"What is it?"

When Murong Sang-ah turned her head, she saw an old man awkwardly standing under the eaves, half-hidden in the shadows, speaking to her. Quickly, she ran through what she knew about him.

A member of the Elders’ Council. He held a low-ranking position, with little presence or influence. He generally refused bribes but wouldn’t turn down hospitality offered by others on the council.

How did he know she had gone to her father’s hall alone, in such a troubled state?

Wary, Murong Sang-ah spread her senses wide, scanning the area. Fortunately, there were no warriors lurking with hostile intent.

"No one would dare try anything foolish in front of the Family Head’s residence, so don’t worry."

The old man stepped out from the shadows, trying to reassure her.

"You were waiting for me?"

"I have something to say and something to give you. That’s why I waited."

"Then speak."

What could be so urgent that he had waited here? Murong Sang-ah kept her guard up as she questioned him.

"Beware of assassins."

"What are you talking about?"

Even she, already on edge, was taken aback by the old man’s words.

"I heard this in passing, but don’t take it lightly. Keep it in mind."

"What did the Young Lord say to you?"

The old man shook his head and looked up at the sky before speaking.

"This struggle is about how much legitimacy each side can gather before the Family Head passes. The advantage always lies with whoever holds the title of Young Lord, and that’s something you can’t take from Murong Bi unless the Family Head wakes."

"I know. That’s why I’m trying to recover the Martial Treasury records."

"Exactly. If you can gain entry to the Martial Treasury and claim what’s inside, no one will deny your legitimacy. But because of that, someone might be preparing a final move."

"...An assassination, you mean."

Now she understood why the old man had brought up such a grim possibility.

"Neither side is foolish enough to take that step. A leaderless group doesn’t collapse—it just spirals out of control. But the people beneath them, they fear even the smallest risk."

The Murong family’s problem wasn’t something that could be solved just by the death of one of its heads.

The power struggle between light and shadow had to be fought by undermining each other’s support and legitimacy, forcing the other to step down. Only then could the family remain whole.

But someone might already be putting in place a more drastic safety measure. And that plan might already be in motion.

That was what the old man had come to warn her about.

"Thank you for telling me."

"Ahem. The other old men only care about lining their pockets, but me—I want to see the Murong family regain the glory it once had, when we were called the greatest under heaven. I just see this as an unavoidable pain along the way. So, take this."

The old man looked a little embarrassed by her gratitude, then pulled a few books from his robes.

"What are these?"

"My diary from when I explored the Martial Treasury. I ventured into it when I was younger."

"Such an important thing... you’re giving it to me?"

"Just think of it as the foolish sentiment of an old man who chased dreams. I may sit on the council, but I’m nothing more than a footnote. I have no influence—but I’ll be cheering for you. Now, I’ll take my leave."

Murong Sang-ah bowed respectfully at his support, and once he disappeared, she continued on toward Spearwind Hall.

-----------

The harsh winter had passed, and with the new year, time flowed on.

Cold winds still blew, but now and then a warm breeze would soften the ice, and spring stood ready to bloom again.

At last, the season returned—the season when her first love had begun, and her last love had ended.

"Make me beautiful today."

Murong Sang-ah sat before her dressing table, her expression solemn, and gave her maid an order.

"Yes, I’ll make you beautiful enough to turn anyone’s head."

The maid, with her orange hair hastily tied back, smiled brightly at the mistress of Spearwind Hall.

She had served Murong Sang-ah since childhood. Even when the Spearwind Guard was disbanded and Murong Sang-ah faced her greatest crisis, she had remained at her side.

Normally, her mistress didn’t care much for appearances. Even the slightest touch of powder would make her shine like silk embroidered with gold thread, like jade finely carved. Yet she rarely bothered.

But today was different. Today, Murong Sang-ah wanted to be more beautiful than anyone.

Yes, because today...

"Is everything prepared for my lord’s memorial offerings?"

It was Kang Yun-ho’s memorial day.

"Yes. I’ve summoned the best chefs to prepare delicacies from both the Central Plains and Joseon."

"And the food he liked—what of that?"

"The Captain of the Spearwind Guard said he asked the surviving Kang family members, but they were all distant relations or women who had never gone outside. They didn’t know."

"I see."

A bitter tone slipped into her voice.

"We’ve prepared every delicacy imaginable. I’m sure some of them must have been his favorites!"

The orange-haired maid tried to lift her mistress’s spirits with cheerful encouragement.

"Yes... you’re right."

Murong Sang-ah nodded slightly, then dressed herself in clean garments and simple, elegant accessories the maid handed her.

"Give me the hairpin, and I’ll style your hair."

"I’ll do the hairpin myself. Just help me arrange the rest."

Refusing to let anyone else touch it, she retrieved a precious hairpin from a drawer.

No one else could handle this hairpin.

It was the one he had placed in her hair with his own hands, two years ago.

Unlike back then, she now fixed it herself with practiced ease.

"When I’m ready, have everyone leave."

After the maid left, Murong Sang-ah looked into the mirror.

She wasn’t the mistress of Spearwind Hall right now. She was just a woman. Someone’s wife.

Her clothes were neat, her jewelry modest, her face beautifully made up. The silver ring on her hand, the hairpin in her hair.

She wanted only one person to see her beauty.

-----------

Once everyone had left, Murong Sang-ah waited quietly for the right moment.

