“This isn’t enough.”

Winning or losing wasn’t important to Seol Lihyang.

Of course, winning would be nice. But that wasn’t why she stood here.

It wasn’t for victory, nor to make her name known, nor even to witness the martial arts of the Mount Hua Sect.

“I need to show it.”

To Cheon Hwi, who always pushed forward on his own, never relying on others when faced with hardship.

And to herself—who, knowing full well that she couldn’t be of much help to Cheon Hwi, could do nothing but watch in frustration.

She simply wanted to prove something.

Prove what, exactly...?

Certainly, she was sincere in wanting to return even a fraction of all that Cheon Hwi had given her. But that alone wasn’t enough to sustain her.

Cornered to her limit, the obsessive thoughts that had gripped her throughout the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering began to unravel. What she saw then was simply the unadorned truth.

“Ah.”

The incoming blade.

The beautiful and strong martial artist she had always admired and wished to resemble.

And above, Cheon Hwi—watching with his usual composed expression, but his clenched fists betraying his worry.

All of it forced her to confront the depths of herself—something she had long turned away from.

And the last thing Seol Lihyang’s eyes held was the unembellished, true self she had hidden away.

Only then did she realize her feelings.

“I... I must really like Cheon Hwi.”

She knew he already had a fiancée.

But it wasn’t that she wanted to take him away from Tang Sowol.

Tang Sowol was someone Seol Lihyang was also grateful to—someone she admired and who had always guided her.

All Seol Lihyang wanted was—

“Please look at me.”

She didn’t need to have him all to herself. He had never belonged to her in the first place.

“See me.”

She once thought just being by his side would be enough. But it wasn’t. That alone didn’t satisfy her.

Once she became aware of her own feelings, the thirst inside her refused to be quenched.

“Look at me…”

She remembered the occasional affectionate glances Cheon Hwi had given her.

She remembered the rough but tender hands that had pressed on her back after a grueling day of training.

She liked how he always prepared things suited to her taste, as if he just knew, even without her saying anything.

She liked the subtle warmth that followed his quiet interrogations, as though he knew all her weaknesses.

“I will make you look at me.”

She would wait no longer.

She wouldn’t sit by and hope in vain for Cheon Hwi to approach her first.

She would go to him herself.

She couldn’t bring herself to covet Tang Sowol’s place. And yet... she couldn’t just stay idle and watch either.

Perhaps it was because she had suppressed these emotions for the past three years. Seol Lihyang’s heart was on the verge of bursting.

“If defeat is already certain...”

Then she would pour out everything she felt and collapse afterward.

No matter how far away he was, no matter who else was around—she would shout loud enough that he would have no choice but to hear.

To know that she was here.

Her lips, once busy just dodging Wi Ji-Su-Lian’s sword, parted. A cold breath escaped between them.

Her internal energy focused to a single point, and then came her clear, high voice.

Even Wi Ji-Su-Lian, who hadn’t flinched when projectiles flew at her face, took a step back in surprise.

A massive wave of cold Yin Qi began to surge around Seol Lihyang, carried on the notes of her voice.

There were no lyrics. The tone was monotonous, more like a hum than a song. It was plain.

But the result could never be called plain.

Frost began to form on the floor of the arena, spreading outward from Seol Lihyang.

Even though it was midday in the middle of summer, everyone who heard her song instinctively rubbed their arms against the sudden chill.

Strangely, though, no one found it threatening.

It was like stumbling into a cool patch of shade on a hot day—welcome, not frightening.

The cold, spreading even into the spectator seats, evoked the same response.

It wasn’t a desperate cry born of being cornered.

What it carried wasn’t the venom of resentment or malice.

It held only one thing—the will not to collapse without showing everything she had.

Those watching from afar likely received it as pure martial determination.

But for Wi Ji-Su-Lian, who had just exchanged blows with her, it felt different.

She didn’t know who the song was meant for...But it certainly wasn’t for her.

“The one in this duel is me, you know,” Wi Ji-Su-Lian muttered with a wry smile, raising her sword once more.

Seol Lihyang’s final burst of bewitching sound was fierce, but not sharp.

The amount of internal energy she released exceeded her control, so while she could release it all at once, she couldn't finely manipulate it.

So Wi Ji-Su-Lian simply endured, waiting for the storm of Yin Qi surrounding Seol Lihyang to subside.

If she had taken the blast head-on, it might’ve been dangerous—but sensing something was off, she’d withdrawn immediately and only needed to block the aftershocks.

Drawing out her full internal energy, Wi Ji-Su-Lian held her sword at the ready.

She, too, knew this was likely Seol Lihyang’s last stand.

With no thoughts for what came after, to expel so much internal energy would certainly lead to collapse.

Thanks to that, Seol Lihyang’s song continued without pause until the very end.

