Chapter Text
"Then, if we make use of this information we can succeed in securing the negotiation. It will drastically improve the stability of our supply."
Im Sobyeong pointed at the lines he had meticulously marked down. His hands had been busy for quite a while, gesturing here and there across the sprawling sea of papers laid out over the massive meeting table. He crossed out certain sections, connected others, and continued his explanation with an almost feverish enthusiasm.
Tang Gunak nodded along in silent agreement. The Tang Lord remained entirely focused on the explanation, only chiming in to offer his expert opinion in the specific areas of medicine, poison and weaponry where the Green Forest King needed clarification.
Meng So was even more still than he usually was. His massive, muscular arms were folded tightly across his broad chest, and his dark eyes were locked intensely onto the materials across the table. For once, the boisterous Lord of the Beast Palace was listening to the much shorter man without a single booming interruption.
The rest of meeting’s attendees exhibited the exact same solemn behavior. After all, they were reviewing the precious knowledge provided by the legendary Dark Saint himself. The atmosphere was thick with profound respect and intense concentration.
Well, mostly.
Shhh—ssh—crick.
Just one sound. A single, repetitive anomaly scraping relentlessly against the serious atmosphere of the discussion.
"Now, if we compare the map over here with the usual map we know, there is a pathway…." Im Sobyeong continued, valiantly trying to ignore it.
Shhhh.
"...there is a high chance the geography has been altered after all these years..."
Shh—ssshhhhh.
"So, we definitely need—"
Crick.
"—to carefully check the..."
Shhh.
"FOR THE SAKE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, CAN YOU PLEASE STOP?!?!"
Im Sobyeong finally snapped, violently slamming both of his hands down onto the table. The sudden impact sent several priceless documents fluttering into the air, which Meng So miraculously caught with terrifying precision, placing them back onto the table with the utmost, delicate care so they wouldn't tear.
In the corner of the room, Chung Myung blinked innocently. He paused his movements, lowering the small carving knife and the half-finished wooden hairpin he had been aggressively whittling for the past hour.
"What?" the young swordsman asked, blowing a pile of wood shavings off his lap. "I'm listening."
"Oh? are you? Then what exactly were we talking about just now?" Im Sobyeong asked, narrowing his eyes as he openly tested the teenager.
"Aren't you talking about checking the hidden pathways the Demonic Cult previously created to sneak behind the alliance troops?" Chung Myung countered effortlessly, not even looking up from his whittling. "Those paths should still be wide open unless a massive landslide occurred. It’s a rocky area covered in deep, stubborn roots. A hundred years wouldn't be enough to alter the terrain that much."
Chung Myung shut him down with a perfect, flawless response, making the Green Forest King want to bang his head against the wooden table all over again.
Im Sobyeong let out a long, defeated sigh. As annoyed as he was, since he had successfully dragged the brat’s attention back to the table, he chose to simply force him to participate. "Fine. Then, what is your opinion regarding the supply plan? We’ve compiled everyone's suggestions for now, but we haven't reached a definitive conclusion yet."
“Let’s have the Four Seasons Merchant Guild handle the medicine and weapon supply,” Chung Myung stated plainly. “Since their base is in Sichuan, they can work with the Tang Family much more smoothly. If Jo Gul-sahyung's father can establish connections with smaller local merchant guilds for us, we can trade protection under our alliance's wings for a secure, steady influx of general supplies as well. To avoid relying too heavily on a single source, let’s request cooperation from the Eunha Merchant Guild for the management of emergency provisions, such as raw materials and food.”
The entire room stared at him, utterly speechless. The dead silence quickly began to irritate Chung Myung.
"What?" he snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously.
"Ah, no," Baek Cheon quickly intervened, raising his hands to placate the volatile junior before he exploded. "It's just... you really were listening this entire time." Unfortunately, his honest thought slipped out before caution could stop it.
