CH 4
Creak. Jang I-seo stepped out of the library clutching a book.
On a distant rooftop, a figure with frost-like eyes observed him.
“…….”
It was the fox-cunning woman who’d confronted Jang I-seo earlier at Zhuge Library. How she’d scaled that height so swiftly defied logic—the distance wasn’t trivial.
The true astonishment followed.
“Narak (奈落).”
At her composed call of this alias, swish—a silver-haired man materialized behind her in a deep bow.
His jade-pale skin and crescent-moon eyes marked him as strikingly handsome.
“You called?”
“That man. Recognize him?”
Though she didn’t gesture, his gaze instinctively locked onto the black-robed figure ambling in the distance: Jang I-seo.
“No. Shall I investigate?”
“He identified my human-skin mask. At first glance.”
Human-skin mask! Meaning her current visage wasn’t genuine.
Narak’s head tilted in bewilderment. This mask had been crafted by the Demonic Cult’s finest artisan.
Its exposure spelled consequences.
First: the sloppy 2nd-class noble, Golden Dragon Hall Master, would face reprimand for inferior craftsmanship.
Second: Narak himself, as 3rd-class Attendant, bore responsibility for inadequate oversight.
Two high-ranking cult officials punished simultaneously.
“Visit Zhuge Guilong. Learn that man’s identity.”
“Understood.”
Narak vanished like dispersed ash. The woman’s focus remained riveted on Jang I-seo, now scratching his ankle with chicken-bone nonchalance.
“Vulgar wretch…”
Every aspect repelled her—the indolent posture, brazen demeanor, and worst of all, those knowing, sly eyes.
Time passed. Soon Narak reappeared, still prostrated.
“Report.”
“He refused disclosure.”
“What?”
“Claims it concerns someone cherished… Shall I persuade him?”
Narak’s darkened tone implied torturous methods. And he’d succeed.
“Unnecessary. Zhuge Guilong already answered.”
“What?”
Her eyebrow twitched.
“He cited individuals beyond mention—my father and we seven siblings.”
“Why would he…?”
“Investigate. That man’s origins. His motives.”
“By your will.”
Narak vanished with a nod.
Then—
*Riiip—*the mask peeled from her chin.
Beneath lay impossible perfection:
A peerless beauty,
Prime candidate for Demonic Cult succession,
Third Princess of the Ice-Fire Sword Emperor—
Sahaeryeong.
Her curiosity about Jang I-seo had been kindled.
Meanwhile, the seemingly oblivious Jang I-seo—likely to start ear-picking—mused:
‘Her aura chills bones. “Colder than glacial winds”—now I grasp her Heavenly Demon lineage.’
He pretended ignorance of Sahaeryeong’s distant scrutiny, though he’d orchestrated this from the beginning. His library visit targeted her, knowing Zhuge Guilong’s loyalty.
‘Did you think an Amgak spy wouldn’t know you, Sahaeryeong? You’ve forgotten, but I recall even your winter solstice undergarments.’
(Purely accidental knowledge, truly.)
Even without Murim Alliance missions, he’d studied key figures exhaustively. The “Seventh Prince Mao” book? Mere bait for Sahaeryeong.
Yes, you. Third Princ— Gah!
He nearly stumbled in shock.
‘Madwoman! Why remove the mask?!’
As predicted, she’d torn it off. Her body remained swathed in ill-fitting fabric, but her shrunken face now resembled some grotesque puppet.
Is she trying to trick me into thinking she’s watching me? My heart races from the suddenness of it all.
Even in the midst of it.
‘She’s beautiful.’
She was beautiful—stunningly so. Jang I-seo tightly closed her eyes and turned away sharply, forcibly cutting off her gaze.
‘A viperous woman. Danger incarnate.’
The primary target any spy should avoid is precisely this kind of impossibly beautiful flower. Approach carelessly, and you’ll be devoured instead. Moreover—
‘Narak, the 3rd-rank aide. Sahae-ryeong’s right-hand man demands extra caution.’
Narak’s quick wit is matched only by his merciless martial prowess.
The slightest lapse in vigilance would expose all my plans before they even began.
‘I didn’t expect to encounter her this soon. Events are accelerating.’
A faint smile curled at her lips.
The plan was already in motion.
*
“The Seventh Prince, Mao. Nineteen years old. A tall, strapping man with ruggedly masculine features. Recognized for his monstrous dantian potential, he was adopted as the seventh son three years ago.”
A treeless, perfectly rounded hill. At its center stood a small pavilion—a spot historically favored for clandestine talks.
Its open sightlines made eavesdropping impossible.
