“S-stop… please, no more…!” Yeon Bi whimpered, his breath catching in ragged gasps as he resisted her feeble attempts to feed him.

“Nonsense! How can you possibly be full after just this much…!” Yeon Seo-rin, the Second Young Lady, retorted, her eyes filled with disbelief. However, she seemed determined to continue her onslaught. She heaped a spoonful high with meat and aimed it at Yeon Bi once again.

“You brat! You barely eat anything! This is why you’re not growing taller…!” Yeon Seo-rin’s voice was filled with exasperation.

Was it because of Yeon So-hyeon’s return that she had finally allowed herself to relax so completely? Despite having only had a few drinks to accompany the meal, Yeon Seo-rin’s face was already flushed with a rosy drunkenness. She huffed, her breath smelling strongly of alcohol, and her eyes glinted with a fierce, trembling determination.

“Your mother begged me to look after you, she truly did! If I leave you like this, I’ll never be able to face her in the afterlife…!” Yeon Seo-rin spoke with the solemnity of someone upholding a dying wish.

“But Sister…!” Yeon Bi cried out, his voice muffled by the food already crammed into his mouth. “My mother is still alive! She just can’t come outside… so please stop talking like she’s dead!”

“Hmph!”

Yeon Seo-rin scowled, and her already-strong, imposing features took on an even more intimidating air.

“Hic…!”

Yeon Bi flinched, shrinking back. Yeon Seo-rin leaned in, her expression one of utmost gravity, and called out to him.

“So-hyeon.”

…What? So-hyeon?

“S-Sister? I’m not our older brother, I’m Yeon Bi—”

His words were cut off.

“So-hyeon. It doesn’t matter how powerful your martial arts are. With your current height and build, you’ll never be able to draw out their full power.”

It seemed she was well and truly drunk, completely mistaking Yeon Bi for Yeon So-hyeon.

“The foundation of martial arts is the harmony of Mind, Qi, and Body! And the growth of the body comes from food!”

“B-But I’m a Poison Man! I can’t grow any more than—!” The moment Yeon Bi shouted and opened his mouth, another heaping spoonful of meat was stuffed right in.

“Mmph! Mmph…!”

Watching this spectacle, the Third Young Lady Yeon Da-eun and the Fourth Young Lady Yeon Da-hye were stomping their feet, their faces bright red as they roared with laughter. Yeon Seo-rin’s original intention of ‘teaching the adults how to drink’ was long forgotten. They were, all of them, completely plastered.

“Serves him right! He’s always avoiding us!”

“Second Sister! For balance, he needs to eat his vegetables too!”

…It was in moments like these one could truly understand why Yeon Bi, who seemed to fear nothing in the world, was always running away from his older sisters.

“Kkeuek—!”

What had begun as a refined luncheon for the siblings of the esteemed Yeon Clan had long since devolved into utter pandemonium.

“Heh.”

Sitting alone, slightly apart from the chaos, Yeon So-hyeon quietly enjoyed the aroma of the alcohol and let out a low chuckle. Some might wag their fingers, decrying the children of a prestigious family for such unseemly behavior. But as Yeon So-hyeon watched, he found the pandemonium to be nothing but welcome.

He even… found it nostalgic.

How long has it been since I’ve seen this?

Even setting aside his eldest sister, who had married into the Hwangbo Clan, and his second and third brothers who could not be here… how long had it been since the family who was here had gathered like this, in an atmosphere that truly felt like family?

For Yeon So-hyeon, who had already lived one full life—a life defined by agony and regret—this simple, chaotic scene was something he had longed for. It was a sight that was almost heartbreaking in its preciousness.

Kwadang!

The clatter of a chair being knocked over shattered Yeon So-hyeon’s reverie.

“I hate you, sisters! I hate you!”

While Yeon So-hyeon had been lost in his sentiments, Yeon Bi, who had been fighting a lonely battle without reinforcements, finally fled, his eyes glistening with tears.

“Get him!”

“Catch him and we’ll fatten him up properly!”

Giggling, Yeon Da-eun and Yeon Da-hye shot up from their seats and dashed out after him. The fact that, in her drunken haze, Yeon Da-eun’s feet got tangled, causing her to grab Yeon Da-hye and bring them both crashing down, was just a bonus.

