MUC 21

Chapter 21

Dokgo Haeryang let out a sigh as he looked toward the place where Eun Sowol and Dokgo Ryung had just left.

He resolved to protect her no matter what. After all, she was the only child of Dokgo Hwayoung.

Not being able to stop Dokgo Hwayoung from leaving had remained a lifelong regret.

“Uncle, I feel suffocated in this household. Even when I became the heir, I felt more burden than joy. Until now, I’ve lived to meet the expectations of Father and others. But from now on, I want to live for myself.”

The last time they spoke, Dokgo Hwayoung had already lost her inner energy core.

Her complexion was pale, her lips cracked—it wouldn’t have been surprising if she collapsed right then. And yet, paradoxically, she had looked brighter than ever before.

That expression was exactly the same as the one he had just seen on Eun Sowol’s face.

‘…Did Hwayoung say she sent a letter to Dokgo Ryung?’

He’d checked to see if she had reached out to the Dokgo clan for help, but there were no such letters. It turned out she had only written to Dokgo Ryung.

“She really is Hwayoung’s daughter…”

How was it that both mother and daughter—despite sharing the same blood—hated the Dokgo clan so deeply?

Lost in thought, Dokgo Haeryang lifted his head.

“You can come out now, Clan Leader.”

A shadow appeared on the rooftop. Dokgo Ildo landed lightly in front of him.

“When did you know?”

“From the moment Sowol slapped Dokgo Ryung.”

“…”

“Isn’t the child just like Hwayoung? When no one else dared move, she just went and slapped him—though I don’t think she really meant it.”

Unlike the smiling Dokgo Haeryang, Dokgo Ildo remained expressionless as if he didn’t know how to smile.

In truth, he had arrived the moment the commotion started. He’d heard everything Eun Sowol said.

He was aware that his grandsons occasionally bullied servants or other children. So he didn’t doubt the truth in her words.

“Are you really okay with letting the child go?”

“Is there a reason not to?”

“She’s your only link to Hwayoung. And because of her illness, Dokgo Ryung will suffer quite a bit.”

“…Are you worried about Dokgo Ryung?”

“Let’s say it’s concern. Getting older makes you regret more things. I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“…”

Dokgo Ildo wanted to deny it, but Haeryang wasn’t wrong.

He had never wanted Dokgo Ryung. Never cared for him. But when he heard that Ryung had disappeared into the forest, a strange emotion had overtaken him.

Even knowing that Lady Ryu Heerang had orchestrated it, he hadn’t blamed her. After all, even if Ryung had been brought back, his life here wouldn’t have changed.

He’d decided to consider he had only one true son going forward. But then…

“Clan Leader! A man identifying himself as Dokgo Ryung has come to the front gate!”

The moment he heard Ryung was alive and saw his face—he regretted it.

Why had he treated his own son so coldly just because he was illegitimate?

“We haven’t diagnosed it properly, but her condition will be difficult to cure. And expensive.”

Dokgo Ildo snapped out of his thoughts at Dokgo Haeryang’s remark.

“Sure, he might not worry about food, especially with the nickname ‘Gwangryong’ and the money we gave him… but whether he can keep her healthy, that’s uncertain.”

“Right… I did give him money.”

Haeryang had spoken out of concern for Ryung, but Ildo interpreted it differently.

Sensing lingering regrets in the clan leader’s expression, Haeryang smiled.

“They probably haven’t gone far.”

“…I’m just going for a walk.”

And just like that, the clan leader vanished into the air.

“Still as indirect as ever,” Haeryang murmured.

“Last time you wore expensive clothes—why are you back in rags again?”

“What part of this is raggedy?”

“It’s rougher than silk.”

“Silk is uncomfortable. It feels like I’m wrapping a snake around my whole body.”

“Only you would say something like that about something so soft.”

“You’d probably float if I tossed you into water, you talk so much your mouth never shuts.”

“Wuuu!”

When Dokgo Ryung grabbed Eun Sowol’s plump lips, she gave a tiny protest.

