SSIDNC 42

Chapter 42

It wasn’t just Namgung Heemyung.
The once lively banquet hall suddenly fell silent, as if someone had poured cold water over it.

Only after Yeil, with Namgung Heemyung’s help, sat down did another voice finally break the stillness.

“You’re especially beautiful today, Soyo! Hahaha. I thought a fairy had descended upon our clan in broad daylight.”

“A fairy? That’s far too generous a compliment, Lord Chumyung.”

“Too generous? Not at all. Don’t you agree, Brother? Even Cho Hong of Giyeonru couldn’t compare to her beauty.”

At the mention of Cho Hong, the atmosphere grew even colder than before.

Unbothered, Yeil bowed slightly toward Namgung Jeokmyung, who sat a few seats down from her.

“Thank you, Brother Jeokmyung, for always looking after me. The clothes, the jewelry — they’re all too splendid for me.”

Namgung Jeokmyung, already slightly tipsy, replied with a lighthearted laugh.

“No need for thanks! If I’d known it would suit you this well, I’d have given them sooner. That color was made for you — yes, indeed. I’ve always had a good eye for these things.”

“I didn’t realize you had such… tastes.”

“…What’s that supposed to mean?”

At that moment, Danri Mukran cleared her throat loudly.

“Ahem.”

She sat beside Namgung Pae at the head of the table, with several maids standing attentively behind her.

“Now that everyone’s seated, bring out the food.”

As the servants filed in with trays of wine and dishes, conversation slowly resumed among the guests.

“So it’s been four years since the last martial arts tournament. You must be very proud, Brother Pae — your clan has not one, but two… no, three shining stars this year.”

“My children always make me proud. I also hear your family produced quite a talent recently — the whole region’s been buzzing about it.”

“Haha, even if my son were exceptional, he couldn’t compare to the Namgung heir. How about you, Jeokmyung? Is your preparation for this year’s tournament going smoothly?”

Namgung Jeokmyung let out a loud laugh, clearly a bit drunk.

“I was just about to apologize in advance, Uncle. It seems I’ll be tarnishing the Namgung name this year! Hahaha!”

It could’ve been taken as a joke, yet the laughter that followed was stiff, uncertain. No one could be sure if Jeokmyung was joking or serious.

“Don’t speak that way, Jeokmyung. As long as the heir of Namgung keeps his limbs intact and produces a healthy successor, he’s done his duty.”

That was when Danri Mukran pounced, as if she’d been waiting for the opening.

“Speaking of that, it’s about time you considered marriage. You can’t spend your life recklessly swinging a sword. While I’m still around to help, shouldn’t we start making arrangements? It’ll make things easier for you lat—”

“Sword King Namgung Je.”

“…”

“My father, the head of the Namgung Clan, is still alive and well. How could I discuss marriage with anyone outside the family before he gives his word?”

“Jeokmyung…”

“Please don’t take offense, Aunt. I’ve always appreciated your affection and care. You’ve been there for my brother and me since we lost our mother.”

A short silence settled over the hall.

“Then what about you, Chumyung?”

Caught off guard by the sudden attention, Namgung Chumyung raised his hands hurriedly.

“How could I marry before my elder brother does? That would be unfilial of me.”

“At this rate, the Namgung bloodline will die out.”

The barbed remark sparked murmurs among the elders.

“Hmm. Think about it seriously, Chumyung. If your father regains his health and finds neither of you married, he’ll be deeply saddened.”

“Even the younger one should wed — it’s only prudent to prepare for the worst. How long will you both keep delaying? Are you even listening to your elders? You two bring shame to the family name.”

By now, Namgung Heemyung — seated beside Yeil — was likely struggling to hold back a boiling rage.

He probably wanted to shout:
“What do you mean by ‘the worst’? Are you saying Brother Jeokmyung will die in vain? Or is that what you’re hoping for?”
But he endured with all the strength he had.

Meanwhile, Namgung Jeokmyung showed no reaction to the subtle hostility directed at him.

No doubt, this was all part of a scheme — an attempt to flush out Namgung Chumyung’s allies.
After all, this was the first full family gathering in two years, and they wanted results.

They don’t even realize that the clan’s destruction is already looming.

That’s how it always was. Those with something to protect were weak.

A man who taps every stone bridge before crossing will, at least once, slip — and when he does, he’ll be swept away helplessly by the current.

“It’s been years since rumors began to shame our clan! If the eldest son ignores the elders’ counsel, then shouldn’t the second fulfill his duty?”

“Quite right. Faith alone can only go so far.”

The comments grew sharper. Namgung Chumyung quickly raised both hands, attempting to ease the tension.

“Hahaha… To be scolded nonstop in such a fine setting — I’ll need fine wine to console myself. Didn’t a new batch of Sohengju arrive recently? Uncle, would you care to offer a toast?”

At Chumyung’s words, Yeil quietly smiled.

So it begins.

She pictured the wine bottle before her — its appearance, its scent.
There were likely already several drops of Hongyu mixed into it.

Just as she’d once done herself.

Hongyu (紅油) — the “Red Oil of Death.”

An extreme poison once used by the assassins of the Salmak to commit suicide rather than be captured.
Just three drops were enough to liquefy the internal organs.
Its only flaw was its vivid red color — impossible to hide in clear liquid.

That was why, the moment she heard “Sohengju,” she knew.

So this is what Namgung Chumyung prepared.

Sohengju — a yellowish rice wine with a faint reddish tint.
Perfect for concealing the color of Hongyu.

A maid approached and filled Yeil’s cup.
From her right came Namgung Heemyung’s soft whisper.

“Hey, Soyo. Don’t overdo it. Just a cup or two, all right? If you get swept up in the mood and drink too much, you’ll regret it.”

“Thank you for your concern.”

“This isn’t just concern. You have no idea how ruthless our dear aunt can be… ah, forget it.”

“Why stop there? Did she perhaps once sneak a woman into Brother Jeokmyung’s room while he was drunk?”

“…”

“Ah, I hit the mark.”

It was a common tactic, after all.

“How can you so casually say such filthy things, huh?”

Heemyung clicked his tongue and warned again.

“Anyway, they’ve been trying to pair you off with some man too — be careful. I’ll walk you to your room later, so don’t go anywhere alone. Got it?”

“I’ll remember.”

“Now then, raise your cup.”

The first toast — all must drink together.

Following that unspoken rule, Yeil lifted her poisoned cup to her lips.

Namgung Jeokmyung stood, preparing to give the toast as the clan’s heir, but his words barely registered.

“Then… let us drink to the peace and prosperity of all gathered here — to the ties of fate that bind us.”

As the solemn silence deepened and the cups began to tilt—

“Brother Heemyung.”

At Yeil’s voice, Namgung Heemyung froze, his cup inches from his lips.

“…You’re calling me?”

“Yes, Brother. May I check your cup for a moment?”

“My cup? All of a sudden?”

“Just to smell it. It’ll only take a second.”

Though puzzled, Heemyung looked around discreetly, then brought the cup close to her nose and gently blew to waft the aroma.

Yeil leaned in, inhaled faintly, then pulled back with a vague expression.

“The scent seems… a little off. But perhaps it’s just because I’m new to drinking?”

“What? This is your first time drinking? Then only finish your first cup. Some people can’t handle it at all — if you start feeling off, tell me immediately.”