The Outcast Writer of a Martial Arts Visual Novel

“It was short-sighted of me.”

Cheong-un the young hero apologized immediately.

When I gave him a confused look, unsure what he was talking about, Cheong-un continued speaking.

“After hearing what the Tang Clan people said, I realized—even if there are intimate scenes—it’s still a true story of a chivalrous warrior. They said Storm of the Tang Clan planted admiration for chivalry not just in the hearts of martial artists, but even in the people of Yichang. I must have been looking at it with too naive a perspective.”

Cheong-un lowered his head, clearly apologetic.

“You shouldn’t be the one bowing your head. There’s nothing for you to apologize for, Young Hero.”

Please, raise your head. Cheong-un. You haven’t done anything wrong. I hurriedly stood up from the bed where I had been sitting and stepped toward him.

“No, I must. If you’ve written something popular, I’m sure it would’ve been successful even if it were just ordinary erotica. But to keep writing about chivalry despite your circumstances... thinking of that makes it impossible for me not to apologize.”

Once again, Cheong-un bowed his head to me.

Sorry, man. Honestly, I didn’t expect an actual apology. I just thought easing the awkward tension between us would be enough. Didn’t think he’d go this far.

Granted, I did stir up public opinion. But you know how people are. Even when the stage is perfectly set, there are countless jerks who refuse to say even a simple “s-sorry,” stuttering instead, “W-what the hell? You were the one in the wrong!”—and all that crap.

And this time, I was in the wrong. It would’ve been natural for Cheong-un to think, Why should I apologize to some black-haired barbarian? To some smut writer, no less? But to apologize right away like this?

“Then allow me to apologize as well.”

I bowed in return to Cheong-un, who looked like he had no intention of lifting his head.

“...Pardon?”

“Standing before a hero I’ve long admired, I couldn’t bear to show my shameful flaws. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest about the full nature of my novel.”

It’s true the tension between us was sparked by Cheong-un denying me, but I had given him the opening. In this kind of situation, admitting fault to ease each other’s burden is the best path forward.

“Everyone wants their merits seen and their faults hidden. You should blame me for reacting so poorly to a minor flaw.”

Cheong-un glanced at me again, then bowed his head once more.

“How could someone who owes a life debt blame his benefactor?”

Can’t we just call the mutual apologies even and move on? This righteous, well-mannered, handsome hero from the great Wudang Sect keeps apologizing, and it’s starting to make me uncomfortable.

“I’m the one who should be ashamed. I criticized Master Kang without knowing a single thing about his circumstances.”

We just kept apologizing to each other.

Better than awkward tension, sure—but this cycle of mutual regret isn’t much better. At this rate, we’re about to end up like some drama where every fight ends in a twist on top of another twist and nobody’s happy.

I straightened my back, gently placed my hand on Cheong-un’s shoulder to help him stand, and spoke.

“Well then, since we’re both sorry, let’s agree not to bring up who was right or wrong anymore.”

“...You would really do that?”

At /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ my words, Cheong-un nodded with a grateful look on his face.

----------

If there’s one thing in this world that often breaks immersion because it doesn't match the wuxia setting, it's the food.

But on the flip side, one of the things I appreciate for ignoring historical accuracy is the beautifully maintained plumbing system.

Maybe it’s because the game designers wanted all characters to look squeaky clean at all times—but in this world, all you have to do is turn a faucet in a guest room, and out comes water.

In proper wuxia, if you wanted to wash up at an inn, you’d be paying a fee per bucket of well water.

“The water was cold earlier, but it’s lukewarm now. If you’re planning to wash up, this might be a good time.”

Of course, even with a working plumbing system, hot water is entirely up to the innkeeper’s mood.

Wanting to make sure Cheong-un could also bathe with warm water, I showered quickly like it was a military time-attack during limited hot water hours, then called out to him.

“Ah! I-I’m fine, really.”

Cheong-un glanced at me, then turned his head and faced the wall. I guess we may have reconciled, but being half-naked around each other is still a bit awkward.

“They might have turned on the hot water just briefly since the dinner hour has passed. If you don’t go in now, you’ll be stuck with cold water in this weather.”

