The Ignored Granddaughter of a Murim Family - Chapter 322

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Side Story Episode 16
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Just as the Physician had said, after another week or so passed, I could distinctly feel the changes in my body.
During that week, Namgung Ryu-cheong seemed somewhat out of his mind. He ate with an expression that suggested he couldn’t tell if food was entering his mouth or his nose, and once the meal ended, he would cling close and simply gaze at me in silence with unwavering intensity.
He abandoned even the leisure time he’d barely managed to secure, behaving like an abandoned dog that couldn’t bear to be separated from its master’s side.
It was only when Namgung Wan, who had been handling his duties in the meantime, grew thoroughly exasperated that he finally stepped away.
I checked on the child daily with my golden eyes, though the infant remained difficult to see clearly. The child had settled in stably.
Still, I couldn’t help but worry for some time.
The Physician had forbidden me from cultivating my inner energy for the first three months, explaining that if I made a mistake while cultivating, I could miscarry.
Upon hearing this, I was so startled that I could only feel relief that the child had remained safe thus far.
True to form, having endured that perilous early stage, the child grew robustly. I experienced no morning sickness whatsoever.
The Great Lady, who inquired about my condition daily, learned this fact and spoke with considerable relief.
“When I carried Ryu-cheong, my morning sickness was truly dreadful. I couldn’t even swallow my own saliva properly, let alone drink water. After five months of that, nothing but bones remained of me. It wasn’t just me—my mother-in-law and all the mistresses of the Namgung Clan throughout generations suffered from terrible morning sickness. How fortunate this is. How truly fortunate. The child already shows such filial devotion.”
I heard the Great Lady, who had been relieved and delighted, murmur something very softly to herself.
“A child’s nature shows even in the womb.”
…
So there was no morning sickness. Instead, my appetite became absolutely voracious. I had never experienced such gluttony in my life.
I had always enjoyed eating delicious food. When I eloped with Namgung Ryu-cheong, we even traveled seeking out famous regional dishes.
But this—having an endless stream of cravings for food—was entirely new to me.
My husband possessed wealth, power, and ability. My father-in-law possessed the same. And my grandfather-in-law added experience to the mix. Among them, there was nothing in this world they couldn’t procure. And yet…
“I want to eat tteokbokki.”
Namgung Ryu-cheong asked back, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Tteok what?”
“Tteok. Bok. Ki.”
Is taste engraved upon the soul? My past life had faded from memory almost entirely, yet these foods haunted me with sudden, vivid clarity.
“Honey butter bread…”
I couldn’t remember when or how I’d eaten it, yet why was that taste so crystalline in my mind?
The tteokbokki attempt ended in glorious failure, but the honey butter bread—we managed to create something reasonably similar.
“It’s similar!”
“Sit down and eat.”
Namgung Ryu-cheong brought over a chair.
Flour dusted his rigid face in a way that seemed utterly incongruous.
Infuriatingly, Namgung Ryu-cheong was skilled at cooking too. Originally I’d asked the kitchen servants, but Namgung Ryu-cheong, unable to bear his impatience, insisted on doing it himself. The kitchen servants were deeply grateful for the fact that Namgung Ryu-cheong was too busy to have time for cooking.
I fed Namgung Ryu-cheong a bite of the honey butter bread he’d made.
I saw tension gather between his brows.
I laughed softly and pressed my fingers gently against his furrowed brow, asking:
“How is it?”
“…What matters is that it suits your palate.”
Then he immediately rinsed his mouth with tea.
I looked at him with an expression of incomprehension and spoke.
“You don’t like spicy food, and you don’t like sweet food either. What on earth do you actually enjoy?”
“That’s what I should be asking you. You’re always seeking out things that are either too spicy or so sickeningly sweet that your tongue disappears—nothing but stimulation.”
Baek Li-yeon opened her eyes wide and placed a hand on her belly, which had begun to show the slightest swell.
“It’s not what I want—it’s what this child wants to eat.”
“….”
Baek Li-yeon reached out and wiped the flour from his face with a laugh.
“Let’s bring some of this to Mother as well.”
* * *
The child’s name became Baek Li Se-hwa.
It appeared in the first reply she received after informing her father and grandfather of the pregnancy. The way it seemed as though they had been waiting left Baek Li-yeon somewhat speechless.
‘Looking at how messy Father’s letter is, it seems he sent his reply almost immediately. At this rate, Grandfather must have thought this through beforehand, didn’t he? Did Father agree?’
As it turned out, when she asked later, she learned that Baek Li Pae-hyuk had already considered it at the time of their marriage.
Namgung Ryu-cheong nodded approvingly and spoke.
“Radiance that shines in the human world. It’s a beautiful name.”
“Isn’t it a bit too grand?”
Namgung Ryu-cheong gazed at Baek Li-yeon intently, then drew her into his embrace.
“It will be fine.”
“I wish it were a son.”
“Why?”
Baek Li-yeon lowered her head.
Now that I carried a child, I found myself regretting how many enemies I had made.
Hatred would flow through the bloodline.