“What the—Sister?! Why would you grab me?!”

“How could you not even brace yourself for that?!”

Bickering, the two of them scrambled back to their feet and resumed the chase.

“Aah! He’s getting away!”

“Stop right there!”

He had been concerned that the girls, who had spent their entire lives as sheltered young ladies, might have endured profound emotional trauma from the recent incident, where numerous lives were lost and injuries were sustained. However, it appeared that his worries were unfounded. He recalled a specific moment from that day, on the blood-soaked grounds of the Sword Clan, when they had sensed his anxiety and firmly grasped his hands.

“We don’t resent you at all, Brother.”

They are strong children.

The image of their mother, the Lady Ha, came to his mind.

“Mmmph…”

Thud.

The completely drunk Yeon Seo-rin finally planted her face on the table and passed out.

Yeon So-hyeon rose slowly and quietly from his seat. He draped his own black silk coat over the deeply sleeping Yeon Seo-rin. Then, he gently brushed her disheveled hair back from her face, his touch surprisingly delicate, meticulous, and careful.

‘Welcome back, sister.’

He slowly lifted his gaze and took in the room. The siblings’ meal was coming to an end. It was a fleeting, ephemeral moment, but the memory of it would become his own precious treasure, one he would not trade for anything.

Yeon So-hyeon closed his eyes for a moment, engraving the feeling of this moment in his mind, before quietly slipping away.

Yeon Seo-rin was asleep, Yeon Bi had fled, the twins were off on their chase, and Yeon So-hyeon had departed. Yet, the space they left behind was filled with nothing but a lingering, profound warmth.

***

After entrusting Yeon Seo-rin to the head handmaiden, Jeong-ah, Yeon So-hyeon changed into plain cotton clothes he had not worn in a long time. It was the simple white cotton attire of a poor scholar, the very clothes he used to wear back when he was the ‘Swordless One,’ when he would sneak out to see the marketplace.

The sun was starting to set, and the Holy Valley, once known as the Valley of Sins, grew far more vibrant than it had been during the quiet, pious day.

“Cheap, cheap!”

“Hey, two skewers over here!”

Red paper lanterns, hung all along the alleyways, cast a festive glow, while itinerant musicians, playing cheerfully for a coin or two, further enlivened the atmosphere.

“Oh, what a pretty ornament…!”

“It suits you well, young lady.”

The buildings, all renovated into small shops, were booming with excited pilgrims. Even the spaces that had been destroyed by the pirate-mercenaries’ bombardment had been filled with temporary stalls, packing the valley’s steep alleys to the brim. This was the night market of the Holy Valley, which had now established itself as a new famous attraction of Luoyang.

And so, Yeon So-hyeon, with calm eyes, simply watched the crowds. He let his worries go for a moment. He forgot, for a time, the hardships of his life. His dark eyes filled with the sight of people simply enjoying themselves. This moment felt as if he had returned to the past, when he had wanted to remain a mere scholar, the Swordless One, and not the Grand Young Master.

“Are you on a secret inspection?”

But unlike those days, there was now someone who recognized him, even in these humble clothes. Someone who recognized Yeon So-hyeon, not just the Grand Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Clan.

“Well, well, look who’s here. A very important person has graced us with his presence.”

Laughing heartily, the one who sat down next to Yeon So-hyeon was the Old Strategist of the War Advisory Group. His wrinkled old face was a deep, mottled crimson, as if he’d been pickled in a wine jar.

“Drinking since broad daylight again?” Yeon So-hyeon asked. His tone was chiding, but the Old Strategist simply beamed.

“But of course. For an old man who has spent his entire life on the battlefield, knowing nothing but war, to suddenly find himself with nothing to do—how could that be anything but a blessing?”

Spoken like the Old Strategist. His words had weight.

“…You have a point.”

Yeon So-hyeon gave a quiet nod of agreement, his gaze returning to the bustling night market.

“The mountain wind feels good.”

The Old Strategist lazily pulled a small flask from his robes and took a gulp. The sharp scent of alcohol that wafted over was potent; it was clearly no ordinary drink.

