CHAPTER~23
But the problem was this — the brat crying his eyes out because he didn’t want to play the role of the evil Ice Palace wasn’t even six years old.
Woo-hee took a deep breath, trying to calm her anger. After a brief inner struggle, when only the sniffling sound of a few remaining sobs filled the air, she finally shouted:
“Hey! You little punks!”
Maybe that anger wasn’t completely under control after all.
“Why are you bullying your little brother, huh?!”
Even Woo-hee knew that showing a small child—barely half her height—the “true taste” of an evil villain would do nothing but make her hungrier.
“What? We weren’t bullying him! He’s the one bullying us!”
The girl, who looked sharper and tougher than her years, glared at Woo-hee with round, indignant eyes.
The little brother, who’d been crying so hard he was practically hiccupping, looked up at his sister in surprise. He wanted to protest—but since she wasn’t technically wrong, all he could do was twitch his nose pitifully.
The rest of the children looked equally sour. The youngest, who was supposed to play the villain today, had just ruined the whole game, and now some stranger was yelling at them. No one was in a good mood.
“So, what? None of you wants to play the bad guy, right?”
Even amid the gloom, the kids exchanged glances and nodded hesitantly.
The oldest of them was maybe twelve, thirteen at most. Woo-hee, on the other hand, was clearly older—old enough to seem intimidating even if she wasn’t quite an adult.
“Alright then. Here’s what we’ll do.”
The children blinked, expecting a lecture or scolding. Instead, Woo-hee grinned and threw them a curveball.
“I’ll be the evil Ice Palace villain. That kid over there can be your leader. All of you, gang up and come at me!”
Every child’s expression turned strange at once.
“Hold on, kids!”
Woo-hee panted, her arms, legs, waist, and even her head tangled with eight tiny bodies clinging to her like octopuses.
“Aren’t you all hungry yet?”
She sounded exactly like a local villager who’d known these kids since birth—someone who’d played with them all her life.
“I’m hungry!”
“It’s already dinnertime!”
“Ah! I need to go home! Grandpa said to be back before sunset!”
The kids, who had lost track of time in the heat of play, began peeling off one by one.
The world was painted orange now, the sun dipping low behind the mountain ridge.
“Big sister, can we play again tomorrow?”
The little girl who’d choked Woo-hee the hardest—a pretend Taoist swordswoman—looked up at her with big, pleading eyes.
“This villain’s gotta travel the world and defeat other little heroes, so I can’t tomorrow.”
“Aww, but playing with you is way more fun!”
“Of course it is. The best villains always make it fun, too.”
“Then you’re the best villain in the whole world! Because this was the most fun ever!”
“Heehee, I know!”
Woo-hee grinned from ear to ear, utterly delighted.
Three more children still clung to her limbs as she waved goodbye to the rest heading home.
“Daegil, Sogil. Why aren’t you going home?”
Daegil was eleven, Sogil six—the same siblings who’d been fighting earlier about who had to play Ice Palace.
“Our parents run a food stall, so they come home late anyway. Can’t you hang out with us a bit longer, big sis?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Then come to our shop! You can eat and play after!”
“What do your parents sell?”
“All sorts of stuff! My favorite is grilled fish and stir-fried rabbit!”
“This is a mountain, though. How do you sell fish here?”
“Big sis, there’s a huge lake just nearby! There’s tons of fish there!”
“Oooh…”
Woo-hee suddenly remembered—the lake must’ve been the same place where Yeong-ho had gone to wash the vomit off his clothes.
Which meant… she probably shouldn’t eat fish caught there.
You never knew.
“Alright, let’s go then. You two know this place best—tell me what’s good. I’ll buy it all!”
The siblings’ faces flushed with excitement as they nodded so hard their necks almost snapped.
Woo-hee, Daegil, and Sogil strolled back toward the food stalls, each with a sweet danghoro stick candy in their mouths.
“Hey, Daegil.”
“Yeah?”
“What were your parents thinking, naming you Daegil? Sounds like something a back-alley fortune-teller would pull out of a lucky draw.”
Daegil (大吉) — great fortune.
It meant “extremely lucky,” but stuck on a person, it did sound a bit ridiculous.
The boy glared at her, as if she’d just insulted his ancestors.
“They named me that so I’d live a lucky life!”
“So what, they named your little sister Sogil so she’d be… slightly less lucky? Did they pick her up off the street?”
“No, they didn’t! I saw her in Mom’s belly before she was born. Dad said in a family, younger kids gotta have smaller luck so the older ones stay on top. So she’s lucky, just a bit less than me.”
“Wow…”
Woo-hee blinked. For a second, it felt like she was listening to a story about the mother she’d never known.
Her mother’s clan had been famous sword masters, strict and disciplined—nothing like the Ice Palace.
The Ice Palace didn’t care about seniority, hierarchy, or titles. Power didn’t make you noble—only how you used it. Her mother had struggled to adjust at first, terrified of what she called “a den of lawless lunatics.”
“Hey, big sis. Can I ask you something too?”
“Sure, what?”
“Don’t you have any friends?”
“…”
Woo-hee took a direct hit.
“What?! Do I look like someone with no friends? Do I look that pathetic?!”
Which, of course, meant she had none.
“It’s just… my big brother and sister only play with people their age, but you have the most fun when you’re with us little kids, so I thought maybe…”
His voice trailed off, shy and hesitant.
Because he was basically saying, I thought you were a lonely person with no friends.
“That’s not it!”
“So you do have friends?”
“…I don’t need friends!”
Which, again, meant no.
Woo-hee did have countless family and disciples in the Ice Palace—but not a single one she’d call a friend.
“I don’t need them! I’ll beat the Namgung Clan, the Moyong Clan, Shaolin, Huashan, Wudang, Tangmen, and Emei—all of them! I’m the greatest villain ever! Who needs friends when you’ve got subordinates!”
Her proud declaration made Daegil look at her with gentle pity.
Because the eight sects she mentioned defeating were…
“Well, big sis… you did beat them, but, uh… that was just in our pretend game, you know? You probably shouldn’t go around saying that out loud, okay?”
Their average age for that “great battle” was around 8.4 years old.
The fact that he was already worried she might get in trouble someday showed what a kind, sensible boy he was.
“This is a quiet village, so people will just laugh it off. But down south, there are real martial clans who take pride seriously. Say the wrong thing there, and you might lose your head. You never know who might be listening.”
Woo-hee found herself being lectured on jianghu survival etiquette by a peasant child.
It was… difficult to describe the emotion she felt at that moment.
