425 - The Outcast Writer of a Martial Arts Visual Novel

"Did you mention a friend with the surname Kang...?" Mo Yong Sang-A's eyebrows twitched slightly. "He was the first friend I made when I ventured into the martial arts world. He's Joseon-born." Cheong Un felt somewhat aggrieved. Wasn't Kang the first friend he made after leaving Hubei province? The author's name in the "Tales of the Heroic Winds" was also Kang-mo. Moreover, even those living in the central plains used to say the author was likely a Kang rather than a Mi, didn't they? Naturally, he asked about such a common surname without being aware of any connection it might have with the woman before him and the Kang family. Cheong Un decided to take a slightly roundabout approach to apologize. "I see." Of course, his response wasn't exactly well-received. Mo Yong Sang-A gazed at Cheong Un with her mouth firmly shut. Why was he bringing up his friend named Kang again in front of her? Did he intend to mention the grudge between the Kang family? Or was he hinting at some business issues? Whatever it was, it was clearly a sticky subject. "He's not well-known in Liaodong, but he's recently been making a name for himself in Hubei." "In Hubei?" "He's quite talented at writing." "Oh, writing." Fortunately, it didn't seem like he was speaking with malice. Could he genuinely just be talking about his friend? Mo Yong Sang-A eased her guard a bit and spoke to Cheong Un. "That friend of mine is an author. He writes about happenings in the martial arts world. His books are sold out wherever you turn in Hubei." "Is that so?" "Even while traveling down the Yangtze, there were people talking about his novels." Noticing Cheong Un's proud smile, Mo Yong Sang-A realized the nature of the conversation. He wasn't doing anything more than engaging in casual chatter while bragging about his friend. He probably intended to explain why he mentioned Kang so casually. Since it seemed like her benefactor was trying to apologize, even if the topic was awkward, she decided to indulge him. Mo Yong Sang-A responded approvingly to Cheong Un's words. "I imagine it's not easy gaining such fame through writing about martial arts. You're fortunate to have such an esteemed friend." Letting go of her wariness about the Joseon man with the surname Kang, someone began to surface in her heart. "Your lord wrote beautifully too." The Joseon folktale anthology that connected her with her lord. Upon further inquiry, she learned such stories didn't exist in Joseon. "The Masked Princess was written for me." Creating merely an entertaining story is a difficult feat. Yet, to embed a meaning only she could recognize and hide a message that others couldn't easily decipher—how much must her lord have agonized over it? Her lord had used everything he had to come to save the one he loved. Her heart ached momentarily at the thought. "Though he's Joseon-born, he harbored a great admiration for the chivalrous." "The chivalrous...? Is that what you mean?" The thought she had of her lord lingered in the air as Cheong Un echoed her musings. This left Mo Yong Sang-A gazing at him, unable to close her slightly open mouth. "That's how we easily became friends." "What kind of books did he write?" This time, instead of simply adding to the conversation, Mo Yong Sang-A listened with genuine interest. "Well, it’s... Ah!" Cheong Un hesitated before hastily covering his mouth, appearing flustered. 'Erotica. No, an author of erotic chivalry tales.' While he knew Dangga Pungwoon involved the topic of chivalry, explaining it to someone else was another matter. His friend typically wrote under a pen name. Moreover, writers of such tales often used pseudonyms to protect their identities. To honor his friend's reputation, he needed to keep the secret. "Hmm...?" "Embarrassingly, I didn’t have a chance to read his books because we met during my travels." Rather than blaming his friend, Cheong Un decided to take the blame himself. In actuality, he hadn't read the book. Although he visited Yichang, the library was closed, and no other bookstore carried Dangga Pungwoon. "I see." Her chilly response pierced his ears. This isn't looking good. Does she think I'm lying? "Given the pressing circumstances under which we met, I didn't have time to read." He added further explanation. "A pressing situation?" "We met en route to Sichuan's Tang family after his partner was poisoned." "It must have been significant." "It was, indeed. My friend was wagering his life to save his love, traveling from Hubei all the way to Sichuan." He had faced ambushes from the cultists, and a perilous journey to the Tang family awaited. Although many events had occurred before arriving in Liaodong, it was the most memorable. "Risking his life to save his love..." "Thankfully, they reached the Tang family safely. By now, he's likely happily nestled in his beloved's arms." Though he hadn't heard the outcome, everyone was convinced. It must have happened by now. It just had to. Cheong Un silently hoped for his friend's partner's recovery. "Risking one's life to save a loved one... That's truly... remarkable." Cheong Un hadn't realized it. A man with the surname Kang. A woman on the brink of a dire predicament. A tale of a man who braved death to save his beloved, culminating in a happy ending. He didn't realize how his words resonated with the woman before him, Mo Yong Sang-A. Although she maintained an outward facade of composure before her benefactor, her eyes trembled. "So, anyway." "....?" "I just assumed the name Kang was common and didn’t give it much thought." With a strained, awkward smile, Cheong Un apologized for his rudeness. The two could potentially talk more about the Joseon man named Kang, but it was merely a conversation sparked by Cheong Un's attempt to apologize. Mo Yong Sang-A, recognizing his intention, refrained from delving further. No, she simply couldn't. A woman saved by a man with the surname Kang. How could the wicked woman who stabbed her lord's heart with a