“Who could have ever imagined it?” the strategist murmured, his voice a low, rhythmic hum, as if singing along to the faint music drifting from the market. “Who could have possibly thought that this hellhole, this pit of ruins filled with starving beggars who ate human flesh, could be transformed like this?”

He turned his gaze to Yeon So-hyeon.

“You have accomplished a great thing, my Lord.”

My Lord. Not Grand Young Master. The old man called him ‘Lord.’ It was his own way of expressing trust.

“But it’s not enough yet,” Yeon So-hyeon said quietly. “The ones enjoying that night market are those who have the luxury to make a pilgrimage.”

In the Central Plains, travel wasn’t exactly a privilege, but it was not a joy that everyone could afford.

“The actual residents of this valley are still working this hard, even at this very hour.” Yeon So-hyeon’s gaze was fixed on the people hauling goods, selling wares, and calling out to customers. “They prepare to open before the sun is up, and they must labor like this long after the sun has set.”

Their business operations, including the stalls and merchandise, were entirely leased from the House of Benevolence. How could these impoverished individuals have possibly gathered the funds to establish their own capital?

“Ho ho.” But the Old Strategist, his face flush with pleasant drunkenness, shook his head. “If you lack the ability and the capital, you have to make up for it with your body.”

“…Harsh words.”

“You think so?” The Old Strategist chuckled, then pointed to a man hauling a heavy load on a A-cart up the alley. “Do you see that young man’s face? He’s drenched in sweat, his legs are trembling, but there isn’t a shadow of despair on his face.”

The Old Strategist continued in a meandering tone. “Who wouldn’t want to become a rich man? Of course they want that. But what they realistically hope for… is just for life to get a little bit easier.”

“…For life to get a little bit easier?”

“That’s right.” The Old Strategist nodded, his face a map of the long years he’d lived. “Just a little bit easier is enough.”

As Yeon So-hyeon took a sip of the strong liquor the old man offered, the strategist continued. “No matter what the rulers do, no matter how hard they try, how dramatically can the lives of those people truly change? This old man might be enjoying a drink right now, but eventually, I’ll have to go back to studying strategy and contemplating tactics.”

The old man pointed down one alley. “Look over there. The warriors from the War Advisory Group, enjoying their leave.”

Just as he said, a group of warriors, loud and joyous, were at an outdoor tavern, bottles in hand, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, singing at the top of their lungs. Unlike the last time they’d feigned a ‘vacation’ to secretly help Yeon So-hyeon, this time, they were enjoying a real one.

“The warriors, the soldiers… they’ll have to train their formations again, sharpen their blades, feed their horses, and hone their skills. And eventually, they must return to the battlefield.” The strategist, a man who had lived his entire life in war, a man whose very profession was war, said, “What people like them want is just a brief rest, just like this.”

Yeon So-hyeon anticipated his meaning. “You mean, as long as life isn’t just an endless march from one war to the next, from one battlefield to another… that’s enough?”

“That’s right. As long as life gets easier, just a little bit at a time.”

Yeon So-hyeon’s gaze returned to the man with the A-cart, who, even as they spoke, had continued to stumble his way far up the valley path. As he watched him, Yeon So-hyeon’s expression seemed a little more at peace.

“And yet,” the Old Strategist said, his face genuinely happy, having succeeded in lifting even a small part of Yeon So-hyeon’s unimaginable burden. “Perhaps it is only idealism. But it is precisely because people like you, my Lord, exist—people who reach for an ideal that seems impossible—that our lives are, without a doubt, getting that little bit easier.”

Having said his piece, the Old Strategist rose to his feet and staggered away into the night.

“…Is that so.”

Yeon So-hyeon closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the night wind, before pulling a small wooden statue from his robes.

It was crooked, crude, and utterly worthless, especially since it had been broken and glued back together. It was the wooden statue of the Medicine Fairy, the one left behind by the dead younger brother of the retired soldier, who had once come to the House of Benevolence in Hodoo Village for meat porridge.

Yeon So-hyeon leaned the small statue against the rock he had been sitting on. Then, he opened the flask the Old Strategist had left behind and poured a generous amount of liquor over the statue.

“…I will not stop.”

Yeon So-hyeon spoke these words as he lifted his gaze to the sky. Summer was fast approaching, and the night sky was full of bright, glittering stars.