IBTGONFTWC CH 02

I sat blankly, leaning against the bed.

Click—

I heard the door open, but I didn’t turn around. I stayed like that for a while, lost in a daze.

“Miss!”

At the sudden loud voice, I flinched and lifted my head. The one who shouted was Dang Geum, my maid.

“Please get a hold of yourself! Here’s some water for washing. You don’t need help, right?”

I glanced at the brass basin and slowly nodded.

Dang Geum clicked her tongue as if annoyed and left the room.

As her footsteps faded, voices drifted in from beyond the window.

“Why all the noise so early in the morning?”

“She doesn’t respond no matter how many times I call her. She just sits there blankly on the bed all day. She nearly died and came back—did she turn into an idiot or something?”

“The shock must be huge. They say her internal energy is destroyed.”

“Well, who told her to covet an elixir she couldn’t handle? Hmph, serves her right…”

Listening to that conversation made it feel real that I had truly returned to the past alive.

‘Regression…’

And after falling into qi deviation, no less.

Qi deviation referred to the uncontrolled rampage of energy within the body.

Most who fell into it either died or survived as broken shells.

I had barely survived, but my dantian—the core where internal energy gathers—had been completely shattered.

In other words, I had become a cripple who could never use martial arts again.

I was six years old. It had happened only half a year after entering the Baekri family.

Slowly, I rose and walked toward the table. In the rippling water of the basin, the faint reflection of a child’s face appeared.

Sunken eyes, dried lips, hollow cheeks. A face clearly marked by illness.

The child blinked, tilted her head, and lifted and lowered the corners of her lips.

‘My neck… is still attached.’

Yet the sensation of my neck being severed, and that crooked smile in my spinning vision, were still vivid.

Too vivid to dismiss as mere illusion.

The prestigious Baekri family of the orthodox sect.

Its head, Baekri Paehyeok, had three wives and four children. Among them, the youngest son born to the third wife was my father, Baekri Uigang.

A once-in-a-century genius of the sword. Handsome, gentle, yet firm and intolerant of injustice. Perfect both inside and out, with exceptional martial skill.

Naturally, my grandfather had immense expectations for such a flawless son.

And then one day, that very man suddenly brought home a child, claiming she was his daughter.

That was me, Baekri Yeon.

It was like a bolt from the blue. A daughter from a son who wasn’t even married!

And they didn’t even know who the mother was!

Of course, the household was thrown into chaos.

My grandfather raged fiercely and opposed it.

But he couldn’t break my father’s stubborn will. And so, I was registered into the Baekri family.

At the time, I was too young to understand any of this.

And although my father was a genius with the sword, he clearly had no talent for raising children.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left a five-year-old girl he had just brought home in a place like this for over half a year.

Surrounded by people who weren’t welcoming, the child desperately wanted to be acknowledged.

To the point of coveting an elixir far beyond her capability.

That was the setup for the birth of a foolish and greedy villainous extra.

Splash, splash.

After washing my face, I wiped it with a towel.

‘It’s okay. It’s not too late yet.’

In the novel, starting with my father’s death, the fragile balance of the martial world collapsed all at once.

‘And at the center of it was my father’s disciple, Namgung Ryuchung.’

But right now, even the male protagonist, Namgung Ryuchung, was just a little child like me. He hadn’t even become my father’s disciple yet.

And my role had been crucial in bringing them together.

I looked out the window toward my father’s residence.

There were still about ten years until the main event where Namgung Ryuchung would shine—the war between the orthodox and demonic factions.

Which meant there were still about ten years until the incident that signaled its beginning—my father’s death.

‘I have to save him.’

There were far too many suspicious things about my father’s death.

Before, I hadn’t even dared to investigate. Even the protagonist, Namgung Ryuchung, couldn’t uncover the truth—so how could someone like me?

It wasn’t that I wasn’t curious. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel resentment or injustice over my father’s death.

But I knew that my presence would only hinder Namgung Ryuchung.

And most importantly—

I wanted to live.