"You think I'm deaf?!" Chung Myung barked, tossing a wood shaving aside. "Of course I was listening! I'm the one who handpicked those materials for you fools to look over in the first place. How do you think that sickly green bastard over there was able to summarize the most critical strategic points this fast all by himself?"
"Ahem." Im Sobyeong coughed into his hand fan, suddenly feeling very small and very scolded for having doubted the younger man’s focus.
"I already laid out my general ideas by putting those specific papers on the table," Chung Myung grumbled, standing up and brushing the sawdust off his uniform. "You all can handle the details and bring me the final draft later. I have other things I need to check on so wrap this up quickly, I've got a better place to be."
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the meeting room with a loud huff, leaving the doors swinging in his wake. No one in the room possessed the courage to stop him.
Im Sobyeong rubbed his temples, staring at the empty doorway. "Why is he in such a foul mood? It’s been several days! Is he going through a late puberty?"
"Keep talking and you will get hit." Tang Gunak offered mildly, giving a piece of genuine, kind advice so the alliance wouldn't lose a valuable comrade before the war even started.
"AHAHAHA! I know exactly what it is!" Meng So suddenly boomed, laughing wholeheartedly as he slapped his massive thigh. "It must be lovesick! The boy is definitely lovesick!"
Tang Gunak and Baek Cheon simultaneously choked on thin air.
"Lovesick? That madman?" Im Sobyeong muttered, staring at him as though he had just suggested Chung Myung was actually a saint. "Are you out of your mind, Beast Palace’s Master?"
"He looks exactly like our youngsters when they miss their lovers during the post-winter hunts!" Meng So insisted, completely oblivious to the structural collapse of the other two leaders. "Did our young friend finally manage to catch himself a lover?"
Baek Cheon shuddered violently at the sheer horror of the thought. Half of his terror stemmed from the absolute inability to picture his demonic, violent junior acting like a soft, sweet, affectionate lover. Chung Myung and the concept of romance just felt fundamentally wrong. The other half, however, was because there was exactly one person who fit that assumption, which somehow made the situation infinitely worse.
Baek Cheon slowly turned his head. It seemed the Lord of the Tang Clan had arrived at the exact same conclusion, because when their eyes met, Tang Gunak’s expression was a mask of pure, unadulterated despair.
"Lord Tang..."
"Not a single word," Tang Gunak hissed, holding up a sleeve over his trembling voice. " If you finish that sentence I think I’m going to have a Qi deviation."
He looked as though he wanted to sprint out of the room to escape a reality he was not emotionally equipped to handle.
.
.
.
“Sago.”
Yu Iseol turned, her dark eyes widening slightly in rare surprise at the unexpected appearance of her youngest junior. By all accounts, Chung Myung was supposed to be trapped in the alliance logistics meeting for at least another few hours.
“Sajil.” she replied in her usual, flat monotone, entirely unsure of how else to respond to his sudden presence.
“Lend me your hair.”
Iseol stared at him.
Honestly, she didn't even know why she bothered being surprised by him anymore. Chung Myung was capable of the most outrageous, earth shattering feats, yet it was always these utterly mundane, ordinary requests that managed to throw everyone completely off guard.
Taking her silent, unblinking stare as a yes, Chung Myung nudged her to sit down on a nearby stool and immediately went to work. To her utter bewilderment, he skillfully began combing through her long hair, even pulling a small vial of fragrant oil straight out of his robes, a detail that only fueled her internal confusion.
Remaining perfectly still, she used her sword to subtly peeked at her junior’s reflection. He was completely focused, carefully untangling a few stubborn strands that had mingled together with a level of gentleness she didn't think his rough hands possessed. A serene, incredibly soft smile played on his lips, and he even began to hum a faint, unrecognizable melody under his breath. He looked to be in a spectacularly good mood.
She has seen him smile like that before.
“Do you like Dark Saint?”
Yu Iseol was mostly a woman of few words. However, on the rare occasions she did choose to speak, the blunt phrases tumbling from her mouth had a terrifying habit of claiming victim, causing severe emotional damage more often than not.
