759 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

In Qing’s hometown, such theatrics had once been a great topic of conversation. "Do you know why wars start? Carelessness." Indeed, once distracted, even the most solid defense or numerous strategies lose their shine. No matter how sharp a person might be, once their mind is occupied, the inevitable happens—they get bested. Qing was deeply engrossed, watching the performance by Gabiya, promising to show something extraordinary—an ecstatic Kama-Sutra!—entranced both visually and auditorily, gulping down the spectacle. When the door opened, it was too late to realize! However, unlike Qing, who observed leisurely while half-reclined, Gabiya was in no such comfortable state. You see, lovemaking is one of the most intense physical activities, designed for the human body to expend all its strength to its limits, fueled by the burning fires of desire. Imitating intercourse positions requires force—an even greater ferocity when performed alone rather than with two (or more) aligning their energies in such vigorous exercise, pushing the physical limits. So whether the door opened or not was inconsequential. With the blanket rolled under her, focusing only on the vigorous yet subtle movements between ferocity and smoothness, oscillating back and forth, displaying the great balance of her waist's motion. And of course, she wasn't silent. "Haht, Haht, Hooht, Ahh." Amidst these background noises, Qing locked eyes with a woman she didn’t know. “…….” “…….” “Master, Haht, I think, huh, I’m above, hngh! Ohh, uuuh……” Gabiya's body shook. It was the summit, an expression of all her efforts. Looking around as if to gauge the reaction, she saw the mistress watching with a peculiar expression and a bead of sweat trickling down her face. Despite her efforts, seemingly unnoticed, the mistress seemed to focus somewhere else entirely. Gabiya's gaze followed her line of sight— “Eeek! Lady Dukseong…!” Thanks to this, Qing learned the woman’s name. Lady Dukseong, how gracious. Was she someone who even required definitive articles in naming? Lady Dukseong’s gaze was icy cold. Then she uttered stern words directed at Gabiya. “Leave.” “Yes, ma’am…!” Gabiya dashed out, her face crimson, still clutching the blanket in her hurry—or perhaps, as if to cover up something she had left behind—then, not having escaped together, selfishly abandoning Qing in this embarrassing situation? Couldn't she have taken Qing along? But Gabiya had already fled. And now, where could Qing run to even if she wanted to flee? Indeed, what choice was there? Qing looked at Lady Dukseong. Emitting a shadowy aura, Lady Dukseong made Qing swallow hard. Qing forced a smile. “Hehe, uh, hello.” Lady Dukseong silently stared at Qing. It was an eternally awkward moment. “Um, uh, maybe you’d like to say something…?” ---- It is often said that no parent fails to recognize their child. That it’s a natural link, forged by the soul—awareness born from spirit, blood, and flesh. They claim it’s a miracle wrought by a parent's limitless love. Yet, is it really so? Remembering someone involves more than just their face or appearance. The expression of the eyes when smiling, the angle of wrinkle at the corner of their eyes, the shape the shadows cast due to the cheeks' fine lines, the particular way sound resonates within and emanates from the nose, the quality of laughter, whether hollow or booming. The reaction when startled, the expression when joyful, what they’re like when sad or lacking energy, and when angered. Of course, people don’t consciously recall every minute detail. Yet, the cumulative impression formed by these subtleties. Recognizing someone means noticing these particulars. So the claim that parents recognizing their children is a miraculous power hinged on boundless love isn't entirely wrong. Who else could hold a person so wholly and clearly within their heart? Lady Dukseong entered the room. Frankly, the lurid act supposedly expressing a demoness's mischief on the bed was too trivial to register. What mattered was the face she saw when she stepped in. Eyes wide in surprise, a mouth slightly agape. The brief inhale of breath, the instant avoidance of eye contact afterward. The indecisive lips wavering in uncertainty. Here, a mother sees her child. Though not biologically hers, a child she had nursed and raised as her own. Lady Dukseong’s eyes trembled. The child she never realized she had lost was here. For how long had her heart endured the torment as though it were being torn apart? That moment. A particular oddness in the familiar face, nervously observing her, made Lady Dukseong shiver. It was not the look of intimate familiarity or recognition. “Princess Yeonsul?” “Ah. Perhaps did the Empress Her Majesty send you? That, uh…” The ensuing expression was relief, followed by embarrassment, and then a look of consideration. “Um, pretend you didn’t see earlier, it wasn’t anything bizarre, really just curiosity about a said performance, purely innocent curiosity? Honestly, who wouldn’t? So, if you could keep it a secret, hehe.” At the frivolous, embarrassed laughter, Lady Dukseong felt as if struck by lightning. It truly was the princess! Who else but Yeonsul would carry on so scandalously right in the heart of the Forbidden City! They were showing a performance? Yeonsul, with eyes aglow with excitement, craving eagerly as she probably begged to see it. Finally, a tear fell from the lady’s eye. Qing was shocked. I mean, is this something to cry over? All I did was watch something embarrassing, nothing more. Lady Dukseong wept. And Qing made a confession. "Um, well. I'm Ximen Qing, and I don't really know of anyone named Yeonsul, but do I resemble her that much? I wasn't trying to deceive Empress Mama or anything, but even