The Outcast Writer of a Martial Arts Visual Novel

‘Looks like I really do have to see the Head of the Tang Clan at least one more time.’

I had already anticipated a second meeting with the Clan Head. A son showing up after more than twenty years—only to see each other once in public and never again? That’d be even stranger.

I didn’t know what Tang Baek-ho would say after summoning me, but I also had something to gain from meeting him.

‘I need to get permission to publish the next volume of Storm of the Tang Clan.'

I’d achieved the first goal—securing the Poison Pellet of the Human-Faced Spider. Now that I had some leeway, it was time to focus on my magnum opus.

Even if I safely made it back to Yichang, if someone declared, ‘Storm of the Tang Clan is officially discontinued,’ there’s no way the members of the Daseogak Literary Society would just nod and go, ‘Huh? Really?’

They’d probably burn down Daseogak that very day and demand I retire the pen name Ho-pil and scrawl “deceased” on my grave marker.

No matter what happens, I have to get that publication approved.

As long as I get the okay from the model for Tang Jeong—the Head of the Tang Clan himself—then the Sichuan Tang Clan has no reason to raise any objections to this complicated book.

“Let’s go.”

I left the room alongside the attendant sent by the Tang Clan Head.

----------

“Before meeting the Clan Head, you must tidy up your appearance. I’ll guide you to the bathhouse. After bathing, you’ll change into fresh clothes.”

So I wasn’t going to meet the Clan Head right away. The attendants must’ve been informed ahead of time—they bowed deeply and spoke to me politely.

“It’s just a meeting, not a date. Why the bath and new clothes?”

“It is the Clan Head’s command.”

When I tried to just push my way toward the building where the Clan Head waited, the attendants immediately surrounded me to block my path.

So I needed to tidy up before meeting a superior. I considered forcing my way through, but their determination was solid.

“...Fine, then. Let’s go.”

----------

“We’ll assist you with your bath.”

“...Excuse me?”

I reflexively repeated the words, not understanding them at first. Bath assistance? Isn’t that something for nobles or rich folks?

Ah, right. This is the richest household in all of Sichuan.

“If you soak in the tub for a bit, we’ll make the preparations.”

The middle-aged attendant, clearly used to dumbfounded guests, didn’t bother replying to my question. Instead, she moved briskly, giving instructions to the others.

No matter how hard I looked around, there was no bathhouse ajusshi to scrub my back. The people offering to assist with the bath were all women. Aside from the middle-aged one who probably wouldn’t appreciate being called an ajumma, they were all female.

And the humidity of the bathhouse was making their clothes cling tightly, highlighting their figures. Nice for the eyes, but for someone who had to be cautious with his actions... this was a problem.

“No need. I can manage on my own.”

I shook off my flustered thoughts and answered in a firm tone.

“But this is the Clan Head’s order...”

“I’m here on his orders, to bathe. But I’m from Joseon. This sort of bath assistance makes me uncomfortable.”

“We’ll make sure it’s not uncomfortable, but pleasant—”

“I don’t doubt your skill. But I’m mentally uncomfortable with it. I haven’t even shown my bare body to my own woman. To show it to other women would be... wrong. Especially when my woman is currently fighting for her life. It wouldn’t be respectful to her.”

What I said back in the conference hall had probably spread in hushed whispers throughout the Sichuan Tang Clan. Especially to the attendants who excelled in information gathering—they’d definitely know.

I came to the Tang Clan out of love. I don’t want to bare my flesh to strange women. It’s a good excuse.

“...Then we’ll wait outside.”

“Much obliged.”

My explanation must have made sense, because the attendants stepped back from the tub. Only after they’d all left did I comfortably sink my body into the hot water.

This tub’s amazing. So warm.

I’d been taking regular showers, but it’d been a long time since I actually soaked in a hot bath. If I didn’t have to meet the Clan Head soon, I’d seriously consider dozing off like this.

“Did you just hear that?”

Just as I was zoning out in the warmth, wondering if the herbs in the water were doing something to my body, I heard squealing voices from outside.

“He really is a romantic, just like the rumors said.”

“He said he didn’t want to show his body to anyone but his woman? I wish my boyfriend would take notes.”

Looks like it was a solid excuse after all.

“But did you catch that part covered by the towel? Did you see the size?”

“Y-You mean that? Wasn’t that his arm?”

“Girl, arms go on top, not down there.”

“No way?! Are you serious?”

“They say no woman ever comes back after being with the black-haired barbarian. Maybe it’s true.”

“Miss Hwa-rin’s a lucky one.”

“What the heck are you saying!”

“Heeheehee.”

...I can hear you all, you know. I dumped a bucket of cold water over myself to shake off the creeping mix of shame and pride.

“This outfit is made of Sichuan brocade. Once you’re dressed, we’ll apply scented oil.”

