675 - The Outcast Writer of a Martial Arts Visual Novel

"The expedition team at Seongmuseogo has encountered a significant accident." Misfortunes often strike in succession. Mo Yong Sang Ah learned about the accident at Seongmuseogo's excavation site just the day after she received news of her father's critical condition. "An accident, suddenly? What exactly happened?" "They seem to have met with trouble while attempting to excavate the frozen ground." It was a rockfall accident. A large rock crumbled, causing a massive collapse in the area, resulting in numerous casualties. Mo Yong Sang Ah rubbed her throbbing forehead with her fingertips as she inquired further about the situation. "What about the casualties?" "Many of the workers and the managers have perished." "……." A deep shadow fell over Mo Yong Sang Ah's face. "My lord?" "It's nothing. Send more people to manage the aftermath. Compensate the families of those who were sacrificed." "The subordinates were careless, there's no need for you to be hurt by this incident, my lord." Chang Bong Dae Ju offered words of comfort to their visibly distressed lord, but Mo Yong Sang Ah could only nod bitterly. "I understand. Ensure that the other excavation teams exercise more caution when investigating." "I'll deliver the message." Even as Chang Bong Dae Ju withdrew, they continued to cast worried glances at their lord's shadowed face, finding it difficult to voice further concerns amidst the unfolding events. —— A heavy heart does not eliminate one's responsibilities. "Sigh…" The night had grown dark. The woman managed to lay down on her bed, her breath heavy with worry and exhaustion. She should have turned her body for comfort and wrapped herself in blankets to seek warmth in the cold winter, but Mo Yong Sang Ah could only breathe shallowly as she lay collapsed on her bed. "Is this my fault?" Too many misfortunes have beset her. In the darkness of winter, the room felt achingly empty. She questioned herself. "Was it my greed, this long winter?" Winter in the northern regions is long, and one never knows when the enemies might reveal their ambitions. These were orders she herself had given. She hadn't harbored great expectations, but to find hope, one mustn't stop. Her commands had resulted in casualties. "In attempting to save my father, I've endangered him. In my efforts to reclaim my family, I sacrificed others. No matter how much I search, I can't find Sang Gong's remains." If it had been a single misfortune, she might have been able to endure it. She would have shrugged it off as a part of life and thought of it as just another challenge. Treating her father's ailment. The excavation of Seongmuseogo. The search for Sang Gong's remains. Everything Mo Yong Sang Ah had longed for had gone awry. Even as the owner of Chang Bong Hall, enduring all this proved difficult. "It feels like I'm swimming in a quagmire." Swim or sink. She knew that, but no matter how hard she swam, it felt like she was sinking. "Is there an end to this?" Mo Yong Sang Ah reminisced about the days when she wielded her sword without a second thought. The sword was always decisive. It always showed the right answers and the right results. There was nothing to hinder her progress, and pondering always revealed the solution. Not like now. "Can I find an end to this?" Threatened from all sides. The north by the Mongols, the east by the Jurchens, and to the south, Joseon. Even the officials, who should be her allies, looked at her with suspicion. Trust in blood ties had long since faded, and the expectations of her subordinates, who only looked up to her, must be met. The master of Chang Bong Hall. Mo Yong Sang Ah. At just 21 years old, the age when she must bear all these burdens. "I shouldn't struggle, but I do. Sang Gong." The privacy to share her innermost thoughts existed solely in her bedroom. Today, she wanted to confess her challenges, declaring that the day was overwhelming, and she felt on the verge of collapse. She wished she could lie beside Sang Gong, feeling the reassuring warmth of his presence as she whimsically complained. Even as the master of Chang Bong Hall, she longed to simply be a vulnerable woman beside him. However. There were no responses to her laments. The man allotted to her bed in Chang Bong Hall had long departed this world. "Sang Gong…." An unreturned name. A name that wouldn't answer however much it was called. All that remained for her was to shut her eyelids forcefully to face another arduous struggle the next day. For there were no miracles to expect in Liaodong Fortress. Miracles shouldn't be hoped for. But. Far west of Liaodong Fortress. Hubei Province. [There is no time for reckless bravado.] "There is something I must do." [Is it something you would risk your life to see?] Her husband was a man who could conjure miracles for her. --- "Where is this…?" Upon opening her eyes, she found herself in an unfamiliar place. A world veiled in silvery darkness. No stars above, only emptiness remained. Where could this place be? And why was she standing here? Before Mo Yong Sang Ah could grasp the situation, a voice stirred her mind into chaos. "It's been a long time." A voice she hadn't forgotten for even a moment. Three years had passed, yet it was a voice she had longed to hear every day. "This… this voice? No way…." "My dear wife." A title reserved for her by only one person in the world. A voice she desperately yearned to hear again but thought she never would. "Sang Gong…?" The face she had missed dearly was calling to her from the far end of a golden bridge. — "A dream? A hallucination? A scheme by the Demon Sect? Or is it something else…." It's neither a dream nor a hallucination. This foreign sensation is explicitly real. What on earth is happening? Although puzzled, Mo Yong Sang Ah walked unwaveringly toward Sang Gong. "Don't come any closer." "Sang Gong…?" His cold refusal halted her steps. Of course, it was only natural. If it truly was Sang Gong, knowing the truth, wouldn't he be justified in unleashing his anger upon her? How could she have deluded herself into thinking Sang Gong would warmly embrace her? Mo Yong Sang Ah's eyebrows