tshb

Browser lacks capabilities required to play.

Upgrade or switch to another browser.

Loading…

<<if $show_profile is true>><<link "Profile" "Profile">><</link>><</if>> <<if $show_rel is true>><<link "Relationships" "Relationships">><</link>><</if>> <<if $show_personalitems is true>><<link "Personal Items" "Personal Items">><</link>><</if>> <<if $glossary is true>><<link "Glossary" "Glossary">><</link>><</if>>

<h3>relationships</h3>\ <h4><<if $rel_j is true>><span class="stattext">''Jinwol''</span> <<if $j_rel gte 55>>is your young master, the fourth son of the Hua Sect and your childhood friend.<<if $j_rom gte 5>> You’ve felt something odd in your chest when you think about him lately.<</if>><<else>> is your young master, the fourth son of the Hua Sect and your charge.<<if $j_rom gte 10>> [insert romantic overture here????]<</if>><</if>><br><br><div class="stat-bar-group8"><div class="stat-bar-container"><div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">Relationship $j_rel%</div><div class="stat-bar" id="jrel-stat"></div></div></div><<else>>//You have not met this person yet.//<br><</if>> \ <<if $rel_yul is true>><span class="stattext">''Yul''</span> is the newest addition to your generation’s disciples, and is your sajae, or younger martial sibling. <<if $y_rel gte 10 and $y_rom gte 2>>They think of you as an intriguing person.<</if>><br><br><div class="stat-bar-group8"><div class="stat-bar-container"><div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">Relationship $y_rel%</div><div class="stat-bar" id="yrel-stat"></div></div></div><<else>>//You have not met this person yet.//<br><</if>> \ <<if $rel_iseul is true>><span class="stattext">''Iseul''</span>[insert iseul text here]<br><br><div class="stat-bar-group2"><div class="stat-bar-container"><div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">Relationship $i_rel%</div><div class="stat-bar" id="irel-stat"></div></div></div><<else>>//You have not met this person yet.//<br><</if>> \ <<if $rel_r is true>><span class="stattext">''[insert name here]''</span>[insert text here.]<br><br><div class="stat-bar-group2"><div class="stat-bar-container"><div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">Relationship $r_rel%</div><div class="stat-bar" id="rrel-stat"></div></div></div><<else>>//You have not met this person yet.//<</if>></h4>\ [[Return to Game|$return]]

by y. kim

TOSAHOBI

/*Menu*/ <<set $chapterheading to "">> <<set $show_profile to false>> <<set $show_rel to false>> <<set $glossary to false>> <<set $contentwarnings to false>> /*Personality*/ <<set $friendly to 0>> <<set $stoic to 0>> <<set $genuine to 0>> <<set $sarcastic to 0>> <<set $introvert to 0>> <<set $extrovert to 0>> /*Reaction*/ <<set $emotional to 0>> <<set $logical to 0>> <<set $impulsive to 0>> <<set $cautious to 0>> <<set $optimistic to 0>> <<set $cynical to 0>> /*Romance*/ <<set $shy to 0>> <<set $flirtatious to 0>> <<set $charming to 0>> /*Personal*/ <<set $appearance to false>> <<set $sanity to 80>> <<set $health to 85>> /*Relationship Basics*/ <<set $j_rel to 0>> <<set $j_rom to 0>> <<set $rel_j to false>> <<set $rel_yul to false>> <<set $y_rel to 0>> <<set $y_rom to 0>> <<set $rel_iseul to false>> <<set $i_rel to 0>> <<set $i_rom to 0>> <<set $rel_r to false>> <<set $r_rel to 0>> <<set $r_rom to 0>> /*Relationships Specific*/ <<set $jresentful to false>> <<set $j_resent to 0>> /*Relationships Other*/ <<set $hh_resent to 0>> /*Glossary*/ unlockable history stats hereeeeeeeeeeeeeee /*MC*/ <<set $firstname to "">> /*Skills*/ <<set $medicine to 0>> <<set $tactics to 0>> <<set $sword to 0>> <<set $hands to 0>> /*Stats*/ <<set $strength to 0>> <<set $speed to 0>> <<set $agility to 0>> <<set $intelligence to 0>> /*Weapons*/ <<set $weaponp to "">> <<set $weaponm to "">> /*gender*/ <<set $transgender to false>> <<set $gender to "non-binary">> <<set $plur to true>> <<set $they to "they">> <<set $cthey to "They">> <<set $them to "them">> <<set $cthem to "Them">> <<set $their to "their">> <<set $ctheir to "Their">> <<set $theirs to "theirs">> <<set $ctheirs to "Theirs">> <<set $senior to "sajae">> <<set $csenior to "Sajae">> <<set $sibtitle to "sibling">> <<set $csibtitle to "Sibling">> /*looks*/ <<set $haircolor to "jet black">> <<set $hairlength to "">> <<set $hairtexture to "straight">> <<set $hairstyle to "ponytail">> <<set $hairribbon to "red">> <<set $eyecolor to "brown">> <<set $skincolor to "porcelain">> <<set $height to "average">> <<set $attraction to "average">> /*ggender*/ <<set $g_gender to "non-binary">> <<set $g_plur to true>> <<set $g_they to "they">> <<set $g_cthey to "They">> <<set $g_them to "them">> <<set $g_cthem to "Them">> <<set $g_their to "their">> <<set $g_ctheir to "Their">> <<set $g_theirs to "theirs">> <<set $g_ctheirs to "Theirs">> /*mqlgender*/ <<set $m_gender to "non-binary">> <<set $m_plur to true>> <<set $m_they to "they">> <<set $m_cthey to "They">> <<set $m_them to "them">> <<set $m_cthem to "Them">> <<set $m_their to "their">> <<set $m_ctheir to "Their">> <<set $m_theirs to "theirs">> <<set $m_ctheirs to "Theirs">> /*Chapter One*/ <<set $ranlaps to 0>> <<set $ranlap to true>> <<set $truantmc to true>> <<set $sfilling to "">>

/*MC*/ <<widget "nickname">><<switch $nicknameon>><<case true>>$nickname<<case false>>$firstname<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "gender">><<if $gender is "male">>man<<elseif $gender is "female">>woman<<else>>person<</if>><</widget>> <<widget "are">><<switch $plur>><<case true>>are<<case false>>is<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "Are">><<switch $plur>><<case true>>Are<<case false>>Is<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "were">><<switch $plur>><<case true>>were<<case false>>was<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "s">><<switch $plur>><<case true>><<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "es">><<switch $plur>><<case true>><<case false>>es<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "re">><<switch $plur>><<case true>>re<<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "ve">><<switch $plur>><<case true>>ve<<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "do">><<switch $plur>><<case true>>do<<case false>>does<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "ies">><<switch $plur>><<case true>>y<<case false>>ies<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "self">><<switch $plur>><<case true>>self<<case false>>self<</switch>><</widget>> /*Guksa Gender*/ <<widget "g_are">><<switch $g_plur>><<case true>>are<<case false>>is<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "g_Are">><<switch $g_plur>><<case true>>Are<<case false>>Is<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "g_were">><<switch $g_plur>><<case true>>were<<case false>>was<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "g_s">><<switch $g_plur>><<case true>><<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "g_es">><<switch $g_plur>><<case true>><<case false>>es<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "g_re">><<switch $g_plur>><<case true>>re<<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "g_ve">><<switch $g_plur>><<case true>>ve<<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "g_do">><<switch $g_plur>><<case true>>do<<case false>>does<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "g_ies">><<switch $g_plur>><<case true>>y<<case false>>ies<</switch>><</widget>> /*Mrl Gender*/ <<widget "m_are">><<switch $m_plur>><<case true>>are<<case false>>is<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "m_Are">><<switch $m_plur>><<case true>>Are<<case false>>Is<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "m_were">><<switch $m_plur>><<case true>>were<<case false>>was<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "m_s">><<switch $m_plur>><<case true>><<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "m_es">><<switch $m_plur>><<case true>><<case false>>es<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "m_re">><<switch $m_plur>><<case true>>re<<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "m_ve">><<switch $m_plur>><<case true>>ve<<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "m_do">><<switch $m_plur>><<case true>>do<<case false>>does<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "m_ies">><<switch $m_plur>><<case true>>y<<case false>>ies<</switch>><</widget>>

<<set $they to $they.toLowerCase().trim()>>\ <<set $cthey to $they.toUpperFirst().trim()>>\ <<set $them to $them.toLowerCase().trim()>>\ <<set $cthem to $them.toUpperFirst().trim()>>\ <<set $their to $their.toLowerCase().trim()>>\ <<set $ctheir to $their.toUpperFirst().trim()>>\ <<set $theirs to $theirs.toLowerCase().trim()>>\ <<set $ctheirs to $theirs.toUpperFirst().trim()>>\ <center><h3>profile</h3></center> <h4>''Name: ''$firstname ''Pronouns: ''$they/$them //<<link "(edit your pronouns)">><<script>>Dialog.setup("Pronouns");Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Pronoun Settings 2").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>><</link>>// ''Appearance: ''You have $eyecolor eyes and $hairtexture, $haircolor hair worn in a $hairstyle. /*fix this shit lololol height + body + attractiveness???*/ <div style='font-size: 200%;'>\ personality\ </div> <li><<if $friendly gt $stoic>>You have a <span class="stattext">friendly</span> nature, and respond in a kind, courteous manner to others. <<elseif $stoic gt $friendly>>You have an <span class="stattext">stoic</span> nature, and respond in a cold, straight-to-the-point manner to others. <<else>>Rather than favoring either //friendly// or //stoic// responses, you display aspects of both.<</if>></li>\ <li><<if $genuine gt $sarcastic>>You are <span class="stattext">genuine</span> and take a whole-hearted approach when it comes to your interactions. <<elseif $sarcastic gt $genuine>>You are <span class="stattext">sarcastic</span> by nature and approach others with an ironic, critical nature. <<else>>Rather than favoring either //genuine// or //sarcastic// responses you display aspects of both.<</if>></li>\ <li><<if $introvert gt $extrovert>>You display <span class="stattext">extrovert</span> tendencies, putting yourself out there with your personality. <<elseif $introvert gt $extrovert>>You display <span class="stattext">introvert</span> tendencies, shrinking away from attention. <<else>>Your personality is a balance between //introverted// and //extroverted// tendencies.<</if>></li>\ <li><<if $emotional gt $logical>>You wear your heart on your sleeve, reacting <span class="stattext">emotionally</span> to most situations. <<elseif $logical gt $emotional>>You think your actions through, reacting <span class="stattext">logically</span> to situations. <<else>>You react //emotionally// to some situations and //logically// to others.<</if>></li>\ <li><<if $impulsive gt $cautious>>You have a <span class="stattext">impulsive</span> nature and react on instinct. <<elseif $cautious gt $impulsive>>You have a <span class="stattext">caution</span> nature and react with care. <<else>>Your reactions aren’t //impulsive// or //cautious//, you display a little bit of both.<</if>></li>\ <li><<if $optimistic gt $cynical>>You take a positive approach to life, having an <span class="stattext">optimistic</span> outlook on even the most dire of situations. <<elseif $cynical gt $optimistic>>You take a negative approach to life, having a <span class="stattext">cynical</span> outlook on even the most positive of situations. <<else>>You are neither //optimistic// nor //cynical// and instead take a neutral view on situations.<</if>></li></h4>\ <div style='font-size: 200%;'>\ stats</div>Strength:<div class="stat-bar-container"><div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">Strength $strength%</div><div class="stat-bar" id="strength-stat"></div></div> Speed:<div class="stat-bar-container"><div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">Speed $speed%</div><div class="stat-bar" id="speed-stat"></div></div> Agility:<div class="stat-bar-container"><div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">Agility $agility%</div><div class="stat-bar" id="agility-stat"></div></div> Intelligence:<div class="stat-bar-container"><div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">Intelligence $intelligence%</div><div class="stat-bar" id="intelligence-stat"></div></div> <div style='font-size: 200%;'>\ skills</div>Medicine:<div class="stat-bar-container"><div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">Medicine $medicine%</div><div class="stat-bar" id="medicine-stat"></div></div> Weaponry:<div class="stat-bar-container"><div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">Weaponry $sword%</div><div class="stat-bar" id="sword-stat"></div></div> Combat:<div class="stat-bar-container"><div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">Combat $hands%</div><div class="stat-bar" id="hands-stat"></div></div> Tactics:<div class="stat-bar-container"><div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">Tactics $tactics%</div><div class="stat-bar" id="tactics-stat"></div></div> [[Return to Game|$return]]

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>>Notifications active!<</notify>><</if>>\ <<set $chapterheading to "Prologue">>\ <div class="fade"><div class="chaptertitle">Prologue</div> <span class="dropcap">Y</span><span style="font-size: 90%">OU'RE RUNNING.</span> Instinct guides your steps as you stumble through the forest. Your heart pounds so hard you do not hear so much as feel the panicked inhale of breath, air dragging through your overextended lungs like shards of glass. A feeling snakes through your veins, icy and unfamiliar. It takes a moment for you to place the sinking emotion as terror. As if peering at a reflection on the surface of a body of water, your surroundings are familiar yet reversed. A long-lost memory plucked from the depths of your mind and reconstructed in a strange facsimile of the original. The more you try to puzzle out this eerie place, the more the details of it slip through your grasp. //(you've been here before.)// The forest blurs in the periphery of your vision. Here, a patch of fallen leaves. There, a tree. Here you are, injured and fleeing into the woods at night. Something with teeth is gnawing on your insides. It is not the same sensation that seizes your heart in fear. It is something entirely different. You do not want to put a name to this thing demanding a price you do not want to pay. The guilt of it threatens to tear your heart in two. //(what have you done?)// You don’t know. You don’t want to know. Onwards, down a path you can barely see. [[Continue|prlg_2]]

<h3>personal items</h3>\ - scrolls? - Leaf - food maybe lololol [[Return to Game|$return]]

Subjective: <<textbox "$they" $they>> Objective: <<textbox "$them" $them>> Determiner: <<textbox "$their" $their>> Possessive: <<textbox "$theirs" $theirs>> Is this a plural pronoun? &emsp;<<listbox "$plur" autoselect>><<option "Yes" true>><<option "No" false>><</listbox>> <<button "Confirm" "ch1.5">><<script>>Dialog.close();<</script>><</button>>

<h3>Jinwol</h3>\ ''Height:'' ''Appearance:'' [portrait] [description? [[Return to glossary|Glossary]]

<h3>Iseul</h3>\ ''Height:'' ''Appearance:'' [portrait] [description? [[Return to glossary|Glossary]]

<h3>Jinwol</h3>\ ''Height:'' ''Appearance:'' [portrait] [description? [[Return to glossary|Glossary]]

Subjective: <<textbox "$they" $they>> Objective: <<textbox "$them" $them>> Determiner: <<textbox "$their" $their>> Possessive: <<textbox "$theirs" $theirs>> Is this a plural pronoun? &emsp;<<listbox "$plur" autoselect>><<option "Yes" true>><<option "No" false>><</listbox>> <<button "Confirm">><<script>>state.display(state.active.title, null, "back")<</script>><<script>>Dialog.close();<</script>><</button>>

Your right arm hangs limp and useless at your side, shoulder a tattered mess. A sluggishly bleeding gash starts at your collarbone and carves down the bulk of your torso, tracing a meandering path through the center of your ribs. It ends right above your stomach, and though you can’t gauge the extent of the damage, whatever left you in this state pierced something it shouldn’t have pierced. You're unarmed and barefoot. You’ve lost too much blood. You will yourself not to look down and keep moving – you can feel your ankle bending at the wrong angle, and any visual confirmation will be worse than whatever your imagination can conjure up. Muscles seizing up in exhaustion, you fold at the waist as you spit out a dollop of something wet and viscous into your palm. Your mind tells you not to stop here, but your body cannot keep up with your desperation. The next breath you take is more of a gargle, blood in your throat and teeth. To your left lies a murky stream, water roiling along. Bits and pieces of blackened bark and twigs float together in clumps at the edges. Some rot into amorphous piles of goo, others are interlaced with the filament-like roots of the skeletal plants rising from the ground. In a burst of desperation, you deposit the contents of your hand into the water. An offering for whom, you do not know. //(what have you done?)// Your stomach squeezes. Something large and drowned emerges from the decay, and you feel your mouth run dry. Dark feathers haloed in the shimmering colors of oil bob towards you. [[A dead crow.|prlg_3]]

Thank you so much for playing! //Tosahobi// is a work in progress and new chapters will be released periodically. For updates, you can find me on my game development blog on [[Tumblr|https://tosahobi-if.tumblr.com]] for art, behind-the-scenes-content, and general rambling. If you enjoyed playing, please check out these links regarding [[Palestine|https://linktr.ee/resourcesforpalestine]] and consider donating to one of the mentioned funds. To report any bugs or typos, please send me an ask on Tumblr and I'll get on them ASAP! <<link "Restart Game">><<run Engine.restart()>><</link>>

