The two remaining children and three women came over to Seolhwa’s side.

By now the bandits realized something had gone wrong, but they couldn’t move easily while watching the Deputy Stockade Lord’s face.

After confirming the villagers had retreated to safety, Seolhwa spoke to the Deputy Stockade Lord.

“How about several at once?”

“...What?”

“It doesn’t look like either of us has time to spare.”

“...”

The Deputy Stockade Lord clenched his fist.

‘Insolent wretch...’

She’d dropped only two men and dared to strut in front of him.

Still, as she said, the Deputy Stockade Lord had no time to spare either.

If the underling he sent out just now couldn’t handle her, then no one but himself could face that girl.

“Five of you, attack together! Whoever rips that arrogant brat’s mouth will be rewarded!”

At the shout promising a reward, the bandits surged forward with weapons.

If five rushed her at once, even the strong had no answer—so they thought.

Thinking of the prize to come, their lips curled, unable to hide their grins.

Srrng— Clang! Whoosh— Whooom—

“...”

Seolhwa calmly took stock of their weapons.

‘Seven total.’

If she dropped these, that made seven.

Eight would remain.

‘That Deputy Stockade Lord is the problem, but...’

Even so, that was a number she could handle.

If she was lucky, the stupid bandits would dance to her tune again and let her cut their numbers even faster.

Sss—

The air around Seolhwa settled, all at once, to a cool stillness.

She studied the smirking bandits for a breath.

Tak—

This time, Seolhwa moved first.

‘Ankles, solar plexus, elbow, chest, belly.’

Papapapak—!

Chwaaak—!

In the blink it took to flick an eye, Seolhwa vanished from before the first bandit and reappeared behind the fifth.

Hooo—

A beat late, dust billowed at her feet.

Pupupupup—Thud!

“Aaagh!”

“Ghk!”

“Urk!”

The five bandits crumpled one by one, groaning in pain.

It all happened in an instant.

Before the bandits could even fully raise their weapons, the contest was decided.

Tadatadatadatak!

Seolhwa didn’t forget to rap each of their occiputs on the way down to make sure they were out cold.

Then she looked back to the Deputy Stockade Lord.

His face, mottled red and blue, had long since lost its composure.

Pak!

The Deputy Stockade Lord yanked free the blade he’d jammed into the ground and bellowed.

“What are you doing, you idiots! Attack!!”

At his roar, the remaining bandits rushed Seolhwa in a mob.

The only one who didn’t charge was the man who’d learned his lesson the other day from Seolhwa and her candied-hawthorn stick.

“Kill her! All at once!”

“Eeyaaah!”

Seolhwa’s sharp gaze swept the bandits converging from every side.

But a disorderly mob, no matter how many, posed no threat.

Kagagagak—

Spinning lightly, Seolhwa scraped the ground.

The tip of her staff rasped over the packed dirt, sharpening to a point.

Shwik— Shiiik—!

“Ghk!”

“Aaagh!”

Seolhwa’s staff sliced into the onrushing bandits without mercy.

What she held was no longer a blunt stick.

Swaaek!

“Gyaaah!!”

With each sweep of her arm, a bandit’s tendon parted.

Moving faster than before, Seolhwa carved through the remaining thugs.

It didn’t take long for every last straggler to go down.

Pak!

“Gghk...”

Cracking the final bandit across the nape to drop him finished the situation.

All that remained were the Deputy Stockade Lord and the one bandit who hadn’t rushed her...

“Don’t move!”

Seolhwa turned her head.

While his underlings kept her busy, the Deputy Stockade Lord had seized a child behind her as a hostage.

“Mommyyy!”

It was the very child who had given Seolhwa candied hawthorn a few days ago.

A child who had laughed bright and pure.

At the instant that child burst into a cry of fear, Seolhwa felt as if something inside her snapped—clean through.

Crack.

“!”

The Deputy Stockade Lord flinched and shuddered.

The staff that had not splintered under any weapon until now shattered to pieces in her bare grip.

In the Deputy Stockade Lord’s eyes, a dark, blood-crimson aura began to coil up around the girl.

The girl stepped—tap—closer.

“You think you can get away with this?! If we don’t return, my elder brother will find this village!”

Tap—another step closer.

“He’ll kill every last soul here and burn it all!”