Chung Myung’s hands froze instantly. He paused, studying the completely blank, earnest expression on her face. It was a completely honest question born of her own quiet curiosity, entirely devoid of judgment or malice.
“Yes,” Chung Myung murmured. Somehow, surrounded by the quiet peace around them, he found himself relaxed enough to be completely honest with her. He let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. “Is it really that obvious?”
“I can tell,” she answered quietly, giving a small, almost imperceptible nod. “You look happy.”
Chung Myung found himself entirely speechless. For all his quick wit and sharp tongue, he couldn't find a single word to counter her simple observation.
“It’s good.” Yu Iseol continued, her serious tone underscoring just how much she meant every single syllable. “He seems like a nice person. Good for you.”
“Ugh...” Chung Myung groaned softly, utterly at a loss for how to react to a sudden, blunt blessing from his senior sister. He had never even managed to bring the subject up with Chung Mun, yet receiving her quiet approval sent a strange, deeply comforting warmth blooming right in the center of his chest.
“Thanks? I guess.” he muttered, deflecting the tension as he resumed combing through her hair, deliberately ignoring the intense, creeping heat currently reddening the back of his neck.
Chung Myung continued his work, meticulously wrapping her hair into a neat, cute little bundle at the crown of her head. With a casual flick of his wrist, he snapped a random twig off a nearby bush to serve as a makeshift hairpin, sliding it into the bun to secure the style in place. He stepped back, crossing his arms and looking thoroughly proud of his handywork.
Yu Iseol leaned over slightly, peering at her reflection in the crystal clear water of a nearby stream, genuinely admiring the neat, flawless style he had managed to create out of her usually loose hair.
“Sago! I’ve been searching for you everywhere!”
Tang Soso came jogging in their direction, slowing her pace as she caught sight of them. Her eyes went wide, and she let out a delighted squeal. “Woah... Sago, you look so pretty! No, I mean, you always look pretty, but right now you look even prettier! A hundred times more!” She circled the older woman with high spirited energy, showering her with endless compliments.
Iseol fidgeted shyly, twirling a stray strand of hair around her finger as a rare, bright glint of pure happiness melted the usual coldness in her eyes.
“Sajil did it for me.” Iseol noted softly.
“He... did?” Soso’s gaze snapped directly to Chung Myung. A strained, forced smile stretched across her face, doing absolutely nothing to hide the sudden flare of jealousy burning in her green eyes. Chung Myung wisely chose not to meet her eyes. He was rather fond of his food remaining non-lethal. There was no need to escalate the situation and increase the odds of waking up poisoned tomorrow.
She stepped closer, squinting at the crown of Iseol's head. “But... what is up with this random twig?”
“Sajil didn’t have anything else to hold the bun,” Iseol answered honestly.
“If you were planning to style her hair, you should have brought a proper pin in the first place!” Soso immediately scolded, turning her wrath on Chung Myung for his complete lack of preparation. “Why on earth are you using a random stick from the garden? Honestly!”
Muttering under her breath, Soso began rummaging through her inner robes. After a moment of searching, she pulled out a delicate metal hairpin tipped with a beautifully carved jade ornament shaped like a plum blossom. Moving with gentle, careful hands, she slipped the crude twig out of Iseol's hair, smoothly replacing it with the jade pin and adjusting a few loose strands to perfection.
“There,” Soso huffed, crossing her arms and looking away slightly. “ Good thing I happened to have it as a spare for my own hair.”
Chung Myung watched her, mouth slightly open at her audacity to spit such an obvious lie in front of him. He knew damn well that the specific jade carving was a thoughtful, high-quality piece. That definitely was not some random spare she just happened to carry around. It must be a gift she had clearly bought for her beloved Sago, and she just shamelessly used the opportunity created by her careless Sahyung without even thinking to thank him.
“Hey, brat,” Chung Myung called her out, a knowing smirk tugged at his mouth, mocking the flimsy excuse she’d just uttered. “If you want to give someone a gift, you should just be completely honest about it. If you keep hiding your true feelings behind excuses, your real meaning is going to end up buried forever.”