A beady eye stares at you in silent condemnation. Water rushes over the distorted shape, and you feel your guts lurch in nausea. This is not a sign, and neither is a warning. This is a promise. The corpse floats closer and closer. //(what have you done?)// You don't know. You can't remember. The answer feels so close. Almost as if the right sequence of sentences is on the tip of your tongue. But do you truly want to know the answer? [[Continue|prlg_4]]

<<set $contentwarnings to true>>As of the latest update the content warnings are: - Alcohol consumption - Blood - Body horror (teeth horror and eye horror) - Dead animals - Death - Depictions of violence - Gore - Hallucinations - Intrusive thoughts (violence) - Mental spiralling - Murder - Suffocation/Drowning - Unreality - War Please let me know if you feel I should add or change the list. [[Return to Game|$return]]

alignment & weapon 2 - 국사 으아아아아아 이 ffffff 오타쿠 실격이다아아아아아아아아 이 글을 읽고 있다면 KYS >:(((((

<center><h3>glossary</h3></center> Click on the links to learn more! Underlined terms can be selected for more in-depth explanations. This section will be updated as the story progresses. <h4>''__SECTS, CLANS & FAMILIES__''</h4>\ <<link "→ SECTS">><<toggleclass "#sects" "hidden">><</link>><span id="sects" class="hidden"><ul class="d"><li>//Mount Hua Sect// (화산파/华山派) Located on Mount Hua in the Shaanxi province, they are an orthodox sect with Taoist roots. One of the Ten Great Sects that belong to the <<link "__Murim Alliance__">><<script>> Dialog.setup("murim alliance"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Murim Alliance").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>>, they are named after the mountain itself. The sect's martial arts are centered around the sword and the plum blossoms that are synonymous with their image.</li> <li>//Gaibang// (개방/丐幇) or Beggar's Gang is a political faction that belongs to the Murim Alliance. Comprised of primarily beggars, while not technically a martial sect or strict organization, they utilize a wide net of information across the entirety of the Jianghu due to their sheer amount of members.</li></ul></span> <<link "→ CLANS">><<toggleclass "#families" "hidden">><</link>><span id="families" class="hidden"><ul class="d"><li>//Yeo Clan// (여가/余家) A presitigous clan descended from royalty, the Yeo Clan has been in the seat of political power for well over a century. Directly serving under the main family, your ward is the head of the Mount Hua Sect.</li></ul></span> <h4>''__TERMS__''</h4>\ <<link "→ MARTIAL FAMILY">><<toggleclass "#martialterms" "hidden">><</link>><span id="martialterms" class="hidden"><ul class="d"><li>//Jangmun// (장문/掌門) is a term that means sect leader, and is the title used within the Mount Hua sect.</li> <li>//Sabu// (사부/师傅) is a term used by disciples towards their master. Usually refers to a master in martial arts but can also be used in other scholarly contexts such as calligraphy or music.</li> <li>//Sajae// (사제/師弟) is a title that means junior martial brother, and is used by disciples within the same generation or rank to denote someone who has entered the sect after them. While the term is technically gendered, "sajae" can still be used as a generalized umbrella term referring to a younger disciple regardless of gender identity.</li> <li>//Samae// (사매/师妹) is a title that means junior martial sister, used by disciples within the same generation or rank to denote someone who has entered the sect after them.</li> <li>//Sahyung// (사형/师兄) is a title that means senior martial brother, and is used by disciples within the same generation or rank to denote someone who has entered the sect before them.</li></ul></span> <<link "→ MURIM-CENTRIC">><<toggleclass "#murimterms" "hidden">><</link>><span id="murimterms" class="hidden"><ul class="d"><li>//Jianghu// (강호/江湖) is a term that translates to 'Rivers and Lakes' and refers to the fictional setting in which the story takes place. It exists as a self-governing society beyond the rigid societal constraints of the historical period and refers loosely to a human society who settles disputes via their own moral code.</li> <li>//Tao// (도/道) is a term that refers to the natural order of the universe and refers symbolically to the "way" of the proper path of existence or the attainment of spiritual and personal understanding via enlightment.</li></ul></span> <<link "→ WEAPONS">><<toggleclass "#weapons" "hidden">> <</link>><span id="weapons" class="hidden"><ul class="d"><li>//Zhuimei// (墜梅/추매) lit; Falling Plum Blossom is double-edged straight blade. Thinner than a traditional jian, it was specifically crafted for the Mount Hua Sect of sword-fighting, and is a sect heirloom.</li></ul></span> [[Return to Game|$return]]

Within the space of a single blink the scenery jumps and you find yourself elsewhere entirely, the words slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The stream has changed, the narrow taper stretched wide enough to place a considerable distance between one bank and the other. //You know this river. You know this place.// A lightning flash of pain shoots through your skull like a needle, and you instinctually squeeze your eyes shut until the agony recedes. Like the tide lapping at the shore, it rings in pulses and waves. You force yourself to keep moving, good hand clutching at your abdomen. //These kinds of wounds used to be nothing. This crumbling body of yours used to be more.// It feels better here, far safer. It feels like home. You can practically hear an indistinct voice, one you’re positive you’ve listened to your whole life – no. No, you haven’t. Your mind is growing weak from the pain. You're imagining things, nobody is calling for you. //Yes they are.// This place, wherever it is, is not one you've seen before. //Yes, it is.// This night never existed. //Yes, it did.// <span id="r1" class="look"><<link "Your...">><<reveal "r1" "" "prlg_4.5">><</link>></span>

That’s right, someone's repeating your name, over and over again. What is it? <<link "Choose a preset masculine name:">><<toggleclass "#presetnamem" "hidden">><</link>><div id="presetnamem" class="hidden">\ <ul class="b"><li>[[Gunwoo (建宇), meaning to build a home.|prlg_6][$firstname to "Gunwoo"]]</li> <li>[[Yeongdal (永達), meaning eternal wisdom.|prlg_6][$firstname to "Yeongdal"]]</li></ul></div> <<link "Choose a preset feminine name:">><<toggleclass "#presetnamef" "hidden">><</link>><div id="presetnamef" class="hidden">\ <ul class="b"><li>[[Eunhye (恩惠), for grace. |prlg_6][$firstname to "Eunhye"]]</li> <li>[[Sohee (小僖), for small joy. |prlg_6][$firstname to "Sohee"]]</li></ul></div> <<link "Choose a preset gender-neutral name:">><<toggleclass "#presetnamen" "hidden">><</link>><div id="presetnamen" class="hidden"><ul class="b"><li>[[Hyeon (賢) meaning virtuous.|prlg_6][$firstname to "Hyeon"]]</li> <li>[[Yoon (倫) meaning humanity.|prlg_6][$firstname to "Yoon"]]</li></ul></div> <<link "Enter a custom name:">><<toggleclass "#customname" "hidden">><</link>><div id="customname" class="hidden">\ <<textbox "$firstname" "">> <<link "Confirm">>><<set $firstname to $firstname.toLowerCase().toUpperFirst().trim()>> <<if $name is "">><<set $firstname = "Musim">><</if>> <<if $firstname is "Jinhak">><<replace "#textbox-error">>Please choose another name!<</replace>>\ <<elseif $firstname is "Jinhu">><<replace "#textbox-error">>Please choose another name!<</replace>>\ <<elseif $firstname is "Jinwol">><<replace "#textbox-error">>Please choose another name!<</replace>>\ <<elseif $firstname is "Iseul">><<replace "#textbox-error">>Please choose another name!<</replace>>\ <<elseif $firstname is "Yul">><<replace "#textbox-error">>Please choose another name!<</replace>>\ <<elseif $firstname is "Haewon">><<replace "#textbox-error">>Please choose another name!<</replace>>\ <<elseif $firstname is "Seohwa">><<replace "#textbox-error">>Please choose another name!<</replace>>\ <<elseif $firstname is "Qiuhua">><<replace "#textbox-error">>Please choose another name!<</replace>>\ <<elseif $firstname is "Bai">><<replace "#textbox-error">>Please choose another name!<</replace>>\ <<else>><<replace "#textbox-error">><</replace>>\ <<goto "prlg_6">><</if>><</link>></div>\ <span id="textbox-error"></span>

Your fragmented consciousness leaps forward once more, and you sway at the momentary loss of balance as the world shifts. You find yourself at the mouth of a wide pond devoid of algae. Tangles of fallen branches breach the surface in craggy shapes, laced with silvery stretches of cobwebs. The blue-grey of the water is smooth and glossy, shrouded in faint clouds of mist. There's a clear barrier between this forest and the water, a swath of bare land four or five chi thick encircling the pond. <ul class="a"><li><<link "Step forward." "prlg_7.1">><<set $impulsive += 1>><<set $impulsive += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Stay where you are." "prlg_7.2">><<set $cautious += 1>><<set $cautious += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

Your body trembles with effort as you take a slow step closer to the edge of the water, and you feel a fresh wave of blood bubble over your fingers. Soft soil gives way beneath the weight of your feet. Exhaustion teases you with the tantalizing lure of rest, but the moment you close your eyes you know you will not wake again. As if plugging your ears with cotton, silence falls over the forest. It descends over insect and animal alike, blanketing every living being until the lack of noise is deafening. The oppressive sensation of quiet is almost as if you’ve suddenly stepped past the threshold of somewhere meant for worship – yet you cannot sense the watchful presence of the heavens here. There is nothing, nothing at all. The air is cold and clean when you inhale, like the first breath of winter snow sweeping away the last vestiges of autumn leaves. [[Continue|prlg_8]]

Your chest heaves with effort as you try to keep yourself breathing steadily. You feel a fresh wave of blood bubble over your fingers. Exhaustion pulls at you with the tantalizing lure of rest, but the moment you close your eyes you know you will not wake again. As if plugging your ears with cotton, silence falls over the forest. It descends over insect and animal alike, blanketing every living being until the lack of noise is deafening. The oppressive sensation of quiet is almost as if you’ve suddenly stepped past the threshold of somewhere meant for worship – yet you cannot sense the watchful presence of the heavens here. There is nothing, nothing at all. The air is cold and clean when you inhale, like the first breath of winter snow sweeping away the last vestiges of autumn leaves. [[Continue|prlg_8]]

In the center of the clearing, a slant of moonlight suddenly bisects the mist like a knife splitting flesh to reveal an inhuman figure. Hunched forwards at a painful angle, their back is bare, vertebrae prominent enough to count through skin. Their arms are wrapped around themself, blackened fingers clutching at the edges of a gory mess as if trying to stave off the pain, yet their head is lifted upwards as if seeking penitence from an invisible party. Sprouting from the broken, bleeding contours of their shoulder blades are a pair of massive wings. The dark feathers are broken and bent in places, and torn in others; the wings are large enough to dwarf their frame. The water submerges the lower half. They gleam, iridescence refracting the light. Oil-slick. The wings of a crow, stitched onto a human. The figure does not move, does not acknowledge your presence, and you feel a horrible sense of quiet settle onto you like a second skin. Potent enough to make you forget your pain, you stare, transfixed. Time hangs frozen and in that moment you wish it could last an eternity, simply the silence of your mind and the absence of feeling in this strange, godless place. Blood drips from your wounds and sizzles upon the ice. A sacrifice placed upon an altar, thunderous in the stillness; you feel the tenuous reprieve shatter. [[Continue|prlg_9]]

The figure begins to straighten up, rolling upwards one inch at a time, bone and muscle stacking at an agonizingly slow pace. Impossibly, improbably, a realization occurs to you, as plain as day: Your hunter will not reach you here, but you have stepped into the lair of a different beast. That thing eating you from the inside, the intangible memories that elude you at every step; this is a place of judgment, and your punishment must fit the crime. //It has to.// The pain stabs behind your eyes once more, memories flickering dimly. <span id="r1" class="look"><<link "Blood on your hands, laughter in your mouth. You did something unforgivable.">><<reveal "r1" "No, no, //no.//" "prlg_9.5">><</link>></span>

The sound of snapping twigs from behind you tears you from your voyeuristic trance. You cannot be here. You cannot repent for sins that are not your own. As the noises drift further and further away from you, a thought shoves itself to the forefront of your brain. This person, whomever they are, is leading you out. This is a familiar song and dance, all you have to do is follow them to safety. You just need to make it out of this forest. The ground grows spongy and rich, water welling up in your footprints as if the land itself is trying to erase your tracks. You need to catch up to her. //(her?)// You stumble over roots and moss, bark scraping at your exposed skin, injured leg dragging and the other buckling under your weight. She remains out of your reach entirely, a ripple of fabric, five, ten, twenty paces ahead. Thirty. You’re losing her again. //(again?)// You fall, head banging against a cluster of stones. <span id="r1" class="look"><<link "You just want to close your eyes and drift...">><<reveal "r1" "You've already come so far." "prlg_10.5">><</link>></span>

Upright again, you lurch forward. To your left, a bird takes flight, dark wings outstretched and outline indistinct. Trees press in, trying to entomb you as the sound of roaring water oscillates in the face of your pulsing hearing. Your head must be bleeding. Your left eye is sealed shut, blood lazily dripping down the curve of your jaw. Small things watch you from the depths, tracking your progress as you stagger past them. High above your head, something chitters, high and melodic; an unseen sentry alerting others of your presence. The woman stops mere paces away from you, back still turned. <ul class="a"><li><<link "Try to speak to her. Maybe she understands what this place is." "prlg_12.1">><<set $friendly += 1>><<set $optimistic += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Try and see her face – if you can just figure out who she is, maybe you can finally remember something." "prlg_12.2">><<set $impulsive += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You don't know this woman enough to try doing anything. You're not going to risk anything while you're in this state." "prlg_12.3">><<set $cautious += 1>><<set $stoic += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

Opening your mouth to speak, your question barely materializes before she vanishes, body vanishing into thin air. Alongside her, the claustrophobic space shimmers and stretches like an illusion, melting into the gentle slope of a grassy knoll. As if everything that had just occurred had all been a lie, a single, confused turn reveals nothing but miles upon miles of open terrain behind you. No pursuer. No deity. No woman. No woods. Nothing. [[Even the pain is gone.|prlg_13]]

Your decision barely crystallizes in your mind before she vanishes, body vanishing into thin air. Alongside her, the claustrophobic space shimmers and stretches like an illusion, melting into the gentle slope of a grassy knoll. As if everything that had just occurred had all been a lie, a single, confused turn reveals nothing but miles upon miles of open terrain behind you. No water, no pursuer, no woman. No woods. Nothing. [[Even the pain is gone.|prlg_13]]

Your fingertips barely graze her shoulder before she vanishes, body vanishing into thin air. Alongside her, the claustrophobic space shimmers and stretches like an illusion, melting into the gentle slope of a grassy knoll. As if everything that had just occurred had all been a lie, a single, confused turn reveals nothing but miles upon miles of open terrain behind you. No water, no pursuer, no woman. No woods. Nothing. [[Even the pain is gone.|prlg_13]]

You look down at yourself to find yourself hale and whole, clothing clean and body uninjured. Lifting your left arm, the same arm that had been ripped to shreds, you tug up the sleeve of your robe to find nothing but unblemished skin. You turn your hand this way and that, flexing your fingers and marveling at the simple motions. A familiar pressure materializes at your side, and you don’t even need to feel to recognize the weight as your <span class="cycling"><<cycle "$weaponp" autoselect>><<option "sword.">><<option "bow.">><<option "whip.">><<option "flute.">><</cycle>></span> //You are who you always were. Who you were always meant to be.// That awful nightmare feels so far away here. You have nothing to fear. <span id="r1" class="look"><<link "//(no. this is not right.)//">><<reveal "r1" "//Nothing's wrong.//" "prlg_13.5">><</link>></span>

