The Return of the Namgoong Clan's Granddaughter-Chapter 42

Seolhwa looked at Namgoong Mucheon.

She had broken the rules, yes—but she didn’t regret it. The Twelve Moons would never have revealed themselves unless she made the first move.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Namgoong Mucheon.

“I brought this problem upon myself, so I believed it was my responsibility to resolve it.”

“That sense of responsibility gave you the right to deceive the elders of your clan?”

“You wouldn’t have let me go if I hadn’t.”

“I wasn’t trying to imprison you. I was trying to protect you.”

“Grandfather.”

Seolhwa raised her head and met his gaze.

Her eyes did not waver. They were clear and firm—unyielding.

“If you tell me not to eat, I won’t eat. If you order me to take a beating, I’ll take it. Whether it’s for three days or a whole week, I’ll endure it.”

“...What?”

“I’ll accept whatever punishment you decide. All of it, if that’s what it takes to ease your anger and that of the elders. So please—”

From the moment she deceived Seop Mugwang and scaled the wall, she had accepted that punishment would come.

She wasn’t afraid of that.

What Seolhwa did fear was something else entirely.

“Just don’t bind my hands and feet.”

Being controlled, watched, and restrained under the guise of protection—just because she was a child.

Being rendered powerless to act.

What terrified her most... was the thought of knowing the future yet being unable to change anything, doomed to repeat her past life’s tragedy.

“I didn’t come back to be protected. If I were afraid of them, I would’ve hidden deep in the mountains, where no one could find me.”

There had been a brief moment after her return when she considered such a life—fleeing to some place the Blood Demon couldn’t reach, and living quietly until death.

If she vanished into the deep mountains, she’d never have to confront Namgoong’s downfall, nor be used again.

But that thought hadn’t lasted long.

“Would Namgoong truly be safe if I disappeared?”

No.

If she vanished, the Blood Demon would simply take another child from Namgoong—train them as the next Heaven’s Bane Sword. Even if not a direct descendant, he would find someone in the collateral branches. He would use Namgoong to destroy Namgoong.

The Blood Demon was a man pathologically obsessed with achieving his goals.

If that was the case, then it was better to keep his interest focused on herself. At least then, the other children of Namgoong might remain safe.

“I came back to fight. If I’m not allowed to fight... then I have no reason to stay here, Grandfather.”

“You...”

Namgoong Mucheon opened his mouth to say something, but the words never came. His lips closed again.

The child’s eyes were full of conviction.

She acknowledged her wrongdoing—but she felt no shame in the path she had chosen.

Namgoong Mucheon realized something.

This child’s will cannot be broken.

Even if he were to relive the previous night, the child would still make the same choice. She would still choose to fight.

The look on his face grew complicated as he stared at Seolhwa.

What could he possibly say to a child who owned her decision so firmly—yet still asked for punishment? Who saw discipline as °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° natural, even deserved?

And yet, as a grandfather... how could he leave his granddaughter exposed to such danger?

“I won’t die so easily.”

“....”

That final statement from Seolhwa shook Namgoong Mucheon’s already tangled emotions even further.

That promise—not to die—

It was the one thing she could say, knowing exactly what worried him most. It was the only reassurance that truly mattered.

“I’ll do everything I can to survive. I’ll try not to get hurt. So, please...”

“....”

“Will you protect me... just enough to make sure I don’t die?”

Namgoong Mucheon let out a slow breath and gently closed his eyes.

She was a child dulled to emotion. Dulled to sensation.

And perhaps because of that, she didn’t know how to hide what she truly felt.

Her honesty—her integrity—was always unmistakably real.

Even her quiet threat to leave if locked away... it wasn’t childish rebellion. It was the simple truth.

She’s lived such a harsh life... I only wanted her to grow up peacefully for once.

But the child had chosen to walk a path of thorns.

She was willingly throwing herself into a war of blood.

And what parent can win against their own child? Let alone a grandchild like this.

This had always been a battle he could not win.

“One does not tell a woodsman to avoid the mountain just because there are tigers.”