Chuckling, Dokgo Ryung suddenly stopped walking. The gentle warmth in his eyes cooled to caution.

“Uncle, what’s wrong—”

Rustle—

Just as she was about to ask, a presence appeared behind them.

Startled, Eun Sowol turned to find herself locking eyes with the stern, hands-behind-his-back figure of Dokgo Ildo. Her heart dropped instinctively.

Dokgo Ryung immediately pulled her closer to his chest and glared at the older man.

“Why now? You just stood by until now—why move only at this moment?”

“…So you knew.”

“Hard not to. That burning gaze from the rooftop was impossible to miss.”

‘Wait, what? Is he saying Grandpa was watching us from the roof and heard everything?!’

“So, you’re really taking her with you?”

“There’s no way I could leave a child in this awful house. You know better than anyone what it’s like to be unwanted—and yet you ignored it. I refuse to let her turn out like me.”

“Do you think raising a child is easy?”

Dokgo Ryung’s brow twitched.

“There’ll come a day you’ll regret taking her.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. That day will never come.”

‘Yeah! Uncle isn’t like you! You didn’t even check on me when I was sick!’

Eun Sowol couldn’t speak up in the serious atmosphere, but her heart cheered for her uncle.

“Even if the child falls gravely ill, needs countless herbs, and you must seek life-and-death physicians?”

“Strange question. She’s healthy enough to talk nonstop—what kind of illness could she possibly have…?”

“You never know what life will throw at you. Are you sure she’ll never fall ill?”

Dokgo Ryung hesitated at the serious tone.

He glanced down at the girl nestled in his arms. She had just been pretending to punch Dokgo Ildo, but when she noticed Ryung’s gaze, she flashed a sheepish smile and hid her fists.

“If she ever does fall gravely ill, all the more reason not to leave her here. You’d just neglect her because treatment takes too much effort.”

Dokgo Ildo remained silent for a long time.

That silence was so heavy, it made Ryung uneasy.

Then—

“Take this.”

Thunk.

Dokgo Ildo tossed something at his feet.

It was the money pouch Ryung had left behind and Dokgo Hwayoung’s treasured sword—Bonguhwa Sword.

Ryung frowned slightly. The money he could understand, but why the sword?

“From the moment Hwayoung received it, it ceased to belong to this house. It’s hers. And it’s better the child keeps it than us reclaiming it.”

Dokgo Ildo slowly closed his eyes.

“If the day ever comes when the child becomes too much for you, return. I’ll grant you one more chance.”

And just like that, he vanished.

Warm spring wind blew gently past Ryung and Sowol’s cheeks as cherry blossom petals fluttered around them.

Eun Sowol, still clinging to Dokgo Ryung’s neck, poked at the intricate engraving on the scabbard of Bonguhwa Sword tucked haphazardly into his pouch.

“You should’ve just sold it or tossed it—why did you keep it?”

“Keep what?”

“That sword. It must be expensive. Why didn’t you just keep it for yourself instead of giving it back to them?”

Ryung clicked his tongue, narrowing his eyes.

“What kind of stuff have you been watching to be so money-obsessed already…”

“What? I just don’t want that wicked old hag to have even a scrap of help from me!”

“Ah, so that’s how you justify being so petty.”

“Ugh! You’re so mean! You’re the worst, Uncle!”

She pounded her tiny fists against his back—not even close to a massage.

“Tsk. Doesn’t even feel good.”

“Uncle!”

“…I didn’t give that sword back for their sake.”

Ryung stopped teasing and continued.

Sowol also froze mid-punch.

“That sword is proof that you’re Hwayoung’s daughter. I gave it to keep you safe—not to return anything. Your mother wouldn’t want them to have it either.”

“But it’s a famous sword. Weren’t you tempted to use it?”

“Me? Use that?”

Ryung snorted.

“I’m not picky about weapons, but that one doesn’t suit me. It’s too light, too sharp. I like clunky things.”

“Now that I think about it, Uncle really likes cheap stuff.”

He hated silk, disliked fancy swords, and always ate the cheapest noodles and liquor at inns…

He really was a thrifty man.