metaphorical dagger inquire about a tale with such a similar yet contrasting ending? Mo Yong Sang-A felt her inner wounds and guilt continuously haunting her. "There's no need to concern yourself too much. It's not that I'd been troubled by the matter." All Mo Yong Sang-A could do was maintain her façade of indifference and bring their day's spar to an end. "My lady, may I comb your hair for you?" "You must be tired. Please, sit down." "Please do." Mo Yong Sang-A entrusted her tangled hair to her maids after taking a bath. "Oh, my lady, your skin is like a baby's, truly. It seems to get more radiant by the day." Their lady seemed unusually somber today. Having overheard the conversation between Cheong Un and their lady at the training grounds, the two maids were aware of the situation. Trying to lighten the mood, one of the maids chattered cheerfully. "No matter how pretty a face is, it looks unattractive when frowning... Hah. How is it you look even more beautiful?" "......" Despite the maid's continued attempts to lift the atmosphere with her cheerful remarks, the heavy mood was unyielding. "My lady..." "Is something the matter?" Mo Yong Sang-A addressed the other maid, who had been quietly combing her hair. "If something is weighing on your mind, shall I send someone to find out for you?" Had the warriors from Changbong been present, they might have scolded the maids for overstepping. But Mo Yong Sang-A's maids believed they had reason to speak up. Even when half of the Changbong warriors left her side, the maids remained loyal. Unfamiliar with the affairs of Changbong, they felt certain they could speak on matters concerning their lady. "......" Mo Yong Sang-A's gaze fell silently. "Could it be that they are merely distant relatives sharing similar behaviors?" "What are you talking about? You mean that Joseon author from earlier?" The maid trying to brighten the atmosphere gave her friend a startled look. "If it troubles you, perhaps providing support could be a way to ease your mind." "Hey, the man's in Hubei Province, thousands of miles away. And just because someone has black hair and the same surname doesn't mean they're all relatives." "Well, you never know." "It’d be a wild goose chase, and even if he is related, so what? He's doing well. Are you just spewing nonsensical ideas to upset our lady?" The cheerful maid’s eyes widened as she retorted at her friend. "Still..." Both maids had valid points. Their lady harbored guilt towards the Kang family. It was possible that the man with the surname Kang was related to the interpreter branch of the Kang family. Offering support might alleviate her burden. Such a notion, however, was ludicrous. There were countless people with the surname Kang, even beyond the interpreter branch. Moreover, Hubei, a place halfway across the world from Liaodong, was practically unreachable. It would undoubtedly be a futile endeavor. Mo Yong Sang-A listened to the maids' exchange before speaking with effort. "Thank you for your concern. If you're done, you may leave." A gentle dismissal. Mo Yong Sang-A chose not to answer their suggestions. "My lady..." "I'm sorry. We'll just finish up and be on our way." Once again, the maids had to swallow their silence as they watched their lady suffer from an unrequited love she could never undo. --- "You, just wait. I'm seriously gonna die from the sisters!" "I’m only worried about our lady, you know." Once she sensed their footsteps fading beyond the door, Mo Yong Sang-A fell into quiet contemplation. Both maids’ arguments held merit. Perhaps he was a relative. In that case, aiding him could ease her conscience. No, it’s a ridiculous thought. After long internal deliberation, a soft sigh escaped her lips. "One should have some shame." Mo Yong Sang-A chastised herself. Not because it was unlikely the writer with the Kang surname was related to her lord. Women from the Kang family would grit their teeth at the mere mention of Mo Yong's house. They’d sooner die than accept help from them. "If I aim to ease my conscience, it’s better left undone." The Kang-surnamed writer wasn’t in a predicament needing rescue, unlike the women of the Kang family. He’s said to be a famous author. Even if, by chance, he was indeed some distant relative of her lord, how offended would he be if a nemesis appeared to offer him money while his life proceeded smoothly? "Ah, so you’re throwing me money to ease your conscience! Do you think I’ll accept the blood price of my family from you?!" Such responses would be the most natural reaction. It wouldn't matter if she concealed her identity; it would still turn into a selfish action for her own comfort. It’s a foolish act. A wrong one. Her end was to carry her sins into a burning pit, not to alleviate her debt with misguided antics. "To risk one's life to save a beloved and find happiness in the end." Mo Yong Sang-A murmured quietly, clutching her knees. Could she have had such an ending? Instead of embracing her knees in solitude, could she have ended with a cherished embrace, confiding her troubles after a tough day in the loving arms of her lord? Perhaps such an ending was possible. "It’s the opposite for me." If the villainess hadn’t betrayed the hero. In the calm of the night, maybe she could gaze into her beloved lord’s eyes rather than facing the guilt her misdeeds cast upon her. "There’s no need to dwell on it." No need to inquire, to ponder any longer. It was merely a comment Cheong Un made to apologize. Rather than agonizing over self-inflicted wounds, she must continue forward to meet her lord. Yet. "The writer with the Kang surname from Yichang, Hubei..." Mo Yong Sang-A lay on her bed, repeating the phrase into the void. In the vast lands of the central plains, as expansive as the Korean peninsula, how could she even hope to track down someone believed to be dead and alive again? But today. A seemingly insignificant detail. Information about one unforgettable person. Became deeply engraved in the mind of a woman who had lost a beloved.