Chapter 14: Hwaran. Chohee.

Sowol was in a great mood.

Even when she stayed still, fortune had a way of walking right up to her.

In a cloud of dust and dirt, figures rolled around on the ground, clutching their bodies and screaming in chaos.

Three beggars were sprawled out, writhing in pain.

“Gaaah! Y-You crazy witch…!”

One of them staggered to his feet, grinding his teeth.

Blood streamed from his nose, and the skin around his eye was swollen and red.

“D-Do you even know who we are?! We’re from the Beggar’s Sect—”

Before he could finish that sentence, Sowol’s knee came flying straight into the center of his vision.

Thwack.

Her knee struck his jaw squarely, and his words were instantly swallowed back down his throat.

He spun once in the air before crashing down to the ground with a solid thud.

Sowol slowly turned her neck, looking at the remaining two beggars.

A faint smirk played across her lips.

“The Beggar’s Sect, so what?”

With just that one line, the other two immediately dropped to their knees.

One of them wiped at his bloody nose with both hands raised, the other frantically bowed his head.

“We’re sorry! We didn’t know! T-This is our turf, but, uh, we didn’t really mean it—!”

Sowol stepped toward them slowly.

Bruised faces, torn clothes, trembling hands, but there was still a faint glint of hostility in their eyes.

Sowol lifted the chin of one of the kneeling beggars with the tip of her foot and asked.

“Alright then. Tell me what you’re good for.”

The beggars looked at each other, stumbling over their words.

“W-We’re just beggars, what good could we possibly be—”

Before the sentence could finish.

Sowol’s knee came up again.

Thud.

This time, it landed square on his face, and the beggar collapsed like he’d been launched.

The last one flinched, then quickly waved both hands and shouted,

“I’m useful! I swear! I know a shortcut to the docks! I’ve got a bit of money! I can carry your bags too—!”

Only then did Sowol ease her brows slightly.

“Good. That’s enough to make you worth keeping alive.”

She raised her chin again and smiled, that strange, crooked smile.

“From now on, you two follow me and earn your meals. Otherwise, it’s knee time again. Got it?”

The beggar nodded furiously.

“Yes, ma’am! Absolutely! We’ll totally earn our keep!”

And just like that, Sowol’s strange little entourage began.

On the outskirts of Bangju, someone was quietly making their way down a steep mountain path.

Footsteps so calm they didn’t raise a speck of dust.

An expression untouched even by the wind brushing through the grass.

Hwaran had, before she knew it, arrived at the border of Bangju, five days since she’d set out.

She hadn’t encountered a single person.

Hadn’t spoken a single word.

She simply walked, regulated her breath, checked the flow of her inner strength,
and refined herself.

She rinsed her mouth in puddles by the roadside, chewed a few leaves to dull her hunger.

Sometimes, she placed moist stones in her mouth just to push through the hunger with her saliva.

But her steps had never once faltered.

At night, she slept right on the rocks.

At dawn, she rose before the first light.

Dust had settled on her back, and branches had scratched her training robes, but Hwaran didn’t care.

This was training.

Even walking, even breathing—was part of it.

When the rooftops of Bangju finally appeared in the distance, Hwaran quietly stopped.

She took a steady breath and looked around.

The wind brushed past the leaves, and a faint sound of water trickled from far away.

Taking in all those sounds, she softly murmured,

“…I’ve arrived.”

No one heard her words, but to her, that one line was enough.

Without anyone knowing.

Without anyone able to interfere.

Hwaran quietly began walking toward Bangju.

When night fell, Hwaran silently slipped out through the alleys of Bangju and headed toward the rear mountain.

To the eye, it was just an ordinary patch of grass.

But there, she stopped, and moved a small stone on the ground.

Click.

A faint sound of a hidden mechanism unlocking.

The ground sank down, revealing a deep, dark staircase below.

“…As I thought. Still being used at this hour.”

It was exactly as she remembered from her past life.

This place had once been the very hideout she personally managed for the assassins under her command.

She didn’t know who used it now, but she could tell.

The energy inside.

The faint signs of organization that seemed careless, but were clearly intentional.

Someone was still using this place.

Hwaran quietly descended the stairs.

Inside the hideout, it was cold and dark.

But her gaze didn’t waver.

She hid in the shadows near the entrance, and waited.

Tap, tap, tap.

Three sets of footsteps approached.

The moment they stepped into the hideout, Hwaran moved.

Her hand struck the nape of the first man’s neck.

The second had no time to react before her fingers pierced his chest, he collapsed without even a breath.

