Chapter 9: The Secret in the Study
“Brother, I greet you this morning. Did you sleep well last night?”
Hugong tilted his head and chuckled softly.
“Yes, it seems you slept well too. Your eyes are swollen.”
“Haha! Thanks to you, Brother.”
Yoon burst into laughter, his eyes puffy and bruised.
His expression radiated pure brightness.
‘This rascal... he’s a real man.’
Then Yoon said something unexpected.
“Brother, there’s a place I’d like you to accompany me to for a moment.”
“Huh?”
“Father wishes to see you.”
“What??”
To Beomhang, Yoon’s father was his “uncle”—his paternal uncle.
Hugong was startled because he’d never met this uncle before. Of course, Hugong himself hadn’t shown interest or asked about him. But logically, the uncle should have visited first, especially since his nephew had survived poisoning and teetered between life and death.
“Ah, I’ve been neglectful. Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
“So this is where you’ve been.”
“Yes. Come in.”
The family head greeted them first as they entered the room with Beomyoon.
Another man sat on the bed.
The middle-aged man, visibly ill, had a gaunt face strikingly similar to Yoon’s.
Hugong understood the situation.
‘He didn’t refuse to come—he couldn’t.’
If he was bedridden, how could he visit anyone? It seemed impossible to find anyone in Cheonhwaseogo who wasn’t broken in some way.
The family head had attempted a double suicide, the uncle lay bedridden, and one cousin was lost to drink and gambling.
Even the maids and guards bore exhausted, gloomy expressions. Only Songhwa had recently begun to brighten.
“You’ve changed greatly, as I heard. They say you disciplined Yoon?”
“……Yes.”
“Thank you. Thank you. To live to see this day…… This uncle is overjoyed.”
After brief greetings, Hugong took Uncle Beomgang’s hand. It was slender and weak.
“Where does your illness lie? My memory is……”
“Ah, well……”
Their eyes met.
Uncle Beomgang’s pupils trembled.
After a moment, the uncle awkwardly turned his head away.
Hugong didn’t miss the reaction.
‘Avoiding eye contact?’
The uncle feared his nephew.
Speaking with evasive eyes, the uncle said, “It’s no physical ailment. Merely a sickness of the heart. I’ll recover soon.”
“If it’s the heart, then the cause must be……”
Beomhang, undoubtedly.
Hugong easily deduced.
If he couldn’t meet his eyes, Beomhang must have inflicted deep emotional wounds.
All of Cheonhwaseogo’s corruption stemmed from Beomhang.
Hugong continued, anger lacing his voice.
“……It must be because of Yoon.”
As Hugong finished and glanced at Yoon, the younger man behind him startled, stumbling back on his crutch.
The uncle smiled faintly.
“Correct. It’s because of that boy.”
“I’ve neglected my siblings until now. But you needn’t worry anymore.”
“Haha, thank you. Don’t hold back—scold him whenever possible. If Yoon hadn’t drowned in drink, I wouldn’t be lying here like this.”
“Of course.”
The conversation flowed calmly until Hugong exited the room.
The three generations left behind fell silent.
Soon, Uncle Beomgang’s complexion changed.
“Father, is that truly Beomhang?”
“It is.”
“He’s a different person. That… isn’t Beomhang.”
Family Head Beomcheon snorted.
“Didn’t I say? His temperament wholly changed after surviving the blood poison.”
“But even so… How could this… I… I…”
When his son choked on tears, the family head grasped his hand.
“Now that the eldest has transformed, it’s time for you to rise too.”
“Father, I can breathe again. The stone in my chest has vanished.”
Beomyoon, listening silently, wiped his tears.
His father had wasted away for years because of the eldest brother.
Attempts to reform Beomhang’s heart had cursed him with this sickness.
Facing Beomhang shattered everyone’s spirit, leaving them listless and drained. Beomyoon himself had fled under pretexts to avoid the same fate.
“Father, Big Brother struck me while urging me to live properly. He’s no longer the shadow of death he once was.”
“Yes. You must stop running now. Being struck means nothing. Endure it if you must, but stay close.”