<<if $m_gender is "female">><<set $m_they to "she">><<set $m_them to "her">><<set $m_their to "her">><<set $m_theirs to "hers">><<set $m_cthey to "She">><<set $m_cthem to "Her">><<set $m_ctheir to "Her">><<set $m_ctheirs to "Hers">><<set $m_plur to false>>\ <<elseif $m_gender is "male">><<set $m_they to "he">><<set $m_them to "him">><<set $m_their to "his">><<set $m_theirs to "his">><<set $m_cthey to "He">><<set $m_cthem to "Him">><<set $m_ctheir to "His">><<set $m_ctheirs to "His">><<set $m_plur to false>><</if>>\ $m_ctheir form emerges bit by bit as you push your way through layers of fragrant bloom. The final barrier you lift brings you face-to-face with $m_them. $m_ctheir eyes are pitch black, pupils nigh indistinguishable from $m_their iris. Twin shards of the night sky. $m_cthey'<<m_re>> rail thin, hungry hollows in $m_their sallow cheeks, the open sliver at the top of $m_their robe exposing jutting collarbones. $m_cthey wear<<m_s>> the extravagant robes of a noble, yet even the fine silks and embroidery do not hide $m_their edges and angles, softness sapped away by apparent illness. The longer the both of you watch one another, the more $m_their face transforms, icy expression cracking beneath the weight of immense grief. Your guts yank violently. $m_ctheir face used to be the pinnacle of health, hadn’t it? A smiling, kind person. "You," $m_they breathe<<m_s>>, a lifetime condensed into a single word. Somewhere, somehow, $m_they'<<m_ve>> known you. Or maybe you’ve known $m_them. Maybe both of these things and maybe neither of them. Or maybe, you realize with a horrible clarity, that these feelings and thoughts aren’t yours. Strangers. A place you don't recognize. A dream. A memory from long, long ago. //Nothing's wrong.// $m_cthey hold<<m_s>> $m_their hands out. Something squirms within them, and you jerk backwards. [[Continue|prlg_15]]

You have to run, you //must// run, you can’t stay here any longer. Your head throbs furiously as it strains for a justification. //(you've been here before.)// “Please,” $m_they say<<m_s>>. Your leg crumples in response. Pain slams back into you with an unbearable force, and you collapse to your knees. Blood surges up your throat, and the coughing nearly tears you in two. A white-hot sensation worms through your muscles and bones, and though you open your mouth to scream in agony, nothing emerges from your seized-up throat. This is it. You can't fool yourself any longer. You are what you always were. What you were always meant to be. An injured prey animal unable to outrun its predator. [[Poor little rabbit.|prlg_16]]

<center>//Bear witness.//</center>\ <center>[[Wake up.|prlg_16.1]]</center>\

Something wet and raw wriggles in his cupped palms, keening a high, soft sound. Black ichor overflows from his hands, running down his fingers and wrists and staining the hem of his sleeves. [[Wake up.|prlg_16.1]]

<center>//Bear witness.//</center>\ <center>[[Wake up.|prlg_16.2]]</center>\

$m_cthey lift<<m_s>> the thing to $m_their mouth, and you watch, unable to move as $m_they push<<m_es>> it into $m_their mouth, bit by wriggling bit— <div align='center' style='font-size: 200%;'>\ [[WAKE UP.|Part One]]\ </div>

The comparison comes from an idiom that typically is attributed two entirely different and contrasting parties – originates from the visible difference at the place where the clear Jing River meets the muddy Wei River. <center><<button "Ok">><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>></center>

The <<link "Asdf">><<script>> Dialog.setup("asdf"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Asdf").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>>

<div align='center' style='font-size: 200%;'>\ TOSAHOBI\ </div> Tosahobi (兎死狐悲) is a choose-your-own adventure game centered around elements of Korean folklore and taoism in a tale of family, grief, and heritage. Inspired by wuxia and muhyeop stories, play as a protagonist navigating a historical fantasy setting. Explore a variety of different relationships, gain martial prowess, and make choices to determine your fate – and the fate of the world at large. Tosahobi is rated 18+ for depictions of extreme violence, death, heavy subject matter such as depictions of mental illness, strong language, and optional sexual content. <<link "__Click here__" "Content Warnings">><</link>> for a more comprehensive list of content warnings. <div align="center">[[Begin|prlg_1]]</div>

Jianghu (江湖), also known as Kangho (강호) is a term that translates to 'Rivers and Lakes' and refers to the fictional setting in which the story takes place. It exists as a self-governing society beyond the rigid societal constraints of the historical period and refers loosely to a human society who settles disputes via their own moral code. <center><<button "Ok">><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>></center>

<div align='center' style='font-size: 250%;'>\ PART ONE 蝉不知雪; THE CICADA KNOWS NOTHING OF SNOW\ </div> <center>[[Begin.|ch1.1]]</center>

<<if $g_gender is "female">><<set $g_they to "she">><<set $g_them to "her">><<set $g_their to "her">><<set $g_theirs to "hers">><<set $g_cthey to "She">><<set $g_cthem to "Her">><<set $g_ctheir to "Her">><<set $g_ctheirs to "Hers">><<set $g_plur to false>>\ <<elseif $g_gender is "male">><<set $g_they to "he">><<set $g_them to "him">><<set $g_their to "his">><<set $g_theirs to "his">><<set $g_cthey to "He">><<set $g_cthem to "Him">><<set $g_ctheir to "His">><<set $g_ctheirs to "His">><<set $g_plur to false>><</if>>\ $g_cthey tilt<<g_s>> $g_their head <h4>''__STAT EXPLANATIONS__''</h4>\ <<link "→ SANITY">><<toggleclass "#sanity" "hidden">><</link>><span id="sanity" class="hidden"><ul class="d"><li>//Sanity// is your grip on reality. Certain events and choices may drop this stat, resulting in hallucinations, paranoia, and other potential negative consequences.</li></ul></span> <<link "→ HEALTH">><<toggleclass "#health" "hidden">><</link>><span id="health" class="hidden"><ul class="d"><li>//Health// is your current level of injury, or lack thereof. The more damage you sustain, the lower the percentage will become.</li></ul></span> <span id="o1" class="look"><<link "Observe this!">><<observe "o1" "p2" "This has been observed!" "Congratulations!">><</link>></span> <span id="g1" class="look"><<link "Glance over here!">><<glance "g1" "Glance over here!" "You might see something new.">><</link>></span> <span id="r1" class="look"><<link "Click to reveal text!">><<reveal "r1" "Text revealed!" "p2">><</link>></span>

<<set $glossary to true>><<notify 3s>>Autosaving...<</notify>><<set $chapterheading to "Chapter One">>\ <div class="fade"><div class="chaptertitle">Chapter One</div> <span class="dropcap">“A</span><span style="font-size: 90%">T THE COLD END</span> of the year; / Mayflies cry at dusk / And the icy winds blow bitter. / The wanderer lacks clothing to fend off the cold.” The sound of a voice reciting <<link "__poetry__">><<script>> Dialog.setup("Lin lin sui yun mu"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Lin lin sui yun mu").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>> twists unpleasantly into your ears, verses ripping through your sleep-fogged haze like the blade of a knife. Your head begins to throb, and grows worse with every passing moment. You... <<cycle "$cycling" autoselect>> <<option "instinctively curl deeper into your sheets."<<set $impulsive += 2>>>> <<option "remain as still as possible."<<set $cautious += 2>>>> <</cycle>> A severely chapped patch on your lower lip rewards your efforts by cracking open. Iron blooms on the tip of your tongue, metallic and //bitter.// You unwittingly suck in a sharp breath at the pain, and the person immediately ceases their verbal butchery. “Finally awake, dearest?” With great effort, you force your eyes open, blinking away crust and sleep. Color and clarity returns like a punch, and the blurry shapes coalesce into two disciples of sixteen or seventeen years of age: your roommates, Han Hyunseok and Yoon Hwi. “Oh, pardon me. Has this one disturbed your rest?” Your face starts twitching before you can stop it, stomach curdling in nausea Yoon Hwi’s mockingly amorous tone. Sweeping their long hair to the side of their neck, they give their best impression of an impassioned partner waiting for their estranged lover to come back home. “How you’ve made the two of us wait,” they coo. You briefly entertain the idea of emptying the contents of your insides right onto their robes. [[Continue|ch1.2]]

something something here <<button "Ok">><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>>

The Murim Alliance (武林盟) or Murim-maeng (무림맹) is an alliance between the Jungpa sects, clans, and groups within the Murim. Led by the Murim High Lord (武林盟主) or Murim-maengju (맹주) they frequently collaborate regarding important matters and look to one another in times of distress. <center><<button "Ok">><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>></center>

Hwi is reciting the classical poem 凜凜歲云暮 (Lin lin sui yun mu) or 'At the cold end of the year' written during the Han dynasty by an anonymous author. It describes yearning for one's husband during a cold winter night. The translation is my own attempt and covers the verses "凛凛岁云暮 / 蝼蛄夕鸣悲 / 凉风率已厉 / 游子寒无衣" though I highly recommend you find a more professional version. <center><<button "Ok">><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>></center>

//Sajae// (사제/師弟) is a title that means junior martial brother, and is used by disciples within the same generation or rank to denote someone who has entered the sect after them. While the term is technically gendered, "sajae" can still be used as a generalized umbrella term referring to a younger disciple regardless of gender identity. <center><<button "Ok">><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>></center>

Han Hyunseok, doesn’t even bother to look up from where he’s standing, too preoccupied with picking at a callus. Yoon Hwi, blessed with the delicate, pleasant features of their mother, a famed songstress, and yet having inherited none of her composure finally drops their simpering facade and fixes you with their standard sneer. “How much sleep can one person //possibly// require?” There's a basin on your dresser, and it's within arm's reach. You could grab it and smash it right onto their head, knock them out stone-cold— “<<link "__Sajae__">><<script>> Dialog.setup("sajae"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Sajae").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>>,” Han Hyunseok chides half-heartedly, finally stirring from his position. Amusement is scrawled across his face. You sit up, sheets pooling in your lap. Hands hidden within the folds of the fabric, you discreetly jam the nail of your index finger into the meat of your thumb, pressing hard enough to curb the worst of your impulses. //Bastards.// [[Continue|ch1.25]]

The youngest of respectable traders from the royal capital, Han Hyunseok and Yoon Hwi entered the sect within the same year as one another. Doted upon since birth, the two of them were expected to digest whatever the sect had to offer them before they rejoined their rightful lives and positions in their illustrious family businesses. Their confidence resulted in the both of them having the firm belief that they were //above// you despite you outranking the both of them in seniority—sometimes you found yourself daydreaming about them joining General Kebab getting roasted in the flames of hell. “You cried through the entire night,” Yoon Hwi says disdainfully. “Nightmares again?” <span id="r1" class="look"><<link "(Screaming. You remember screaming.)">><<reveal "r1" "You hardly can ever recall your dreams; the act of waking up snatches the contents and leaves you with the dregs." "ch1.3.1">><</link>></span>

//Sabu// (사부/师傅) is a term used by disciples towards their master. Usually refers to a master in martial arts but can also be used in other scholarly contexts such as calligraphy or music. <center><<button "Ok">><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>></center>

You swallow minutely before you curve your eyes into a smile and you fix your mouth in the same close-lipped manner Madame Yeo favors. “Many thanks, sajaes. I’ll be sure to do so,” you reply, forcing your tone to remain cordial. Yoon Hwi visibly falters, but Han Hyunseok’s expression relaxes into something far more genuine. //Smack that look off his face,// your brain offers. You stand up and stretch instead, hooking your right elbow with your left hand and bending to one side and then the other. You feel your spine pop and crackle at the movement, and momentarily luxuriate in the sensation before you abruptly remember your audience. “I’ll see you during lecture hour,” you say in lieu of a dismissal. Han Hyunseok blinks, shaking his head as if to reorient himself. “Of course,” he says and coughs twice as he nods into a slight bow. “We’ll leave you to it.” You catch Yoon Hwi’s mouth spasm as they flick their eyes up to the ceiling in consternation, but they say nothing as they sweep behind their friend in a cloud of expensive fragrance. [[Continue|chara1]]

You swallow before you force your mouth into an upward curve in your best impression of the close-lipped manner that Madame Yeo favors. It doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I see,” you say, keeping your tone as polite as you can. “I’ll be sure to do so.” Yoon Hwi snorts, and Han Hyunseok’s look of faux empathy doesn’t falter. //Smack that look off his face,// your brain offers. You stand up and stretch instead, hooking your right elbow with your left hand and bending to one side and then the other. You feel your spine pop and crackle at the movement, and momentarily luxuriate in the sensation before you abruptly remember your audience. “Anything else,” you finally say. Han Hyunseok blinks, shaking his head as if to reorient himself. “No,” he says and coughs twice as he bobs his head in a poor imitation of a bow. “We’ll leave you to it. You catch Yoon Hwi’s mouth spasm as they flick their eyes up to the ceiling in consternation, but they say nothing as they sweep behind their friend in a cloud of expensive fragrance. [[Continue|chara1]]

Swallowing, you run your tongue over your dry bottom lip to wet it before you let out a noise akin to an agreement, but arguably closer to a grunt. You don’t even bother to school your expression as you squeeze the bridge of your nose to alleviate the pain, though it does little to offer any actual relief. Yoon Hwi’s face sours, and Han Hyunseok’s expression twitches, disdain shining through. //Smack that look off his face,// your brain offers. You stand up and stretch instead, hooking your right elbow with your left hand and bending to one side and then the other. You feel your spine pop and crackle at the movement, and momentarily luxuriate in the sensation before you abruptly remember your audience. “Anything else,” you finally say. Han Hyunseok blinks, shaking his head as if to reorient himself. “No,” he says and coughs twice as he bobs his head in a poor imitation of a bow. “We’ll leave you to it.” You catch Yoon Hwi’s mouth spasm as they flick their eyes up to the ceiling in consternation, but they say nothing as they sweep behind their friend in a cloud of expensive fragrance. [[Continue|chara1]]

You don’t even bother to spare them your attention as you roll your neck, pressing down at an acupoint at the base of your skull. Hwi and Hyunseok thrive off of social confrontation, yet they consistently avoid challenging you to a proper duel. Following the time you accidentally brought your training sword down hard enough on Han Hyunseok’s arm that the wood splintered upon impact, the two of them have studiously avoided being paired up with you during training. Brushing past the two of them, Yoon Hwi looks more stunned than combative, though Han Hyunseok’s expression has crumbled into one of anger. //Smack that look off his face,// your brain offers. You stand up and stretch instead, hooking your right elbow with your left hand and bending to one side and then the other. You feel your spine pop and crackle at the movement, and momentarily luxuriate in the sensation before you abruptly remember your audience. You raise a single eyebrow at them. Han Hyunseok's nose flares, but he still tips his head in the barest incline before he leaves in an indignant swirl of fabric. You catch Yoon Hwi’s mouth spasm as they flick their eyes up to the ceiling in consternation, but they say nothing as they sweep behind their friend in a cloud of expensive fragrance. [[Continue|chara1]]

You prefer... <span class="cycling"><<cycle "$sibtitle" autoselect>><<option "male titles" "brother">><<option "female titles" "sister">><<option "gender neutral titles" "sibling">><</cycle>></span> and the pronouns you use are... <<link "She/Her/Hers" "ch1.5">><<set $they to "she">><<set $them to "her">><<set $their to "her">><<set $theirs to "hers">><<set $cthey to "She">><<set $cthem to "Her">><<set $ctheir to "Her">><<set $ctheirs to "Hers">><<set $plur to false>><</link>> <<link "He/Him/His" "ch1.5">><<set $they to "he">><<set $them to "him">><<set $their to "his">><<set $theirs to "his">><<set $cthey to "He">><<set $cthem to "Him">><<set $ctheir to "His">><<set $ctheirs to "His">><<set $plur to false>><</link>> <<link "They/Them/Theirs" "ch1.5">><</link>> <<link "Xe/Xem/Xirs" "ch1.5">><<set $they to "xe">><<set $them to "xem">><<set $their to "xir">><<set $theirs to "xirs">><<set $cthey to "Xe">><<set $cthem to "Xem">><<set $ctheir to "Xir">><<set $ctheirs to "Xirs">><<set $plur to false>><</link>> <<link "Set custom pronouns">><<script>> Dialog.setup("Pronouns"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Pronoun Settings 1").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>><</link>>