The third man instinctively dodged, but Hwaran swept his ankle out from under him, then brought her fingertips down hard on the back of his head.

Thud.

All three dropped to the ground.

A short, clean takedown.

Resistance had been meaningless.

“…Ugh, ugh…”

Now, the three assassins lay bound hand and foot in the center of the hideout.

Hwaran sat before them, expressionless.

Her eyes were calm, her breathing, composed.

She quietly untied the cloth bundle at her waist.

Inside were herbs, poisons, mushrooms, and seeds, materials she had gathered along her journey here, all neatly arranged.

With practiced hands, she selected and mixed them quickly.

The resulting concoction gave off a dizzying stench, but Hwaran didn’t flinch.

“Poison King.”

The nickname she had once been called in her past life floated briefly through her mind.

This much—was nothing.

She took the small black pills she’d formed and pressed one into each assassin’s mouth, forcing it deep beneath their tongues, not even giving them a chance to spit it out.

“Swallow it. If you don’t, it’ll hurt more.”

She murmured the words like a whisper to herself.

Only after the last pill had been given did she finally rise.

The assassins began to gasp for breath.

Their body heat spiked, and pain surged through their limbs—stiff, burning, uncontrollable.

The suffering had begun.

And only she knew the antidote.

A luxurious carriage rolled quietly along a dusty road.

There was no jarring clatter, not even the sound of hooves—everything was muted and refined.

Inside the carriage, Chohee sat reclined, legs stretched out comfortably.

Her training robe was torn in places and dust-stained, but she didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered.

“Grapes.”

With that single word, one of the attendants riding with her silently picked up a plate of grapes and placed them carefully in her hand, one by one.

Chohee popped one into her mouth without any particular emotion and chewed slowly.

“Water.”

Another brief command.

A different attendant poured water from a polished flask into a small, delicate cup and handed it to her with care.

Chohee took it, drank, and without a word more, turned to gaze out the window.

The city walls of Uiyang were coming into view.

“We’ve arrived.”

She spoke softly to herself and let out a light yawn.

Everything about her was so natural, so accustomed to this life, as if it had always been this way.

As the carriage passed through the gates into the city, Chohee slowly opened the door and stepped down.

The attendants promptly began tidying the surroundings, and the coachman bowed deeply, reins in hand.

“Thank you for your work,” Chohee said calmly.

The coachman immediately straightened up with a cheerful smile.

“It’s nothing, miss. Just call on me anytime.”

Even that exchange felt like part of an everyday routine.

The moment she stepped off the carriage, Chohee made her way straight toward the grandest inn across the street.

As she approached the entrance, the staff swung the doors open in unison and greeted her.

“Welcome!”

Chohee gave a slight, familiar nod.

“Yes, hello.”

Her tone was unhurried, her manner laid-back.

She followed the waiting host inside, and the moment she settled into a comfortable seat, she ordered without hesitation.

“Let’s start with duck tongue stir-fry, roasted pheasant, and… oh, the steamed bear paw too.”

The attendant, surprised, nodded quickly.

Chohee crossed one leg over the other and looked out the window.

“Quickly. And put ice in the water.”

To Chohee, this was nothing more than a comfortable, familiar day.

It was near the end of her meal.

“Chohee!!”

The door burst open with a bang, and a booming voice shook the room.

Chohee slowly turned her head.

A faint crease formed between her brows, and her gaze turned cold.

She spoke in a voice that sounded both tired and unsurprised.

“…I told you not to follow me.”

The middle-aged man who entered had quite a striking presence.

Over his black robes were two crimson silk sashes, and a gleaming jade ornament hung from his waist.

He had a neatly trimmed beard, a solid build, and a face that seemed like it could draw people in with its bold, hearty laughter anywhere he went.

He grinned wide at the sight of his daughter.

“I didn’t follow you! I just happened to be nearby on business. I figured you’d come this way!”

Chohee didn’t respond.

Instead, she picked up her water glass and took a sip.

The man, still shamelessly smiling, plopped himself down on the opposite side of the table.

“Hmm~ As expected, you carry yourself differently. You’ve got that presence. It’s impressive, really.”

Chohee carefully placed a grape seed on the plate.

Then she looked at her father and spoke briefly.

“This time, seriously—stop following me.”

At her words, the man’s face twisted for a moment.

But he quickly chuckled and nodded.

“Alright, alright. I really won’t follow you anymore.”

Chohee turned her gaze back out the window without replying.

And then, suddenly, the street scene beyond the inn caught her eye.

She murmured softly to herself.

“…It’s already been ten days.”