Chapter 8
The boy sprawled in front of Mando wasn’t Shina—it was a scrawny, frail-looking child.
The real Shina, whom Mando had intended to strike, stood upright, pale-faced but otherwise unharmed.
“Please don’t hit our young mistress!”
The boy on the floor stirred, pushing himself up. Spitting a mix of blood and saliva, he spat sharply.
“What did you say?”
“You mustn’t hit the young mistress; her body is too weak.”
The boy’s cheek, puffed up from Mando’s hit, didn’t stop him from speaking clearly and firmly.
“You crazy bastard, can’t you back off? Who the hell are you to interfere in my master’s business?”
Now, even the servant—who had looked like he’d been reduced to picking up scraps—was standing up to her.
Enraged, Mando added a weak strike, channeling his internal power into his kick.
For a trained martial artist to strike an ordinary person with internal energy was practically lethal.
But to Mando, the So family’s servants were not people. They were expendable, worthless objects—things to use and discard.
So he wielded violence without hesitation.
Mando continued kicking the crouched boy relentlessly.
Thud… thud… The sounds were chilling.
Shina’s color drained completely. Mando, driven by extreme agitation, seemed almost insane.
“Stop it.”
But Mando didn’t hear her.
“I said stop hitting him!”
Shina shoved Mando from behind. He staggered slightly, but she couldn’t overcome her own strength and fell on top of the boy.
Already exhausted, Shina panted heavily.
Mando sneered.
“Look at you, protecting a bug. How touching.”
Shina lifted her face just enough to see the boy. Her lips went dry at the sight of his battered face.
Mukyeol…
The boy who had once worked as a lowly servant at Manhyang Pavilion, often helping Shina, who had suddenly disappeared, was now lying there.
I only met you again when I was dying…
Then live… please live.
Those had been Mukyeol’s words as she faced her own death.
So desperate and heartfelt, they had made her feel like she was important to him, giving Shina’s final moments a sense of comfort.
Seeing Mukyeol again stirred a mixture of joy and pain in her heart—pain that he was taking her blows instead of her.
And one more thought:
How did someone as kind as you become a soldier of the evil cult?
Had he become a monster in the hands of a cruel sect?
It’s because you wanted to protect the young mistress… because of me.
Shina’s nose tingled with the onset of tears.
“Did you faint with your eyes open?”
Her thoughts didn’t last long. Mando nudged her head with his foot.
“Don’t.”
“Quit it.”
He smirked. Shina glared with all her strength, but it was useless. He seemed to find her collapse amusing.
“You…”
The tip of his filthy shoe pressed against her shoulder.
“Glare at me…”
Shina swayed from the touch.
“What are you going to do?”
Clenching her lower lip, Shina braced her core to stay upright. Her resistance seemed to irritate Mando, who growled.
“If you don’t want to get hit, step aside, So Shina. As the master’s heir, I have a duty to teach this servant a lesson. Or would you rather take his place?”
“No! I’ll take it!”
Mukyeol, who had been lying on the ground, got back up and knelt in front of Mando. Shina took in his small frame, almost as frail as she had been.
“Our business is ours to resolve,” she said, glaring at Mando.
“I am the superior, teaching an inferior. You want to take the hit?”
Shina ground her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut.
“So you’ll do it, huh?”
Mando interpreted her ambiguous answer as a confirmation. He stretched and rotated his shoulders, his face radiating deadly intent.
“Run.”
Shina muttered to Mukyeol. But he didn’t move.
He had certainly heard her.
“Nothing more to say? Then take this!”
Mando’s kick came down. Reflexively, Shina pushed Mukyeol aside—but he blocked her and drew her into his embrace.
He became a shield, protecting Shina.
Thud!
Mando’s violent kicks landed on Mukyeol’s muscles, making them spasm. Yet Mukyeol didn’t budge an inch.
Thud… thud… thud.
Shina felt dizzy. Her body was at its limit, and the situation was incomprehensible.
“…Why?”
Why were you doing this for me?
Even setting aside her confusion, she wanted to protect Mukyeol. Not out of chivalry, but because she simply didn’t want him to get hurt.
Shina scrambled for a defensive spell she could cast.
A second-circle defensive spell.
Can I use it?
She assessed her dantian and magical circles. Only a trace of mana remained. Casting now would succeed, but it would strain her body severely—possibly leaving her unconscious for days.
Yet, she uttered the incantation anyway.
You saved me, so I’ll save you.
“Shield.”
“Huuh… young mistress… what?”
Mukyeol reacted instantly, even as he was being struck.
Shina and Mukyeol’s eyes met. Oddly, she thought:
He’s a mess, but he’s handsome. Did the shield work?
Her worry turned into relief when a white barrier spread behind Mukyeol.
Ah, it worked.
Shina exhaled in relief.
“Young mistress!”
Mukyeol, who had never flinched under Mando’s ferocity, shouted loudly.
Hey, your ears! Don’t scream!
Shina said—or at least thought she did.
“Young mistress, wake up! Don’t… don’t die…”
The sound was so loud it reverberated through her skull. Shina tried to muster her strength to calm him—even to silence him—but…
“What on earth is going on!”
As she closed her eyes from exhaustion, a thunderous voice rang out.
It was So Hyeokho—the head of the So family, master of Wolhwa Hall, and Pavilion Lord of Manhyang Pavilion.
Inside Wolhwa Hall, So Hyeokho sat cross-legged, radiating a terrifying aura.
His graying hair and beard, combined with his imposing physique, already gave him a colossal presence. Now, his visible rage made the air itself stifling.
So Baeklim and So Cheonlim were among those present.
Both knelt before So Hyeokho. Baeklim was sweating profusely, while Cheonlim sat with eyes closed, appearing calm at first glance—but inside, a storm raged.
Our Shina…
Thinking of her beaten and collapsed form, Cheonlim’s expression wavered.
At that moment, Jang Mu, one of the Pavilion Lord’s closest aides and a swordsman, entered Wolhwa Hall.
“Young mistress Shina has just woken up.”
So Hyeokho inhaled sharply. Baeklim grimaced, and Cheonlim clenched both fists on his knees.
“What did the physician say?”
“He said she’s weakened, but there’s no serious injury.”
“See! Father! You heard that? Our Mando tends to express his affection for his sister in a… unique way, but he doesn’t just hit her randomly. She collapsed because she’s naturally weak…”
Baeklim, who had remained silent, seized the moment to speak.
“Shut your mouth!”
Hyeokho’s command carried the weight of internal energy, like a martial curse. Baeklim clamped his ears in pain, while the more composed Cheonlim remained still.
Expresses affection uniquely? Do you think I didn’t know Mando’s misdeeds and stayed silent?
Until now, he had allowed the grandchildren to handle matters themselves. But the outcome was catastrophic.
Hyeokho clicked his tongue.
Child-rearing is a parent’s responsibility. If you can’t control your own children, how can you be the Pavilion Lord? Tsk.
Baeklim shut his mouth and lowered his head. Hyeokho’s cold gaze shifted to Cheonlim.
“Biwon Pavilion’s heir, don’t you have anything to say?”
