The Visit (1) – The Peculiarity (奇) of the Peng Family (彭家) (2)
The waiter's expression twisted in a subtle, complicated way.
His words were polite, but the situation was anything but polite.
Downstairs stood a man who looked capable of subduing a boy like this with one hand.
That did not mean he could bluntly say, "You might get beaten if this continues."
Even if he made a troubled face, it did not seem likely that this mild-looking boy would catch the hint.
After thinking for a moment, he realized it was not his concern to begin with.
Just because the visitor looked fierce did not mean he would be the one getting hit.
There was no need for interpretation, judgment, or preparation.
He would not be the one on the receiving end.
The waiter carefully stiffened his face and folded his hands before him.
Then he took a slight step back.
It was the posture of someone distancing himself so that neither his gaze nor his emotions would interfere with what was about to unfold.
"It might be… somewhat difficult. In that case… it seems it would be rather troublesome."
He delivered the message in a roundabout way.
Among his virtues, the most important was probably circumspection.
If he were to speak directly, he would have had to say, "He looks like he might harm you."
Since he could not say that, he let his face do the talking.
His words were polite; his expression was not.
But Soun grasped the hidden meaning perfectly.
"You mean he looks like a ruffian? Fierce, with a vicious temper?"
It was as though Soun had read both the waiter's expression and the presence rising from downstairs.
The waiter nodded quickly.
The boy guessed like a fortune-teller.
"Yes, that's correct. How did you know?"
"It may be difficult, but please relay the message as it is. I will handle the rest. He likely cannot restrain his anger. He will probably rush up here shortly."
"Very well."
At the words I will handle it, the waiter felt a strange relief.
When someone says, "I will take responsibility," the heart grows lighter.
It was a signal that even if trouble broke out, the blame would not fall on him.
Few phrases were as welcome as I will handle it.
It carried within it the promise that responsibility would not be demanded of him.
The waiter descended the stairs at twice the speed he had used to climb them.
He skipped steps, taking them two at a time.
All that remained was to relay the message to the man below.
Inside the room, Jimin asked quietly,
"So someone has already come looking for you."
Without changing his posture, Soun nodded.
Jimin placed her brush down with deliberate care.
She gazed briefly at the paper she had been writing upon before rising quietly.
She took down the sword hanging on the wall and fastened it at her waist.
She wound wrist-guards tightly around her forearms.
Her previously loose sleeves were secured, and her comfortable attire transformed in an instant into martial garb.
It was clothing her body had long been accustomed to.
The air in the room changed.
Tension was clearly visible in her shoulders and gaze.
She was no longer the person who had been writing moments ago.
She glanced at the characters she had written—Heavenly Harmony with People (天火同人)—with a slanted look.
It was the indifferent glance one gives a neighbor's dog.
Then she turned away.
To one who had stepped into the martial world, such peace was never granted for long.
She steadied herself with that thought.
Yes. Such words do not suit me.
What is "Heavenly Harmony" to someone who lives by the sword?
I will go as far as I can, and when that is done, that is enough.
She settled her thoughts inwardly.
The sentiment she had just entertained felt like a luxury.
It was the posture of someone pressing down a corner of her own heart.
"It is rather quick, isn't it?"
Soun remained calm.
He did not even close the book he had been reading.
He placed it down carefully, open, with the page he had been reading facing downward—
arranged so that he could resume at once.
He neither shut it nor returned it to its place.
Then he opened the window a little wider.
The wind entered, and the light shifted slightly.
"Aren't you going to prepare?"
Jimin held the last strap of her wrist-guard in her teeth and tightened it with one hand as she asked.
Her posture was resolute, like a warrior stepping onto a battlefield.
He had summoned them; they had come. Words were no longer needed.
This was a time for swords to speak.
A visitor had arrived, and she was already prepared for combat.
If sword and guards proved insufficient, she seemed ready even to don armor.
She tied her hair up and secured anything that might fall loose.
Her presence sharpened—swift, young, and composed.
Because she had lived as someone seen that way, even her expression turned cold.
When the two of them were alone, she was entirely different.
Now there was a distance about her, difficult to bridge with casual speech.
Watching that change, Soun finally spoke.
"When you faced ten children of the Great Blade Sect, what preparations did you make?"
"What do you mean, that? Do you call that that? This is not comparable."
"You call it that as well."
In words, she could not outmatch him.
In strength, it was not easy either.
In status, she held no advantage.
Only age remained to her.
"Well… I remember causing quite a commotion, telling them to fetch food and drink."
"Then I have little to prepare as well. I will judge by the calling card. If it is acceptable, I will meet him. If unnecessary, I will tell him to leave."
"And in this case?"
"This is a case of 'leave.'"
"Do you know who it is?"
"I may not know, but I can feel it. Frivolous, shallow-breathed, simple-minded. Someone who wants a name. At the smallest scale, he wishes to say, 'I have seen a master of the Transcendent Realm.' At the largest, he wishes to boast, 'I crossed swords with one.' Likely a ruffian of the jianghu."
"Will the calling card come up?"
"His body will probably come up first. He is impatient and arrogant. The type who believes such procedures are beneath him."
A smile flickered across Soun's face.
It was the expression of a fortune-teller who knows all things yet cannot speak them—only smile.
For such a small, young fellow, at moments like this, he was unsettlingly smug.