smoke, she heard Pawol’s footsteps fleeing.
“Cough…!”
Her vision swam, hazy and floating. This was no ordinary smoke bomb. Through the smoke, Seolhwa glimpsed Pawol’s shadow retreating.
Tap-tap-tap!
‘That monster!’
Even after I forced out all his Inner Energy, how is he still…! Damn it, damn it! If I had known, I would’ve brought poison smoke bombs!
And yet he throws a sleep bomb and runs away like this?
Pathetic!
‘Was the Young Pavilion Master’s martial strength truly this great?’
He was only supposed to be a boy in his teens. And he had even abandoned the Inner Energy bestowed by the Pavilion Lord. By all logic, Pawol should have been able to overwhelm her!
‘Damn it!’
Sweat trickled down his forehead. His breath was ragged, his severed arm throbbed with unbearable pain. But his legs did not stop.
If he stopped running, he was certain that sharp blade would pierce his throat. It was like being hunted by a starving beast. Death was clawing at the back of his neck.
Sweat stung his eyes, blurring his vision. He reflexively shut them tight— Puk— “…!” A sharp pain shot through his right arm.
Pawol looked down in horror— Shaaak—!
“Gyaaaah!”
A silver blade cut through his remaining arm. His last limb flew away uselessly, and Pawol collapsed, losing his balance.
“Khuk! Ughh…!”
His body rolled helplessly, crashing into a large tree with a heavy thud.
“Ghhhk!”
Dark blood spurted from his lips. His vision spun, his mind clouded. He wanted to rise, but with no arms to support him, he could only lie there.
Small footsteps approached. Pawol shuddered as he looked up in terror. Her black eyes, filled with killing intent, gazed down at him with calm indifference.
Even though she must have inhaled the sleep smoke, her eyes were still sharp and unwavering. Desperate, Pawol begged for his life.
“S-spare me… No, please, please spare me, Young Pavilion Master….”
Seolhwa bent down, kneeling before him. As her hand reached toward him, Pawol squeezed his eyes shut.
‘I’m dead!’
Tap. Tap-tap.
“?”
Contrary to his fears, Seolhwa did not kill him. Instead, she lifted him up and pressed his acupoints to slow the bleeding. Then she tore his clothes and tightly bound his severed arms.
“…?”
Pawol stared in bewilderment. Her touch was so careful, it was hard to believe she was the one who had cut him down. Overcome with emotion, Pawol shouted.
“What are you doing! Just kill me already!”
Seolhwa tilted her head.
“Didn’t you just beg me to spare you?”
“Ugh…!”
“And I never intended to kill you in the first place.”
“…What?”
Finishing her treatment, Seolhwa stood and dusted her hands. Her eyes curved faintly.
“Why would I do what he wants?”
The Blood Demon had sent Pawol to her, hoping she would kill him. To prove her existence through murder. To awaken and engrave the assassin’s instinct within her.
To show her that no matter where she went, her essence as an assassin would never change. Seolhwa’s expression grew colder. That was the Blood Demon.
A man who placed every situation in his palm, using people as chess pieces to control the board. And until not long ago, she had been his easiest pawn.
“I won’t kill you.”
But leaving him alive was dangerous, so she had cut off his arms. Without arms, Pawol was useless. The moment he returned to Fire Crow Pavilion, the Blood Demon would kill him himself.
‘But that’s not my concern.’
“You must live. Because I have a message for him.”
“A… a message?”
Hope flickered in Pawol’s face.
“W-what should I say?”
“Tell him I won’t return.”
“…What?”
“Tell him I will live as a sword of Namgung from now on. That he and I are enemies.”
Pawol stared blankly at her. For the first time, he felt true emotion from her—anger.
“Go and tell him clearly.”
“You…”
Though she did not cry, he could feel the seething fury within her. Not just from the past eight years, but from something deeper—grief and rage intertwined. Pawol remembered the first day he met her.
The day that man brought her.
‘Waaahhh—! Mother! Father!’
That place was hell. That man gave food, clothes, and money to the strong children, but never cared when the weak were trampled. To survive, one had to kill friends, brothers.
When there was no food, they gnawed on rats or corpses. Children who tried to escape were found dead the next day. The only hope was one thing— ‘To catch his eye, and receive more food and clothes.’
The girl never belonged there. She was clearly from a noble family. For days and weeks, she cried endlessly, calling for her parents.
She barely ate, only weeping for her mother and father. It was troublesome to care for her, but Pawol had protected her from the other children. If he did well, maybe he would gain favor in that man’s eyes.
For Pawol, Ilhwa was his chance to rise, his rope out of the filthy shacks. So he cared for her sincerely. Then one day— The girl stopped crying.
It was the day that man took her away and brought her back.