Chapter 11

***
What is...? Why? How are they already here? I bit my lip nervously. The twin cousins who bullied me endlessly in my previous life had arrived earlier than I remembered.
Baengri Pyo and Soh Wuak were Aunt Euiran’s twin sons and my older cousins. Their last names were different because of a promise that had been made when their parents were married: One child would take the husband’s name, and the other would be raised as a Baengri. Perhaps this promise was the reason, but Aunt Euiran had happened to give birth to twins who were then split accordingly across the two family records.
“Hey! You! Yeah, you two! Come here.” Wuak’s voice was hardly distinguishable from Pyo’s but for a slight difference in intonation. “Don’t go easy on ‘em, Pyo!”
“‘Course!”
Although their last names were different, as expected of twins, they were inseparable.
My father turned toward the commotion, allowing me a glimpse of the training grounds. It was only possible because Father was holding me, as my height would never have allowed me to take a peek otherwise.
“Those are our training grounds,” Father explained, seeing that I couldn’t take my eyes away from them.
Pyo lifted his wooden sword to spar against a boy wearing the uniform of a Baengri disciple. The disciple was much taller and larger than Pyo and seemed to be a few years older than him as well, but Pyo overwhelmed him with his blows until the disciple finally dropped his sword. “Y-you win.”
As soon as he admitted defeat, a few other disciples rushed toward Pyo to flatter him. Wuak scoffed, shrugging his shoulders conceitedly. “Why is everyone so weak? There’s no one here worth fighting.”
“Exactly. This is such a bore. Come on, put your backs into it!” Pyo said. “Who’s next?”
I could feel my father let out a sigh.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
But I knew what it was that he wasn’t saying out loud. Even I can tell.
That disciple had thrown the match. And so did the next one, and the one after that. It was the same for Wuak’s turn in the ring—each disciple repeated the process of letting the twins knock them around for a while then declaring their surrender.
“Father, how skilled are my cousins?” I asked. I couldn’t tell from the useless “sparring” they were doing now.
“Decent technique, but lacking in basics. Unstable centers of balance. They won’t learn anything from spars like—” Father interrupted his sharp assessment to look at me curiously. “How did you know those boys were your cousins? You’ve never met Pyo and Ak before.”
Oops. Come to think of it, he was right. I had never seen them before—at least, not in this life. I had been so surprised to hear their voices that I had forgotten to play dumb.
“Um... Who else my age could request a match against the Baengri disciples? Besides, I figured since they look like twins, they must be Baengri Pyo and Soh Wuak.” I giggled nervously.
“Well spotted. You’re right.” Father nodded at my hasty excuse. “They are indeed your older cousins. Your aunt brought them here a few days ago from the Soh family estate.”
“Did she originally plan to?”
“I’m not sure.” Father also seemed clueless as to why they had returned so early.
I turned my gaze away from the training grounds. Ugh, I need to stay away from them. Those twins had strong personalities—and by strong, I meant horrible. I scratched at the top right corner of my forehead, exactly where the twins had given me a scar in my last life. But now, instead of raised scar tissue, I only felt smooth skin.
Father continued to watch the twins with a sorrowful expression before hugging me tightly. Knowing what he was thinking, I patted him on his back. Don’t worry, Father. I’ll get better soon.
* * *
After that day, I asked my father if we could take our walks somewhere else, and he took me to a different garden without question. In any case, the Baengri clan compound had no shortage of gardens to choose from. Though he did seem to believe that I wanted to avoid the training grounds because I envied the children training there...
We’d just returned to our quarters after our daily walk when my father asked me, “What do you have there?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just bored.” I showed him the cloth that I was practicing my needlework on.
I was always bored after returning from our short walks. Although I was feeling much better, I wasn’t yet at the point where I could run and play—not that I had any friends to play with—and I couldn’t pick up a book in front of anyone else, because I hadn’t been taught to read yet in this life. Tired of having nothing to do all day, I’d taken up sewing, though a six-year-old’s hands weren’t capable of much.
“Ah, I see. It’s a cloud,” Father said.
“It’s a pear flower...”
Father didn’t know what to say, so he changed the subject.
“If you’re bored, why don’t I teach you how to write? I’ll find a tu— No, never mind. I’ll teach you myself.”