But the girl, unheeding, came another step closer still.

“I—I told you if I move, the kid dies...!”

Terrified, the Deputy Stockade Lord raised the axe-blade higher.

The cold edge was about to touch the child’s nape—

Siiik— Puk—

“Gghk—”

The Deputy Stockade Lord’s head snapped back.

A few drops of blood spattered from his brow.

His massive body toppled backward in slow motion.

Thud—

“Mommyyyy!!”

Thanks to the fallen body, the child came down unhurt and sprinted straight to his mother.

The woman hugged her child and looked to the felled Deputy Stockade Lord.

She jolted in shock.

Between his brows—his eyes still open in death—a thumb-sized sliver of wood was buried.

Still patting her child, the woman looked to the girl.

The black, mist-like shroud that had wrapped her moments ago had vanished without a trace.

****

Once Seolhwa had subdued all the bandits, she untied the villagers.

They hurried to treat the wounded and bound the bandits, penning them at the village edge.

Handing them over to the yamen would only see them freed again; until another way could be found, there was no choice.

“T-two mountains over... maybe three... that’s where their base is...”

The one bandit who hadn’t moved in the end spilled everything.

They were Green Forest, he said—Nakwol Stockade (Falling Moon Stockade).

But they weren’t formally recognized Green Forest; they were waiting for a reply from the Green Forest’s chief, the Green Forest War King.

It had already been three months.

Fearing their tribute might be judged lacking, they’d been roaming to pick villages to plunder.

“H-here.”

The man obediently sketched a map marking Nakwol Stockade’s base.

“Usually, after a raid, they’re back in four days, a week at most. If a week passes and we don’t return, the Stockade Lord will sense something wrong and send men.”

In a week, Nakwol Stockade’s main force would move.

At minimum, only a week remained to prepare.

Seolhwa nodded and tucked the map into her breast.

‘A week.’

In that time, the village would surely prepare as well.

Either flee, or ready themselves to fight.

However—

‘Strike first.’

There were children in the village, and many elders and women.

Men who couldn’t even handle fifteen bandits—how could they stop the main force?

So before they reached the village—

End it all.

“Are you going?”

As Seolhwa left the village without hesitation, someone called out to halt her.

The old woman [N O V E L I G H T] from the Village Inn.

Seolhwa looked back at her and nodded.

Whik—

“!”

The old woman threw something.

Long and weighty, swaddled tight in cloth.

Seolhwa caught it and unwrapped the cloth.

A sword.

“...”

“You had it when you floated down the river. At first, you were as good as dead, so I kept it safe for you. After that...”

Seolhwa looked at the old woman.

The old woman snapped her head aside to avoid her eyes and barked gruffly.

“I hoped you’d live a life far from that sword! You’ve lost your memory... there’s no need to live rough!”

Though she pitched it like scolding, her words overflowed with worry and care for Seolhwa.

A life far from the sword.

A life not rough.

The day the girl floated down the river, she was wounded and looked in terrible pain.

This girl was someone’s daughter, someone’s sister.

Why should she have to suffer such things?

In her heart, the old woman wished the girl would never regain her memory.

If the life before her memory loss had been stained with pain, let it never rise again.

With that wish, she had bound the sword tight.

“It isn’t your fault!”

The old woman tossed the line out and turned her body.

Even to the last moment, she was checking—so that Seolhwa wouldn’t burden her heart over this incident.

Watching the old woman shuffle away, tapping her bent back—tok, tok—Seolhwa suddenly called out.

“Seolhwa...!”

“Hm?”

The old woman turned her head to look at Seolhwa.

Seolhwa set her hand on her chest.

“My name! You said to choose one.”

“...”

“Seolhwa. I decided on that.”

The old woman’s eyebrow arched crookedly.

Then she let out a short laugh and nodded.

“A pretty name.”

“...”

“I’ll fold lots of dumplings, so come again. ...Seolhwa.”

“...!”

Seolhwa’s gaze trembled finely.

The snake had told her, but choosing it as her name was her own decision.

Yet hearing that name from someone else’s mouth was a different feeling again.

A tangle of indescribable emotions made her chest swell and thrum.

“...”

Seolhwa gripped the sword the old woman had returned to her.

Its solid, cold weight coiled around her fingertips.