“I’ve trained under waterfalls in the dead of winter. I’ll be fine.”

Wait, did he seriously train under a waterfall in winter? I’ve only dealt with fake martial artists so far, so hearing that from a real one kind of stunned me.

I nodded at his words and changed into comfortable clothes before approaching my bed.

“...Why are there dumplings?”

A few dumplings were sitting on a plate on my bed.

“I was worried that Master Kang hadn’t eaten because he was concerned about Lady Tang, so I brought some.”

So that noise earlier—he must’ve opened the door, gone out, and come back.

“I appreciate the thought, but... I have no appetite because of Hwa-rin.”

I appreciated the gesture, but I really had no appetite. Hwa-rin was still unconscious, barely swallowing liquid food.

Will we even make it to the Sichuan Tang Clan? And if we do, can she even survive? The worry I’d shoved to the corner of my mind suddenly came crashing down, taking my appetite with it.

I picked up the dumpling plate and set it on the nightstand.

“If you wish to protect Lady Tang, then you must also take care of yourself, Master Kang. If you have no appetite, consider eating as accepting my apology.”

Cheong-un, who had somehow already come to my side, held out the dumpling plate again.

I didn’t want to eat, but I couldn’t ruin the mood we’d just barely salvaged, so I took the plate.

“This is... well then, at least let me pay for them. I’m grateful for your concern, but I can’t let you spend money on me.”

“You needn’t worry. I didn’t spend any money.”

“...Did someone else in your party buy them?”

“No, it’s just—the innkeeper’s daughter said they were extras and gave them to me for free.”

What nonsense is that? Extra food? In all my days scraping by as a black-haired barbarian, I’ve never seen a single free dumpling in an inn.

“She also said if the hot water doesn’t work, I can come to her room for help. Seems like the people in this backwater village aren’t so cold-hearted after all.”

Cheong-un gave me an awkward smile.

So that’s what happened. I stared at Cheong-un for a moment.

That refined face you’d never expect to see in a place like this... I haven’t seen him naked, but given his martial training, he probably has that lean, sculpted body women go nuts for.

Jealous. What a life, being a flower-boy.

I bit into the dumpling. Maybe they made it special? It felt juicier than usual, like it had more broth packed inside.

“Tastes good.”

For some reason, I felt bitter inside, but I still looked at Cheong-un and said it politely.

“I’m glad it suits your taste.”

Only then did Cheong-un smile and nod, looking satisfied.

This takes me back. Back in school, there was a friend who looked just like Cheong-un. On Valentine’s Day, his desk would be piled high with chocolates.

—“Hey, Yun-ho. Wanna have one?”

I’d stare at him enviously, and when he offered, I’d unconsciously nod and get a single chocolate.

That... that’s what they call an “innocent trap.”

—“Why the hell are you eating that?!”

Of course, the girl who gave him the chocolate saw me eating it. She wailed like the world was ending. Even after we both apologized, I still got trash-talked behind my back. Just me, not even him.

It was ridiculous. The guy felt so bad he ended up compensating me with 20 hours of PC room time and three instant ramen meals. A dramatic peace treaty, you could say.

“Would you like a dumpling?”

Snapping out of my memory, I looked up after finishing one, and saw Cheong-un staring intently at the dumplings.

“A-ah, no, I’m fine!”

Startled by whatever thought he’d been lost in, he waved his hands and quickly answered.

“Is something bothering you?”

“Ah, it’s nothing... It’s just that seeing those dumplings reminded me of an old story I read about a Beggars’ Sect warrior.”

A Beggars’ Sect hero who liked dumplings?

“You mean the Great Hero Gu-gai, who loved dumplings?”

“You know the tale of Hero Gu-gai?”

Cheong-un looked at me with surprised eyes.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“A writer is someone who writes, yes, but they’re also someone who reads a lot. Of course, I know the story of Hero Gu-gai.”

I remembered Gu-gai. Before I wrote Storm of the Tang Clan, I had read through many martial arts tales as part of my research.

