He looked to be around the age of thirty.

The man was burning with fever, gasping and writhing in pain.

Before she was the Second Prince’s poisoner and assassin, Choryeon was a physician.

She had the courage to die—but not the heart to walk past someone dying.

“Hey! Hey, can you hear me?!”

“Ugh...”

Struggling, Choryeon managed to roll the man—who had been lying on his side—onto his back to examine the wound. She gasped without realizing it.

The sword wound that had driven him to the brink of death was worse than expected.

It was deep—deep enough to expose the bone—and long.

It was a miracle he was still alive.

‘Medicine... I need something usable...’

Choryeon emptied everything from her pockets.

All she had were some wound-closing powder and clean bandages.

It was all she had managed to hastily grab when she fled the palace, just in case.

‘Still, having even the powder is a blessing...’

She poured the wound-closing powder over his sword wound without hesitation. The white powder clung to the gash and slowly stemmed the bleeding.

Choryeon scoured the area for any usable herbs.

Since they were deep in an untraveled part of the mountains, it was not difficult to find wild herbs untouched by others.

She gathered and crushed them, smearing the paste over the man’s wound, now no longer bleeding.

“Ugh...”

Though writhing in pain, the man could not move a single finger. He could only entrust his body to Choryeon’s care.

Bandaging him was no easy task. His body was heavy.

By the time she pressed clean cloth against the wound and secured it with bandages, sweat was pouring from her like rain.

“Ja...gang... Jagang...”

Around then, the man began to murmur.

His face, twisted with pain from the injury, contorted further under a new agony.

His voice carried sorrow and grief.

Tears leaked from beneath his tightly shut eyelids and trickled down his cheeks.

He had not cried from the pain of the sword wound.

Choryeon found herself staring at his tears for a long moment, as if entranced.

“Someone must have hurt you deeply.”

After doing all she could to treat him, Choryeon roamed the forest to gather edible berries and drew water.

She gave him water and let him moisten his lips with raspberry juice. By then, the sun had already dipped beyond the ridge.

Choryeon collapsed beside him with a soft thud.

As someone on the run, she could not light a fire.

Though the mountain night was cold and beasts might be drawn to the scent of blood, a fire was not an option.

The only relief was that it was not winter.

“As a physician, I can say... whether it is the wound, the cold, or wild animals—there are many ways to die. But the chance of survival... is slim.”

The bleeding had stopped, but the treatment was inadequate. She did not think survival was even likely.

“Your fate is cruel.”

Night fell, and the cries of beasts echoed dangerously close. In the midst of that soundscape, Choryeon suddenly chuckled at the thought of what she had done that day.

She was going to die anyway—so why had she struggled so desperately to save someone?

She had set out to gather poison, yet ended up foraging for herbs.

She had intended to die, yet broke a sweat to help another live.

And now here she was, waiting for death at this man’s side.

It was absurd.

Listening to the man’s ragged, unstable breathing in the dark, Choryeon buried her face in her knees.

The next day, incredibly, the man was still alive.

And the next.

And the next.

The man lived, and so did Choryeon.

On the seventh day, the man opened his eyes.

As always, Choryeon was returning with a handful of raspberries when she saw him awake—and dropped the berries in shock.

“You’re really alive...?”

The man blinked blankly at her, his brows furrowing faintly.

Was she relieved that he had survived? Or was she displeased?

What kind of reaction was that from someone who had just been pulled back from death?

And... who °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° was this woman?

Three more days passed.

When the man finally sat up for the first time, Choryeon dropped the herbs she had gathered in surprise.

His recovery was monstrous.

The man did not complain about the lack of fire, nor did he ask why Choryeon seemed so uneasy at times.

Three more days passed.

By then, it was difficult to find herbs or berries nearby.

They had stayed in one place too long. The Jin Yi Guards' pursuit must have drawn closer.

That they had not yet been discovered was thanks to the surrounding terrain—dense thickets and a steep hillside—but it was too dangerous to remain.

“Can you move?”

“....”

He could not—but he rose anyway.

With Choryeon supporting him, slowly, ever so slowly, the two began to walk.

When they reached a stream, they rested. If the pain flared, they stopped again until it subsided.

Even so, the man’s condition gradually improved. One day, while watching him circulate his internal energy, Choryeon realized he was a martial artist.

“Who is Jagang?”

Choryeon asked without thinking, as she watched the man washing his face by the stream.