when I say no, she's just so sad..." It's not about resemblance; in Lady Dukseong's eyes, it's as if she's speaking herself. Moreover? "Let's first clear things up. My lady, you say you have no memory from your childhood and that you regained consciousness in a cave near Geonpyeong six years ago, correct?" "Yes." "And while wandering as a vagabond, ah, you survived on the streets until the Divine Maiden Sect took you in, and that's how you've come to be here..." "Yes. Although I learned martial arts beforehand." "Would you mind if I send someone to investigate?" "Oh. Back then, I didn't look like this, so maybe if you ask around Geonpyeong for the 'Pockmarked Plague Demon,' perhaps…" Lady Dukseong staggered. A pockmarked face, termed a plague demon spreading disease—she could imagine the ghastly visage of this 'Pockmarked Plague Demon.' And although Qing claimed it wasn't her, everything fit perfectly. Moreover, this face, this imposing stature, this voice, how could anyone mistake it? Now, thinking back, how did I ever get deceived by the false Yeonsul of the palace? Yes, I always found it suspicious from the start. Even if the face was scarred, it was different, and despite claiming it as aftereffects of a fever, even the voice was different. Only that body remained—the salacious and vulgar body. Besides, how does a person undergo such a drastic personality change? Lady Dukseong decided to erase all her previous doubts about Yeonsul when she entered Hyilbanjeon. "My lady, oh my dear princess. Ah…" "…? Didn't I just say—" "How much you must have suffered. Your complexion is so pale, and your hands so cold. Like ice, goodness." "Excuse me?" "But it's fortunate you've returned." Lady Dukseong suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Back to where, exactly, has she returned? Hyilbanjeon, the prince's quarters. Suddenly, she recalled the line of beauties kneeling in the courtyard and the palace women along with them. Why are they here? Empress must have sent them. Why send them? To prevent a marriage. Why prevent it? Lady Dukseong's face turned ghostly white. "My goodness. How could this…!" "Ma'am? Are you even listening to me?" "This is not the time for this!" In a state of shock, Lady Dukseong jumped up, hurriedly rushing out of the room without even closing the door. She was in such a hurry that she forgot even basic decorum, such as closing the door. Even Gabiya, who had rushed out earlier, managed to close the door behind her, as if her movements were habitual for palace maidens. But it was urgent enough that she forgot even that. And now, Qing was left alone in the room. What's happening? What in the world is…? And with that, grumble. Oh, it's time for a meal. Who will prepare my meal now… ---- "Your Highness, she is indeed the princess. Princess Yeonsul. How can you not recognize your own flesh and blood? She's not an impostor; she is indeed Princess Yeonsul." Lady Dukseong's declaration left the Crown Prince flustered. What on earth is the identity of the Heavenly Sword Flower? How skilled is her tongue that she'd deceive even the Buddha himself, reaching the level of a Mara that entices beings? (It's true.) How could she so easily and thoroughly deceive in such a short time!? "Lady Dukseong, please calm yourself." "How can I possibly be calm? If nothing changes, they'll—oh dear, the wedding! Good heavens!" "Sigh... Please, I implore you, calm down. What on earth did that woman tell you? That she's Yeonsul, and did she call you 'nanny' with all sorts of endearments?" "No, she said she didn't know, but insisted she couldn't be. She was so bewildered being called an unfamiliar name she didn't know how to handle." The prince grew even more frustrated. "No, if she lost her memory and doesn’t recognize even her nanny, how can she be Yeonsul?" "That's precisely it, Your Highness. The princess lost her memory, so how could she recognize anyone, even her nanny?" "Then why, exactly, does that woman become Yeonsul?" "Your Highness, can I not distinguish Yeonsul myself? I'm the nanny who attended to and fed her, raised her." Lady Dukseong's expression became sharply determined. "Now that I think about it, the palace's brazen impostor, it must be a scheme concocted by those treacherous beings from Tianzhu. It seemed suspicious from the start. Claiming memory loss and unable to recognize anyone—how conveniently does memory disappear like that?" "But that woman also said she lost her memory!" "The princess woke up in a strange place, wandering the perilous martial world pennilessly, a beggar, oh dear, oh heavens, just how much hardship must she have endured..." Lady Dukseong could not stop her trembling. In any case, Lady Dukseong did not seem inclined to listen to others. The Crown Prince grew even more frustrated. No matter how much he asked why the Heavenly Sword Flower was the real Yeonsul, he received only one answer. Because the nanny had seen her and confirmed it was Yeonsul. If he had at least received an "I don't know," he wouldn't feel so conflicted and doubtful. But certainly, there's no way the palace's Yeonsul is an impostor, is there? Both have lost their memories. But the palace's Yeonsul recalls bits and pieces, mentioning past occurrences as vague memories. Yet the Heavenly Sword Flower claims to have no memory at all. Both have different faces. The palace's Yeonsul has a scarred face, and the Heavenly Sword Flower was never such a beauty as to begin with. But recovering from such an atrocious disease, logically, there should be remnants left. Without a trace, it's more logical to say they've somehow become more beautiful. Even the Heavenly Sword Flower admitted she couldn't confirm if she was Yeonsul, saying she wasn't sure! The Crown Prince was on the verge of pulling out his own hair in frustration.