Cheongwol—no, Chaeha—clung tightly to Han Seojin’s waist, sobbing uncontrollably for a long while.
Even the rigid notion that a heroine must never cry was something Chaeha ignored.
The lofty one. The pure one. The resilient one. The Thousand-Year Flower Cheongwol, beloved by all, had melted away for the moment, leaving only Chaeha behind.
She was entrusting herself completely to Han Seojin, just as she had been as that fragile girl.
Ah.
Yet even as she did, she was acutely aware of how dangerous this was.
She had cast aside the pride she had guarded all this time, along with every bit of dignity she had built as Cheongwol, baring her true self completely.
The sense of liberation was overwhelmingly profound, but looking back, it was Cheongwol who had protected the fragile Chaeha all along.
The thick leather armor had felt stifling, but it had kept her safe.
She was exposing her fragile true self to Han Seojin, and this form was far too vulnerable.
It was the side of herself she had hidden out of fear of showing it to anyone.
Now, that Chaeha was no different from being held in the palm of his hand.
Han Seojin could leave her with an indelible wound, or carve a pain that could never be undone.
Defenseless without any means to protect herself, Chaeha stood bare before him.
If he abandoned her like this, she would crumble from within in that instant, never to rise again.
Cheongwol could be rejected, but Chaeha could not.
The last people in the world who knew of Chaeha were herself, Muwol Satae, and Han Seojin... she was a terribly lonely soul.
Even her forehead mark had been fading from the memories of Cheongwol and Muwol Satae until recently.
It was Han Seojin who had drawn it out.
In this Central Plains, he might be the only one who could recognize Chaeha.
If that Chaeha were rejected, she would vanish.
It was her most vulnerable weakness, her very heart.
And she had handed it over to Han Seojin.
...Yet even so, it didn’t feel wrong.
Because Han Seojin had revealed his own fragility just as much as the weakness Chaeha had shown.
Because they had witnessed each other’s deepest, most fragile abyss.
That shared fragility was turning into trust.
And the reality that when their true hearts collided, the other responded with equal sincerity—it was heart-wrenchingly moving, almost too hard to believe.
It was a chance to believe in the world’s warmth once more.
"Branch Master... what should I do now?"
Chaeha was dependent by nature.
She sought the answer from Han Seojin, the one she could rely on.
Han Seojin knelt on one knee to face her.
Did Han Seojin know?
That he was not only the sole person in the world who knew Chaeha, but perhaps the only one who had ever witnessed her crying like this.
On the other hand, Han Seojin smiled as if he liked the sight of her crying.
His expression seemed to have overcome his fear just a little at last, upon seeing her tears.
Han Seojin was always like that.
He had a sadistic side that enjoyed the faces of crying women.
It was clear he didn’t find this ugly sight repulsive, but rather appealing.
"Go back and make up with Master Soun. You fought, didn't you?"
Chaeha nodded.
"...But... I don't want to, Branch Master. I hate my master so much now..."
"Let Chaeha hate her. Cheongwol can just obey her master, right?"
"..."
"I'll take in the Chaeha who hates her master. Return to the Emei Sect. Or what, defect from the sect and become an outcast?"
That had been her original plan, but now that Han Seojin was with her, she didn't want that.
"I'm betting my life that you won't stray down the wrong path. I'm wagering everything on you never slaughtering people on a whim again. Don’t betray my faith in you... not even now."
Han Seojin’s fist trembled faintly.
Chaeha could understand such a Han Seojin.
Yes, it would be fine anyway.
The Emei Sect was a place so grueling it felt like dying, but with Han Seojin as an outlet, it would be bearable no matter what.
In the Emei Sect, it felt like drowning.
Not being swept away and killed by raging torrents, but adrift in the vast ocean, breath slowly fading bit by bit.
But with Han Seojin as an escape from the Emei Sect. An island to rest on briefly. She could endure as long as there was that.
As long as there was a place to recover her strength, she would be okay.
It was no problem at all.
And Chaeha simply wanted to repay Han Seojin’s faith.
"Got it, Branch Master. I'll try."
Han Seojin nodded... then looked into Chaeha’s eyes.
"Cheongwol... no, Chaeha."
Every time she heard the name Chaeha, her heart rippled.
It felt like something truly dead was wriggling back to life within her.
With a single call from him, she felt alive.
"Tomorrow night, come back here just like this."
At those words, Chaeha’s breath caught.
Because she knew exactly what he had in mind.
But... this was truly the first time he had suggested their play so abruptly, without any preamble.
The thought of doing that play here on Mount Song, near Shaolin, twisted something deep in her gut with a sense of taboo...
This was Mount Song. A place teeming with countless devotees.
To play here...?
With so many people gathered?
With so many calling her name?