She poured out every breath she had stored in her lungs, drained every last drop of energy from her dantian...

Until even a faint echo of her resolve reached the one she wanted to reach.

“Ah…”

The song stopped, as Seol Lihyang emptied everything inside her.

The ground was frozen solid. The air was wintry.

The last remnants of Yin Qi were sliced apart by the rising flame of Mount Hua’s sword.

Wi Ji-Su-Lian’s blade had already stopped just before Seol Lihyang’s throat.

Looking up at it, Seol Lihyang gave a weary—but satisfied—smile, and cupped her hands in a martial bow.

“I yield.”

Seol Lihyang’s journey in the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering ended there.

But clearly, something else had just begun.

“...Oh.”

For a moment, my mind went blank at the sound of Seol Lihyang’s voice.

It wasn’t because of the immense cold Yin Qi that froze the surroundings, Nor was it because she had channeled her internal energy so finely that even the farthest note carried a chill.

It was because of what was contained within her voice—something I had never expected.

I know the Seol Lihyang from before my regression.

I remember what she carried in her voice—torn like a ghost’s wail when she was known as the Demonic Sound Witch.

Resentment.

She lamented her bitter fate, cursed a world that never reached out to her, and damned everyone to suffer like she did.

Many among the Demonic Cult had tragic lives, but Seol Lihyang was among the worst.

Her handling of demonic energies that were not meant for mortals made sense in that context.

It was surprising, even baffling, that Seol Lihyang—who had once been so filled with hatred and distrust, especially toward men—had come to have that kind of relationship with me.

To me, her bewitching sound was always a scream.

The last outcry of someone battered and cornered from all sides, with nowhere left to run.

Just like I had once called the scene of the fall of the Ironblood Hall, and of Seol Lihyang and Seo Mun-Hwarin being struck down, a “hell”—and carved it into my heartscape—So too did Seol Lihyang carry her own hell.

Even after we became close, her martial arts still held that sorrow, never softening.

That’s why, to me, Seol Lihyang’s sound was always filled with Resentment.

But now, she was completely different.

I knew, logically, that she hadn’t gone through all that suffering in this life.

So that kind of deep Resentment wouldn’t exist yet.

But I hadn’t expected this level of change.

The moment I heard her voice, and the chill it carried brushed against me like a refreshing breeze—I knew.

Even if no one else did, I knew what she had put into that sound.

Because I had watched her in my past life—And because the one her song was directed at, was me.

The emotion Seol Lihyang poured into her bewitching sound was unmistakably affection.

“I’m here,” she sang. “So don’t look away. See me.”

That beautiful hum lingered in my ears.

That chill seemed to whisper it.

And so I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

“I see.”

I had always known Seol Lihyang held a degree of fondness for me.

I had helped her escape the Hao Clan, supported her in various ways—

So it wasn’t strange she might be grateful, or even somewhat attached.

But I hadn’t realized it was this kind of affection.

To me, the bond with Seol Lihyang had already ended once.

Of course, when I remembered her, there was still a bittersweet fondness...

But that bond had been forcibly severed by death.

Seol Lihyang doesn’t remember anything from before the regression.

And yet—she has once again come to care for me.

Just as I fell again for the Tang Sowol of this life, thinking her a different person from the one before...

Just as Tang Sowol still came to love me, though the journey was different—

The only difference is this:

Tang Sowol already stands at my side.

I am now the son-in-law of the Tang Clan.

Even if I knew Seol Lihyang’s feelings and wanted to respond... I couldn’t.

“Haah…”

I didn’t know what to do, and a sigh escaped me without my realizing it.

Seol Lihyang had shown her growth.

Even if it hadn’t led to victory, that didn’t make it any less admirable.

...Maybe it was because of that sigh, But as I sat beside her sighing deeply, Tang Sowol reached out her hand quietly.

Swiik—

But this time, she didn’t place it on the back of my hand like before the duel.

Instead, subtly angled so Tang Jincheon couldn’t see, she placed it on my thigh.

She gently brushed it, then brought her lips close to my ear—

Close enough to feel her warmth, though she didn’t quite touch me.

But even that wasn’t enough for her.

Carefully, instead of whispering aloud, she sent a transmitted sound.

Even for a master like Tang Jincheon, hearing a sound sent this close would be near impossible.

What was she going to say, this secretly?

Maybe she noticed what I felt from Seol Lihyang’s sound too.

I swallowed dryly.

And then—

—“Young Lord Cheon. Did you know? Being the Tang Clan’s son-in-law doesn’t mean you can’t take a concubine.”

...What?

—“It just means that permission doesn’t lie with you—it lies with me.”

Tang Sowol gave a sly smile, then giggled aloud before continuing.

—“In other words, if I allow it, there’s no problem at all.”

—“Yes. If I allow it.”

The playful tone of her voice made it clear.

She had already known.