---

My father’s residence and mine were connected in a square-shaped layout.

As I crossed the inner courtyard and got closer to his quarters, my heart pounded harder. I felt like turning back and hiding in my own room.

I stopped several times along the way, but before I knew it, I was standing in front of his door.

‘You can do this, Baekri Yeon.’

I clenched both fists tightly and glared at the door. To anyone watching, I must have looked like a general heading into battle.

‘Embarrassment is only temporary. You want to save your father, don’t you?’

If my father lived, my chances of survival would increase.

Setting emotions aside, if even someone as strong as him could die in this world, then my dream of surviving safely was unlikely.

‘Baekri Yeon, you can do this. You won’t actually die from embarrassment!’

The first step had already been taken the moment I opened my eyes.

I can do this. I can do this.

After mentally hypnotizing myself, I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again.

As soon as I carefully opened the door, the smell of medicinal decoction stung my nose.

“You’re awake.”

My father slowly stood up from behind a landscape-patterned screen.

As innocently and cutely as possible, I—

“Faaatheeer!”

—let out a scream.

Just before my face could slam into the floor—

Whoosh.

A gust of wind swept past.

When the expected pain didn’t come, I opened my tightly shut eyes. My nose was just a hair’s breadth from the ground. My heart pounded wildly.

“You must be careful.”

My father was holding me by the back of my collar, like a cat carrying its kitten. He hadn’t been close at all—how had he gotten here so quickly?

Rubbing my nose, I looked down at the floor.

‘Ugh, how embarrassing! What was that? I think I stepped on something… what is that? A bamboo slip manuscript?’

Tiny characters were written on thin bamboo strips tied together—something about medicinal herbs.

And it wasn’t just the bamboo slips scattered on the floor. Books piled everywhere, various herbs strewn about—the room was a complete mess.

I raised my head and looked at my father’s face. Dark circles hung under his eyes again today.

‘He stayed up all night again.’

For several days now, I hadn’t seen the lights in his quarters go out. He had also lost quite a bit of weight.

Still dangling from his grip, I stretched out my arms, asking to be held.

After a moment of hesitation, my father said in a stern voice,

“Didn’t I tell you not to run inside the room?”

“Hehe.”

He stared at me with a stiff expression. But I kept my arms outstretched as cutely as possible, pretending I knew nothing.

“Aren’t you going to hold me?”

A trace of hesitation crossed his stern face.

A brief internal struggle.

But the winner was me.

Of course—I was sick!

Proudly settling into his arms, I wrapped my arms around his neck. I felt his body stiffen in surprise.

“Ahem.”

He cleared his throat and glanced around the empty room for no reason.

My first goal: to grow closer to my father.

And physical affection was the easiest way to close the distance between people.

The first time he held me, it had been incredibly awkward. His stiff posture and rigid body made it obvious he had never held a child before.

As for me, across all the lives I remembered, I had never been held by a father.

But now…

Even as he walked quickly, he held me carefully, as if afraid I might fall.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

“Yes.”

“Does your body feel alright?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re in pain, don’t endure it. If you have a fever, you must tell me.”

“Yes.”

“I should have them bring your medicine.”

“Ugh…”

The groan slipped out instinctively.

The medicine my father gave me was always unbearably bitter.

In the past, I would cry and refuse to drink it, while my father would try to force me.

As someone who had lived his life wielding a sword, his methods weren’t exactly gentle. He would simply say, “Drink,” and watch until I did.

If I vomited while forcing it down under his strict gaze, he would have more prepared and make me drink it again.

After repeating that, I had even grown resentful toward him.

‘To be fair, the portions are way too big.’

This time, I obediently drank it—but my weakened body couldn’t handle it and I threw it all up.

After that, my father’s approach changed.

He began feeding it to me spoonful by spoonful himself.

“Why are you becoming more like a child as time goes on?”

A faint smile appeared on my father’s usually stiff face as he tried to hide his worry.

The way he looked at me was full of tenderness.

For some reason, I suddenly felt extremely embarrassed and buried my face in his chest.