"...Your answer?"
But to Chaeha, the man before her eyes was more precious than those tens of thousands.
She had no desire to defy his words.
Rather, the deeper part of her... was greeting his proposal with a profoundly twisted joy.
Because it meant that even here, Han Seojin wanted to play.
It meant he wanted to bind himself to her that closely.
"Yeah."
Chaeha nodded.
"I'll come here tomorrow. Watch me win spectacularly."
.
.
.
Cheongwol knelt before Soun, bowing her head deeply.
Soun looked flustered.
Yet Cheongwol’s heart was astonishingly calm.
She only wondered why this simple act had been so agonizing before.
She only felt remorse for how prickly she had been toward her master all this time.
"I attained a moment of enlightenment."
Cheongwol said quietly.
And matching the faith Han Seojin had shown her, she offered her own vow.
"Disciple promises never to trouble Master again. I am truly sorry."
It was her personal pledge never to betray Han Seojin’s faith.
She would now live fully as a Buddhist.
She would keep the Five Precepts perfectly.
She would train with unwavering diligence, so that Han Seojin could take even greater pride in her.
...Because Chaeha existed.
Because she could breathe...
"...You truly are a difficult disciple."
Soun said with a sigh.
"Cheongwol. I’m not sure anymore if sending you into the tournament is right. Displaying the Extermination Sword on your own—and a killing technique at that—is something I must address sternly."
Cheongwol squeezed her eyes shut.
She didn’t want that.
She had to enter the tournament.
Because Han Seojin believed in her.
Soun continued.
"The Abbot forgave you, and Elder Damhye forgave you too, so I have nothing more to say. But as the next Sect Leader, to show the Extermination Sword in a mere tournament... Well, since you've attained enlightenment, I won't say more. Just know this one thing. When we return to the sect, you will spend a long period in secluded reflection. This is my decision."
"..."
She didn’t want that either, but Cheongwol nodded.
Perhaps getting off with just this was truly fortunate.
It had been an act born of no intention to return, so now that she had, she had to bear the responsibility.
"Yes."
So Cheongwol replied.
"Yes, I understand."
****
The name Chaeha gripped me with emotions even I hadn't anticipated.
Chaeha.
It was Cheongwol's real name, one that never appeared in the original novel, Blood Path.
Hearing it felt like some barrier between us had finally vanished.
Not the Life-Pursuing Ghost Cheongwol, or Moon Lord Cheongwol, or nun Cheongwol... but truly the human Cheongwol that Gu Yeong Uncle had spoken of.
Of course it should have been there, but why had I never considered she might have a real name?
Probably proof that I'd watched her as a novel character for too long.
And only upon hearing the name Chaeha did that subtle realization dawn, allowing me to face the woman before me more sincerely.
The fear etched into my body lingered, but it was bearable now.
And I had to endure it.
Because I had decided to shatter all the false trust I'd built with Cheongwol up to now and start over from the beginning.
We were barely at the crawling stage, still precarious.
How we carried on from here was up to us.
Now, I truly intended to believe.
That Cheongwol could avoid corruption and walk the righteous path.
That in the Great War of Righteousness and Evil, she could stand with the righteous factions and be a force for them.
And to that end, I planned to support her from behind—whether by finding her fateful encounters or her original cherished weapon, whatever it took.
Man, the list of people I need to look after keeps growing.
The good thing was, while the fear was still there... a clear sense of relief had come with it.
The nagging stuffiness and frustration I'd felt lately had washed away clean.
The more I felt it, the more I knew this was the right path.
"Again??"
Uncle Bang Biyeon asked in surprise.
I nodded.
I wondered if Cheongwol, truly set on the right path, could grow as strong as Demonic Cult Cheongwol—but right now, riding the emotional afterglow of my talk with Chaeha, I was feeling sentimental too.
"I'm going all in."
"Young Hero Han, haven't you won plenty already? Set some aside, enjoy only what you can afford to lose. Why risk it all? Yes, Lady Cheongwol put on a splendid show. But do you know who her next opponent is? Mokryong, I say—Mokryong! The dragon from the last tournament is here!"
"In my eyes, Cheongwol will win it all. So I'm going to the end."
"...Heh. I've heard the Beggars' Sect beggars talk about your instincts a few times... but I never thought a man could be so confident in his own. Reckless, or do you know something I don't?"
"Haha."
"But Young Hero Han, did something good happen? Your face is beaming."
"Huh?"
I touched my face. Sure enough, a smile lingered at my lips.
Why was I in such a good mood?
Because I’d reconciled with Cheongwol? Because I had no more secrets from her? Because the guilt was gone?
Sure, that was part of it, but maybe it was because a long-held wish had finally come true.
...Don't tell me I've got my very own masochist now?