Jang I-seo stretched lazily on the pavilion floor, flipping through a dossier on Mao.
Common knowledge among cult members:
Scion of the Ma family (one of the Demon Cult’s Three Great Houses), born with the Heavenly Yang Constitution that passively accumulates inner energy—a gilded existence among gilded existences.
However.
“Despite his disciplined appearance, he loathes training, surpasses even cicadas in laziness, and possesses the intellectual depth of a puddle.”
His crowning folly? Pledging the cult leader’s sacred gift—the Azure Dragon Blade—as gambling collateral, cementing his disgrace.
Support withdrawn, his Chilso Palace now stands empty, rumored haunted.
Yet he persists—drinking, gambling, brawling—a textbook wastrel.
Such was the Seventh Prince’s reality.
“The sole exception is his obedience to the Third Princess, Sahae-ryeong.”
That venomous woman, locked in competition with the First and Second Princes for succession, likely saw him as a pawn.
To Mao, she remained his only anchor.
And that very dependency had provoked her.
Snap. Closing the dossier, Jang I-seo rose with a sly smile.
Her gaze fell upon a towering structure at the hill’s base.
“Time to move.”
She descended toward the massive edifice—
The Anti-Espionage Division’s headquarters.
The eight-story headquarters outshone all other departments.
Lanterns of kaleidoscopic hues illuminated corridors floored with intricate bas-reliefs—proof of the division’s immense influence.
Yet even its leader, Grand Master Gyum Sa-ik, deferred humbly before her.
“Third Princess, to what do we owe this honor…?”
Sahae-ryeong stood revealed, Narak at her side, having shed her bulky disguise. Her true attire—crimson and onyx silks—accentuated the twin sacred blades at her waist: Flame Heaven and Ice Sea.
“I believed us closer, Grand Master. Must business alone bring you here?”
The scene bordered on absurdity.
A 1st-rank noble—the cult’s pinnacle of refinement—using honorifics with a 4th-rank functionary? It revealed more about Gyum Sa-ik’s hidden leverage than decorum.
“Haha! You know how precarious these times are.”
His mustache twitched above a calculated smile. Everything about him—shoulder-length curls, battle-hardened bearing—screamed seasoned operator.
He wasn’t wrong. With the succession battle intensifying, faction leaders risked much by openly courting candidates.
“Will you stand with my brothers? Or take my hand? The hesitation is… telling.”
“A humble servant follows his payroll.”
“So you’ll side with the highest bidder.”
“Doesn’t payment demand proportional service?” His chuckle rang hollow.
Sahae-ryeong sighed. Same avaricious fool.
“We’ll keep our dealings transactional, then.”
“As you wish. Now—your purpose here?”
Her gaze turned glacial.
“Let’s discuss your recent dealings with the Seventh Prince.”
“Jang Yi-seo.”
Hm? At the unexpected name, Lord Gyeom tilted his head, perplexed. Why was that damned Third Squad Leader’s name coming from her lips?
“That man. What exactly is his role?”
Sahae-ryeong spoke again, measured and deliberate.
“Let me be direct. Third Squad Leader Jang Yi-seo. Did you send him?”
Narak glanced at the back door, his lips twisting into a chilly smile. He clasped his hands behind his back as if preparing to act. The unspoken threat was clear: at the Third Princess’s order, he’d draw the twin daggers concealed in his belt and slice through Gyeom Sa-ik without a second thought.
Right here, in Gyeom Sa-ik’s own stronghold.
And rightly so.
The competition among the sect leader’s children for succession had intensified lately. Elders, Five Dragon Hall leaders, even countless Daejus—all were embroiled in scheming to secure alliances.
Yet Jang Yi-seo, leader of the sect’s elite spy unit, had seized intel on the Seventh Prince.
Not just any intel—details about Mao, one of Sahae-ryeong’s few trusted aides.
Though merely a Daeju, Gyeom Sa-ik held substantial power and prestige. If he’d sided with the First or Second Prince to undermine her…
Better to spill blood today than risk greater chaos.
“Surely you won’t feign ignorance?”
Struck at her jab, Gyeom Sa-ik stayed silent for a long moment.
In truth, he was dissecting the intent behind Sahae-ryeong’s question.
Jang Yi-seo.
Who was he?
First: A greed-driven lunatic.
Second: A power-obsessed degenerate who reveled in control.
Third: A shameless, mannerless bastard.
So, in summary—
“Jang Yi-seo. A man of unmatched skill. His internal energy may lack refinement, but his innate talent places him among the spy unit’s finest.”
#Did he come here because he’s obsessed with me? (1)