You wash for the day. For the first time in a while, you find yourself staring back at the face reflected within the slightly dented disk of your bedroom’s copper mirror. In the silence of the dormitory, after the disciples have already ceased their morning chatter and left for training and breakfast, time seems to slow within the cramped confines of the room. Water drips from your face, streaming down the lines of your... <span class="cycling"><<cycle "$skincolor" autoselect>><<option "porcelain" "porcelain">><<option "warm beige" "warm beige">><<option "cool beige">><<option "tawny" "tawny">><<option "olive" "olive">><<option "light brown" "light brown">><<option "bronze" "bronze">><<option "dark brown" "dark brown">><<option "warm black" "warm black">><<option "cool black" "cool black">><</cycle>></span> jaw and you reach for something to wipe it with. You have your father’s... <span class="cycling"><<cycle "$haircolor" autoselect>><<option "jet black" "jet black">><<option "blue-black" "blue-black">><<option "deep brown" "deep brown">><<option "light brown" "light brown">><<option "dark blonde" "dark blonde">><<option "blonde" "blonde">><<option "auburn" "auburn">><<option "ginger" "ginger">><</cycle>></span> <span class="cycling"><<cycle "$hairtexture" autoselect>><<option "straight" "straight">><<option "wavy" "wavy">><<option "curly" "curly">><<option "coily" "coily">><</cycle>></span> hair that falls to... <span class="cycling"><<cycle "$hairlength" autoselect>><<option "your nape" "short">><<option "shoulder-length" "shoulder-length">><<option "the middle of your back" "mid-back">><<option "your waist" "waist-length">><<option "your hip" "hip-length">><<option "your tailbone" "tailbone-length">><</cycle>></span>, your mother’s... <span class="cycling"><<cycle "$eyecolor" autoselect>><<option "black" "black">><<option "dark brown" "dark brown">><<option "amber" "amber">><<option "green" "green">><<option "blue" "blue">><<option "grey" "grey">><<option "hazel" "hazel">><</cycle>></span> eyes, your father’s crooked smile and your mother’s laugh, yet no matter how hard you try you cannot piece together their faces or the sound of their voices. Locating your comb, you... <span class="cycling"><<cycle "$hairstyle" autoselect>><<option "tie your hair up into a high ponytail" "ponytail">><<option "tie your hair into a low ponytail" "low ponytail">><<option "tie your hair into a braid" "braid">><<option "tie your hair up into a bun" "bun">><</cycle>></span> with <span class="cycling"><<cycle "$hairribbon" autoselect>><<option "a red" "red">><<option "a green" "green">><<option "a blue" "blue">><<option "a purple" "purple">><<option "an orange" "orange">><</cycle>></span> ribbon. You are a young... <span class="cycling"><<cycle "$gender" autoselect>><<option "woman" "female">><<option "man" "male">><<option "person">><</cycle>></span> and... <span class="cycling"><<cycle "$transgender" autoselect>><<option "have always">><<option "haven't always">><<set $transgender to true>><</cycle>></span> identified that way. [[Continue|chara2]]

<<if $sibtitle is "sister">><<set $senior to "samae">><<set $csenior to "Samae">>\<<elseif $sibtitle is "brother">><<set $senior to "sajae">><<set $csenior to "Sajae">><</if>><<set $show_profile to true>><<notify 3s>>Profile unlocked<</notify>>The morning is crisp and cool when you step outside, the sunlight gentle and the sky a pale blue. Your breath puffs out in clouds as you inhale and exhale, lungs welcoming the fresh air as the pressure building in your skull finally abates. The trees surrounding the dormitory have already started to transition into brilliant shades of red and orange, a stark contrast against the smooth stone walls and well-swept pave stones. The last warm afternoons of the year are already limited; before you know it winter will pull down frost from the skies and snow will blanket Mount Hua in a thick, pristine layer of white. You absentmindedly rub your chilled palms together to warm them up, forming a concave with your hands to blow into them. From the courtyard over someone shouts out a count, and a responding chorus rises and falls with each set of ten. You scrub a hand over your face; you… <<cycle "$cycling" autoselect>> <<option "haven't missed morning training in years.">> <<option "miss morning training once in a while.">> <<option "miss morning training frequently, though you've been getting better about your attendance for the past few weeks.">> <</cycle>> A carved statue that belongs to Yoon Hwi sits on the windowsill of your bedroom. A family deity, or a family member, or a family dog, whatever it is, the surface has been chipped away in the visage of a hideously ugly face. A solid piece of rock, you lift it weekly to dust, and every time you’ve been struck by the hefty weight of the object. Forget the basin. Next time they do something like this, you make up your mind to hit your sajae in the head with their own statue and dispose of their body on some obscure part of the mountain. It’s happened before; a drunk disciple tripping and falling to their death. The rest will be none the wiser. Sufficiently cheerier, you stroll away... <ul class="a"> <li><<link "at a steady pace." "ch1.55">><</link>></li> <li><<link "with your hands laced behind your back." "ch1.55">><</link>></li> <li><<link "with your hands behind your head." "ch1.55">><</link>></li> <li><<link "with your hands behind your head while whistling." "ch1.55">><<set $extrovert += 2>><</link>></li></ul>

//Nim// (님) is a honorific suffix that means Mrs./Miss/Mr./etc. It is typically used towards someone as a sign of respect regarding their skill, intellect, or knowledge, and is used to address those of a higher rank than oneself. <center><<button "Ok">><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>></center>

The //Qingjing Jing// (清静经), or //Scripture on Clarity and Stillness// is an anonymous Tang Dynasty Taoist classic that combines aspects of the //Tao Te Ching//, one of the foundational works of Taoism and typical aspects of Buddhist texts at the time. The text informs those following Tao to elimate desires to achieve spiritual clarity and stillness – the version mentioned is the Taishang Laojun shuo chang qingjing miaojing (太上老君說常清靜妙經) or Wondrous Scripture of Constant Clarity and Stillness, as Spoken by the Most High Lord Lao. <center><<button "Ok">><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>></center>

<<notify 3s>>Autosaving...<</notify>>Setting off at a brisk pace, the sect slowly springs to life around you, the hustle and bustle of disciples and visitors filling the air with a lively buzz of conversation. You narrowly avoid one of the workers sweeping the stones in front of the eastern training hall, shouting out a quick apology as he lifts his broom, shaking it at you as he yells something uncomplimentary at your retreating back. The windows of the hall are open today, and you glimpse a cluster of disciples running through one of the fundamental sword forms, their wooden practice staves slicing through the air in uneven intervals. You can still faintly hear the //Scripture on Tranquility and Clarity// and mentally salute your cohort in sympathy. At this rate, they’ll be doing exercises well into the afternoon. Hardly anyone pays you any attention as you pass them. Only the occasional disciple, wiping the sweat from their brow, bothers to squint at your face, trying to ascertain the identity of the poor fool being punished already. You resist the urge to shield your face, resolutely staring straight ahead. This proves to be a mistake as you round a corner and nearly twist your ankle on an upturned tree root. <ul class="a"> <li><<link "Try and dodge by jumping over it." "ch1.61aa">><<set $agility to $agility.fm(5)>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Shoot a hand out to try and brace yourself against the tree trunk to keep yourself from falling." "ch1.61aa">><<set $agility to $agility.fm(4)>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Close your eyes and accept your fate." "ch1.61ab">><<set $agility to $agility.fm(2)>><</link>></li></ul>

<<notify 3s>>Autosaving...<</notify>>The section in the rules regarding sect camaraderie states that “one must be responsible for the actions of their fellows” so you have zero intentions to tire yourself out needlessly. If one gets caught up in self-flagellation for every minor inconvenience, how much of a person would even be left in the end? Pondering over the best course of action to take with your newfound freedom, you fail to notice the presence behind you until a hand lands on your shoulder. Instinctually seizing their wrist, you twist over your shoulder to face them, eyes wide with alarm. "Ow,” Kang Ji, your <<link "__samae__">><<script>> Dialog.setup("samae"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Samae").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>>, hisses, ripping herself free from your grip. Embarrassment burns hot in your face. Though displeasure glints in her eyes, she places her fist into her hand and smiles, a flash of pearl-white teeth. “Good morning,” she says cheerily. Graceful and airy with a deceptively small frame and a pleasant, round face, her meticulous attention to detail regarding her appearance leaves Kang Ji with the affections of many disciples, even within the older generation. Dressed in the standard training uniform, colorful ribbons weave through her twin plaits, and two delicate strands of earrings dangle from her earlobes. This close, you can make out the faint layer of powder dusted onto her cheeks and forehead to even out her complexion. A delicate tassel hangs from a sash of teal silk wrapped around her waist. The jade beads braided into the cord indicate her as a member of the Yeo Clan, though, you think with a wry twist to your mouth, if you asked an innocent bystander if you knew of them, you’d hear 'glory within numbers,’ rather than their official motto, 'glory within righteousness’. [[Continue|ch1.6ba]]

You let out an undignified noise as you leap over the root and land off-balance, smacking against a piece of shrubbery in your flailing efforts to avoid injury. While average amongst your peers, your stamina is certainly nothing to sneeze at—though the same cannot be said of your reflexes. Hunched over in pain, you fail to notice the presence behind you until a hand lands on your shoulder. Instinctually seizing their wrist, you twist over your shoulder to face them, eyes wide with alarm. "Ow,” Kang Ji, your samae, hisses, ripping herself free from your grip. Embarrassment burns hot in your face. Though displeasure glints in her eyes, she places her fist into her hand and smiles, a flash of pearl-white teeth. “Good morning,” she says cheerily. Graceful and airy with a deceptively small frame and a pleasant, round face, her meticulous attention to detail regarding her appearance leaves Kang Ji with the affections of many disciples, even within the older generation. Dressed in the standard training uniform, colorful ribbons weave through her twin plaits, and two delicate strands of earrings dangle from her earlobes. This close, you can make out the faint layer of powder dusted onto her cheeks and forehead to even out her complexion. A delicate tassel hangs from the delicate sash of teal silk wrapped around her waist. The jade beads braided into the cord indicate her as a member of the Yeo Clan, though, you think with a wry twist to your mouth, if you ask an innocent bystander you’d hear 'glory within numbers,’ rather than their official motto, 'glory within righteousness’. [[Continue|ch1.61ac]]

You let out an undignified noise as your foot glances off the root, smacking against a piece of shrubbery in your lack of effort to avoid injury. While average amongst your peers, your stamina is certainly nothing to sneeze at—though the same cannot be said of your reflexes. Hunched over in pain, you fail to notice the presence behind you until a hand lands on your shoulder. Instinctually seizing their wrist, you twist over your shoulder to face them, eyes wide with alarm. "Ow,” Kang Ji, your <<link "__samae__">><<script>> Dialog.setup("samae"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Samae").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>>, hisses, ripping herself free from your grip. Embarrassment burns hot in your face. Though displeasure glints in her eyes, she places her fist into her hand and smiles, a flash of pearl-white teeth. “Good morning,” she says cheerily. Graceful and airy with a deceptively small frame and a pleasant, round face, her meticulous attention to detail regarding her appearance leaves Kang Ji with the affections of many disciples, even within the older generation. Dressed in the standard training uniform, colorful ribbons weave through her twin plaits, and two delicate strands of earrings dangle from her earlobes. This close, you can make out the faint layer of powder dusted onto her cheeks and forehead to even out her complexion. A delicate tassel hangs from a sash of teal silk wrapped around her waist. The jade beads braided into the cord indicate her as a member of the Yeo Clan, though, you think with a wry twist to your mouth, if you asked an innocent bystander if you knew of them, you’d hear 'glory within numbers,’ rather than their official motto, 'glory within righteousness’. [[Continue|ch1.61ac]]

Yeo Changsun, one of the ancestors of the Yeo clan, had been famous for his martial talent but was even more famous for the vast quantity of lovers he took on. From married women to maidens (and sometimes both at the same time), brave warriors, great beauties, songstresses, serving girls, both his swords saw a considerable amount of use. Even to this day, there is no shortage of stories about his conquests, fact and fiction so closely intertwined it proves a difficult task to ascertain the truth. To the rage of his enemies, he never contracted a sexually transmitted disease throughout his escapades—and neither was he stabbed to death by a jilted lover. He carried on well into his later years discriminating between neither gender nor age, and thus sired a truly astonishing amount of bastard children. (So many bastard children in fact, there was a saying that should you throw a rock into a crowd, you’d hit someone affiliated with the Yeo clan.) And then, after having slept with a sizeable fraction of the <<link "__Jianghu__">><<script>> Dialog.setup("Jianghu"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Jianghu").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>>, he had the gall to go and pass quietly in his sleep. Invoking 'Glory within numbers' is tantamount to spitting upon their name, but it doesn’t change the fact that there are an innumerable amount of people who belong to a sub-branch of a sub-branch of the family or something equally as obscure. Thus Kang Ji, who hails from one such family, is about as related to the main family of the Yeo Clan as you are. [[Continue|ch1.6bb]]

Including yourself, most disciples and warriors under the sect own a plum-blossom tassel, but only direct relations are permitted to have theirs strung with bone-jade. A single stone costs enough to comfortably feed a family of five for a year, yet in a testament to her social skills, Kang Ji has not one nor two, but four dangling from her waist. An egregious display of wealth, but nothing you’re unused to seeing. A devout ascetic would probably faint at the price of your young master’s closet. //You’ve// certainly considered it at the sight of his winter wardrobe before. Speaking of Yeo Jinwol. “The young master missed morning call, and I thought you might know where to find him,” Kang Ji says. <ul class="a"><li><<link "You don't know where Yeo Jinwol is and neither do you want to know why she wants to find him. Avoid the question." "ch1.6bb.1">><<set $logical += 1>><<set $cynical += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Tell her where you think he might be. You don't quite feel like accompanying her, but you don’t see the harm in helping her out." "ch1.6bb.2">><<set $friendly += 1>><<set $cautious += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Offer to find him for her. Surely he can't be far." "ch1.6bb.3">><<set $friendly += 2>><<set $impulsive += 1>><<set $optimistic += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You’re not responsible for him, and you’re getting tired of people acting like you are." "ch1.6bb.4">><<set $emotional += 2>><<set $stoic += 1>><<set $jresentful to true>><<set $j_resent += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

In your opinion, the wealthy are akin to a group of mindless chickens. Pecking at whatever feed lands in front of them, whether it be grain or stone, harmful or beneficial, all they do is take cues from one another without giving their actions any deeper thoughts. Some years ago before you were born, a highly respected and well-off man whose family oversaw one of the great merchant guilds of Shaanxi had faced a dilemma. Amongst his three sons, the eldest would inherit his position, the youngest was a scholar who intended to pass the imperial examinations, but his second son lacked both ambition and desire. Content to sit around and do completely nothing, he wasted his youth on drink and women and all but declared he would continue doing so until he grew old and gray. This well-off man had been a soldier in his youth and possessed a short temper. He felt that at this rate, his middle son would become a good-for-nothing and die without a single achievement to his name. Thus he set out a king’s ransom worth of gold and presented his worthless son to Mount Hua. If they accepted him as a disciple he would ally himself with the sect. And who could refuse such an offer? They promised they could teach his child the discipline he so sorely lacked. Alas, it had worked a little //too// well. That same son who listened to neither threat nor violence emerged with both the manners and poise of a young gentleman. His father, that stubborn, ill-tempered man had cried a great many tears of joy. And soon enough, that same son joined the imperial army, sallying forth into battle beneath the banner of his kingdom. (If memory serves you right, he died a glorious death getting skewered by enough arrows to rival the stand of a kebab-seller. One could only laugh.) Thereupon so-and-so sent //their// second son to a sect, so-and-so just //had// to do the same with their daughter, and of course, if all the //other// families were doing it, this one would send their child too, and this never-ending procession continued until one young master slipped and plummeted to his death on one of the numerous cliffs. You weren’t sad to see him go. But this still left your generation overflowing with puffed up young masters who thought themselves far more important than they actually were. Mount Hua, one of the ten great members of the orthodox sects and a prominent member of the <<link "__Murim Alliance__">><<script>> Dialog.setup("murim alliance"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Murim Alliance").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>>, was now the stomping grounds for those seeking social connections. It was truly enough for one to want to curse out loud. [[Continue|ch1.3]]

"STRENGTH WITHIN CLARITY," comes the familiar bellow of your master, resounding from the eastern training grounds. Without taking a single breath he launches into an impassioned recitation of //Scripture on Tranquility and Clarity//, as if retelling some fantastical epic about a great hero. You hear muffled snickering. Not quite the <<link"//__Wondrous Scripture of Constant Clarity and Stillness, as Spoken by the Most High Lord Lao__//">><<script>> Dialog.setup("qingjing jing"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Qingjing Jing").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>>, the //Scripture on Tranquility and Clarity// is some bygone sect elder’s version that is approximately four times as long and three times as confusing. Each disciple is required to memorize the text, yet not one person takes the words to heart. Rather, quoting the //Scripture on Tranquility and Clarity// is akin to telling an uproarious joke—nobody is capable of keeping a straight face when met with such pearls of wisdom such as: “heretical thoughts belong to those who are heretics” and “stillness and motion cannot coexist without stillness and motion being disturbed.” Nevertheless, you have your instructions. The only question is whether or not you’ll follow through on them. <ul class="a"> <li><<link "Run all three laps. Just as your master always tells you, there are no shortcuts in training." "ch1.6a">><<set $friendly += 2>><<set $genuine += 2>><<set $ranlaps to 3>><<set $speed to $speed.fm(5)>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Run two laps. You don't want to tire yourself out, but you don't want to shirk your duties either." "ch1.6a">><<set $genuine += 2>><<set $logical += 2>><<set $optimistic += 1>><<set $ranlaps to 2>><<set $speed to $speed.fm(4)>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Run only one lap. There's no point in punishing yourself over waking up late." "ch1.6a">><<set $logical += 2>><<set $cynical += 1>><<set $speed to $speed.fm(3)>><<set $ranlaps to 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Even if it is partially your fault, dormitory rules state that roommates are responsible for one another. If //they're// not running, you're not running either." "ch1.6b">><<set $logical += 1>><<set $cynical += 2>><<set $ranlaps to 0>><<set $ranlap to false>><<set $speed to $speed.fm(2)>><</link>></li></ul>

