Chapter – 07
“Open up. Ah.”
Hwarun looked at Ryeon as if she were being ridiculous, then silently opened his mouth.
He obediently accepted the pieces of yakgwa she broke off and fed him one by one.
The sight of him nibbling at them like a baby bird made Ryeon smile.
“Tasty? This is one of my favorites.”
“Yeah, well… it’s good.”
“But…”
“…?”
Staring at the yakgwa that was only half eaten, Ryeon suddenly grinned.
Even if he’s the Young Lord of the Heavenly Demon Cult… two years is still two years. Just counting the number of bowls of rice—three, six, nine, twelve… over two thousand!
She flicked him sharply on the forehead.
“And where do you get off speaking casually to your older sister, you little brat?”
“…”
Ryeon put her hands on her hips and scolded him, but Hwarun looked utterly stunned.
He looked as though he had just witnessed someone get struck by lightning and stand right back up—or as though he himself had been struck by lightning.
So shocked was he that he dropped the worn basket he had been holding.
Seeing his reaction, even Ryeon flinched.
“W-Was it that painful? I barely touched you… it was just a tiny flick…”
“No… it didn’t hurt…”
“Really? Then take this too!”
“…!”
She flicked him once more.
Hwarun jerked back and took a step away, rubbing the top of his head several times before staring at her with an incredulous expression.
Then, suddenly, he laughed.
“…?”
A moment later, he stopped laughing and carefully examined her face from every angle.
For a long while.
Long enough for Ryeon to tilt her head in confusion.
“Hmm. I should go now.”
Perhaps because she had scolded him for speaking casually—or perhaps because he was humoring her—he spoke politely this time.
When he suddenly announced that he was leaving, Ryeon blinked in surprise.
“Huh? Now? Already?”
Hwarun nodded and picked up the basket he had dropped.
Ryeon stuffed the remaining yakgwa into his mouth, then hurried over to where Nursemaid Jang was hiding and grabbed an umbrella.
She rushed back and held it out to him.
“Take this first. It’s raining… And I feed the chickens here every morning. If you come around this time, you can find me. Got it? You have to come visit.”
Hwarun tried to avoid taking the umbrella, moving his hands this way and that, but Ryeon firmly caught one of them and forced it into his grasp.
He looked at her for a moment, then nodded once and turned around.
Still feeling strangely restless, Ryeon stopped him again before he could leave and stuffed all the yakgwa and glutinous rice cakes she was carrying into his arms.
Hwarun looked at her as if asking why she was giving him all of this, but when she pushed him gently from behind, he stopped refusing and simply walked away.
As Ryeon stood there blankly watching his back disappear into the distance, Nursemaid Jang hurried over.
“Miss!”
“Oh, Nursemaid.”
Nursemaid Jang wiped Ryeon’s hands with a thin cloth and draped an outer robe over her head to shield her from the rain before carefully examining her face.
“Miss, do you like that boy?”
Ryeon swallowed the complicated emotions rising inside her and forced a smile.
Like him?
That wasn’t the issue at all…
“…If you ever see him, be nice to him, okay? Make sure he gets something delicious to eat too.”
At her earnest request, Nursemaid Jang nodded, though she could not completely hide the concern on her face.
These days, Danmok Cheongi had a particular headache.
His eldest granddaughter had absolutely no sense of reading the room.
“If you come here every single day, do you think it will change my mind?”
“No?”
“…Then if you know that, why do you keep coming?”
“Huh? Because I want to see Grandfather.”
Her tone made it sound like the most obvious thing in the world.
Danmok Cheongi found himself speechless.
“Ahem.”
“Ah! I fetched the water for tea today. From the stream behind Wolyeong Pavilion.”
“What if you had fallen into the water…?”
“Gangrip came with me. I’ll make the tea for you today, Grandfather.”
Danmok Cheongi groaned and waved a hand.
Do whatever you want.
That was what the gesture meant.
His granddaughter immediately began moving her hands.
Every motion flowed as naturally as water.
What…?
While organizing the tea leaves, Danmok Cheongi watched her with strangely flickering eyes.
He had been surprised when she first woke up and came to thank him for the Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure.
His granddaughter behaved as though the burn scars covering her face simply did not exist.
At the time, he had assumed that since she had only recently awakened, she simply could not yet distinguish between what was ugly and what was not.
