Young master!
Mirang could never remain still.
The news she had heard at the training ground swelled inside her mouth as if it would burst, and she had no ability to keep it to herself.
She came running in a flutter, clutching the hem of her skirt in one hand, and pushed open the Moon-Watching Gate.
The wooden door banged as it flew open.
Startled pigeons fluttered up from beneath the eaves.
Sowoon, who had been sitting on a rock by the pond, lifted his head.
The shadows of the willow branches trembled across the surface of the water.
He had been watching the ripples of light scatter over the pond.
"Young master! Young master!"
Breathless, Mirang dashed across the stepping stones, nearly slipping.
Her cheeks were flushed red, and a few loose strands of hair clung to her forehead.
"Sister, what is it? Why are you in such haste… Has something happened?"
"It's— it's, young master— the young madam appeared at the training ground!"
Sowoon's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Is that a fault in a martial household?"
"No, no, not a fault! She has never gone there. Not once. For over ten years! She never even went near the place. But today she appeared in martial robes!"
"Perhaps she went to watch her son practice?"
"No, that's not it."
Mirang waved her hands emphatically.
"You know the sword she has— the Zami Sword? They say it's heavy enough that even grown men find it hard to wield. She took that out herself! From the weapons rack! And then…"
Mirang's eyes grew round.
"She began to move with it— like a butterfly, no— like a crane— no, like the wind itself. She danced with the sword!"
Seeing that Sowoon remained silent, she grew even more animated, describing the scene with sweeping gestures.
"At first she just stood there quietly. Everyone was staring, wondering why she had come. Then she drew the sword— shing! That sound alone made the entire training ground fall silent. But she didn't swing it wildly. She moved slowly… like water flowing. One step forward, a turn of the waist, her sleeve moving like this—"
Mirang flicked her own sleeve in demonstration.
"The sunlight caught the blade and flashed, but it wasn't just a flash. The light seemed to follow it. The tip trembled— but not like weakness. It was alive. If anyone had stood in front of her, young master, they would not have been able to move. Even I felt chills down my spine."
She did not pause for breath.
"And her face— it wasn't her usual face. She didn't look sorrowful, nor angry. It was as if something had already been decided. I don't know what she was looking at, but it felt like she was aiming at a single point. The very point where the sword tip was directed."
Sowoon's gaze slowly lowered to the pond.
Ripples spread outward under the breeze.
She is choosing to protect.
The thought rose clearly within him.
A resolve to protect.
Instead of clinging to grief, she had chosen to stand.
Instead of waiting to be guarded, she had chosen to lift a blade herself.
Sowoon closed his eyes.
The tears on the mountain.
Her arms pulling him close as she wept.
Her breath catching at his words— "As long as one lives."
All of it connected into a single line.
"At least enough strength to protect myself…"
He could almost hear her unspoken words.
Mirang still spoke in excitement.
"You know the former White Dragon troops? They all stopped practicing and stood around her like they were guarding the General himself. No one made a sound. No one even breathed loudly. I've never seen the training ground so silent. And when she raised the sword upright and stopped at the end… I nearly cried."
Sowoon slowly opened his eyes.
The sky reflected in the pond was clear.
"Ah…"
The breath that escaped him was neither shock nor sorrow.
Now he understood.
A little, at least.
He understood her heart.
She had chosen to protect.
Herself.
And that which was precious to her.
Her heart had already turned toward resolve.
A breeze brushed across the pond.
Light shattered softly across the ripples.
Sowoon's thoughts sank deeper still.
To protect.
To remain.
And to wait.