“My apologies,” you say, feigning confusion. “I missed morning call as well, I’m afraid I won’t be of much help in locating <<link "__sahyung__">><<script>> Dialog.setup("sahyung"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Sahyung").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>>.” You arrange your features into a mild-mannered smile. She smiles back. “I see. They do say good friends are similar in thought; it seems the two of you are no exception.” “If you’ll excuse me,” you say, bobbing your head in a bow. “Of course. Please pardon me for startling you just now.” Stepping aside with a gracious sweep of her fluttering sleeves, the two of you mirror each other in a pretense of polite manners until the moment you turn to leave. Out of her range of sight, your expression flattens out immediately, though you tilt your head in consideration. Curious. She’s never sought out Yeo Jinwol personally, having deemed his mercurial affections too difficult to attain from the moment she stepped foot on Mount Hua. The year she arrived was the year in which his third brother had gotten engaged, and she had presented herself as the estranged niece of the grand sect master, Yeo Jinhak—though anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that was a total crock of bullshit. You still have plenty of time before the afternoon lecture; you might as well do something before someone decides to ask you for help again. <ul class="a"><li><<link "If Kang Ji is looking for Yeo Jinwol, he might've gotten caught up in something. Figuring out where he is isn't the worst idea you've had." "ch1.6bc12">><</link>></li> <li><<link "The woods are decently empty in the morning. Maybe you can do some training?" "ch1.6bc2">><</link>></li> <li><<link "You're going to grab something to eat. Thinking can come after." "ch1.6bc3">><<set $impulsive += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

"If he missed morning call," you say slowly, "It's possible you might find the young master with the Madam. He wouldn't be truant without good reason." A respectable-sounding reason, but you’ve borne witness to him skipping out for reasons including but not limited to: being hungover, deciding to sleep in on a whim, having spent too long doing his hair, and mystifyingly, spending the entire morning fishing in one of the streams in the backwoods. For someone so obsessed with how he comes across to others, you've never seen anyone quite as dedicated to angering his masters. She nods in understanding. "That makes sense." You gesture towards yourself apologetically. "I would offer to accompany you, but I also missed morning call, so I’m afraid…” "Of course,” she says. Just as you’d hoped, she takes the cue with grace. “Please pardon me for startling you just now.” Stepping aside with a gracious sweep of her fluttering sleeves, you tilt your head in goodbye. Out of her range of sight, your expression takes on a thoughtful note, tilting your head in consideration. Curious. She’s never sought out Yeo Jinwol personally, having deemed his mercurial affections too difficult to attain from the moment she stepped foot on Mount Hua. The year she arrived was the year in which his third brother had gotten engaged, and she had presented herself as the estranged niece of the grand sect master, Yeo Jinhak—though anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that was a crock of bullshit. You still have plenty of time before the afternoon lecture; you might as well do something before someone decides to ask you for help again. <ul class="a"><li><<link "If Kang Ji is looking for Yeo Jinwol, he might've gotten caught up in something. Figuring out where he is isn't the worst idea you've had." "ch1.6bc12">><</link>></li> <li><<link "The woods are decently empty in the morning. Maybe you can do some training?" "ch1.6bc2">><</link>></li> <li><<link "You're going to grab something to eat. Thinking can come after." "ch1.6bc3">><<set $impulsive += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

In a futile attempt to save face, you consider your plans for the morning and come up with… Nothing. A lone gust of wind blows across the barren expanse of your imagination. Beyond fetching food for yourself and enjoying a pleasant morning stroll, you can’t think of anything else to idle away your time with before your master requires your presence. Plus, you //did// hurt her, even if it was by accident. Manners dictate an apology on your end, and what better way is there to do so than assist her? "I think I know where the young master is," you tell her. "I could go fetch him for you." Her face brightens up immediately. She tilts her head to look up at you through her lashes with a shining gaze. “Would you truly be willing to do that for me?" Her hands grab onto one of yours in a perfect facsimile of eager thanks, and you feel your arm muscles spasm at the feeling of being touched so suddenly. Despite your instincts screaming at you to rip yourself away from her grasp, you gently extricate yourself and arrange your features into a mild-mannered smile. "Yes," you say, and if the word comes out terse, she shows no sign of acknowledgment. Stepping aside with a gracious sweep of her fluttering sleeves, the two of you mirror each other in a pretense of polite manners until the moment you turn to leave. Out of her range of sight, your expression flattens out immediately, though you tilt your head in consideration. Curious. She’s never sought out Yeo Jinwol personally, having deemed his mercurial affections too difficult to attain from the moment she stepped foot on Mount Hua. The year she arrived was the year in which his third brother had gotten engaged, and she had presented herself as the estranged niece of the grand sect master, Yeo Jinhak—though anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that was a crock of bullshit. Now, where could he be? <ul class="a"><li><<link "If he missed morning call, he must be with the Madam. Go check in her garden." "ch1.6bc1">><</link>></li> <li><<link "He might've gotten up early and lost track of time while training. Go check the pond." "ch1.6bc2.5">><</link>></li> <li><<link "You have no idea. Maybe the kitchen?" "ch1.6bc3">><<set $impulsive += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

Swiping a tongue over your teeth, you don’t respond for a moment. When the first of you had first met, she’d not so subtly assumed you to be one of the sect workers; she’d been courteous, but the kind of courtesy extended to those one believed to be of a lower standing. You stare at her, feeling a surge of old resentment well up. Mistaking your silence for thought, she tilts her head playfully, braids swinging at the movement. “Did I catch you at the wrong time?” She teases. Biting the inside of your cheek, you arrange your features into a mild-mannered expression, though something must seep through for her smile falters. “No idea," you say. "I can’t seem to understand why you’ve sought me out either, samae.” She blinks at you. "I apologize for bothering you," she says. “I simply assumed that…” Kang Ji trails off, and as faint as it is, you catch the flicker of one of her hands curling into a fist within one of her sleeves. “Truly assumption makes a fool out of one, does it not?” “Truly,” you echo. “If you’ll pardon me.” “Of course.” Stepping aside with a gracious sweep of her fluttering sleeves, the two of you mirror each other in a pretense of polite manners until the moment you turn to leave. Out of her range of sight, your expression flattens out immediately, though you tilt your head in consideration. Curious. She’s never sought out Yeo Jinwol personally, having deemed his mercurial affections too difficult to attain from the moment she stepped foot on Mount Hua. The year she arrived was the year in which his third brother had gotten engaged, and she had presented herself as the estranged niece of the grand sect master, Yeo Jinhak—though anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that was a crock of bullshit. You still have plenty of time before the afternoon lecture; you might as well do something before someone decides to ask you for help again. <ul class="a"><li><<link "If Kang Ji is looking for Yeo Jinwol, he might've gotten caught up in something. Figuring out where he is isn't the worst idea you've had today." "ch1.6bc12">><</link>></li> <li><<link "The woods are decently empty in the morning. Maybe you can do some training?" "ch1.6bc2">><</link>></li> <li><<link "You're going to grab something to eat. Thinking can come after." "ch1.6bc3">><<set $impulsive += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

<<set $rel_j to true>>A long, winding path snakes through Madam Yeo’s bamboo grove, well-kept but untouched. The previous Madam, the eldest daughter of the Gu Clan, had viewed the ostentatious nature of the house to be unfit for someone of her upbringing. Hence, she ordered fine marble slabs to be installed into the ground around her pavilion, and brought in all manner of plants, exotic and familiar. It indeed must’ve angered Madam Yeo to be constantly reminded of the dead woman she replaced. Still, either out of respect or to avoid incurring the displeasure of Yeo Jinhak, she had neither stone nor plants torn out to this day. Just as you make up your mind to enter in search of the young master, two figures emerge side-by-side from the grove mid-conversation. The one on the left is taller by a fair amount, skin the unhealthy pallor of bone, with handsome features and the intense, straight nose all members of the Yeo Clan seem to possess. The one on the right, visibly younger by several years, is nearly a carbon copy of the Madam, with almond eyes, impeccable posture, and a full mouth. His expression, however, erases any semblance of the cold, untouchable beauty he inherited—his features are contorted into a thunderous scowl. The moment he sees you, he charges over, muttering, “Fuck!” before he comes to a fuming halt at your side. The fourth son of the Yeo Clan, Yeo Jinwol, seems mere seconds away from strangling his eldest brother Yeo Seongwoo to death. You bow to the both of them, though only Yeo Jinwol nods back in greeting. [[Continue|ch1.6bc1.1]]

Squeezing your shoulders into yourself, you lower your eyelashes and slow your breathing, the picture of a background figure depicted within a painting. A truly skilled martial artist could erase their presence entirely—you’re nowhere near that level, but you’ve had enough experience growing up to learn how to make yourself unobtrusive. Perhaps it was the nature of their relationship, but Jinwol had already earned the ire of his brothers from his conception. The current Madam Yeo had been deep into her pregnancy by the time she took up the title, a mere two months after former Madam Yeo had been laid to rest. His elder brothers, old enough to hold grudges, were certainly old enough to harbor a deep resentment for both their new mother from unknown origins and younger brother. And who could blame them? Surely in their hearts, it was unforgivable that their father had betrayed both them and their beloved mother like that—they considered themselves his superior; well versed in the six rites, better at martial arts, better looking, of far more noble bearing—in their eyes, Jinwol was nothing more than a nuisance. An intruder. Jinwol’s knuckles turn white beneath the force of his grip upon the hilt of his sword, but he swallows, throat bobbing, and stiffly forces his hand downwards, sneering the entire time. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says sharply. “I—” “That’s quite enough,” comes Yeo Jinhak’s voice, and Jinwol and Seongwoo straighten up instinctually. Silence stretches before Yeo Jinhak motions towards you, and your eyes widen in surprise. “Walk with me,” he says, turning to leave without sparing another glance towards his sons. [[Continue|ch1.6bc1.4]]

Laughter claws its way up before you can stop it, cutting through the tense silence like the edge of a blade. “Ah, I apologize,” you say, swiping away a non-existent tear. Yeo Jinwol’s head pivots towards you, staring at you as if you’ve gone mad. “I was simply so overjoyed to see Seongwoo-gongjanim has finally managed to concern himself with something other than whor…worldly pleasures! A momentous day, is it not?” Yeo Jinwol’s mouth twitches, and he lifts his eyes upwards as if trying to find some sort of hidden message within the clouds. Like someone has splattered dog shit onto his face, Yeo Seongwoo’s turns ashen; your smile hardly shifts. “I’m envious of your bond,” you say, unperturbed. “I truly am.” Jinwol subtly elbows you in the arm behind your backs, and you quirk an eyebrow at him. He lifts his eyes once more, and the trembling of his mouth intensifies. “That’s quite enough,” comes Yeo Jinhak’s voice, and you acquiesce with a mocking bow towards Yeo Seongwoo. The resemblance between Yeo Jinwol and his brothers are hard to pinpoint on a good day, but like this expressive faces are nearly identical—the way their cheeks tense up trying to hold back a sneer, the way their eyes flash dangerously—you barely hold back your amusement. To everyone’s surprise, his next words are clearly directed towards you. “Walk with me,” he says, turning to leave without sparing another glance towards his sons. [[Continue|ch1.6bc1.4]]

<<set $show_rel to true>><<notify 3s>>Relationships now available.<</notify>>Donning a dark uniform with a shimmering copper trim, a belt adorned with an exquisitely carved buckle tightly cinches around his waist, and a silver hairpiece gleams in his high ponytail. A pair of well-worn but well-polished vambraces wrap around his wrists, at complete odds with the crust of drying mud splattered on his leather boots. Really, you sigh in your head, the only thing the young master loves more than his own reflection is training. Even when the two of you were children he’d practice the same set of moves from hours dressed in full uniform. Several sets of finely crafted robes were ruined with dust and dirt within a single month in his single-minded pursuit of perfecting a form. The sword strapped to his back shimmers in the sunlight, and you can’t help but give it a sidelong glance of admiration—a heirloom of the Hua Sect and a relic from times long past, his sword Zhuimei is truly a work of art. Long and crystalline with a slender, translucent blade, while its appearance is extraordinary light and ethereal, you know from firsthand experience just how difficult the sword is to wield. “Think it over,” Yeo Seongwoo says, expression unflappably calm. His eyes flick over to you momentarily, glancing you up and down. You… <<cycle "$cycling" autoselect>> <<option "shift uncomfortably.">> <<option "ignore his staring.">> <</cycle>> He turns his full attention back onto his younger brother. “It’s a very kind proposition; I believe it’ll serve you well.” “And I doubt that I have any say in the matter.” “Of course you do,” Yeo Seongwoo says, though you catch a trace of mockery hovering at the corners of his lips. “Ha!” Yeo Jinwol sneers, eyes narrowing. “You forget this is no longer your home.” Seongwoo smiles, but his eyes are frigid. You feel the hair at the back of your nape prickle in warning. “And I suppose,” he begins in the same placid tone, “you believe yourself to be above the rest of us when the largest trial you’ve ever faced is deciding what to wear in the mornings. How difficult your life must be, to neither want nor work for anything.” The effect is instantaneous, Yeo Jinwol’s face cycles through a truly impressive range of shades—purple, green, and red—an angry flush settles high on his cheekbones. “Y–you,” he splutters, hand flying for the hilt of his sword. A second too late, you realize what Yeo Seongwoo is aiming for when you hear the deliberate crunch of footsteps over fallen leaves. [[Continue|ch1.6bc1.2]]

Yeo Jinhak, the head of the Hua Sect stands before the three of you, hands laced behind his back in the very image of nonchalance. A single fan dangles from his belt and though he carries no visible weapons, the air pressure seems to drop in his mere presence. Immediately folding over in a bow, you keep your eyes trained on the ground. “This one greets jangmun-nim,” you say, words springing forth automatically, and he holds out a hand in acknowledgement. You straighten up, and minutely start to inch away. Jinwol tenses up next to you, and in your periphery you see his fingers twitching minutely as he drops his hands as if at a loss at how to proceed. “Fath—jangmun-nim,” he begins, but shuts his mouth with a practically audible snap as Yeo Jinhak turns the weight of his gaze onto his sons. Yeo Seongwoo, as unreadable as ever, smiles mockingly. “As honorable as always, little fourth.” He gives you a languid glance, and you bristle, biting down on the urge to peel your lips back into a snarl. He’s always been like this, watching you some kind of fascinating, two-headed centipede when he thinks you can’t sense him. His martial talent is horrendously low, so much so that it lags behind yours. You could do it. No one would have to know. Seongwoo’s always been a bastard. Before he settled into the facade of the ever-so-magnanimous and dedicated husband, he was infamous for frequenting brothels like his life depended on it. He could’ve just run off with a serving girl who caught his eye—no one would find him before it was too late. [[Continue|ch1.6bc1.3]]

//Sahyung// (사형/师兄) is a title that means senior martial brother, and is used by disciples within the same generation or rank to denote someone who has entered the sect before them. <center><<button "Ok">><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>></center>

//Jangmun// (장문/掌門) is a term that means sect leader, and is the title used within Mount Hua by members to refer to the head of the sect. <center><<button "Ok">><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>></center>

Your fingers locate the back of his sleeve, pinching the fabric and tugging downward. As expected of Jinwol, his gaze finds yours, and an unspoken moment of communication passes between the two of you. The tension bleeds out of his posture, though his mouth remains pinched in a tight line. “I will,” he grits out, “take your advice into consideration.” Seongwoo shoots him an indecipherable look, but inclines his head in understanding. Your lip curls disdainfully, but you wrest it back under control before anyone notices. Thankfully, he no longer lives within the sect; you’re not positive you’d be able to manage yourself if he did. Yeo Jinhak finally speaks, though to everyone's surprise his words are clearly directed towards you. “Walk with me,” he says, turning to leave without a second glance towards his sons. [[Continue|ch1.6bc1.4]]

You clear your throat hard enough for you to feel your vocal cords grating together. All three of them turn to look at you in varying levels of confusion, and you force an innocent look, smiling back in polite confusion. “Apologies,” you say. “I was simply…” You gesture towards your chest. “Something was caught in my throat.” Yeo Jinwol looks momentarily dumbfounded, though you can visibly see the tension bleeding from his posture. You wave your hands. “Please excuse me,” you say. “I didn’t intend to interrupt.” Neither of the brothers look like they believe you, but the tension has already been shattered—silence settles upon the two of them as they resolutely refuse to look at one another. “That’s enough,” comes Yeo Jinhak’s voice. To everyone’s surprise, his next words are clearly directed towards you. “Walk with me,” he says, turning to leave without sparing another glance towards his sons. [[Continue|ch1.6bc1.4]]