If only he were here, she could endure anything. She could survive this crisis. That wedding day, overflowing with love and happiness, had long passed, and now—midnight.

The day that happiness turned into despair. The day that love both began and ended.

Tablet of the Honored Scholar, Lord of the Household.

Kang Yun-ho.

She set out the ancestral tablet for her dead husband, placed the incense burner beside it, and lit the incense.

As the delicate fragrance for the dead filled her senses, Murong Sang-ah finally spoke to the tablet.

"This year, I’ve prepared better food. Dishes from both the Central Plains and Joseon, made by the best chefs."

She poured wine into his cup and bowed deeply.

"Where are you now?"

Her voice was pained as she asked.

"Are you out there, caught in the wind and rain? Where are you? I worry endlessly, day and night."

No matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t find a trace of him.

Because of her, he had died. His body had been torn apart and left in the street. Over a year had passed, and she still hadn’t found him.

She should be tending his grave, caring for it—but she couldn’t.

Her heart burned. Would she never find him? The fear consumed her.

But she didn’t give in to that fear. She swallowed it down and steeled herself.

"I’ve done so much. I founded Spearwind Hall, I pushed the Elders’ Council to weaken my brother’s power. I crushed a hidden force of Demonic Sect followers. I’ve gained real influence as a direct descendant."

Two years since their wedding. So much had happened.

The helpless girl had become the head of a faction. True, her wealth played a role, but she had succeeded because she was capable, because she had fought with everything she had.

But she didn’t see it that way.

"It’s all because of you."

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

All of it—everything—was thanks to him.

Her brother had built his power through the Demonic Sect, but she, with nothing more than her lord’s help, had gained ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) the strength to stand against them. Her faction had grown strong enough that even the Demonic Sect wouldn’t dare act recklessly.

As overwhelming as the Demonic Sect seemed, Kang Yun-ho’s greatness loomed even larger in her heart.

"You gave me so much, and yet, all I can offer in return is this... it burns me inside."

There wasn’t a single person left who knew what food he liked.

What if he came, only to find nothing he enjoyed, nothing familiar? Would he look at her with disappointment? Would he resent her?

Before others, these offerings might be extravagant feasts they could never even dream of. But to her, they were hollow, and she bowed her head, filled with sorrow.

Placing a hand over her aching heart, Murong Sang-ah spoke again.

"They say time heals all wounds. That with enough years, even the worst memories fade. But how could that be true?"

Some memories don’t fade—they crush you for a lifetime, twist and reshape who you are.

"You came to me like a miracle."

Back when all she loved was the sword, weak and helpless, on the verge of collapse—he had come to her like a miracle.

When she was barely holding herself together, ready to give up, he had reached out, as if to say the world hadn’t ended yet.

"There’s more I have to carry now."

The girl who once loved swords had become a woman condemned as a villainess.

Using everything her lord had given her, Murong Sang-ah became the head of Spearwind Hall and the symbol of resistance against the Demonic Sect entrenched within the Murong family.

Responsibility. Weight.

The hopes they placed on her were crushing. For a woman only 21 years old, the burden was too much.

Do wounds really fade with time?

With each passing year, Kang Yun-ho grew larger in her life, in her heart.

"I want to drop everything this instant and just see your face again."

If she ended her life right now, would she be able to see him again?

Her guilt carved deeper into her chest, turning to regret. Her love for him only grew stronger.

And her longing... only deeper.

Whoooosh.

A strange coincidence? Just like that day last year, a warm breeze drifted into the room.

"My lord..."

Had he come to savor the offerings she had prepared?

She couldn’t lift her head.

She had dressed beautifully, just for him—but she couldn’t raise her eyes to meet his.

She hadn’t done enough. She was still a sinner.

The breeze stirred the incense, burning it more brightly, then brushed gently against her cheek.

It was warm, but a little rough. As if telling her not to weaken. As if scolding her, like a husband would his wife.

The breeze passed her cheek and vanished.

"My lord, I just want to see your face one more time."

As the breeze faded, she steeled herself and whispered.

As the wind had said, it was not yet time.

Death was nothing but an escape. She must not run. She didn’t deserve to run.

Murong Sang-ah vowed again.

"When that day comes, I’ll be alive, so I can see your face."

That day would come. And until it did, she would live with everything she had.

One day, she would fall into the depths of hell and stand before the judgment seat.

Even if she were torn apart, even if she faced the harshest punishments—

She would say she did everything she could. That she fulfilled everything he had asked of her.

And she would beg—just once—to see his face again.

To earn even that right, she had to live.

Tears streamed down her beautifully painted face.

-----------

Spearwind Hall.

Here lived the infamous villainess rising in fame across the martial world—the only hope of uprooting the Demonic Sect from the Murong family.

"My lady. With the documents you provided, we’ve narrowed down the location of the Martial Treasury. It’s time for inspection."

"Prepare yourselves."

Murong Sang-ah gripped her sword, ready to depart.

She would find her lord’s remains. She would manage Spearwind Hall. She would stand against Murong Bi. She would keep searching the Martial Treasury for the legitimacy she needed.

Today, too, she had finished her preparations—for the sake of reclaiming the Murong family, for destroying the Demonic Sect.

Some might say she was just a villainess desperately clawing for power.

And yes, she was clawing.

Fighting, struggling—just for one meeting at the end, at the judgment seat in the afterlife.

Murong Sang-ah was fighting for the right to die.