“You will?”
“Of course. Why didn’t I think of this before? What have you learned to write so far?”
I stared at him blankly and opened my mouth. I couldn’t remember. Would anyone remember the first words they learned to read, over ten years ago?
“I haven’t had many lessons...” My voice was timid and quiet.
Father simply smiled and patted my head. “It’s all right. We can start over from the beginning. We have lots of time.”
The Baengri family was a martial clan, and there was no mistaking it. The first thing I had learned to wield in this household had been a sword, not an ink brush. It had only been after I became comfortable with a sword that I had been assigned a writing tutor. But all my lessons had disappeared into thin air when I had my qi deviation.
Father brought over some paper and a brush from the other side of the room. We were well supplied with brushes and ink, since my father spent all his time apart from his training these days reading and writing.
He rolled up my sleeves for me and told me, “Try writing anything you can remember.”
I nodded, struggling to hold the brush. The lack of practice made it difficult for my fingers to cooperate.
My father laughed lightly and covered my hand with his to correct my grip.
“Ugh, it’s too hard,” I complained.
“It is for everyone at first.”
My tiny hand shook around the brush. When I finally had it in its proper hold, I lifted my elbow and painted a black line across the white page. Father watched me adoringly as I struggled, and finally nodded with satisfaction.
I’d only met with my writing tutor twice, but my posture was respectably straight and proper. Being a child, I couldn’t help but waver at times, but I tried my best to maintain the proper form.
Father exclaimed with pride at my posture, unaware that it was all due to long practice in my last life, but let out a series of awkward coughs when he saw the writing I’d eked out, my tiny face screwed up in solemn concentration.
My form may have been respectable, but my words were indecipherable. Ignoring my father’s lively reaction, I looked glumly down at the page. I had written the most basic of words: sky, land, man... but... These are just black blobs!
The word earth was a huge mess of black ink, the lines all blurring together. I glanced up at my father, and he nodded for me to continue.
What do I write now...? I pondered for a moment before I continued writing again. When I was done he lifted the paper, still wet with ink, and examined it with furrowed brows for a long while before turning toward me with a surprised look on his face.
“Isn’t this my name?”
How did you figure that out?! I almost applauded him. Only a father’s true love could allow him to decode such a mess.
“Eui” for “purpose,” and “gang” meaning “steadfast.” An appropriate name for Father.
“Yes, that’s right!” I giggled bashfully. At Father’s long silence, I looked up and was surprised to find his eyes red-rimmed. No... Again?! Father, have you always been so sentimental?
“I was never by your side, and yet you still learned to write my name.”
I stopped my confused fluttering, got up on my chair, and wiped his tears away with my sleeves. “What are you crying for, Father? From now on, I’ll write it for you over and over again.”
He let out a low sigh and hugged me. “You shouldn’t stand on your chair. It’s dangerous.”
“All right...”
As Father put me gently down on the ground, a dry cough sounded from beyond the door. “Ahem, hm. Master Euigang, are you inside?”
“What is it?” Father said.
“There’s someone here with a message from the clan leader.”
Father’s expression stiffened as he righted himself, but it was obvious from his red eyes that he’d just been crying. “Send him in.”
I’d assumed that he’d obviously keep his visitor waiting until he’d regained his composure, so I was caught by surprise. “Wait, Father—!”
I tried to warn him but was too late to stop the servant from entering. And the moment he caught sight of Father’s face... “Ack!”
“What is it?” Father said.
The servant was dumbstruck.
“You there,” my father prodded again.
“Ah, m-my a-apologies, my lord. I was distracted for a moment.”
Master Euigang, shedding a tear? Was he hallucinating? The servant was flabbergasted but didn’t have the courage to check the fourth young master’s face again. “The reason... the reason I am here is... um...” He stammered for a long moment, frantically trying to remember what had brought him here in the first place.
“Oh, that’s right! Lord Paehyuk would like for you to join him at Whiteguard Hall for dinner. Master Euimook, Miss Euiran, and the young masters and young miss will be attending as well.”
“Understood.”
“He has also instructed that the young miss Yeon accompany you.”
At those words, Father’s face grew hard as stone.

Chapter end