//I can’t believe he just abandoned his wife and child.// You can already hear the murmurs of gossip. //What a cruel man he was.// Tear at his flesh, rip it off, carve his bones, the sensations echo like a ghost against your skin— Jinwol makes a little noise as he inhales sharply through his nose. —pluck his wandering eyes out, he doesn’t //deserve// them— Movement pulls apart the tangled knot of your thoughts, and you blink, brought back into the fraying situation at hand. Yeo Jinwol’s expression has grown dark enough to pass for a stormcloud, and one hand has flown up to reach for his sword once more. You’ve seen that expression of his before; his temperamental personality would hardly allow him to take an insult lying down. <ul class="a"><li><<link "Subtly tug on Jinwol’s robe to distract him. An outburst here is just what his brother wants." "ch1.6bc1.2.1">><<set $cautious += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><<set $introvert += 1>><<set $j_rel to $j_rel.fm(55)>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Loudly clear your throat to get their attention onto you instead. Anything is better than watching the young master get beat to a pulp by his father for attempting fratricide." "ch1.6bc1.2.2">><<set $extrovert += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><<set $cynical += 1>><<set $j_rel to $j_rel.fm(60)>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Obeisance be damned. You’re getting fed up being a bystander; you’re going to give Seongwoo a piece of your mind." "ch1.6bc1.2.3">><<set $impulsive += 5>><<set $emotional += 2>><<set $j_rel to $j_rel.fm(60)>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Stay as silent as you can. As much as you dislike Seongwoo, their family issues are none of your business." "ch1.6bc1.2.4">><<set $introvert += 5>><<set $cautious += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><<set $j_rel to $j_rel.fm(50)>><</link>></li></ul>

put whatever linked text you want here

The idea of the both of them just standing there and //watching// causes the tenuous hold you have on your snarling anger to fall apart, fury roaring back anew. You... <span class="cycling"><<cycle "$coping1">><<option "dig your nails into your palm">><<option "mentally count to ten">><<option "flex and relax your muscles">><<option "tug on your hair">><<option "don't feel the urge to do anything">><</cycle>></span> to ground yourself. [[Continue|ch1.3.2]]

Han Hyunseok elbows Yoon Hwi surreptitiously but quickly adopts a sympathetic look. “You ended up missing morning call,” he says. “You’re to run laps as punishment and then report back to <<link "__sabu__">><<script>> Dialog.setup("sabu"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Sabu").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>>-<<link "__nim__">><<script>> Dialog.setup("nim"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Nim").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>> once you’re finished.” “Around the entire perimeter,” Yoon Hwi butts in. “Not just around the courtyard.” “Mn. Three times total.” “We tried to wake you.” “Really.” “...” //Like hell you did!// Head still pounding, you mentally swear that the first thing you’ll do when you receive permission to leave the sect is to find their family’s graves and fucking spit upon them. Twice. Maybe even three times. What kind of idiot couldn’t see that the both of them had enough time to change their clothing, tie up their hair, and lace up their boots? It takes you a second to pull yourself back together. <ul class="a"><li><<link "Smile politely and thank them for letting you know. As much as you’d like to point out that they should’ve woken you up for morning call, antagonizing them will get you nowhere." "ch1.4a">><<set $friendly += 2>><<set $genuine += 2>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Try for something resembling a smile and acquiesce — arguing with either of them is only going to make your morning worse." "ch1.4b">><<set $friendly += 1>><<set $sarcastic += 2>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Make a vague noise in agreement. Manners went out the window when they forgot theirs." "ch1.4c">><<set $stoic += 1>><<set $introvert += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You’re not even going to deign to respond to them. There’s no point in humoring squawking birds." "ch1.4d">><<set $hh_resent to 1>><<set $stoic += 2>><<set $sarcastic += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

Now, where could he be? <ul class="a"><li><<link "If he missed morning call, he must be with the Madam. Go check in her garden." "ch1.6bc1">><</link>></li> <li><<link "He might've gotten up early and lost track of time while training. Go check the pond." "ch1.6bc2.5">><</link>></li> <li><<link "You have no idea. Maybe the kitchen?" "ch1.6bc3">><<set $impulsive += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

Before the sect was established, the entirety of the mountain had been drenched in death—the treacherous terrain and thick, dense woods had been home to innumerable magical beasts, fierce enough to tear apart all those who dared to step foot in their domain. The qi-rich nature of the mountain lends itself to excellent martial cultivation and purification, but similarly it attracts all manner of creatures, intelligent or not. Disciples are strictly forbidden from venturing into the backwoods without supervision, but for someone like you the rule is more of a suggestion than a strict limit. Having grown up on Mount Hua, every inch of the backwoods is as intimately familiar as the sensation of the hilt of a sword in your hands, or the scent of plum blossoms; you could find your way through them even while blindfolded. Having grabbed a practice sword on your way out, you push your way through the trees and bushes, occasionally pausing to hack away at a fallen branch or a thicket of dried vines. Eventually you make it to a meandering stream, more rock than water, a pale path of clay and dirt worn next to it. If you choose to follow it, you’ll make it to a pleasant little clearing of bamboo, the perfect space for doing some training in private. The only downside is that it’s entirely possible someone may have already had the same idea as you, which would make the trip pointless. Alternatively, you could head deeper into the woods where you know for certain nobody will be—but the further you are from the sect, the likelier you are to run into something hungry for your flesh. <ul class="a"> <li><<link "Follow the path." "ch1.7a">><<set $optimistic += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Go deeper into the woods." "ch1.7b">><<set $impulsive += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

<<set $rel_yul to true>>The kitchen is mercifully unmanned at the moment, save for an elderly servant who pointedly glances at the water bucket for you to dunk your hands into before entering. Shaking your hands dry, you give the counters a cursory glance. The remnants of breakfast lay discarded on one of them, and on another the side dishes are already swept into a pile for what you can only assume is intended for compost. Swiping a cold baijimo, you carefully consider the benefits between stuffing the flatbread with boiled vegetables, meat, or what you think is some kind of stewed dish. The contents have congealed into a thick texture, the color faintly reminiscent of red bean paste. The grandmother shuffles behind you to peer over your shoulder. You turn, a thoughtful frown on your face. “Grandm–euagk.” Rather than the face of the elderly woman, an unfamiliar disciple blinks up at you inquisitively, and you swivel your head back towards the food once again before you look back at the disciple. Food. Disciple. Food. Disciple. Not a hallucination then. With a curly head of brown hair and wide, curious eyes, the disciple is one you haven’t seen before — and with a face like that, you’d have remembered if you did. Perhaps they’re newly initiated, though they look slightly older than twelve and you can’t recall if the sect is currently accepting any newcomers. It takes you an embarrassingly long moment to realize that rather than staring at you, their gaze is fixed upon the baijimao in your hand. As if on cue, their stomach grumbles. <ul class="a"><li><<link "They’re clearly hungry. Offer to give them the entire baijimo, you can wait until the next meal." "ch1.6bc3.1">><<set $friendly += 2>><<set $logical += 1>><<set $extrovert += 1>><<set $y_rel to $y_rel.fm(25)>><</link>></li> <li><<link "There’s only //one// piece of bread, and you’re not going to give it up so easily. Offer to split it with them." "ch1.6bc3.2">><<set $stoic += 2>><<set $logical += 1>><<set $cynical += 1>><<set $y_rel to $y_rel.fm(20)>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You’re hungry, they’re hungry, everyone’s hungry. Surely they can figure something out; you don’t see the point in asking." "ch1.6bc3.3">><<set $cynical += 3>><<set $stoic += 2>><<set $y_rel to $y_rel.fm(10)>><</link>></li></ul>

In daytime, Madame Yeo’s pavilion is resplendent. Fat, golden-scaled fish float alongside their ruby-encrusted cousins, the far smaller pearl-colored fish hiding in the shadows cast by the blooming lotus blossoms that float upon the pond. Sunlight gently shines through a jade-green grove of carefully cultivated bamboo, and the rippling water takes on a crystalline glimmer. For a brief moment you feel as if you are peering into the extravagant depths of a living treasury. A breeze rustles at your hair, and you shut your eyes and tip your head towards the sky. Disciples are not allowed within here. Transgressors are to be punished publicly by lashing followed by kneeling for an entire day and night upon the steps of the main gate. You, however have permission to enter, but only for matters related to the young master; you are strictly forbidden from lingering. A true pity, you think. A stronger breeze flies through the air, and it carries along a single plum blossom petal. You cannot help but stretch your hand out to try and catch it, but it flutters through your fingers. Jinwol is nowhere to be seen, but perhaps it's for the best. You inhale and exhale deeply, feeling a trickle of energy traverse your meridians. [[Continue|ch1.6bc.2b1]]

In daytime, Madame Yeo’s pavilion is resplendent. You trail behind Yeo Jinhak at a respectful distance, following him until he stops at a lacquered railing to gaze at the Lotus Pond. Fat, golden-scaled fish float alongside their ruby-encrusted cousins, the far smaller pearl-colored fish hiding in the shadows cast by the blooming lotus blossoms that float upon the pond. Sunlight gently shines through a jade-green grove of carefully cultivated bamboo, and the rippling water takes on a crystalline glimmer. For a brief moment you feel as if you are peering into the extravagant depths of a living treasury. A breeze rustles at your hair, and you resist the urge to shut your eyes and tip your head towards the sky. Yeo Jinhak speaks after a long silence. “How long has it been since I have last seen you?” You ponder his question. “I believe we last spoke at the Mid-Autumn festival,” you say, though it had been nothing more than an exchange of formalities. “And yet you have already grown in such a short period of time.” He pauses, turning to face you. “You’ve been training hard.” His voice is clear and sonorous, and almost unconsciously you feel yourself start to glow with pride. You bow in gratitude to hide it, but you can’t help but hear your voice grow lighter as you say, “Many thanks, jangmun-nim.” The translucent jade hanging on his sash gleams in the sunlight, and you feel transfixed by it. In a place where you are invisible, feeling seen is both mortifying and gratifying; a simple compliment and you feel as if you are a dog wagging its tail at a master. The Yeo Clan places great emphasis upon personal achievement, only second in line to observing seniority. As paltry as your achievements are, to have them acknowledged feels like a great triumph in and of itself. [[Continue|ch1.6bc1.5]]

Including yourself, most disciples and warriors under the sect own a plum-blossom tassel, but only direct relations are permitted to have theirs strung with bone-jade. A single stone costs enough to comfortably feed a family of five for a year, yet in a testament to her social skills, Kang Ji has not one nor two, but four dangling from her waist. An egregious display of wealth, but nothing you’re unused to seeing. A devout ascetic would probably faint at the price of your young master’s closet. //You’ve// certainly considered it at the sight of his winter wardrobe before. Speaking of Yeo Jinwol. “The young master missed morning call, and I thought you might know where to find him,” Kang Ji says. <ul class="a"><li><<link "You don't know where Yeo Jinwol is and neither do you want to know why she wants to find him. Avoid the question." "ch1.6ab.1">><<set $logical += 1>><<set $cynical += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Tell her where you think he might be. You need to finish running, but you don’t see the harm in helping her out." "ch1.6ab.2">><<set $friendly += 1>><<set $cautious += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You can find him for her once you've finished your punishment. Surely he can't be far." "ch1.6ab.3">><<set $friendly += 2>><<set $impulsive += 1>><<set $optimistic += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You’re not responsible for him, and you’re getting tired of people acting like you are." "ch1.6ab.4">><<set $emotional += 2>><<set $stoic += 1>><<set $jresentful to true>><<set $j_resent += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

“My apologies,” you say, feigning confusion. “I missed morning call as well, I’m afraid I won’t be of much help in locating <<link "__sahyung__">><<script>> Dialog.setup("sahyung"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Sahyung").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>>.” You arrange your features into a mild-mannered smile. She smiles back. “I see. They do say good friends are similar in thought; it seems the two of you are no exception.” “If you’ll excuse me,” you say, bobbing your head in a bow. "I need to finish." “Of course. Please pardon me for startling you just now.” Stepping aside with a gracious sweep of her fluttering sleeves, the two of you mirror each other in a pretense of polite manners until the moment you start running again. Out of her range of sight, your expression flattens out immediately, though you purse your lips in consideration. Curious. She’s never sought out Yeo Jinwol personally, having deemed his mercurial affections too difficult to attain from the moment she stepped foot on Mount Hua. The year she arrived was the year in which his third brother had gotten engaged, and she had presented herself as the estranged niece of the grand sect master, Yeo Jinhak—though anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that was a total crock of bullshit. [[Continue|ch1.6ac]]

"If he missed morning call," you say slowly, "It's possible you might find the young master with the Madam. He wouldn't be truant without good reason." A respectable-sounding reason, but you’ve borne witness to him skipping out for reasons including but not limited to: being hungover, deciding to sleep in on a whim, having spent too long doing his hair, and mystifyingly, spending the entire morning fishing in one of the streams in the backwoods. For someone so obsessed with how he comes across to others, you've never seen anyone quite as dedicated to angering his masters. She nods in understanding. "That makes sense." You gesture towards yourself apologetically. "I would offer to accompany you, but I also missed morning call, so I’m afraid…” "Of course,” she says. Just as you’d hoped, she takes the cue with grace. “Please pardon me for startling you just now.” Stepping aside with a gracious sweep of her fluttering sleeves, you tilt your head in goodbye. Starting to run again, you quickly move of her range of sight. Your expression takes on a thoughtful note, pursing your lips in consideration. Curious. She’s never sought out Yeo Jinwol personally, having deemed his mercurial affections too difficult to attain from the moment she stepped foot on Mount Hua. The year she arrived was the year in which his third brother had gotten engaged, and she had presented herself as the estranged niece of the grand sect master, Yeo Jinhak—though anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that was a crock of bullshit. [[Continue|ch1.6ac]]

In a futile attempt to save face, you consider your plans for the morning and come up with… Nothing. A lone gust of wind blows across the barren expanse of your imagination. Beyond fetching food for yourself and enjoying a pleasant morning stroll, you can’t think of anything else to idle away your time with before your master requires your presence. Plus, you //did// hurt her, even if it was by accident. Manners dictate an apology on your end, and what better way is there to do so than assist her? "I think I know where the young master is," you tell her. "I could go fetch him for you once I'm finished." Her face brightens up immediately. She tilts her head to look up at you through her lashes with a shining gaze. “Would you truly be willing to do that for me?" Her hands grab onto one of yours in a perfect facsimile of eager thanks, and you feel your arm muscles spasm at the feeling of being touched so suddenly. Despite your instincts screaming at you to rip yourself away from her grasp, you gently extricate yourself and arrange your features into a mild-mannered smile. "Yes," you say, and if the word comes out terse, she shows no sign of acknowledgment. Stepping aside with a gracious sweep of her fluttering sleeves, the two of you mirror each other in a pretense of polite manners until the moment you turn to start running again. Out of her range of sight, your expression flattens out immediately, though you purse your lips in consideration. Curious. She’s never sought out Yeo Jinwol personally, having deemed his mercurial affections too difficult to attain from the moment she stepped foot on Mount Hua. The year she arrived was the year in which his third brother had gotten engaged, and she had presented herself as the estranged niece of the grand sect master, Yeo Jinhak—though anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that was a total crock of bullshit. [[Continue|ch1.6ad]]

Swiping a tongue over your teeth, you don’t respond for a moment. When the first of you had first met, she’d not so subtly assumed you to be one of the sect workers; she’d been courteous, but the kind of courtesy extended to those one believed to be of a lower standing. You stare at her, feeling a surge of old resentment well up. Mistaking your silence for thought, she tilts her head playfully, braids swinging at the movement. “Did I catch you at the wrong time?” She teases. Biting the inside of your cheek, you arrange your features into a mild-mannered expression, though something must seep through for her smile falters. “No idea," you say. "I can’t seem to understand why you’ve sought me out either, samae.” She blinks at you. "I apologize for bothering you," she says. “I simply assumed that…” Kang Ji trails off, and as faint as it is, you catch the flicker of one of her hands curling into a fist within one of her sleeves. “Truly assumption makes a fool out of one, does it not?” “Truly,” you echo. “If you’ll pardon me. I have things I need to attend to." “Of course.” Stepping aside with a gracious sweep of her fluttering sleeves, the two of you mirror each other in a pretense of polite manners until the moment you turn to leave. Starting to run again, you quickly move of her range of sight. Your expression takes on a thoughtful note, pursing your lips in consideration. Curious. She’s never sought out Yeo Jinwol personally, having deemed his mercurial affections too difficult to attain from the moment she stepped foot on Mount Hua. The year she arrived was the year in which his third brother had gotten engaged, and she had presented herself as the estranged niece of the grand sect master, Yeo Jinhak—though anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that was a crock of bullshit. [[Continue|ch1.6ac]]