His voice, heavy with resignation, came quietly.

“If you say you must fight... I won’t stop you anymore.”

“...!”

“But.”

Namgoong Mucheon opened his eyes and looked at her.

His gaze had grown even more serious.

“You must accept my conditions. I have a duty—both as your grandfather and as the Clan Head—to protect you.”

Seolhwa nodded obediently.

Namgoong Mucheon raised one finger.

“First. You are never to deceive me again as you did this time. No more acting alone without informing me. If you plan to do something, you must at least tell me.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

He raised a second finger.

“Second. I will assign you a bodyguard. No matter how mature you act, you are still thirteen. Until the day you reach twenty years of age, you will remain under the clan’s protection. However—if you reach the pinnacle of mastery before then, I won’t enforce that condition.”

The pinnacle of mastery—a level many fail to reach even in a lifetime.

Yet Namgoong Mucheon had no doubt that Seolhwa would attain it before long.

Seolhwa, too, had already reached beyond that realm in her past life. The condition didn’t seem unreasonable to her.

“Twenty... and the pinnacle of mastery. That may line up...”

If she pushed herself harder, she might reach that realm even sooner.

Seolhwa nodded with confidence.

“I’ll do it.”

He hadn’t exactly expected her to object to the conditions—but her response was overly confident.

As though she was certain she would reach the pinnacle of mastery.

Namgoong Mucheon stared quietly at Seolhwa, then let out a faint chuckle.

“What am I to do with this pitiful child...”

“...?”

“Seolhwa.”

His large, calloused hand gently stroked her head.

It was still as hard and solid as stone.

“Don’t try to bear everything on your own.”

“....”

“You and I are family. Just as you care about Namgoong, I care about you. So when the time comes... you can ask this grandfather of yours for help.”

Family...

Seolhwa found herself silently mouthing the word.

She understood the concept of family—but not the meaning.

What did it mean, to ask for help just because someone was family?

No—was it only help?

In her past life, the people of Namgoong had willingly given their lives for each other. Had willingly suffered for one another’s sake.

Even Namgoong Cheongun had ultimately sacrificed his life for her—someone who had been his enemy for over twenty years.

What was family, to make people act like that?

“....”

While Seolhwa sank deeper into thought, Namgoong Mucheon—watching his granddaughter sit quietly beneath his hand—gave one last bittersweet smile before rising from his seat.

Seolhwa looked up at him.

“Your father should be back soon. I’ll take my leave.”

Her eyes widened.

She blinked with surprise, and Mucheon, noticing, tilted his head slightly.

“...Do you have something to say?”

With her brow faintly furrowed, Seolhwa hesitated, then spoke in a quiet, uncertain voice.

“...Aren’t you going to punish me?”

A small twitch appeared at the center of Namgoong Mucheon’s brow.

He let out yet another weary sigh and rubbed his temple.

“Seolhwa.”

He lowered himself to one knee.

Now eye-level with her where she sat, he placed his hands on her shoulders and met her gaze.

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“I promise. No matter what happens—I will never hit you, nor let you go hungry.”

“...Why?”

Was there a punishment even more certain than that?

“I don’t know what kind of life you lived for those eight years... but here, in Namgoong, we don’t punish children by beating them.”

His grip on her shoulders tightened slightly.

“Discipline is meant to guide a child so they can understand their mistakes. It is never a reason to hurt them.”

Seolhwa gave a small nod.

She didn’t understand everything he said—but she understood that she wouldn’t be punished.

“You were wrong to deceive the elders... but you returned safely. So this time, we’ll let it go.”

Namgoong Mucheon stroked her head once more, then rose to his feet.

“Now get some rest.”

He bowed slightly in farewell and began to turn away.

But the sudden pressure of a small hand gripping his own stopped him mid-step.

He turned halfway back to see the child clinging tightly to his hand.

“Grandfather.”

Seolhwa’s voice was quiet.

Her small hands could barely wrap around one of his.

But still, she held on tightly.

“...Help me.”