Chapter 3
Morning sunlight streamed in through the cracks of the window.
Inside a room at the inn sat a woman. Dressed in neat white light garments, the beautiful woman was none other than Biseol, who had tossed and turned all night after failing to eat the authentic dumplings the day before.
She sat before a mirror with a solemn expression. On the bed beside her lay the clothes she was about to wear.
But the prepared outfit was strange.
It was a tidy set of blue garments—not women’s clothing, but attire fit for a man. At that moment, Biseol rose from her seat and shrugged off her outer robe.
As her beautiful bare body was revealed, her hand reached for the bandages in front of the mirror. Without hesitation, she wrapped them tightly around her full chest, binding it firmly.
That wasn’t all.
She picked up a cord and tied her hair back. Then, to partially cover her smooth forehead, she pulled down a bit of her bangs.
With her chest bound and hair secured, she carefully dressed in the garments laid out beside her. When she finished—
The woman known as Biseol no longer existed.
In her place stood a young man, nearly handsome enough to be called beautiful.
Biseol studied her reflection and forced a natural smile. The corners of her lips still twisted awkwardly…
She cleared her throat softly.
“Ahem. Greetings. My name is Biseol.”
Her voice, unlike yesterday, now sounded convincingly masculine. Satisfied, she nodded and murmured at her reflection.
“The voice is perfect, at least.”
Dressed as a man, she scrutinized herself from head to toe.
Even in male attire, her beauty could not be fully concealed. Her relatively tall height helped, but her refined, delicate features remained the greatest problem.
She leaned closer to the mirror and examined her eyes.
“Maybe I should glare more fiercely.”
She tried several expressions, but none made her look particularly more manly. Relaxing her gaze, she sat down on the edge of the bed and let out a short sigh.
‘This won’t be easy.’
Until yesterday, she had lived as a woman. Starting today, that would change.
Biseol had to disguise herself as a man to enter Illusion Academy. The reason was simple—her beauty.
A beautiful woman draws attention anywhere.
If she entered in her true form, rumors about her would spread through the Academy in an instant. That was the last thing she wanted.
She had something she needed to accomplish.
To do so, she had to remain unnoticed, quietly blending in. Even now she still stood out—but far less than she would as a woman.
She needed to live as though she barely existed, graduate from Illusion Academy, and eventually head to the Demonic Cult. To carry out all of that, being a woman was simply too conspicuous and too inconvenient.
After much deliberation, Biseol and the many masters who had raised her decided she would cross-dress.
With her skill, disguise techniques would have been easy. The art of facial alteration was no challenge to her, and few could see through it. However… Illusion Academy was unpredictable. Who knew what kind of experts might be present?
If someone capable of perceiving her disguise appeared, her entire plan would collapse.
So, though more troublesome, she chose cross-dressing over facial alteration to conceal her identity.
Illusion Academy had been established to recruit even martial artists hiding in the shadows to their side. With forged credentials of a reasonable level, background checks were unlikely.
Of course, entering the Demonic Cult later would be different—but by then, those backing her would move.
Though slightly anxious at her unfamiliar reflection, she smiled brightly at herself.
“Biseol, you can do this. Let’s go.”
With that self-spoken spell, she stood up.
Opening the inn room door, she strode down the stairs energetically. The inn attendant dozing by the entrance jolted awake at her footsteps and bowed lightly.
“Come again!”
“Thank you for your service.”
With a brief farewell, Biseol left.
The attendant tilted his head as he watched her back.
“Was there a young man like that among yesterday’s guests?”
In front of Illusion Academy, the crowd resembled a sea of people.
Despite the early hour, countless martial artists had gathered to submit their enrollment applications. Most were young; a few were older.
The entrance buzzed with noise.
At four separate gates, clerks recorded information in large ledgers placed on tables.
The information required was simple:
Name, age, weapon used, sect or master, martial arts practiced, and whether one belonged to the Orthodox Faction, Unorthodox Faction, or the Demonic Cult.
The procedure was straightforward, and processing moved quickly despite the numbers.
After registering, applicants entered the Academy, where over several days candidates would be selected.
Standing toward the back, Biseol watched the line shrink.
Some glanced at her.
But their gazes differed from yesterday’s.
Not the eyes men cast upon a beautiful woman—
Rather, curiosity toward a pretty-faced young man.
‘Seems the disguise is working.’
Confidence rose within her.
She had practiced cross-dressing long before arriving in Chengdu and had been assured by her masters that it was convincing. Still, she had been nervous.
Now, seeing that even sharp-eyed youths detected nothing strange, she felt reassured.