For a brief second, his expression shifted, the smirk fading into something quiet. He leaned in, his voice dropping, losing the playfulness. "And trust me... you don't want to live with that kind of regret later.”
Soso stiffened, her ears turning pink as the weight of his words sank in. She bit her lip, looking between Chung Myung’s unusually serious expression and Yu Iseol, who was now staring at her with wide, blinking eyes.
“I...” Soso mumbled, her usual cheer giving way to quiet embarrassment. She looked down at her shoes, shuffling her feet against the ground. “I just... I saw it in the market and thought it would look beautiful on you, Sago. That’s all.” her voice grew smaller as faint blush crept onto her cheeks.
Iseol blinked, a soft, radiant warmth entirely overtaking her face. She reached up, gently touching the cool jade of the hairpin, and gave Soso a smile so rare and tender it could have melted the winter snow. “Thank you, Soso. I love it.”
Watching the two of them, Chung Myung felt a quiet sense of nostalgia settle in his chest. He turned the little wooden hairpin he had carved earlier over and over in his palm, his thoughts drifting back to the man waiting for him.
A man with hair like falling snow.
Time had bleached the warmth from those deep brown strands, turning them into a cascading curtain of shimmering moonlight. In the harsh glare of the midday sun, he stood framed by that blinding silver. It fell long, sweeping the ground as he moved, a trail of white that caught the sun until he was nothing more than a shimmering mirage, barely tethered to the earth.
When the sun set, the frost-white locks lost their radiance, settling into the pale, quiet glow of a ghost. The cold silver of his hair betrayed the lingering warmth of his smile, a paradox that Chung Myung had memorized by heart.
Chung Myung loved him just as he was, yet the sight of that hair, devoid of any ornament, left a hollow ache in his chest.
Tang Bo had never left his hair unadorned for as long as Chung Myung could remember. As the esteemed Elder of the Tang Family, the one who earned the title of Dark Saint, he had once worn jade, gold, and intricately carved silver. He had favored ribbons of silk with beautiful embroidery. Combinations of green, black and gold in every shade never fail to suit him.
Now, seeing that hair flowing free and untethered felt wrong. It was so long, so wild, and so utterly empty of the one thing that had once anchored it. As much as Chung Myung loved to thread his fingers through those pale, silken strands, the sight of them staying loose made the trace of loneliness all too clear to see.
Chung Myung’s thumb grazed the surface of the wooden hairpin he had been whittling. It was simple, carved from the sturdy wood of a plum blossom tree that had weathered more winters than he cared to count. It lacked the elegance of the gold and jade ornaments Tang Bo had once worn, and it certainly didn't shimmer like the treasures of the Tang Family vaults. But it was solid. It was real.
He stood up, the wooden pin disappearing into his sleeve. The idea had been a quiet impulse at first, but now it felt like a vow. If the silver of Tang Bo's hair was a ghost of the past, this hairpin would be the promise of the future.
He wanted to gather that wild, cascading snow —so much of it, so impossibly long—and find a way to secure it. He would press the pin home, a small, tangible mark of his presence. To hold him to the present. To mark the new, quiet days they had carved out for themselves in the wreckage of the world.
If Tang Bo’s hair was a string of fate, then by god, he was going to take the ends of that string and tie them to himself.
Chung Myung let out a breath he didn't realize he’d been holding. He turned away from Yu Iseol and Tang Soso who were still busy complementing each other, his pace quickening.
“Break's over! How far did you get?”
Every head in the room turned toward him as he strode back into the meeting.
Chung Myung offered no explanation for his abrupt return. He simply picked up the discussion where they'd left off, steering the conversation through the remaining points with unusual efficiency.
He didn't want to waste another moment.
He had a gift waiting to be given.
And for the first time in a very, very long while, he found himself genuinely eager to finish work.
.
.
.
“Pae, what do you think?”