“Yes.”
The three generations embraced, weeping until the room became a sea of tears.
But their joy was short-lived.
Yoon’s sobbing words shattered the moment.
“Our family will prosper now, right? With our genius brother awakened at last. I truly hope his memories never return. Then we could…”
Beomyoon froze mid-sentence.
His grandfather and father stared at him, their earlier joy replaced by quaking pupils.
Yoon too paled as realization struck.
If Big Brother’s memories returned, disaster would follow.
Uncle Beomgang clutched his chest.
“Breath… I can’t breathe…”
“Child, breathe! Breathe!”
The family head shouted in panic.
Hugong’s thoughts on memories differed.
‘If only I could recover Beomhang’s memories…’
He wished to fully absorb them.
He’d regained weight and vigor, clearly escaping death’s grasp. But Hugong’s ambitions surpassed ordinary life.
The problem lay in advancing his martial arts.
First, essence, energy, and spirit needed unification.
Only then would his dantian open, accelerating his techniques. But his current body and soul clashed like oil and water, making martial recovery distant.
Absorbing Beomhang’s memories might change this—merging the trio into harmony, truly claiming this body as his own.
Late at night, as Hugong pondered over tea, Songhwa fidgeted nearby.
‘How restless.’
Hugong wasn’t oblivious. His shadowed expression had her anxious, though she dared not ask.
“Songhwa.”
“Yes, Young Master!”
She scurried over as if waiting.
“I have many worries.”
“Wh-what worries, sir?”
She stammered, already uneasy from his grim demeanor.
“I’ve been deep in thought.”
“Th-thinking, sir?”
“Yes. And I realized something.”
“Could it be…”
Songhwa gulped, unable to voice “memories…”
Hugong nodded.
“Your guess is correct.”
“Gasp!”
“Tonight’s dinner was smaller than usual. Only three bowls, wasn’t it?”
“Ah!”
Songhwa’s pale face bloomed with relief.
“Young Master! Shall I prepare midnight snacks?”
“You haven’t gone yet?”
She vanished instantly.
Soon, Hugong summoned his brothers to the rear pavilion, where they grilled meat.
Eating truly was the best remedy for troubled minds.
Full and content, Hugong patted his belly. Yoon and Bumung laughed, slapping their own stomachs.
“Brother, isn’t my stomach louder?”
“Big Brother, my belly’s size makes the noblest sound!”
Hugong roared with laughter.
“What absurd competition!”
“Haha, we must seize any victory!”
Yoon’s laughter faded into earnest gratitude.
“Thank you, Brother.”
The words held layered meanings.
Bumung smiled too.
“I’ve only ever visited your study as a child. Spending time like this under the moon… it’s wonderful.”
Hugong nodded magnanimously.
“Now you two finally seem human. Let’s grill another plate to celebrate.”
Deep night found Hugong restless. Tossing and turning, his mind circled back to memories.
‘Was it merely a body swap with Beomhang?’
This couldn’t continue. Without unifying essence, energy, and spirit, his martial prowess would stagnate as third-rate.
But “memory transfer” posed unique challenges—it required a catalyst beyond time or peace of mind. If he failed to merge the trio in this lifetime…
‘Unacceptable.’
Hugong rose.
He had to act.
He studied the room—Beomhang’s space, imprinted with his presence. Touching walls, staring at landscapes, sitting blankly at tables… Nothing sparked recollection.
Frustration mounted until Bumung’s words resurfaced:
“Since childhood, I had to visit the study to see Big Brother.”
The study—Beomhang’s most intimate space, filled with traces.
Hugong headed there immediately. The personal study adjoined his bedroom via a short corridor.
Lighting a candle, he found three walls of books. Dust coated every volume except one—a pristine copy titled Winter, shelved upside-down in the miscellaneous section.
A bulge midway revealed hidden letters. Five sheets, different dates, all from “Juyang.”
‘Juyang… If Beomhang communicated with outsiders…’
An external accomplice might have enabled the soul transfer.
As Hugong re-shelved the book properly, the bookcase collapsed forward.