You're just imagining things. [[Continue|prlg_10]]

//That voice is saying something that sounds, so very familiar, isn’t it?// [[Your name.|prlg_5]]

Gritting your teeth, you struggle onto a knee. [[Stand up.|prlg_11]]

Several meters away a gracefully flowering tree awaits you, branches heavy with impossibly colored blossoms – pale blue, pink, white, lavender. A light breeze lifts the fabric of your robe, sending it fluttering. It carries along the faint scent of something sweet and soft. White blossoms dot the ground, their delicate petals glowing in the soft moonlight. Little stars embedded into the earth. A <span class="cycling"><<cycle "$m_gender" autoselect>><<option "man" "male">><<option "woman" "female">><<option "person" "non-binary">><</cycle>></span> stands at the base of the tree, partially obscured by a curtain of flowers. [[You move.|prlg_14]]

There's still some time before the afternoon lecture. <ul class="a"><li><<link "Maybe you'll finally look around for the young master." "chjinwolkitchenfail">><</link>></li> <li><<link "The woods are decently empty in the morning. Maybe you can do some training?" "ch1.6bc2">><</link>></li></ul>

Finishing your <<if $ranlaps >= 2>>laps<<elseif $ranlaps == 1>>lap<</if>>, you double over, <<if $ranlaps >= 2>>chest heaving in extertion<<elseif $ranlaps == 1>>pinching at the stitch in your side<</if>>. Trying to catch your breath, you shield your eyes as you squint at the sky. The sun still hasn't reached its zenith, so you still have some time before you need to attend the afternoon lecture. <ul class="a"><li><<link "If Kang Ji is looking for Yeo Jinwol, he might've gotten caught up in something. Figuring out where he is isn't the //worst// idea you've had." "ch1.6bc12">><</link>></li> <li><<link "The woods are decently empty in the morning. Maybe you can do some training?" "ch1.6bc2">><</link>></li> <li><<link "You're starving. You need something to eat; thinking can come after." "ch1.6bca">><<set $impulsive += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

Finishing your <<if $ranlaps >= 2>>laps<<elseif $ranlaps == 1>>lap<</if>>, you double over, <<if $ranlaps >= 2>>chest heaving in extertion<<elseif $ranlaps == 1>>pinching at the stitch in your side<</if>>. Trying to catch your breath, you shield your eyes as you squint at the sky. The sun still hasn't reached its zenith, so you still have some time before you need to attend the afternoon lecture. <ul class="a"><li><<link "You //did// promise Kang Ji you'd find the young master. You should probably try and figure out where he is." "ch1.6ad1">><</link>></li> <li><<link "Now that you're done, maybe you can do some training? The woods should technically be empty." "ch1.6bc2">><</link>></li> <li><<link "You're going to grab something to eat. Thinking can come after." "ch1.6bca">><<set $impulsive += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

Now, where could he be? <ul class="a"><li><<link "If he missed morning call, he must be with the Madam. Go check in her garden." "ch1.6bc1">><</link>></li> <li><<link "He might've gotten up early and lost track of time while training. Go check the training grounds." "ch1.6bc2.5">><</link>></li> <li><<link "You have no idea. Maybe the kitchen?" "ch1kitchenfail">><<set $impulsive += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

The kitchen is unmanned at the moment, save for an elderly servant who pointedly glances at the water bucket for you to dunk your hands into before entering. Shaking your hands dry, you give the counters a cursory glance. The remnants of breakfast lay discarded on one of them, and on another the side dishes are already swept into a pile for what you can only assume is intended for compost. Swiping a cold baijimo, you carefully consider the benefits between stuffing the flatbread with boiled vegetables, meat, or what you think is some kind of stewed dish. The contents have congealed into a thick texture, the color faintly reminiscent of red bean paste. <ul class="a"><li><<link "Fill it with meat." "ch1.6bcb">><<set $sfilling to "meat">><</link>></li> <li><<link "Fill it with vegtables." "ch1.6bcb">><<set $sfilling to "vegtables">><</link>></li> <li><<link "Fill it with the paste." "ch1.6bcb">><<set $sfilling to "beans">> "ch1.6bcb">><</link>></li> <li><<link "On second thought, you're going to get yourself a bowl of congee." "ch1.6bcc">><</link>></li></ul>

The ground is dappled with light, and a fresh, earthy scent seems to permeate your surroundings. A breeze rustles at your hair, and you shut your eyes and tip your head towards the sky. You inhale and exhale deeply, feeling a trickle of energy traverse your meridians. The bare minimum requirement to pursue the path of martial cultivation requires both spiritual power and inner qi—something cannot come from nothing—yet your dantian remains both insignificant in both size and strength. The only thing you hadn’t inherited from your parents was their power. Yet sometimes you privately wondered if it even mattered if that had failed them in the end too. Your parents had been good, honorable people. Or something like that. Something aches whenever you try and remember about them, blood moving sluggish and viscous. Children seldom remember their childhood, but even when you were seven you could not recall the most simple of things, not your name, not your home, not what had happened. [[Continue|ch1.7.5]]

<<set $show_rel to true>><<notify 3s>>Relationships now available.<</notify>>“Do you want this?” You ask, waving the flatbread and watch with no little amusement as they freeze up at being addressed directly. They eventually manage a shy nod, and you resist the sudden urge to pinch at the round swell of their tender-looking cheeks—something about them reminds you of a small, fluffy animal. //Cute!// “Okay,” you say, patting your chest. “This elder $sibtitle will make you something. What do you want in it? Vegetables? Meat?” You look back at the mystery dish. “Something… else?” Their forehead wrinkles in such severe concentration, your mouth starts to wobble in a poor attempt at suppressing your amusement. Where did this kid come from? They’re dressed in the robes of a fellow disciple, white trimmed with bronze, so they’re a fellow third-rank, but they’re clearly ill-accustomed to wearing such clothing. The collar of their inner robe is folded and creased on one side, and their sash is knotted incorrectly — could this be their first day here? In that case, it’d make sense that they missed breakfast and came to look for food in the kitchen instead; disciples are firmly discouraged from eating outside of the allotted mealtimes. //You’ve// never followed that rule, being a firm believer in a singular truth instead: rules and laws can only be enforced when one is caught in the midst of their transgressions. Besides, who’d miss food intended for the gardens anyway? The plants? The worms? “...the meat,” they finally say in a soft voice. The same urge to pull at their youthful looking face swims to the forefront of your mind once more: //Cute!// “All right,” you say, and don’t quite manage to keep the laugh out of your voice, though they seem too transfixed by the sight of you slicing open the baijimao and stuffing it with meat to notice. [[Continue|ch1.6bc.1b]]

<<set $show_rel to true>><<notify 3s>>Relationships now available.<</notify>>“Want to split one?” You ask, waving the flatbread and watch with no little amusement as they freeze up at being addressed directly. They eventually manage a shy nod, and you resist the sudden urge to pinch at the round swell of their tender-looking cheeks—something about them reminds you of a small, fluffy animal. //Cute!// “Okay,” you say, patting your chest. “This elder $sibtitle will make you something. What do you want in your half? Vegetables? Meat?” You look back at the mystery dish. “Something… else?” Their forehead wrinkles in such severe concentration, your mouth starts to wobble in a poor attempt at suppressing your amusement. Where did this kid come from? They’re dressed in the robes of a fellow disciple, white trimmed with bronze, so they’re a fellow third-rank, but they’re clearly ill-accustomed to wearing such clothing. The collar of their inner robe is folded and creased on one side, and their sash is knotted incorrectly — could this be their first day here? In that case, it’d make sense that they missed breakfast and came to look for food in the kitchen instead; disciples are firmly discouraged from eating outside of the allotted mealtimes. //You’ve// never followed that rule, being a firm believer in a singular truth instead: rules and laws can only be enforced when one is caught in the midst of their transgressions. Besides, who’d miss food intended for the gardens anyway? The plants? The worms? “...the meat,” they finally say in a soft voice. The same urge to pull at their youthful looking face swims to the forefront of your mind once more: //Cute!// “All right,” you say, and don’t quite manage to keep the laugh out of your voice, though they seem too transfixed by the sight of you tearing the baijimao in half and stuffing it with meat to notice. [[Continue|ch1.6bc.2b]]

<<set $show_rel to true>><<notify 3s>>Relationships now available.<</notify>>“Are you hungry?” You ask, and with no little amusement as they freeze up at being addressed directly. They eventually manage a shy nod, and you resist the sudden urge to pinch at the round swell of their tender-looking cheeks—something about them reminds you of a small, fluffy animal. //Cute!// “There might be some congee in one of the pots, but I don’t know which one.” You point at a shelf. “There’s some bowls over there, you can fill one up with whatever you’d like.” Their forehead wrinkles in such severe concentration, your mouth starts to wobble in a poor attempt at suppressing your amusement. Where did this kid come from? They’re dressed in the robes of a fellow disciple, white trimmed with bronze, so they’re a fellow third-rank, but they’re clearly ill-accustomed to wearing such clothing. The collar of their inner robe is folded and creased on one side, and their sash is knotted incorrectly — could this be their first day here? In that case, it’d make sense that they missed breakfast and came to look for food in the kitchen instead; disciples are firmly discouraged from eating outside of the allotted mealtimes. //You’ve// never followed that rule, being a firm believer in a singular truth instead: rules and laws can only be enforced when one is caught in the midst of their transgressions. Besides, who’d miss food intended for the gardens anyway? The plants? The worms? “...thank you,” they finally say in a soft voice. The same urge to pull at their youthful looking face swims to the forefront of your mind once more: //Cute!// “Of course,” you say, and don’t quite manage to keep the laugh out of your voice as you watch them carefully lift lids pot-by-pot, peering into the depths of each one. [[Continue|ch1.6bc3.3b]]

“Watch this,” you say, and they nod intently as you grasp it with a pair of tongs and hold it over the low flames burning in the oven. Though it takes several minutes, when you pull it free, the flatbread has turned a golden, toasty brown, and the savory smell of meat wafts from it. “It tastes much better this way,” you say. “Or at least I think it does.” “Can you get a bowl?” You use your head to gesture towards a shelf, and they trot over to grab one. “Go sit over there,” you tell them, and they obediently take a seat on a stool. “Be careful,” you say, walking over to place it into the ceramic before you join them on an adjacent seat. “It’s really hot, you don’t want to burn yourself.” They accept the piping hot dish, and blow on it several times before taking a tentative bite into the roujiamo. A look of surprise flashes on their face before it's replaced by an expression of elation, and not for the first time you have to force down your laughter. You prop your chin on one hand and watch as they demolish the food as if famished — your hunger seems so inconsequential watching them barely chew before swallowing. [[You have reached the end of the current demo. Save here to return next time!|Landing]]

“Watch this,” you say, and they nod intently as you grasp their half with a pair of tongs and hold it over the low flames burning in the oven. Though it takes several minutes, when you pull it free, the flatbread has turned a golden, toasty brown, and the savory smell of meat wafts from it. “It tastes much better this way,” you say. “Or at least I think it does.” “Can you get some bowls?” You use your head to gesture towards a shelf, and they trot over to grab two. “Bring one over here,” you tell them, and they obediently hold both out. “Be careful,” you say, placing the roujiamo into the ceramic. “It’s really hot, you don’t want to burn yourself.” You hold your own half over the flames, but when you look back, they’re still standing next to you, bowls in hand. “Go sit over there. It’ll take me a little longer to finish mine.” They don’t budge from their spot, and wait until you’re finished to follow you over to a set of stools. They blow on their half several times before taking a tentative bite into the roujiamo. A look of surprise flashes on their face before it's replaced by an expression of elation, and not for the first time you have to force down your laughter. You follow suit, but pause to watch them demolish the food as if famished — your hunger seems so inconsequential watching them barely chew before swallowing. [[You have reached the end of the current demo. Save here to return next time!|Landing]]

You grasp your stuffed baijimao with a pair of tongs and hold it over the low flames burning in the oven. Though it takes several minutes, when you pull it free, the flatbread has turned a golden, toasty brown, and a savory smell wafts from it. They stand behind you once more, watching you blow on the bread to cool it down. “It tastes much better this way,” you tell them. “Or at least I think it does.” "You can sit over there," you tell them, pointing with your free hand to a set of stools. They obey, trotting over with their bowl of congee, and once you deem your food sufficiently cooled, you join them on an adjacent seat. You bite into your food, savoring the crunch of the flatbread and the aromatic warmth of crushed peppercorn in your filling. Evidently an actual roujiamo from a street vendor is incomparable to your paltry attempts at cooking, but for a slapdash meal made to sate your hunger, you're satisfied with the taste. Halfway through, you pause to watch them demolish their food as if famished — your own cravings seem so inconsequential watching them barely chew before swallowing. [[You have reached the end of the current demo. Save here to return next time!|Landing]]

//Samae// (사매/师妹) is a title that means junior martial sister, used by disciples within the same generation or rank to denote someone who has entered the sect after them. <center><<button "Ok">><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>></center>

The bare minimum requirement to pursue the path of martial cultivation requires both spiritual power and inner qi—something cannot come from nothing—yet your dantian remains both insignificant in both size and strength. The only thing you hadn’t inherited from your parents was their power. Yet sometimes you privately wondered if it even mattered if that had failed them in the end too. Your parents had been good, honorable people. Or something like that. Something aches whenever you try and remember about them, blood moving sluggish and viscous. Children seldom remember their childhood, but even when you were seven you could not recall the most simple of things, not your name, not your home, not what had happened. //come you lonely child, sing a song of your grief. tell us what you’ve lost, tell us of what you’ve never had.// They’d died protecting you, is what Yeo Jinhak had told you. Two memories stand out to you even now. One: the fear you had felt as you stood in front of Madam Yeo, the young master–your young master—peering curiously at you as he clung to the hems of her robes, the finely embroidered silk crumpled between his clenched fists. Two: the inability to speak when asked for your name, words trapped in your mouth as the buzzing in your mind grew louder than the sound of your thoughts; everything was too loud, too bright. You’d always been watching even back then, waiting and listening for something that could remind you. Sometimes you stood in front of a mirror and pulled at your face, trying to imagine what your mother looked like. Sometimes, when you were still living in the same room as the young master, you sat on a windowsill and whispered to yourself and imagined it was your father’s voice instead. The moon was your only friend back then, and even it left you when the sun rose. <ul class="a"><li><<link "You cried a lot when you were younger, wailing your misery out loud. If no one would come for you, you would at least make yourself heard." "ch1.6bc1.6">><<set $emotional += 1>><<set $impulsive += 1>><<set $extrovert += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You remained silent and kept all your emotions close to your chest. You realized swallowing things down was easier than letting them out." "ch1.6bc1.6">><<set $stoic += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><<set $cynical += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You tried to smile a lot, doing your best to make yourself loveable. Approachable." "ch1.6bc1.6">><<set $friendly += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><<set $emotional += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You retreated into your shell, hardly talking or interacting with others." "ch1.6bc1.6">><<set $introvert += 2>><<set $cautious += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

//Jungpa// (정파/正派)

The bare minimum requirement to pursue the path of martial cultivation requires both spiritual power and inner qi—something cannot come from nothing—yet your dantian remains both insignificant in both size and strength. The only thing you hadn’t inherited from your parents was their power. Yet sometimes you privately wondered if it even mattered if that had failed them in the end too. Your parents had been good, honorable people. Or something like that. Something aches whenever you try and remember about them, blood moving sluggish and viscous. Children seldom remember their childhood, but even when you were seven you could not recall the most simple of things, not your name, not your home, not what had happened. //come you lonely child, sing a song of your grief. tell us what you’ve lost, tell us of what you’ve never had.// They’d died protecting you, is what Yeo Jinhak had told you. Two memories stand out to you even now. One: the fear you had felt as you stood in front of Madam Yeo, the young master–your young master—peering curiously at you as he clung to the hems of her robes, the finely embroidered silk crumpled between his clenched fists. Two: the inability to speak when asked for your name, words trapped in your mouth as the buzzing in your mind grew louder than the sound of your thoughts; everything was too loud, too bright. You’d always been watching even back then, waiting and listening for something that could remind you. Sometimes you stood in front of a mirror and pulled at your face, trying to imagine what your mother looked like. Sometimes, when you were still living in the same room as the young master, you sat on a windowsill and whispered to yourself and imagined it was your father’s voice instead. The moon was your only friend, and even it left you when the sun rose. <ul class="a"><li><<link "You cried a lot when you were younger, wailing your misery out loud. If no one would come for you, you would at least make yourself heard." "ch1.6bc.2b2">><<set $emotional += 1>><<set $impulsive += 1>><<set $extrovert += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You remained silent and kept all your emotions close to your chest. You realized swallowing things down was easier than letting them out." "ch1.6bc.2b2">><<set $stoic += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><<set $cynical += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You tried to smile a lot, doing your best to make yourself loveable. Approachable." "ch1.6bc.2b2">><<set $friendly += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><<set $emotional += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You retreated into your shell, hardly talking or interacting with others." "ch1.6bc.2b2">><<set $introvert += 2>><<set $cautious += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