As she casually scanned her surroundings, her expression suddenly froze.
A familiar man caught her eye.
‘Oh? That person is…’
Not far away stood the very man she had argued with yesterday over the authentic dumplings.
It was no coincidence she spotted him so easily.
Among hundreds, he stood out the most.
Tall and striking, with cold eyes and an indescribable aura that encompassed everything.
She had never imagined that the mysterious man she met briefly yesterday would also seek to enter Illusion Academy.
As she stared—
Perhaps sensing her gaze, the man turned his head toward her.
Their eyes met for an instant.
Startled, Biseol lowered her gaze quickly.
‘Surely he didn’t recognize me?’
This wasn’t about yesterday’s unpleasant exchange. The problem was that he was the only one here who had seen her true face.
Why, of all people, did it have to be him?
She feigned disinterest and looked elsewhere.
After a moment, he turned away.
Soon it was his turn.
“Name, age, and weapon,” asked the middle-aged clerk.
“Hyuk Ryeon-hwi. Twenty-eight. I use… various weapons.”
The clerk frowned slightly.
“Master? Martial arts?”
“Chuhon Ilgeom is my master. I’ve learned his unique techniques.”
“Chuhon Ilgeom?”
After a moment, the clerk recalled the nickname—an elder expert of the Demonic Cult, ranked beyond the top three hundred.
“Affiliation?”
“Demonic Cult.”
“Very well. Enter.”
As he walked inside, Biseol murmured inwardly.
‘So his name is Hyuk Ryeon-hwi.’
Soon it was her turn.
“Name, age, weapon. Sect or master? Martial arts?”
“My name is Biseol. Twenty-four. Dual swords. No formal sect. My master is a recluse known as Byeoksa-gun.”
The name was fabricated—an identity prepared for over a decade.
“Martial art?”
“…Geumrin Talhon Sword.”
A made-up name.
“And I belong to the Orthodox Faction.”
“That all?”
Suddenly flustered, she blurted—
“I’m a man.”
“…Who said you weren’t?”
She laughed awkwardly.
“Ah, well. Some people misunderstand.”
The clerk waved her in.
‘Whew… I said something ridiculous.’
Still, one thing was certain.
Her disguise worked.
Inside, she was overwhelmed by the vast expanse of buildings, halls, trees, and sculptures.
This was Illusion Academy.
‘I’ve finally arrived, Master.’
Her thoughts were interrupted.
“Hey! Don’t stand there dazed. We move in groups.”
The speaker was Bu Uimin, a martial artist affiliated with the Demonic Cult, tasked with guiding entrants.
As she joined the group of thirty—
Her heart dropped.
Hyuk Ryeon-hwi stood among them.
She lowered her head and slipped quietly into the group.
‘Calm down. He barely saw you yesterday.’
She reassured herself.
The group was led through the grounds. Some whispered about previous attempts to pass.
One man glanced at her and scoffed lightly.
She only smirked inwardly.
‘If your judgment is that poor, you’ll be packing your bags again.’
After a lengthy, boring lecture on the Academy’s history, they were dismissed for lunch.
In the dining hall, Biseol sat and eagerly began eating.
Then—
Someone sat across from her.
She looked up—
And choked violently.
“Cough! Cough!”
It was Hyuk Ryeon-hwi.
“Sorry! I’m clumsy! Haha!”
She stuffed rice into her mouth and fled outside.
Across the now-empty seat, Hyuk Ryeon-hwi’s gaze turned cold.
Later, in their shared quarters, Biseol slipped outside to avoid him.
Relief filled her chest—
“Hey.”
She turned stiffly.
Hyuk Ryeon-hwi stood with arms crossed.
“Do I know you?”
“Wh-what do you mean? Haha…”
“You kept looking at me.”
“I did no such—”
He approached swiftly and grabbed her shoulder, pressing her back against the wall.
“Tell me why.”
She deflected his grip with a subtle motion—
Four ounces deflecting a thousand pounds.
His eyes sharpened.
‘Tai Chi principles…?’
She spoke firmly.
“I have no interest in who you are. If you behave this way again without proof, I won’t tolerate it.”
She brushed past him.
Then—
He caught a scent.
Sweet. Familiar.
The same faint fragrance lingering from yesterday.
His hand shot out—
Tug.
The cord tying her hair snapped loose.
Her long hair cascaded down like waves.
Too late.
She grabbed at it—
But she had been exposed.
‘It’s over…’
Hyuk Ryeon-hwi slowly spoke.
“I thought you looked familiar… It was you.”
He smirked faintly.
“The dumpling ghost.”