Yet ever since then, she had come to visit him every day.
She never did anything special.
She merely sat with him for about an hour, sipping the tea he prepared and chattering about trivial things before leaving.
But throughout those long visits, she never slouched, never appeared bored, and never found the occasional silences awkward.
Wasn’t a supreme master someone who could perceive the truths of the world from a single falling leaf?
From Danmok Cheongi’s perspective—a man who had once dominated the martial world—there were unmistakable signs of extraordinary potential.
Even so, this is absurd. Is it because of the marrow cleansing and body reconstruction? No… surely not…
The way she arranged the tea set, measured the tea leaves into the gaiwan, poured hot water over them, swirled the leaves to awaken their fragrance, and inhaled the aroma—
Every movement was exactly like his own.
It was enough to make him entertain ridiculous thoughts about the effects of the marrow-cleansing treatment.
But more than anything else, watching this tiny child maneuver a teacup barely larger than her own hand stirred something strange in his chest.
“Grandfather, here.”
With all her concentration focused on brewing the tea, she had unconsciously puffed out her lips.
She held out the teacup she had prepared for him, but her short little arms could not even reach halfway across the table.
Danmok Cheongi almost laughed.
He covered it with a cough and wrapped his hand around the teacup she offered.
Closing his eyes, he savored the tea.
The liquor was clear and bright.
The fragrance was deep and elegant.
A natural sweetness lingered in his mouth.
But was this tea always this good?
Back when the clan had prospered, he had tasted every kind of rare tea imaginable.
Now, however, that was no longer the case.
For years he had grown accustomed to old, stale tea leaves.
Yet the tea brewed by his granddaughter reminded him of the exquisite teas he had enjoyed during the most glorious days of his life.
Its flavor was as pure and refreshing as spring water.
With each sip, both his breathing and his body seemed to relax.
And it was made from exactly the same tea leaves he himself had brewed only days earlier.
“How is it?”
“…”
Suppressing his surprise, he continued savoring the aroma.
Even the constant pain that had lingered since the battle with Blood Luo Valley decades ago—a pain originating from his damaged dantian—seemed to ease little by little.
This… doesn’t feel like my imagination.
When he opened his eyes, he found his granddaughter staring at him with sparkling eyes.
She was waiting for his opinion.
“…Your skill is not bad.”
Did she take after her father?
His eldest son had also possessed a refined appreciation for tea and would occasionally sit with him and enjoy its fragrance.
Danmok Cheongi remembered that son—the one who had left the world before him—and fell silent.
Thinking of his son felt like a nail driven through his heart.
But could that pain compare to the feelings of a daughter who had never even seen her father’s face?
“You should practice the tea ceremony instead of making things like glutinous rice cakes.”
He had only spoken to redirect his thoughts, but a shadow immediately crossed his young granddaughter’s face.
Internally, Danmok Cheongi regretted the remark, but he did not take it back.
After all, there had been a time when she had brought him homemade sweet red bean glutinous rice cakes during her morning greeting.
The filling had been so sweet it became bitter.
The rice cake itself had been nearly impossible to chew.
And after he finished eating, a strange minty freshness lingered in his mouth.
He was an old soldier who had seen war.
To him, food was a necessity, not a pleasure.
He had never cared much for snacks or gourmet delicacies.
He simply ate whatever was placed before him.
The only luxury he allowed himself was tea.
Even that had become limited after the clan’s decline, leaving him to sip old tea leaves sparingly.
Yet even for someone like Danmok Cheongi, those clumsily made red bean rice cakes had possessed a truly astonishing flavor.
At the time, he had assumed she was simply too young to cook properly.
But seeing how skillfully she brewed tea now, it was obvious that cooking was simply the one thing she was bad at.
Secretly, Danmok Cheongi resolved that when the day came for his granddaughter to marry, he would make sure the finest chef in Zhejiang Province accompanied her as part of her dowry.
“But the tea…”
His granddaughter muttered softly, trailing off.
The thought crossed his mind that praising her further might make her arrogant.
Yet he could not bring himself to speak harshly.
“Didn’t I tell you? For this much, you did well.”
Only then did the shadow leave her face, replaced by a smile.
For a brief moment while his granddaughter had looked dejected, Danmok Cheongi realized he had forgotten the taste of the tea.
Now he could taste it again.
Warm.
Gentle.
And sweet.