I did not regret my actions at the time, but I felt sorry toward a child born already burdened with such resentment.
“Simply… I can no longer stay by Father’s side. I wanted a child with a resolute spirit and strength who could protect him later.”
“What are you saying? Your father has endured all this time because you were there.”
The days passed swiftly.
Not everything was fortunate. After becoming pregnant, there had already been three assassination attempts.
Killing a person was difficult, but inducing a miscarriage was far too easy.
Once, poison was mixed into an incense burner. Another time, medicinal ingredients in a decoction were switched. Then there was the matter of toxin smeared on flower stamens in a vase.
I thwarted them all safely. In particular, Gyeol-i, who never left my side, made remarkable contributions.
Namgung Ryu-cheong gifted Gyeol-i, whom he had found troublesome until then, a carp as thick as a forearm.
Yet despite Gyeol-i’s exploits, aside from the incident involving the switched medicinal ingredients, we could not capture the true culprit—the one who had commissioned the attempts. With so many enemies, it was impossible even to guess who it might be.
Whether it was someone with a grudge against the Namgung Clan, someone with a grudge against the Baek Li Family, or the Demonic Cult itself.
The silk that Hyeol Seong-gun had targeted, now burned to ash. Namgung Ryu-cheong’s genius-level memory was not perfectly clear, but he retained fragments of the silk he had glimpsed in passing at the time.
Baek Li-yeon, whose upper dantian possessed exceptional function, also possessed remarkable memory. When they combined their recollections, restoration became possible to a convincing degree.
Of course, even if they could restore it, they could not decipher it. However, there was one other person with a high likelihood of being able to.
Jeggal Hwa-mu.
They sent a letter to Jeggal Hwa-mu, and as expected, he deciphered it for them.
Contrary to their hope that the silk would prove insignificant, the result was grim. What was written on the silk was an incantation related to the resurrection of Cheon-ma. Hyeol Seong-gun, a military commander of the Demonic Cult, was dreaming of Cheon-ma’s resurrection.
The silk had been burned by Baek Li-yeon, and it remained uncertain whether resurrecting the dead was truly possible, but the mere fact that Hyeol Seong-gun would attempt such a thing made sleep unbearable.
I set down the letter and rose to my feet. Gyeol-i, who had been licking my feet, sprang up and followed after me.
As I walked into the garden with Gyeol-i, the November wind bit at my cheeks, flushing them crimson.
It was merely a feeling—baseless intuition without a shred of evidence—yet something about this resurrection made me sense that he was involved somehow. That Yalyu was entangled in it.
I had never heard a single word of news about Yalyu all this time.
Whether he had sunk into the earth or soared into the heavens, it felt as though Yalyu no longer existed in this world at all.
I wished I could hear even the smallest scrap of news—whether his body was well, whether he was safe.
Of course, I knew well enough. I had no right to worry about him.
Beneath the distant moon, a camellia bloomed brilliantly alone among the bare branches, piercing through the cold with its delicate beauty.
As I gazed blankly at it, a memory from a winter long ago suddenly surfaced.
It was during the time I had stayed at the Namgung Clan for half a year as a child.
Yalyu, who had been dragged away to the Tianshan Flame Emperor and returned, stared intently at one spot in the chamber. The only thing that held any vitality in that barren room was a camellia flower.
I explained kindly to Yalyu.
“I brought it for you. So Bu-in said the camellia had bloomed beautifully and gave it to me.”
“Is it food?”
“What? No, no! Well, I suppose you could eat it, but that’s not why I brought it!”
From Yalyu’s expression, the question “then why did you bring it?” was written plainly.
“Looking at flowers makes you feel better.”
“Why?”
“Um… why indeed?”
I scratched my head and simply smiled bashfully.
“Anyway, that’s how I feel. Don’t you have something like that? Something that makes you feel good just by looking at it?”
Yalyu gazed at me intently. In those dark, glassy eyes above the tear mole, only one person was reflected.
The person in his eyes tilted their head and asked.
“Why?”
“…”
“Speak.”
“I won’t.”
“Huh? What do you mean! Why! You’re making me curious! Tell me!”
“…It won’t fit in a bottle.”
A laugh burst out suddenly. Thinking about it now, it was a terrifying thing to say.
Namgung Ryu-cheong, who had followed behind, saw me and asked.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Just…”
A suspicious gaze turned toward me.
Strangely, whenever I so much as recalled Yalyu, Namgung Ryu-cheong would uncannily ask what I was thinking about.
I looked at Namgung Ryu-cheong with a rigid expression. No, it was worse than mere stiffness—my brow was slightly furrowed in a serious manner.
Namgung Ryu-cheong asked.
“What’s wrong?”
I took Namgung Ryu-cheong’s hand and placed it on my belly, saying.
“The baby is kicking.”
Namgung Ryu-cheong’s face drained of all color, his eyes wide with alarm.
“What is this—is anyone there? Physician!”
Baek Li-yeon grabbed his sleeve in surprise.
“That’s the baby moving! This is normal! It’s past the Hour of the Rat—what physician would be available now!”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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