You think about it a lot, whether you want to or not, about the way people die. It’s built into you, something as innate as the color of your blood or the beating of your heart. It’s in your skin, trapped between your teeth. You can look at someone and your brain will grant you a vision of running them through with a sword, that vicious sensation of elation and challenge that cries in your brain //you could do it, can’t you feel it, we could do it// Some days it feels like something else lives under your skin. Another you. //You,// it tells you. //You’re not like the rest of them. You’re a murderer, you’re a weapon.// Crooning the song of a temptress. Everyone lived and then died and then enter the cycle to live once more, washed clean. Even within the walls of the sect, cloistered away atop the mountain, you’ve seen it. You’ve heard the death-rattle of a wounded animal, you’ve seen the lid of a coffin being nailed over a bloodless corpse. You know what it feels like to hurt someone and be hurt right back. (Perhaps that’s why you’re so weak. If growing stronger begins with something as simple as clarity, maybe that’s why you’ve never been able to advance in anything other than increments.) [[You have reached the end of the current demo. Save here to return next time!|Landing]]

“—spoke." Yeo Jinhak is saying. You nod as if you’ve been paying attention, and his expression unexpectedly… softens. Not into a smile, but there’s a subtle warmth in his eyes that scorches you like a hand pressed against burning iron. (You hate it.) You smile at him. “I fear the ramblings of an old man have been boring you.” <ul class="a"><li><<link "Be honest and apologize for not listening." "gpathhonest">><<set $genuine += 2>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Lie. There’s no way for him to notice whether or not you’re being honest." "gpathlie">><<set $logical += 1>><<set $cynical += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Come up with an excuse." "gpathexcuse">><<set $extrovert += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Try and change the subject." "gpathchange">><<set $impulsive += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

You slice open your baijimo to stuff it, and once it's filled to bursting, you grasp it with a pair of tongs to hold it over the low flames burning in the oven. Though it takes several minutes, when you pull it free, the flatbread has turned a golden, toasty brown, and the savory smell of $sfilling wafts from it. Carefully moving over to grab a bowl from one of the shelves, you deposit your meal into the ceramic, and blow at it gingerly before lifting it up to take a tentative bite. Savoring the crunch of the flatbread and the aromatic warmth of crushed peppercorn in your filling, you demolish the entire thing while standing. Evidently an actual roujiamo from a street vendor is incomparable to your paltry attempts at cooking, but for a slapdash meal made to sate your hunger, you're satisfied with the taste. The grandmother is still there when you exit, and you... <ul class="a"> <li><<link "wave at her." "ch1.6bcd">><<set $friendly += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "simply leave." "ch1.6bcd">><<set $stoic += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

Grabbing a bowl one of the shelves, you carefully lift the lids on the pots warming on the stove. The first two are full of broth, but the second one yields you a steaming mound of congee. Depositing several ladles into the ceramic, you blow at it gingerly before pouring some of the rice into your mouth. While still hot, the congee is tender and mild, flavored faintly of scallion and fish. You demolish the entire bowl while standing, tipping the rest of the contents down your gullet like a barbarian. Next time you'll remember to bring a set of chopsticks. The grandmother is still there when you exit, and you... <ul class="a"> <li><<link "wave at her." "ch1.6bcd">><<set $friendly += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "simply leave." "ch1.6bcd">><<set $stoic += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

The kitchen is unmanned at the moment, save for an elderly servant who pointedly glances at the water bucket for you to dunk your hands into before entering. Shaking your hands dry, you give the area a cursory glance. No sign of Jinwol. As if on cue, your stomach rumbles. You haven't eaten since you've woken up, so you could grab a bite to eat. Or you could go back to searching. <ul class="a"><li><<link "You'll eat." "ch1kitcheneat">><</link>></li> <li><<link "You'll go back to looking for the young master." "chjinwolkitchenfail">><</link>></li>

Swiping a cold baijimo, you carefully consider the benefits between stuffing the flatbread with boiled vegetables, meat, or what you think is some kind of stewed dish. The contents have congealed into a thick texture, the color faintly reminiscent of red bean paste. <ul class="a"><li><<link "Fill it with meat." "ch1.6bcb">><<set $sfilling to "meat">><</link>></li> <li><<link "Fill it with vegtables." "ch1.6bcb">><<set $sfilling to "vegtables">><</link>></li> <li><<link "Fill it with the paste." "ch1.6bcb">><<set $sfilling to "beans">> "ch1.6bcb">><</link>></li> <li><<link "On second thought, you're going to get yourself a bowl of congee." "ch1.6bcc">><</link>></li></ul>

//come you lonely child, sing a song of your grief. tell us what you’ve lost, tell us of what you’ve never had.// They’d died protecting you, is what Yeo Jinhak had told you. Two memories stand out to you even now. One: the fear you had felt as you stood in front of Madam Yeo, the young master–your young master—peering curiously at you as he clung to the hems of her robes, the finely embroidered silk crumpled between his clenched fists. Two: the inability to speak when asked for your name, words trapped in your mouth as the buzzing in your mind grew louder than the sound of your thoughts; everything was too loud, too bright. You’d always been watching even back then, waiting and listening for something that could remind you. Sometimes you stood in front of a mirror and pulled at your face, trying to imagine what your mother looked like. Sometimes, when you were still living in the same room as the young master, you sat on a windowsill and whispered to yourself and imagined it was your father’s voice instead. The moon was your only friend, and even it left you when the sun rose. <ul class="a"><li><<link "You cried a lot when you were younger, wailing your misery out loud. If no one would come for you, you would at least make yourself heard." "ch1.7a.1">><<set $emotional += 1>><<set $impulsive += 1>><<set $extrovert += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You remained silent and kept all your emotions close to your chest. You realized swallowing things down was easier than letting them out." "ch1.7a.1">><<set $stoic += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><<set $cynical += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You tried to smile a lot, doing your best to make yourself loveable. Approachable." "ch1.7a.1">><<set $friendly += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><<set $emotional += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You retreated into your shell, hardly talking or interacting with others." "ch1.7a.1">><<set $introvert += 2>><<set $cautious += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

You place one hand over your chest and the other in a fist behind your back before you bow. “My apologies,” you say. “I was… distracted.” “It’s of no consequence,” he tells you, tone mild, but something in your hindbrain hangs its head in dejection. “It’s peculiar,” he says. “You look like them more and more every passing year.” Without your face, you think…<<cycle "$cycling" autoselect>> <<option "viciously,">> <<option "sadly,">> <<option "angrily,">> <</cycle>> you’d have nothing. Your eyes curve into a smile while squeezing your fist tighter, nails pressing into flesh. You’ll never be able to repay Yeo Jinhak as your benefactor—it was only due to his kindness that you weren’t sliced into ribbons at the tender age of five and left for dead by Magyo acolytes. Your smile becomes even more beatific. “I’m glad,” he says. “You’re growing up well.” A pause. “I’ve accepted a new disciple,” he says finally. //Ah.// This is what he had wanted to talk to you about. “An acquaintance from Gaebang wanted me to take them in.” He gazes at you, eyes dark. At this angle, a sheen of amber can be seen flickering within them, and you lower your gaze in a show of obedience. “You have experience taking care of others, do you not?” A surge of something hot claws up your insides. Of course it would be for //this.// “I do,” you say, and it comes out sharper than you intend it to, so you amend it, carving down your edges to present yourself as softer, malleable. “I do, jangmun-nim.” “Good,” he says. “I would expect nothing less.” [[Continue|gpathreturn]]

//come you lonely child, sing a song of your grief. tell us what you’ve lost, tell us of what you’ve never had.// They’d died protecting you, is what Yeo Jinhak had told you. Two memories stand out to you even now. One: the fear you had felt as you stood in front of Madam Yeo, the young master–your young master—peering curiously at you as he clung to the hems of her robes, the finely embroidered silk crumpled between his clenched fists. Two: the inability to speak when asked for your name, words trapped in your mouth as the buzzing in your mind grew louder than the sound of your thoughts; everything was too loud, too bright. You’d always been watching even back then, waiting and listening for something that could remind you. Sometimes you stood in front of a mirror and pulled at your face, trying to imagine what your mother looked like. Sometimes, when you were still living in the same room as the young master, you sat on a windowsill and whispered to yourself and imagined it was your father’s voice instead. The moon was your only friend, and even it left you when the sun rose. <ul class="a"><li><<link "You cried a lot when you were younger, wailing your misery out loud. If no one would come for you, you would at least make yourself heard." "ch1.7b.1">><<set $emotional += 1>><<set $impulsive += 1>><<set $extrovert += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You remained silent and kept all your emotions close to your chest. You realized swallowing things down was easier than letting them out." "ch1.7b.1">><<set $stoic += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><<set $cynical += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You tried to smile a lot, doing your best to make yourself loveable. Approachable." "ch1.7b.1">><<set $friendly += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><<set $emotional += 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You retreated into your shell, hardly talking or interacting with others." "ch1.7b.1">><<set $introvert += 2>><<set $cautious += 1>><<set $logical += 1>><</link>></li></ul>

You place one hand over your chest and the other in a fist behind your back as you shake your head eagerly. “Of course not,” you say, though he doesn't quite seem to believe you. “It’s of no consequence,” he tells you, tone mild, but something in your hindbrain hangs its head in dejection. “It’s peculiar,” he says. “You look like them more and more every passing year.” Without your face, you think…<<cycle "$cycling" autoselect>> <<option "viciously,">> <<option "sadly,">> <<option "angrily,">> <</cycle>> you’d have nothing. Your eyes curve into a smile while squeezing your fist tighter, nails pressing into flesh. You’ll never be able to repay Yeo Jinhak as your benefactor—it was only due to his kindness that you weren’t sliced into ribbons at the tender age of five and left for dead by Magyo acolytes. Your smile becomes even more beatific. “I’m glad,” he says. “You’re growing up well.” A pause. “I’ve accepted a new disciple,” he says finally. //Ah.// This is what he had wanted to talk to you about. “An acquaintance from Gaebang wanted me to take them in.” He gazes at you, eyes dark. At this angle, a sheen of amber can be seen flickering within them, and you lower your gaze in a show of obedience. “You have experience taking care of others, do you not?” A surge of something hot claws up your insides. Of course it would be for //this.// “I do,” you say, and it comes out sharper than you intend it to, so you amend it, carving down your edges to present yourself as softer, malleable. “I do, jangmun-nim.” “Good,” he says. “I would expect nothing less.” [[Continue|gpathreturn]]

You place one hand over your chest and the other in a fist behind your back before you bow. “My apologies,” you say. “I slept poorly last night.” “It’s of no consequence,” he tells you, tone mild, but something in your hindbrain hangs its head in dejection. “It’s peculiar,” he says. “You look like them more and more every passing year.” Without your face, you think…<<cycle "$cycling" autoselect>> <<option "viciously,">> <<option "sadly,">> <<option "angrily,">> <</cycle>> you’d have nothing. Your eyes curve into a smile while squeezing your fist tighter, nails pressing into flesh. You’ll never be able to repay Yeo Jinhak as your benefactor—it was only due to his kindness that you weren’t sliced into ribbons at the tender age of five and left for dead by Magyo acolytes. Your smile becomes even more beatific. “I’m glad,” he says. “You’re growing up well.” A pause. “I’ve accepted a new disciple,” he says finally. //Ah.// This is what he had wanted to talk to you about. “An acquaintance from <<link "__Gaibang__">><<script>> Dialog.setup("Gaibang"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Gaibang").processText()); Dialog.open();<</script>><</link>> wanted me to take them in.” He gazes at you, eyes dark. At this angle, a sheen of amber can be seen flickering within them, and you lower your gaze in a show of obedience. “You have experience taking care of others, do you not?” A surge of something hot claws up your insides. Of course it would be for //this.// “I do,” you say, and it comes out sharper than you intend it to, so you amend it, carving down your edges to present yourself as softer, malleable. “I do, jangmun-nim.” “Good,” he says. “I would expect nothing less.” [[Continue|gpathreturn]]

You place one hand over your chest and the other in a fist behind your back. “Not at all,” you say, racking your brains for what to say. “The young masters seemed…” you trail off invitingly. “Yes," he says, tone mild, but doesn't seem to be inclined to continue your trail of though. “It’s peculiar,” he says instead. “You look like them more and more every passing year.” Without your face, you think…<<cycle "$cycling" autoselect>> <<option "viciously,">> <<option "sadly,">> <<option "angrily,">> <</cycle>> you’d have nothing. Your eyes curve into a smile while squeezing your fist tighter, nails pressing into flesh. You’ll never be able to repay Yeo Jinhak as your benefactor—it was only due to his kindness that you weren’t sliced into ribbons at the tender age of five and left for dead by Magyo acolytes. Your smile becomes even more beatific. “I’m glad,” he says. “You’re growing up well.” A pause. “I’ve accepted a new disciple,” he says finally. //Ah.// This is what he had wanted to talk to you about. “An acquaintance from Gaebang wanted me to take them in.” He gazes at you, eyes dark. At this angle, a sheen of amber can be seen flickering within them, and you lower your gaze in a show of obedience. “You have experience taking care of others, do you not?” A surge of something hot claws up your insides. Of course it would be for //this.// “I do,” you say, and it comes out sharper than you intend it to, so you amend it, carving down your edges to present yourself as softer, malleable. “I do, jangmun-nim.” “Good,” he says. “I would expect nothing less.” [[Continue|gpathreturn]]

Yeo Jinwol is waiting with his arms crossed when you return to the garden alone, Yeo Seongwoo nowhere in sight. He turns towards you when he hears you approach, face brightening like the sun shining through the clouds. “What did Father want to ask about?” He blurts out immediately, and you sigh in your head. “Not much,” you lie. Then, a truth: “I think he simply wanted someone to listen to him for a bit.” “Oh,” he says, and shifts, relaxing. The young master of Mount Hua, as well as your unofficial charge, Yeo Jinwol is a year older than you and yet still looks at you with the open, expressive face of a child. Mystifyingly enough, he never seems to be this way in public, facade impenetrable, but standing here with just the two of you, you can see every shift of his eyes, every twitch of his muscles. <<liveblock>><ul class="a"><li><<link "It’s cute. //He’s// cute. But you’re not sure you’d admit that out loud, even threat of violence. $flirt_label" "gpathspar">><<set $j_rom to $j_rom + 2>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Something about him makes you feel like your heart is speeding up, and it makes you want turn tail and run. Odd. $flirt_label" "gpathspar">><<set $j_rom to $j_rom + 1>><</link>></li> <li><<link "Despite it all, you’d still consider him to be one of your only friends within the sect." "gpathspar">><<set $j_rel to + 5>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You may not be as close to the young master as you once were, but you don’t mind his presence." "gpathspar">><<set $j_rel to + 2>><</link>></li> <li><<link "You envy him and hate him in the same breath. Yeo Seongwoo’s words had some truth to them—how nice it must be to not think nor want for anything." "gpathspar">><<set $j_resent to + 1>><</link>></li></ul><</liveblock>>\

“Did you need me for something?” “I was wondering if you wanted to spar with me.” You look around the delicate blossoms and carved statues, the clean-swept paths free of dust and debris. //Here?// <<if $j_resent == 0>>You smile, truly smile, for the first time today. <<elseif $j_resent>= 1>>You hold in your scoff, and lift an eyebrow. <</if>>“I’m unarmed, young master. With what weapon would I spar you with?” Jinwol brushes his hair out of his eyes, and reaches for his waist. “Interesting,” he begins, “I did think something like this might happen.” Your smile turns stiff as he pulls his second sword from his scabbard and tosses it towards you. Though you catch the hilt on reflex, you immediately drop it to the ground as if the metal has searing your skin. The last time the two of you kicked up a fuss in Madame Yeo's garden, you were sentenced to copying scriptures. Your hand had become one massive cramp. “Ha ha… young master," you say, backing up slowly. "It’s already time for the lecture, is it not? Let’s not do this right now, there’ll be more time for us to spar—” Jinwol is already grinning, left cheek dimpling as he teasingly flicks his wrist, blade flashing as it spins in his grip. //Nope!// You start sprinting off. [[You have reached the end of the current demo. Save here to return next time!|Landing]]

//Gaibang// (개방/丐幇) or Beggar's Gang is a political faction that belongs to the Murim Alliance. Comprised of primarily beggars, while not technically a martial sect or strict organization, they utilize a wide net of information across the entirety of the Jianghu due to their sheer amount of members. <center><<button "Ok">><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>></center>