62.Thoughts on Marriage

After completing his mana recovery in the cave, Lee Do-Hyun found himself lost in thought. Stepping out into the crisp mountain air, he walked slowly, allowing his memories to surface.

Ever since Han So-Yeon's father had mentioned him as a potential son-in-law, the idea of marriage had unexpectedly taken root in his mind. Marriage—it was a word that carried a certain weight. In his past life, he had once seriously considered it. There had been someone he had loved, someone with whom he had dreamed of a future. Waking up to her face each morning had felt like a reason to live. But that relationship had ended, leaving scars that ran deep. Love was not only beautiful—it had the power to wound.

"Back then… I was so naïve." Do-Hyun murmured to himself, exhaling a quiet sigh. The world of Murim was vastly different from the reality he had once known, yet emotions remained unchanged. Could things be different this time? Though he was living a new life here, the wounds of the past still made him hesitate. Every time the word marriage resurfaced in his thoughts, doubts followed. Could he love again? More importantly, could he protect that love?

Murim was a brutal world. Survival came before everything else. Yet, within this harsh existence, two extraordinary women had entered his life. Baek Wol-Hee—bold, confident, and unafraid to challenge him—had a way of making him smile with her teasing advances. Meanwhile, Han So-Yeon was composed, serious, and sometimes reserved, but her quiet sincerity made her feelings unmistakable. Their emotions toward him were not fleeting curiosity; they ran deeper. And the longer they remained by his side, the more he realized that their presence in his life was no mere coincidence.

Pausing in his steps, he closed his eyes and recalled a particular moment. That night in the cave, when both women had confronted each other over him, almost completely bare before his eyes, the memory burned vividly in his mind. Their breath, their warmth—the undeniable reaction his body had experienced.

This young body was nothing like the one he had left behind in his past life. The restraint he had once mastered in his forties no longer felt so certain. His desires—once controlled—awakened too easily now.

"This body… truly is young again." He let out a bitter chuckle. Despite his attempts to focus on the bigger picture, memories of that night clung to him. Their touch, their voices, the way they had looked at him—it was impossible to ignore.

Yet, was he truly in a position to think about marriage? The life of a martial artist did not promise stability, let alone a peaceful family life. However, a part of him wondered: Could I find that kind of peace with them? The idea was tempting. In Murim, polygamy was not unheard of, and some powerful figures took multiple wives. Still, he refused to treat their feelings lightly. If he were to choose, he had to be sincere.

Just then, he felt an unseen presence watching him. Hidden among the trees, Mi-Ryeong observed him silently. From the way his shoulders tensed, the quiet sighs he released, and the depth of thought in his eyes, she could tell that something was troubling him. She couldn't read his mind, but she recognized the loneliness in his gaze.

"Lee Do-Hyun… just what kind of man are you, to draw so many people to you?" Mi-Ryeong mused internally.

She had long realized that he wasn't simply strong—he carried wounds, loneliness, and burdens that few could see. And yet, beneath all of that, there was a man who yearned for something more.

If there ever came a day when Do-Hyun truly opened his heart, would she still be by his side? Would she be someone he turned to, or merely an onlooker in his story?

As Do-Hyun resumed his walk, he whispered to himself, "I may not have the answers yet… but one day, I will."

Mi-Ryeong watched him disappear into the distance, a faint smile forming on her lips.

"One day… when that time comes, I'll be there to see it."

For now, she was content to observe him, waiting for the day when he found his answer.

****

A Shaken Identity and the Sword's Domination

Lee Do-Hyun had unknowingly pushed his body past its limits. Countless battles, relentless training, and constant vigilance had taken their toll, and in the end, he succumbed to illness. Fever wracked his body, his limbs felt impossibly heavy, and his vision blurred as he collapsed into bed, unable to fight against his own exhaustion.

"Damn… I didn't think it would hit this hard." He exhaled weakly, curling up slightly. But this wasn't just a temporary weakness—his entire body felt sluggish, as though bound by invisible chains.

Amidst the fever-induced haze, he sensed something stirring within him. A presence—not his own—began to coil around his consciousness. It was the will embedded within Igo's Sword, the lingering remnant of a long-deceased master swordsman. Normally, the sword responded to Do-Hyun's will, moving according to his command, but now, something was different.

