Chapter 26
The main room of the guest house was filled with the scent of Hwangsan Mobong tea, mingling with the lingering fragrance of the golden osmanthus that Unyeong had left behind.
Left alone, Jegaldam held a teacup that had long since lost its warmth. As if it were some sort of lifeline.
He couldn’t stop the trembling in his hands. Jegaldam gripped the teacup even tighter.
He couldn’t hold back the hollow laugh that escaped him.
He replayed the conversation he had with Unyeong over and over. If it could even be called a conversation.
It was mostly Seol Unyeong who had spoken, while Jegaldam had merely listened. At some point, it had become like that.
Unyeong had said it would be best to finish the talk before the adults returned, and then had poured out her words without pause.
Her words may have seemed scattered, but the message behind them was consistent.
Jegaldam remembered every word that had pierced him to the core. This was one of those times when having a good memory was not a blessing.
If only he could forget his shame more easily.
He slowly closed his eyes.
“There’s a mushroom that only grows in Hongan-hyeon. It’s called Hyangyuk Mushroom. It tastes like meat, even though it’s a mushroom. Isn’t that amazing?”
He had never cared much about appearances, but even so, he had thought the child was truly lovely.
But when she talked about delicious food, she became even more vibrant.
Her voice had a cheerful tone, as if she had never raised it in anger.
“So just tell the adults you heard a rumor about a mushroom. There’s no need to let them know why you really came.”
Her voice had dropped then, containing subtle reproach.
A scolding for visiting the Seol household without any proper excuse or explanation.
He knew it well.
He knew just the appearance of the eldest son of the Jegal family would draw attention to the Seol household.
Unyeong’s letter had been deeply suggestive, and the Seol household itself seemed suspicious. He hadn’t been able to suppress his curiosity.
No one knew better than Jegaldam how rashly he had acted.
He had ordered a secret investigation, knowing better than anyone that it wouldn’t remain secret.
“Even after you leave, make sure the rumors spread. Say the Hyangyuk mushroom of Hongan-hyeon tastes absolutely incredible. This isn’t a request. You understand, don’t you?”
She had told the great heir of the Jegal family that it wasn’t a request.
A little girl had looked up at him with wide eyes and said something so absurd.
Yet Jegaldam had no choice but to accept it not as a request, but as a threat.
He hadn’t even tasted the mushroom, but rumors would spread that he praised it highly. And he would be the one to spread them.
“I’ll tell the steward that you’ll be staying a few more days. I’ll prepare a separate residence for you. Once you’ve gathered your thoughts, feel free to seek another meeting.”
With that, Unyeong rose from her seat.
Jegaldam had done nothing but watch her retreating figure—just like when he had first arrived at the Seol household.
He took out the letter from Seol Unyeong, which he had kept close to his chest, and read it again.
Each line of the song lyrics echoed with Unyeong’s interpretations in his mind.
“Yes, it’s a song. I just found it amusing. I heard it’s something the street kids sing at the marketplace. It was curious to me. I’ve rarely been outside the Seol estate because of my poor health.”
She looked healthy—yet she was supposedly frail?
“Maybe they felt sorry for me being confined indoors. One of the servant girls told me stories from beyond the walls. She taught me this song too.”
“But something about it felt strange. The lyrics meant nothing, yet something about them kept bothering me. So I started thinking about it.”
She had worn a smile that was hard to read—bitter, yet tinged with amusement.
“Spring comes, flowers bloom… I don’t know what ‘spring’ means in the song. But since the other words seem to represent martial clans or noble families, I figured out that the flower must mean something. Among spring flowers, plum blossoms—so that would be Hwasan, wouldn’t it?”
She was a clever child. Her face betrayed that she did know what ‘spring’ symbolized, even as she said she didn’t.
She knew what it referred to. And at the same time, it was clear she had no intention of telling Jegaldam.
She didn’t care whether he realized she was lying.
“A small pouch full of money. Money means treasure. And since long ago, Haenamdo has been known as a treasure island overflowing with wonders. Yes, Haenam sect. And the little pouch would represent a small room—meaning the Minor Room, or Sosilbong, of the Shaolin.”
“I am no beggar beneath the heavens. The sky must be Changcheon Namgung, referring to the Namgung clan, and ‘beggar’ is easy—Beggar’s Union.”