Granted, it wasn’t exactly fun—the depiction of the Beggars’ Sect was too filthy and a bit too realistic for my taste—but I distinctly remembered laughing at the idea that even in this world, someone could be so obsessed with dumplings.

“The tale of Hero Gu-gai isn’t popular, especially among the stories of the Beggars’ Sect. And the book’s hard to come by... You’ve read it?”

Cheong-un looked at me with faint suspicion, as if testing me. That expression—like when you’re watching a streamer pretend to be an otaku and you’re thinking, You’re just a poser, aren’t you? I see right through you.

Well, I can’t blame him. Martial arts stories aren’t very popular in this world. Saying you’ve read an obscure one might naturally raise eyebrows.

“I’m a writer, but I’m also a bookstore manager. Of course I’ve read it.”

There’s a lot of unsold inventory at Daseogak because martial stories don’t sell well. I decided not to add that bit.

“Someone who’s read the story of Hero Gu-gai... Honestly, this is my first time meeting such a person!”

There was a strange excitement in Cheong-un’s voice. With someone this thrilled, I figured I should match his energy.

“It wasn’t exactly a bestseller, just like his unpopular nickname ‘the Dog Beggar who begs for dog meat.’ But if you follow his actions, he was undoubtedly a chivalrous man. Especially the part where he storms into a corrupt sect bleeding the local merchants dry, and beats the sect master senseless for refusing to share dog meat—now that was cathartic.”

“Yes, exactly! That’s one of my favorite parts too!”

Cheong-un suddenly leaned in, his face alight with excitement, like a classmate who thought no one would ever appreciate his obscure decades-old favorite work, only to discover his deskmate was a fellow fan.

“...Haha.”

Too close, man. I forced a smile to subtly convey that, good-looking or not, a man’s face that close was uncomfortable.

“Ah! I—I’m sorry.”

Realizing he had overstepped, Cheong-un stepped back slightly, though he couldn’t quite hide his excitement.

“No need to apologize. It’s only natural to be happy when you meet someone who shares your interests.”

I offered the courtesy of eating another dumpling before getting ready to lie down.

“Um, actually...”

Even after I lay down, Cheong-un didn’t move.

“Do you need something?”

“If it’s alright with you... may I trouble you to talk a bit more about Hero Gu-gai’s story?”

He hung his head low as he asked, as if embarrassed to admit he wanted to talk about a novel. If he was that ashamed, he could’ve just stayed quiet—so this must really mean a lot to him.

So this is Cheong “The Orthodox” Un, and yet... this side of him is unexpected.

He must admire heroes deeply, and has probably been starving for someone to talk to about an unpopular hero story. As someone who’s once obsessed over niche content myself, I get it.

I should stay on good terms with Cheong-un. I don’t know how far he’ll accompany me, but if he stays as a companion, he might stick around longer.

And to get Hwa-rin safely to the Tang Clan, I’ll need all the help I can get.

“Of course.”

I stayed up talking with Cheong-un until my eyelids grew heavy.

---------

Half-asleep, I heard the sound of running water.

“Hmmh... hm-hmm~.”

It started as a low hum, then rose into a lighter, pleasant nasal tune. Sounded like someone was in a good mood.

'Is Cheong-un finally washing up?'

It could be him—but given we’re being hunted, it might also be an intruder. After all, there are thieves who sneak into other people’s rooms, steal their money, fill their bellies, and even use their bathwater with fancy bath bombs before vanishing.

Of course, any intruder bold enough to be caught by me would need to restart their training from the basics.

“Young Hero Cheong-un, are you by chance bathing?”

I forced myself fully awake and deliberately projected my voice clearly and firmly.

It was a trick I’d used since my days as a vagabond. Even if I couldn’t get up, just making my presence known would often be enough to startle would-be thieves into fleeing.

If it’s Cheong-un, he’ll answer calmly. If it’s an intruder, they’ll probably panic, thinking their stealth failed against my keen instincts.

'Well? Who are you?'

“ K-Kang Master? I thought you were asleep...”

The voice that answered—flustered and caught off guard—was, to my surprise, none other than Cheong-un.