Lachesis… is that you? Do-Hyun thought dimly, struggling to maintain clarity.

The sword's will, long dormant, was awakening—testing his weakened mind, attempting to take control. Fevered and barely conscious, Do-Hyun felt his own will slipping. He could resist under normal circumstances, but in this state, his body and mind were vulnerable.

The sword's lingering spirit—Lachesis—had once been a powerful warrior, but also a man of deep desires. Through Do-Hyun's senses, it had experienced something it had long been denied—human warmth. The touch of two women, the lingering heat of their bodies, the intoxicating pull of desire. And now, the spirit sought to reclaim what it once knew.

Just then, the door creaked open.

A familiar figure entered the room—Baek Wol-Hee.

She approached with a soft smirk but paused upon seeing Do-Hyun's pallid face. Concern flickered in her eyes as she placed a hand on his forehead.

"You're burning up," she murmured, brows furrowing.

Do-Hyun remained silent, his body still too weak to respond properly.

Then, something happened. His hand moved—slowly, almost unnaturally—reaching toward her waist. But it wasn't Do-Hyun's will guiding it. It was Lachesis.

The hand, sluggish yet deliberate, brushed against the hem of her robe and slipped beneath the fabric. His fingertips made contact with the warmth of her skin.

Baek Wol-Hee froze.

For a moment, she was caught off guard. But then, she glanced down at the weakly trembling hand and let out a quiet chuckle, a knowing gleam in her eyes.

"Dreaming, are we?" she whispered teasingly.

She carefully removed his hand from her waist and placed it gently back by his side. Then, with a smirk, she leaned in and whispered near his ear, "Recover quickly, Do-Hyun. I much prefer you lively."

She placed a damp cloth on his forehead before rising and slipping out of the room.

A short while later, another visitor entered.

Han So-Yeon stepped inside, her expression calm yet filled with concern.

She approached quietly, kneeling beside him. His face was covered in sweat, his breathing uneven. Reaching out, she pressed her palm against his forehead, her lips pressing into a thin line at the fever's intensity.

"Do-Hyun, can you hear me?" she asked softly.

Then, his hand moved again.

It reached toward her—not toward her face, but lower, brushing against her wrist before drifting toward her abdomen.

So-Yeon stiffened slightly at the unexpected touch.

At first, she thought it was an unconscious movement, a fever-driven reflex. But as the contact lingered, a faint warmth spread from where his fingers rested against her.

She could have pulled away. But instead, she placed her hand over his, allowing him to hold onto her as she whispered, "I'm here. You're not alone."

Her voice was quiet, but the weight of her words grounded him.

The spirit within the sword—Lachesis—stirred. It had attempted to regain control, seeking to relive fleeting echoes of its past, but something interfered.

So-Yeon's touch was not one of desire, but of comfort. Genuine, steady, and unwavering.

Do-Hyun, even in his fevered state, felt the difference.

The warmth that enveloped him was not the intoxicating allure that Lachesis sought—it was something deeper, something grounding. And slowly, his mind began to push back against the sword's influence.

The spirit hesitated.

For the first time in centuries, it found itself unable to dominate its wielder.

And with that, it began to withdraw.

Days later, the fever had subsided.

Do-Hyun sat up in bed, feeling the lingering weakness in his limbs. His body was still recovering, but his mind was sharper than before.

He glanced down at Igo's Sword, resting against the nearby wall.

Lachesis… no matter how strong your will, this body is mine.

His grip tightened around the hilt. The sword pulsed faintly, as if acknowledging his declaration.

Do-Hyun knew this wouldn't be the last time the sword's spirit attempted to surface. If anything, this incident had proven that its influence was still strong. But he also knew that he had people beside him—people who anchored him, who reminded him of who he was.

Baek Wol-Hee, with her playful confidence. Han So-Yeon, with her quiet strength.

They had unknowingly saved him—not just from the fever, but from something far darker.

Standing, he secured the sword at his waist.

Sunlight spilled into the room as he stepped outside, warmth washing over his face.

One step forward.

Then another.

With renewed determination, he walked forward—toward the battles that awaited him, toward the people he had chosen to protect, and toward the future he was yet to grasp.