Chapter 7: The Bodyguard
“Yes, Miss.”
Seolyun spoke as she looked down at Yangyang, whose body was covered in shallow, horizontal scratches. In her eyes, Yangyang’s impending death was painfully clear, making her chest tighten.
“You’re planning to run away with Jacheong, aren’t you?”
“Y-Yes. N-No? Ah, no, Miss. I would never. I-I…”
Seolyun tilted her head slightly, looking down at the pale, stammering Yangyang.
“If someone other than me had discovered it, did you think the two of you would be safe?”
“Please spare me, Miss. No, Young Lady. Please, for the sake of all the years I’ve served you…”
“Yes. I should spare you.”
Smiling gently as if she already knew everything, Seolyun pulled out a silk pouch from her sleeve. Even at a glance, it was bulging enough to suggest it contained a considerable amount of silver.
Thud.
She tossed the pouch in front of Yangyang and curled her lips upward.
“But in return, there’s something you’ll do for me.”
Hearing that it would be enough money for them to settle down somewhere, Yangyang quickly covered the pouch with her sleeve. Having already said she would do anything, she knew she had to take responsibility for her words.
Guest Pavilion, Hojungwon
Seolyun halted her steps upon hearing voices from inside. The murmurs were indistinct, yet continuous.
“The guests from the Western Regions are staying here, correct?”
Jucheong had overturned the wedding dishes being prepared by Madam Cho to buy time. Though the steward fretted over missing the auspicious hour, Seolyun remained calm.
“Preparing the food again will take at least an hour. Arrange accommodations so the invited guests waiting in the garden can rest.”
“Yes, Young Lady.”
“Head Steward Bae, assign the southern quarters overlooking the lotus lake to the guests from the Western Regions.”
“You mean Hojungwon?”
It was the most secluded and remote residence within the Sichuan Tang Clan. The steward frowned, unable to even ask if it was appropriate to assign such a modest place to honored guests.
“…Yes. That will do.”
As soon as the steward left, Seolyun changed clothes with Yangyang. Pale as a ghost, Yangyang trembled as she watched Seolyun calmly remove her wedding attire.
“M-Miss, you must hurry…”
Now dressed in a servant’s outfit—a light beige vest and a pale yellow pleated skirt—Seolyun even removed the red bridal veil. She then patted Yangyang’s shoulder, who now sat in her place dressed as the bride, and warned coldly:
“Stay still and don’t get caught. That’s the only way both of us survive.”
“Y-Yes…”
Having prepared a substitute to act in her place, Seolyun left the residence with ease and headed toward Hojungwon. Having lived her entire life in the Tang Clan estate, she could navigate its paths even with her eyes closed. Since all the servants had been called away to Madam Cho’s kitchen, she arrived without encountering anyone.
Step.
As if sensing her presence, the faint voices inside abruptly ceased the moment she appeared at the door. Silence befitting the name “Hojung”—calm and still—settled in.
Seolyun straightened her back and grabbed the door handle.
She had barely secured this time.
She couldn’t afford to delay even for a cup of tea.
“Ah!”
Thrust.
The moment she pulled the round rhinoceros-horn handle, a sharp blade pierced through the paper door and lunged straight at her face. Reflexively, she barely turned her head, and for a split second, her reflection appeared clearly on the blade.
“What is the meaning of this?”
Her wide, tense eyes reflected on the polished edge. Despite her sharp question, there was no reply from inside. Instead, the blade twisted sideways and began slashing horizontally toward her.
Rip—rip.
The tightly woven lattice door was shredded and cut apart. Seolyun bit her lower lip and stepped quickly to the right. She had no intention of dying without even speaking a word. Even after putting distance between herself and the door, the blade followed, cutting through a pillar as well.
“So this is how guests from the Western Regions are treated?”
The blade stopped.
As if embedded, it froze in place. Seolyun continued:
“You strike first without even asking who I am… Very well. I have no reason to speak further. I’ve heard that people from the Western Regions act before they speak. It seems that isn’t entirely wrong.”
She slowly moved her body to the left, intending to find another chance to enter.
“I am—ugh!”
Just as she cleared her throat to speak, a large hand shot out and seized her slender neck.
“Ugh…!”
A low, deep voice came from beyond the hand that looked ready to snap her neck at any moment.
“Why not prove first whether you’re a guest… or an assassin?”
The grip tightened mercilessly, and Seolyun’s face flushed red to her ears. She clawed desperately at his hand with her nails, but the man did not budge.
Through the torn door, she caught a glimpse of him—cold, utterly devoid of warmth. Like ice. A merciless being.
“I’ll prove it. I can.”
A faint chuckle followed, and the grip loosened.
Before she knew it, he had stepped out and pinned her between himself and the door, sneering.
“Go on.”
Everything about him was black.
Ink-dark hair, obsidian-like eyes that gleamed brilliantly, a spotless black bodyguard uniform, even the aura he exuded. His narrowed eyes carried an arrogant confidence—as if he could kill her before she even tried anything foolish.
“What did you say?”
His handsome face twisted slightly as he let out a dry laugh.
“I said prove it.”
The scent of golden osmanthus filled the air. It felt as though she were buried in a fragrance said to travel ten thousand li. Swallowing nervously, Seolyun spoke under his cold gaze.
“First… let’s go inside. This isn’t the right place to talk like this.”
Her voice strained as her eyes flickered around.
“Is that so?”
“I came with a proposal for Prince Jin. Though you’ve disguised your identity as a merchant dealing in silk and ceramics, ngh—!”
The moment she revealed she knew his hidden identity, his gaze turned lethal.
Smiling faintly, Seolyun continued:
“The hospitality of the Western Regions is… rather rough.”
The man, whose grip on his sword hilt had turned his veins red, narrowed his eyes and scanned her up and down.
Not an assassin.
A clumsy woman who couldn’t even hide her footsteps—there was no way she had ever killed anyone.
Yet she knew the identity of the Prince of the Western Regions and still came alone?
Ridiculous.
Clicking his tongue, the striking man sheathed his sword. Despite his rough demeanor, his movements were elegant and refined. Seolyun found herself staring at him, momentarily captivated by the contrast.
Annoyed by her gaze, he jerked his head toward the room.
“Choose your words carefully. It may be your last chance to speak, little spy.”
Inside, an elderly man with a white beard and a kind, gentle appearance was pouring tea. Steam rose softly as he gestured to the seat across from him.
“So, young lady, you’ve come to see this king?”
The man behind her radiated such pressure that it felt impossible to escape.
“Speak. I will listen. I am the Prince of the Western Regions.”
Instinctively, she turned her head. The man behind her lowered his gaze, and the moment their eyes met, a chill ran down her spine. Though he smiled, his expression felt fabricated—detached from all emotion. His pitch-black eyes curved like a crescent moon.
“What is it? Was your ‘proposal’ a lie?”
Feeling the heat from behind him and the solid presence she didn’t even need to touch to sense, Seolyun bit her lip. She turned away from the old man and slowly raised her right arm.
Then, pointing at the black-clad bodyguard standing with arms crossed and sword in hand, she said:
“I will present my proposal directly to His Highness. To you… right there.”
At her provocation, Taeseo Hu twisted his lips into a bold grin. His sharp eyes gleamed as he began to speak.
