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Chapter 7
Srrrk—
‘She’s fainted, it seems.’
The head of the Hwangryong clan, Hwang Hyeon-rang, felt the feather-light weight on his back and came to that simple conclusion.
‘But… what was that just now?’
Soaring high above the cliffs, his sharp golden eyes glanced downward. If his instincts were right, what he had sensed earlier had been unmistakably unusual.
He circled the air slowly, tracing faint traces of presence—but whatever it was had already vanished.
‘I’ll have to ask the child later.’
Casting a brief glance at the small figure on his back, Hyeon-rang climbed higher, leaving the ravine behind.
Though he ruled the eastern lands, his purpose in setting foot in the west had not been merely to attend the new Commander of the Spirit Bureau’s celebration banquet.
“I’ve no leisure for banquets. Tell them I’ll be absent.”
“But, my lord, I’ve heard the head of the Qirin clan will attend the Great Antlered Deer’s event.”
“Gi Tae-ha? That man?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then it cannot be helped. I’ll visit the western lands myself.”
For years now, the Qirin clan’s master, Gi Tae-ha, had lived in seclusion. Hyeon-rang had sent messages time and again, but the only answer ever received was, “Now is not the time.”
Yet there was something he had to confirm—something only Gi Tae-ha could answer.
And so, despite his heavy schedule, he had come all this way… only to be disappointed yet again.
“Will the master of the Qirin clan be arriving soon?”
“My apologies, Lord Hwang, but only the young master will attend today.”
“I was told the master himself would be present.”
“That was the initial message, but he later said he could not make it.”
Another dead end.
He thought, perhaps, to meet the young master instead—but the matter he sought to discuss was far too delicate to entrust to anyone else.
Thus, with a heavy heart, he had decided to return home—only to find a child falling from a cliff before his eyes.
More precisely, to collide with one.
Once they had landed safely, Hyeon-rang released his beast form and looked down at the tiny girl cradled in his arms.
A faint scent lingered—familiar to these western woods.
‘Deer? But she’s so small…’
His gaze drifted toward the tiny antlers barely peeking through her hair.
“Ugh…”
Her lashes trembled. Slowly, her eyes opened—large, dark, and round, staring up at him. Then, suddenly—
Her pupils widened like the moon.
“Y-you… You’re a d-dr-dragon!”
“I am no mere dragon,” he replied, lips twitching. “I am the Hwangryong.”
He had meant it as a jest—but the girl’s pale face went even whiter.
Too late, Hyeon-rang remembered that humor was not his strong suit.
“R-really, the H-Hwangryong—hic!”
Startled beyond measure, Seoyu began to hiccup uncontrollably. She lifted a trembling hand to her chest but froze when she realized how close his face was.
Under the thick brows, his golden eyes glowed like molten metal, carrying a cool, sharp intensity. His nose was straight, his lips firmly set—a beauty too cold to be called merely handsome.
‘So this is the lord of the Hwangryong clan…’
But why were their eyes level?
Only then did she realize—he was still holding her in his arms.
Mortified, she flailed.
“S-sorry—hic!”
Apology and hiccup came out together as she covered her mouth with both hands, eyes darting wildly.
Hyeon-rang, feeling awkward, gently set her down.
‘Should I… pat her back? Is that what one does?’
He was accustomed to treating wounds—but comforting frightened children was another matter entirely.
Before he could act, the girl pressed her fingers deftly against her wrist.
Within moments, the hiccups ceased.
Hyeon-rang narrowed his eyes slightly.
‘That was an acupoint technique… and she knew where to press?’
Impressed despite himself, he watched as the child bowed deeply.
“T-thank you for saving my life. I’m from the Great—”
She caught herself just in time.
He was here to celebrate her adoptive father’s house. If she revealed her family name, she risked being taken back—and she couldn’t face that.
“I… I’m just Seoyu. No family name.”
Among the beastkin, orphans often had none.
Fortunately, Hyeon-rang accepted the answer with a nod, his eyes falling upon the worn belt around her waist.
“An herb gatherer? So you fell while collecting herbs?”
“Y-yes… I slipped and—hic…”
Trying to speak, Seoyu suddenly began to sob.
Falling from the cliff had been terrifying enough—but having to call it her own fault broke her heart all over again.
“Do you want to die? Are you trying to make it sound like I killed my own sister?”
The memory of Nok Su-jeong’s voice struck her like a blow.
That last word—sister—had been the cruelest of all.
Not because she believed it, but because she had once wished for it to be true.
‘I knew I could never truly belong to the Great Antlered Deer clan… but still… just once, I wanted to hear it and believe.’
Now, even that word had been poisoned.
All she had left was a single wilted Seolrinhwa, and a pair of useless antlers.
‘I can’t even go to the Qirin clan now. They won’t take me without the flower.’
Her last chance—gone.
Tears dropped like beads onto the snow.
“I-I’m sorry…”
As she hurried to wipe her face with her sleeve—
Srrk.
Hyeon-rang crouched down, lowering himself to meet her gaze.
And then—
“…?”
He lifted both hands, hooked his thumbs and forefingers around his eyes, pulled down the corners, and forced a crooked smile.
‘What… what is he doing?’
The expression was so absurd on such a solemn face that Seoyu forgot to cry.
Then, realizing how ridiculous he must look, Hyeon-rang lowered his hands, muttering,
“When my wife first had our son, she said to do this whenever he cried.”
“…I never got the chance to try it with him.”
The final line carried a quiet ache.
Seoyu found herself wondering what kind of child his son was—and envied him deeply.
‘To have parents who’d think of such things…’
A gentle touch brushed her head.
“Your tears have stopped. It seems it worked for you.”
The corners of his lips—usually a stern line—softened into a faint, kind curve.
Seoyu stared, dazed.
‘If someone like this were my father… how happy would I be?’
A thought forbidden, yet too warm to resist. She clenched her fists, trying to drive it away—
And suddenly, the world tilted.
Her vision blurred, her knees gave way.
“Hey—!”
Hyeon-rang’s startled voice echoed dimly as her body went limp and fell forward.
Seoyu dreamed.
It was a good dream.
She was floating through the clouds—light as air, free as wind.
“All right, all right. Sleep now.”
A tender voice soothed her, wrapping her like a blanket.
For the first time in her life, she slept without fear.
Sometime later, a familiar scent reached her.
‘…This smell…?’
It was clean and fresh—pleasant enough to be mistaken for a flower, but Seoyu knew better.
It was the scent of pimak grass, an herb used for clotting wounds—superior even to burnet root.
‘Someone nearby must’ve been injured…’
Half-dreaming, she tried to think—and then froze.
Wait. She had fallen off a cliff.
Her eyes flew open.