Tang Pae leaned in, examining the item in the elder’s hand. A smooth, silk ribbon of vibrant green, its edges delicately embroidered with plum blossoms and butterflies.
“It’s beautiful,” he replied honestly.
The Dark Saint hummed, pleased with his work. He carefully placed the ribbon into a finely crafted wooden box where several others, identical in shade and material, were already folded.
“Is it a gift?” The young heir to the Tang family couldn't help but voice his curiosity. Today, he has come per his father's order to assist the Dark Saint. And he has been watching the elder hand embroidered the ribbon since morning.
“It is,” Tang Bo said, his fingers tracing the lid of the box. “That man is always losing his, so I prepared a few spares.”
Tang Pae smiled, moved by the sincerity of the affection. But his expression quickly turned grim as a thick, black liquid began to flow steadily from the elder’s eyes. He set down the tray he had been holding and quickly offered a handkerchief.
“Elder,” he hesitantly called, pondering whether he would cross the line if he voiced his thoughts. “Perhaps it isn’t too late to—”
“Young Lord.” Tang Bo shook his head at his terrified great-grandson. He wiped away the black blood as casually as if it were nothing more than dust. “Though I made a name for myself through supreme martial arts, I am still a doctor too.The most reliable medic to ever survive the war.”
Tang Bo picked a pill from the assortment of ingredients on the tray. “I understand my own body better than anyone.”
He dissolved the pill into a cup of warm water and downed it in a single gulp.
Black veins began to surface at his fingertips, creeping slowly up his forearms. Some peaked from beneath his collar, tracing the edge of his chin. His skin, already pale, took on an ashen, deathly gray hue. If he were to lie still, no one would think twice before mistaking him for a cold corpse.
When his father had told him to assist the Dark Saint with the ‘usual visit’, Tang Pae had thought little of it. He had often wondered how the Dark Saint could still appear so perfectly fine after living for so many decades. after living for so long.
The answer is no. He is not.
“Young Lord, you may go. I will handle the rest myself.” The Dark Saint reached for the incense on the tray. “This might be too strong for you.”
The smell of rot thickened as more fluid leaked from Tang Bo’s eyes and ears. Even for Tang Pae, the sight and the scent made his stomach churn with unease.
“I will stay. Father entrusted me with this.”
“Young Lord, please leave.” Tang Bo’s voice was firmer now. “I am not asking.”
Tang Pae could not argue against the sudden, sharp hostility in the elder’s glare. He offered a final, respectful greeting before retreating to the bottom of the stairs.
Tang Bo remained still in the empty room. The sweet, sickening scent of the incense drifted through the air, engulfing him. He had never been particularly fond of taking his medicine this way. The smoke lingered for hours afterward, clinging stubbornly to the walls, the furniture, and his robes alike.
Normally, he would inhale the medicine directly through a pipe, delivering its full potency into his lungs. But lately, even drawing a proper breath has become difficult. Burning the medicine into incense and letting him absorb it little by little with each breath was the only method his body could still tolerate.
Even so, the moment he tried to take a deeper breath, a violent cough tore through him.
“Hyung-nim…”
Either it was then or now, it is the only call that never once left his heart.
His eyes slipped shut, and his thoughts drifted gently away from the present. He dreamed of lakes shimmering beneath fireworks, of endless fields of golden wheat swaying beneath the summer wind, of cool rivers brushing against his feet, of sweet mooncakes and bottles of wine emptied one cup at a time.
A certain face emerges from his mind. Unlike before, he is shorter, but aside from that nothing's different.
A pair of orbs where springs of plum blossom lived all year long. A youthful appearance that lacked none of his trademark radiance. He could hear him laughing far too loudly, grinning without restraint, forever dragging him out beneath the open sky despite his endless protests.
There were still mountains neither of them had climbed.
Rivers they had yet to follow to the sea.
Seasons they had never watched arrive together.
For the first time in a hundred years, his heart did not wander back to yesterday.
At last, he dreamed of a tomorrow he wished to share with him.