He froze—and turned to look at her.

Only then did Choryeon realize she had made a mistake.

“Ah, I am sorry. You kept murmuring that name while you were delirious. You do not have to answer if—”

“My younger sibling.”

“...Pardon?”

“Jagang is my sibling. And I am not ‘you.’ My name is Seop Mugwang.”

He answered flatly, then turned back to the stream as if nothing had happened.

Was this really the same man who had radiated a deadly chill days ago? Watching him now, nonchalantly splashing water, Choryeon could not help but blurt out—

“...How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“That makes no sense.”

She had assumed he was well past thirty.

Seop Mugwang furrowed his brow and looked at her.

“...What?”

“How could you possibly look that old? What kind of life have you lived?”

“....”

Seop Mugwang’s lips parted faintly—

But in the end, he did not answer.

****

“It has already been over twenty years since then. Time really flies, does it not?”

Choryeon gave a small smile.

Seolhwa spoke as she looked at that somehow sorrowful smile.

“Thanks to the Division Commander, you lived.”

“That is right. I tried so desperately to save someone on the verge of death, and here I am—still alive.”

The resolve to die had quietly faded amidst the chaos, and the life she had carried on with, day by day, had become joyful before she realized it.

It was Seop Mugwang who had reminded Choryeon of the joy of living.

“I hope he lives. I hope he lives for a long time—and helps me to keep on living.”

Choryeon looked toward Seolhwa.

“Young Lady... Do you think he can come back? The Commander, I mean.”

“Do you trust me?”

Without hesitation, Choryeon nodded.

“You are someone special. I know that you are different from others.”

“...”

“I believe in you.”

Perhaps it was because she herself had once lived for revenge alone—Choryeon’s gaze toward Seolhwa was filled with unwavering conviction.

Facing that boundless trust, Seolhwa gave a faint smile.

“He will be all right. The Commander...”

My master...

“...is strong. I am certain he will choose to live. So let us do our part with everything we have.”

Choryeon quietly nodded.

By then, the group had reached the western edge of Hanam, entering the region of Ryeongbo.

****

Before entering Shaanxi, the group stopped in Ryeongbo.

It was to meet with the Sect Leader before stepping into Mount Hua’s territory.

The hour was deep into the second watch of the night (2–3 a.m.).

After confirming that Yu Pyo was sound asleep, Yu Gang cautiously stepped outside.

The Commander of the Black Dragon Division, who was standing guard, spotted him and gave a slight nod.

Yu Gang bowed respectfully, then slipped between the tents and entered the forest.

For a short while, only the sound of rustling footsteps echoed through the darkness—until Yu Gang’s face lit up as he spotted someone.

“Miss Namgoong...!”

Seolhwa, who had come out earlier and was waiting, turned to him.

Yu Gang ran up to her with quick steps.

“I am not late, right?”

“No. Seems you did not get lost this time.”

“I-I never get lost over short distances like this!”

Flustered by her teasing, he raised his voice slightly—and Seolhwa let out a quiet laugh.

“This time?”

Rustle—came a sound, and from behind Seolhwa, a tall shadow emerged from the forest.

It was Namgoong Mucheon, who had gone to scout the area.

“Have you two met alone before?”

Namgoong Mucheon looked down at Yu Gang, one brow raised.

The pressure of his presence made Yu Gang gulp involuntarily.

“U-uh, well...”

“We met separately when he visited the main house. It was about the matter I already told you, Grandfather.”

Seolhwa had already explained to Namgoong Mucheon about her previous conversation with Yu Gang and why he had been found in Suro Stronghold.

At her words, the arch in Namgoong Mucheon’s brow smoothed out.

“I see.”

Yu Gang let out a breath of relief without realizing it.

“So, you say you know the Jade Plum Sword’s hiding place?”

Yu Gang quickly nodded.

“Yes...! But...”

“What is it?”

“You can only reach it through the main gate. The Sect Leader resides near the cliff summit... and the stairs leading there connect directly from the main hall.”

“That is all?”

Namgoong Mucheon scoffed softly.

“If there is no path, we shall make one.”

“Uwaaah!”

Namgoong Mucheon lifted Yu Gang up in one swift motion and turned to Seolhwa.

“Can you keep up?”

“Of course.”

“Then let us go.”

The next instant, Yu Gang cried out without meaning to.

His scream was swallowed instantly by the wind.