trembled. A black widow. A woman who consumed her husband. Despite being called all sorts of names, her heart, which had never been wounded, was in tatters from Sang Gong's frigid rejection. Her head bowed slowly. "It's not meant for you to come to me. Why do you keep trying?" A gentle breeze tenderly caressed her chin. Her husband's affectionate tone and caring advice lifted her gaze. What was Sang Gong saying? Mo Yong Sang Ah finally shifted her gaze, previously fixated on Sang Gong, to her surroundings. A golden pillar of light appeared at the end of what seemed like an infinite path. A golden bridge stretched out toward it, with Sang Gong standing on it, watching her with worry. "Could it be...? Then, this is..." The boundary between life and death. Mo Yong Sang Ah suddenly realized where she was. She had heard tales of those who, losing the will to live or nearing death, witnessed the threshold of the afterlife and returned. If that were indeed so, the Sang Gong before her... "S-Sang Gong. Is it really you?" An unresponsive name, no matter how often it's uttered. A name that wouldn't answer, no matter how much it's called. With trembling eyes, she spoke his name. "My dear wife." A reply in a voice she thought she would never hear again, even in her dreams. She tried to suppress the tears threatening to blur her vision, longing to run to him. "Sang Gong! Why is the bridge...?" The bridge began to vanish, as if declaring it was not a path meant for her. "You've only been granted access up to there." "I'm not even allowed to approach Sang Gong...?" "……." A moment of silence pierced her like an arrow. "I knew... I knew I didn't have the right." Her body began to collapse. No despair had broken her before, but the despair of being unable to reach Sang Gong was unbearable. "It's been almost three years since I wronged Sang Gong. Three years since I received an unrepayable debt from you. And yet... And yet... I'm a woman who hasn't fulfilled even a single one of your wishes." The vanished bridge. The insurmountable distance. An eternal punishment bestowed upon her. She confessed her sins, wrapped in guilt and despair. "The enemies grow stronger by the day. The burdens on my shoulders keep increasing. Despite the lowly life you saved, Sang Gong, I am powerless. I can't tell anyone, but sometimes, sometimes... living is so painful." No matter how much she swims through the mire, the fate of sinking doesn't seem to change. No matter how much she strives, she's terrified it might render Sang Gong's sacrifice futile. "It feels like this world is hell. If living is nothing but torment, if a world without Sang Gong is hell, then perhaps...!" Tears obscured Sang Gong’s face. The face she so desperately wanted to see. And yet, she could only weep and fail to see him clearly. Pathetic. Wiping her tears, she moved toward the disappearing bridge. "You mustn't come closer." "If I can see Sang Gong's face, I fear not the fires of hell." "My dear wife." His voice, filled with both resolve and sorrow, pierced her heart. "It's not that a sinner with no rights wishes to grasp your hand. It's not that I wish to touch Sang Gong’s unforgettable face. Just, just…." She knelt and wept as if in mourning. "Please, allow me the chance to capture Sang Gong’s face in my eyes…." With desperate longing, pleading with all her heart. Even if it meant losing her way forever, plunging into eternal despair, as long as she could see Sang Gong's face more clearly, nothing else mattered. "The path I'm on isn't one for you to follow." "Sang Gong...!" Despite her resolve, his response was a firm rejection. "My dear wife. As difficult as it is, you mustn't come to my side yet." "Then I…!" "The path you must take lies that way." It was Sang Gong's fingertip that halted her encroaching despair. "That way?" Beyond, another path was illuminated by the light of the afterlife. "It's a winding and arduous path. It will be hard. It’s already hard, but it’ll be even harder. But, my dear wife." It was a steep and winding path, unlike the straight and shining one where Sang Gong stood. "No matter how much I walk such a path!" A sinner cannot reach Sang Gong. Only toiling eternally down an unending road. The moment she cried out in despair. "I will wait for you." His soothing words carried a promise. "Sang Gong...?" "In the end, at the conclusion of your journey, I will be waiting." The light shone on the treacherous path. Though fraught with challenges, the path unmistakably led to Sang Gong. "…You'll truly wait for me?" Through the tears, a smile emerged, and he nodded reassuringly. I will wait. To have the conversation left unfinished in this life, at that time. No matter how arduous the path. Even if you fall, rise again. If you reach the end, eventually. "Someday. I look forward to the day we meet again." Sang Gong promised with a smile. ————— YW9peUx5cktZYXhyU2hzY1VsMkQ0YzdLVEQydTVOQUxpL2EwWnFTajM2T3hvYWpNWTBLT3ZoZlFHOW0rWE9nag "I've prepared the carriage to take you to the accident site. My lord…?" The next morning. Chang Bong Dae Ju found Mo Yong Sang Ah silently gazing at an orchid in the study. "The orchid has bloomed." Mo Yong Sang Ah lifted a potted orchid she had brought back from Joseon. The orchid showcased a modest yet elegant purple flower. "Haha. I had heard it was a 'Winter Orchid,' but to bloom in this winter… Truly an exquisite purple flower." "Even amid the coldest winter, it can still bloom." With a slight smile, Mo Yong Sang Ah nodded. "You seem to be in good spirits this morning." "…I know he will wait for me." It wasn't a dream. She wasn't so foolish as to be unable to distinguish between dreams and reality. It was no dream. What she saw last night was unmistakably Sang Gong. "Pardon?" Despite the harsh winter. In a season when vegetation struggles to endure, the orchid bloomed. Knowing someone was waiting for it, the orchid didn't betray that hope. "Let's go. It's a long journey, so we should depart immediately." To the end of this path. The woman set out on her journey once more, determined that when she stood before Sang Gong again, it would not be with a face of tears, but with a smile as radiant as a blooming flower.