Chapter 70
“Yeon‑woo?”
“Forget that name. I just mistook you for someone else for a moment.”
“Yeon‑woo?”
“…That’s a past that no longer concerns me.”
So why did he call me by that name? Yeo‑il wouldn’t give up and kept tugging, persistent as ever.
“Is Yeon‑woo family?”
A plainly annoyed sigh escaped again.
What could she do even if she disliked it? He’d been the one to make the mistake and see something he shouldn’t. You have to exploit that weakness when you can.
Bang‑woo set Yeo‑il down from his arms and answered with a look that said it couldn’t be helped.
“She’s not family. Yeon‑woo…was the name I used back when Wolgeom Ilsal infiltrated the Hwasan faction.”
“Similar to me?”
“……”
“Is she really similar? In what way?”
When Yeo‑il prodded in a thin, grating voice, Bang‑woo, looking flustered, hurriedly stopped her.
“Save your voice.”
“Sorry. That sounded unpleasant, didn’t it?”
“Sigh. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then tell me where she’s similar.”
“……”
“I’m upset about it.”
You need reasons so you don’t repeat the same mistake.
Just when it seemed he wouldn’t speak, the answer came surprisingly quickly.
“She’s similar in that way. Gentle but resolute.”
It made her reflect on herself anew. Had she been like that? Even now?
“She would clap to snap someone back to their senses. She kept calm in big and small things… She didn’t make me uncomfortable.”
“She remembers those details? Using the assassin master so cleverly.”
It wasn’t meant kindly.
Bang‑woo gave a self‑mocking laugh — the first time Yeo‑il had heard him laugh since they’d reunited.
“You’re right. But don’t be too upset. There are clear differences too.”
“Of course. For one, I don’t have any scars.”
“Her bone structure is superior as well. Maybe that’s why she weighs more.”
Is that supposed to be a compliment?
‘She’s been reborn, of course,’ he seemed to be thinking.
Even if he pretended otherwise, he apparently still thought she was heavy. Still, she’d never faltered, so she passed.
“Cough, cough.”
However, deliberately making her cough again to emphasize her fragility was a fail.
A naturally frail Namgung Soyo? She had consciously kept her shoulders hunched and moved listlessly to avoid drawing attention to him.
“Aren’t you thinking of learning martial arts?”
The tactless Bang‑woo suggested the path of a warrior to the frail Namgung Soyo.
“My older brothers would stop me. I faint or get sick easily.”
“Such a pity.”
He genuinely looked disappointed enough that she shook her head.
“If you change your mind, I’ll help you—”
Bang‑woo’s awkward goodwill was abruptly cut off by a faint scream.
Not far, not close — the scream sounded like someone had squeezed it out in a tense moment.
In the quiet that followed, Yeo‑il pretended not to notice and asked Bang‑woo.
“What’s wrong?”
“I heard a woman scream.”
“Then let’s go help.”
As she stretched out her arms to be lifted, Bang‑woo scooped her up before he even realized it, worry plain on his face.
“Are you sure? If you want, I’ll take you to Namgung Huimyeong even if it takes time. It might be dangerous.”
‘If you want me to take you to Namgung Huimyeong’ — as always, that was so like him. Anyway, saving the person who screamed came first.
“A disaster could happen while we delay. If you protect me, Master, that’ll be enough.”
“…You are truly brave, young lady.”
“Is that another similarity to Wolgeom Ilsal?”
“Sorry. I won’t mention Wolgeom Ilsal again, so stop torturing me.”
Yeo‑il knew Bang‑woo well enough to notice that his manner toward her had become noticeably easier than on that first day.
They arrived outside the Moorim League, at ruins situated on a slope up the mountain.
Bang‑woo put Yeo‑il down.
“Follow slowly behind me, young lady.”
She nodded.
“Remember. Under no circumstances are you to leave my side.”
She nodded again.
From the ruins came the sound of someone struggling. When they looked inside, a woman was tied to a wooden post, her eyes and mouth bound.
Bang‑woo sprang forward and quickly cut the ropes binding her.
“Hey, are you all right?”
“…Ah! Ah! Thank goodness! You’ve come to save me!”
“Don’t move. There’s a wound at the neck — I’ll stop the bleeding first.”
“Thank you, thank you… I really appreciate you coming…”
The woman collapsed to the ground and sobbed endlessly. Then she began to tremble and grabbed Bang‑woo’s arm.
“Now’s not the time for this! We must run before the attacker returns!”
“The attacker? What happened?”
“I don’t know… Suddenly a man threatened me and told me to wait here quietly… He said he needed my — my face!”
“Face?”
Face.
It left a bad feeling. Yeo‑il stepped a little distance away from the two and half‑lifted her eyelid to peek.
As the woman described, the wound on her neck was clear — but there was a strange detail. Around her throat was a thin line of injury as if someone had choked her with a cord.
“He said he’d tear it off. Not just anything, but a human face! He said it’d be the one‑hundredth item in his collection — so she should be especially delighted…”
A human face.
A name from a long‑past memory floated up naturally.
‘Thousand‑Faced Demon.’
Along with Wolgeom Ilsal and Jeongryong Heukdo, it was called one of the three calamities of the Salam region.
“…Impossible.”
Bang‑woo thought of the same name. It was a predictable development. First the fuss about Wolgeom Ilsal, and now the Thousand‑Faced Demon?
In a steady tone he asked the woman.
“How long have you been tied up here?”
“Not long.”
“Do you know where the attacker went?”
“I-I don’t really know…”
“I will catch that attacker here. You go straight to the Moorim League and inform them of the situation.”
The woman flinched and shook her head in terror.
“Huh? But I’m scared…! He said he’d tear off my face! What if he comes back? Please help me… please.”
Bang‑woo looked at her with a troubled expression, then, as if unable to refuse, nodded.
“Namgung young miss, take this woman straight to the Moorim League and ask for help immediately.”
Bang‑woo instinctively lifted Yeo‑il in his arms. He looked ready to run.
Yeo‑il silently nodded, but a single puzzling feeling crowded her head.
Irritation.
‘Why?’
The woman was clearly a stranger — ordinary in every way. There was no reason for Yeo‑il to have any personal impression of her.
If this irritation had a cause…
“Um, excuse me — could you carry me? My legs are weak and I can’t walk. I’m such a burden, I’m sorry…”
It was deja vu.
Yes — it was deja vu. Yeo‑il felt an uncanny familiarity from this stranger that she ought not to feel.
She fixed her senses on the woman. From experience, this woman was bound to cause trouble.
Still, since she could stop it, she decided to watch for now. Maybe she could even turn it to her advantage.
Whenever she had thoughts like that, something unpleasant typically followed — but she would deal with it then.