Her emotions were plain when she spoke of Namgung and the Beggars’ Union.
She said the great Namgung family—the most prestigious in the martial world—like it was a joke, and dismissed the Beggars’ Union with scorn.
“Even if the heavenly dragon blocks the light… the celestial dragon must mean the Jeomchang, and when it blocks the light, darkness follows. Yes, it must be the Tang family of hidden weapons.”
Had she known?
That Jegaldam could read emotions from a speaker’s expression, tone, breath, and even the slightest hesitation?
She must not have. If she had, she wouldn’t have laid her emotions so bare.
That mysterious longing.
Jegaldam had read the yearning behind her words.
“Don’t worry. Snow will fall again, they say. Actually, this was the part that made me start paying attention to the lyrics. Snow will fall again. Why would snow fall again? Snow, of all things…”
Unyeong had spoken of snow like she was singing a lullaby, then closed her eyes.
“I made a guess. There are seven martial sects named in the lyrics, and two cryptic ones. That makes nine. Then there’s the one who composed the song and spread it—making ten.”
Her eyes gleamed with clarity.
“When I thought of martial arts and the number ten, one phrase came to mind.”
As if asking whether he thought of the same thing, she had looked at Jegaldam.
“The Ten Masters of the Martial World. It might be a stretch. But as I sang the song, I couldn’t help but suspect it.”
She paused to sip her tea, then continued.
“There have been countless ‘Ten Masters’ in martial history. But perhaps there were ten in particular who needed to be remembered—so much that they were immortalized in a song.”
A hidden history of the martial world. Not so rare.
But what had caught the girl’s interest was…
“Couldn’t the ‘snow’ be referring to the Seol household? Not a sect, not a noble clan—but the Seol household. And yet I found that to be perfectly natural.”
Jegaldam had thought the same when he read Unyeong’s letter and investigated the Seol household.
Hongan-hyeon, where the Seol household was located, sat near the center of the Central Plains.
Of the seven locations mentioned in the song (excluding spring), all were located to the east, west, south, north, northwest, northeast, and southwest of Hongan-hyeon.
“Seol household… I wonder what you think, Young Master. No, you must think it strange too—otherwise, you wouldn’t be here, would you? There are many secrets in the Seol household, even ones I don’t know. I intend to uncover them.”
Despite trying to hide much from Jegaldam, she had told him a great deal.
As if she trusted him.
Why… What had made Unyeong trust Jegaldam?
It was odd. And unsettling.
“I suppose your question is natural. Why isn’t Jegal mentioned in the lyrics? Tang is, Namgung is… but why not Jegal? Isn’t that why you came?”
There were many talented individuals in the noble families. Jegaldam was exceptional, but others were not lacking.
And yet, there were always those who looked at Jegaldam with eyes that seemed to say they were disgusted.
They tried to hide it, but he had always known—they shunned him.
Only now did he understand why.
Because the way he looked at Unyeong must have been exactly the same.
Not like a child. Too clever. Who knows what she’s thinking?
That was why he was afraid.
Why he wanted to avoid her.
But… could he?
“What do you plan to do now, Young Master? May I share my thoughts?”
She was brazen. To dare suggest a path to a scion of the Jegal family. But now he could no longer find that offensive.
“The Jegal family of Records.”
She had spoken the name that everyone had forgotten.
“That makes nine.”
Asking how she knew was meaningless now.
She simply did.
“Jegal… of Records.”
The other name for the renowned Jegal family, famed for their strategic minds—now long forgotten.
Most born into the Jegal line had brilliant minds. Hence the names: Jegal of Strategy, Jegal of Ingenuity.
But long ago, their most common role was to record.
The Jegal clan recorded. Endlessly. Inconceivably massive amounts of knowledge.
They recorded things even they didn’t understand the importance of.
“Ten who had to be remembered…”
Jegaldam closed his eyes again.
He pictured the vast secret archives deep underground beneath the Jegal family’s estate. Countless records were stored there.
Somewhere, among them…
The record he, the heir of the Jegal name, had to find.
He had to admit it now.
Jegaldam quietly repeated to himself:
“Jegal of Records.”
The room still carried the scent of the golden osmanthus that Unyeong had left behind.
