Chapter 85
“Have you come?”
As Jegal Dam stepped into the secret archive, a familiar voice reached his ears.
When he turned toward the sound, he saw his great-uncle, Jegal Baek, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
The old man, clad in a long white robe with a flowing white beard, exuded the air of a reclusive sage who had long transcended worldly desires.
“So this is why they call him the Celestial Sage of Communication,” Jegal Dam thought. “The name suits him perfectly.”
“…Yes, Granduncle. Have you been well?”
Jegal Dam bowed deeply in greeting. But despite his respectful manner, the old man’s reply was curt.
“Tsk. ‘Granduncle’? Just call me Grandfather.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
Jegal Dam let out a small, polite laugh and replied softly.
“So, you’ve come again today.”
“…Yes.”
Since his return to the family estate, Jegal Dam had been visiting this place every day. Sometimes he would stay here for days, poring over records without stepping outside. Even when he did leave, he soon found himself back again.
He knew that the old man was always somewhere inside the archive—he had sensed his sharp presence the very first time he entered.
But since the old man seemed to prefer solitude, Jegal Dam had thought it best not to seek him out.
Today, however, the old man had appeared before him of his own accord.
“There’s… much to see here,” Jegal Dam offered when no response came from the elder. He glanced around the vast underground hall.
The secret archive, located beneath Cheongnim, was enormous—so large that one couldn’t take it all in at a glance.
Countless luminous pearls embedded in the ceiling filled the underground space with daylight-like brightness.
Below that ceiling stood towering rows of shelves, packed tightly with scrolls and books.
A preservation formation had been cast here, keeping even ancient bamboo scrolls perfectly intact.
The Record Keepers of Jegal.
The archive truly lived up to that name.
“Is there something you seek here?”
“Yes. There is.”
His father, Jegal Myeong, had asked him the same question once—and his answer was unchanged.
“What is it you seek?”
But the old man was different from his father. He wanted specifics.
Jegal Dam hesitated. What should he say? Could he admit that he didn’t know exactly what he was looking for?
His granduncle, Jegal Baek—the eldest and most respected member of the family—was a difficult man to face.
He possessed unparalleled knowledge and wisdom, yet had no interest in the affairs of the world.
Though born a Jegal, he despised the martial world where strength justified all things.
He often said that “a scholar who cannot live in the world has no use,” and so he had withdrawn completely from it.
Some called him a sage. Others, a madman.
To Jegal Dam, he was kin by blood—but a stranger in life. He rarely attended family gatherings, and they had met only a few times in total.
“…Does my presence here trouble you?” Jegal Dam asked cautiously, trying to gauge his feelings.
He feared his visits might disturb the old man’s peace.
“Tsk. Did I say that?”
“No, sir. I apologize.”
Jegal Dam bowed deeply, lowering his head.
“Tell me, who would know this place better—you or I?”
“…Ah.”
Jegal Dam blinked, momentarily dumbfounded. The old man was offering to help him.
It took him a moment to realize it.
Jegal Baek shuffled toward a chair and sat down, gesturing to the boy.
“Come. Sit here.”
“…Yes, Grandfather.”
Though surprised by the unexpected kindness, Jegal Dam walked over and took a seat beside him.
The old man soon rose again, bringing over a teapot and two cups.
The gentle trickle of poured tea filled the quiet space, and soon a soft, fragrant aroma surrounded them.
“Drink.”
He pushed a cup toward Jegal Dam.
“Hwangsan Maofeng, isn’t it?”
Jegal Dam smiled faintly after taking a sip, recognizing the taste.
“Yes, Hwangsan Maofeng. I never cared for it much, but lately I find myself craving it.”
The old man’s voice softened, and his gaze turned distant—lost in memory.
“It was Grandfather’s favorite tea, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. That old fool,” Jegal Baek chuckled. “Always swore he wouldn’t touch anything from Anhui, yet he treasured every leaf that Hwar-ryeong sent him.”
“I see. I always thought he simply liked it—he’d serve it to me whenever I visited.”
“Perhaps. But I doubt he truly enjoyed it. He drank it because he missed her.”
“…I understand.”
Jegal Dam had always thought his grandfather simply loved the tea. Only now did he realize it was sentiment, not taste.
How many other things had he misunderstood like that?
He glanced at Jegal Baek but held back the question forming on his lips—whether the old man, too, drank this tea out of longing.
Instead, he swallowed it with another sip.
“How old are you now?”
“I’ll reach jihak next year.”
“Fourteen, then. Yes, about that age.”
Jegal Baek muttered and fell silent for a moment, scanning the endless shelves around them.
“What do you think of this place?”
“…It’s astonishing.”
“Yes. I thought the same once. I was awestruck—just as you are now.”
The secret archive, accessible only to a select few among the direct line of the Jegal clan, was a place beyond compare.
“I read much here. I saw much. And in time, I came to know much. For a long while, I believed there was nothing this place did not hold. But…”
His expression clouded, lined with pain born of long years.
“…I never found my answer here.”
“I see.”
Jegal Dam realized the old man meant that he, too, would not find his answer in books alone.
“Living long does not make one wise, nor does reading many texts make one enlightened,” the elder continued. “But I can share with you the time I’ve spent here.”
“Then allow me to ask first.”
“Go on.”
“Why… are you helping me?”
He bit his lip to keep from adding, ‘Even at the cost of disturbing your peace.’
“I saw desperation in your eyes. It stirred pity in me. Is that reason enough?”
“Yes… I understand, Grandfather.”
The old man nodded, his eyes warm.
“Then tell me—what is it you seek?”
“Not long ago, when I went to Wuhan, I received a letter addressed to me.”
Jegal Dam pulled an old letter from his robe and handed it over. As Jegal Baek read it, his hands trembled.
“…Go on,” he urged.
“Yes, Grandfather.”
Jegal Dam carefully recounted everything—receiving the letter from Woonyeong, his journey to Hong-an County, and all that transpired at the Seol family manor.
His memory, flawless as ever, left nothing out.
By the time he finished, Jegal Baek’s eyes were burning with intensity, as though reignited by a long-buried flame.
“So… that is why I came here—to find the records of the Ten Great Masters of the World from ages past, and the Jegal family’s connection to them.”
It had been a long story. Jegal Dam exhaled deeply once he was done.
“Dam-ah…”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
“Let’s go.”
The old man abruptly rose from his seat, striding toward the exit.
“W–where are we going?” Jegal Dam asked, startled.
“The Seol family manor,” the old man replied. “Seol-ga-jang.”
“What? You, Grandfather?”
“Yes. I must go to Hong-an at once.”
Jegal Dam grabbed the hem of his robe in alarm.
“W–why?”
His eyes trembled as though struck by an earthquake.
“Didn’t I tell you?”
“Yes—you said you couldn’t find your answer here.”
“Nor will you.”
“…Could it be…”
The old man nodded firmly.
“The answer you seek and the one I’ve long searched for—they are the same. The erased record. The one that made me abandon the title ‘Record Keeper of Jegal.’”
His voice was clear, and his gaze blazed with life.
“The clue to the record that made me curse the name Jegal… lies right there, in your hand.”
At that moment, Jegal Dam felt the letter in his grasp grow unbearably heavy.