I stepped out after washing away all the grime—and my embarrassment—and found a fresh set of clothes laid out.

And what clothes they were. A stunning set of silk robes, so gorgeous they made me gasp. This was Sichuan brocade, the pride of Sichuan. They said this kind of silk traded by weight for gold—and that reputation wasn’t unfounded.

“Are you sure I should be wearing something like this?”

“It is a gift from the Clan Head. Even if you return to your quarters, you don’t need to give it back.”

The luster of the silk, the embroidery of the birds—it was luxury of the highest caliber.

“You look just like the Clan Head in his youth.”

The elderly Chief Steward entered, looked me up and down, and said that with a tone of admiration.

I appreciated the compliment, but I had to maintain my persona: the bastard son who hated his father. So I just gave a small, displeased nod.

He seemed to like my reluctant-but-accepting response, grinning contentedly as he led me to meet the Clan Head.

“Young Master Yun-ho has arrived.”

“Let him in.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

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“Sit.”

The Head of the Tang Clan glanced at my transformed appearance and showed a flicker of surprise before returning to the book he’d been reading.

What book was it? A closer look revealed—it was Storm of the Tang Clan.

“I’ll bring out some tea. What would you like to drink?”

“Any coffee will do.”

“It’s nearly time to rest. Coffee wouldn’t be a wise choice. I’ll take chamomile, and bring him ginseng tea.”

“We’ve just received a fresh batch of excellent ginseng from the Murong family, so I’ll serve that right away.”

I appreciated the gesture, but why chamomile and ginseng tea? Can’t we go full wuxia and serve some overpriced Dragon Well tea or something?

I mean, sure—ginseng tea is considered a potent tonic in this world, a luxury by any standard. But I’ve had ginseng tea in modern times. It’s not that exotic to me.

The Clan Head kept silently reading Storm of the Tang Clan until the tea arrived. Then, at last, he spoke.

“My fiancée wasn’t called the Most Beautiful Woman in Sichuan, but she was a beauty. Still, she was no match for your mother.”

So he’s trying to start this off by glorifying my mother?

“Is that so?”

I cut in with a tone of disinterest on purpose. If he wants to talk about Hyang-ah, I’m not giving him the satisfaction right away.

A brief silence followed my disinterested response.

“Have you nothing to say to me?”

Can I ask for some honey to sweeten this bitter ginseng tea?

“I’m grateful once again for allowing my woman to use the Tang Clan’s treasured artifact.”

I rose from my seat and gave the Clan Head a courteous bow. Even if I’m playing the aloof bastard son, I still have to stick to the role of someone who treats his woman with care.

“That’s all you have to say?”

Apparently, that wasn’t the response he’d been hoping for. He asked again.

So he didn’t summon me for some grand reason—just to have a father-son chat? I thought there’d be something more dramatic behind this.

“I hope to return soon. I don’t know when Hwa-rin might wake.”

I didn’t want to be here. She could wake up any moment.

“I’ll have news sent the moment there’s any change in her condition. You needn’t be so anxious.”

“Understood. Then...”

----------

Another long silence settled between us.

To be honest, even brushing past each other is uncomfortable—we’re that awkward together.

From his perspective, summoning me without any specific business, and trying to carry a conversation with me... must’ve taken some courage.

Judging from the way he brought up Hyang-ah, it’s clear he still has lingering feelings.

I have to dig into that—leverage it to get Storm of the Tang Clan approved.

As a writer who’s already tasted success, I have no intention of becoming one of those “on hiatus” authors. I have no plans of abandoning my pen name Ho-pil and rebranding myself as “Ji-u” to start over.

I’ve already set up the character of a bitter bastard son who resents his father. I need to use that to get permission to continue publishing.

A prickly illegitimate son. A father at a loss for how to deal with him. But there’s a path to reconciliation—through {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} a woman they both loved. Through Hyang-ah.

I already pushed him away once. Time to reel him in.

I didn’t look at the Clan Head. Staring out the window, I began to speak quietly, as if to myself.

“I grew up hearing stories about the chivalrous heroes of the Central Plains from my mother.”

I sipped my ginseng tea to give him time to react. Bitter. They should’ve soaked it in honey. The raw flavor’s too overpowering.

“Heroes?”

“Those who never back down from injustice. Who fight against evil. Who would give up everything for the woman they love. My mother spoke of them like she’d seen one with her own eyes. She told me about those chivalrous warriors from the Central Plains.”

You know I’m talking about you, right? If you’ve got an ounce of sense, you should pick up on that.

The Clan Head’s face darkened—just as I’d expected. I inwardly grinned at the reaction and continued, wearing a nostalgic expression as if reminiscing about my childhood.

“As a child, I admired those stories. I begged my mother to tell me tales of heroes whenever she had time. Each time, she’d share them with me—her voice just a little happy, just a little sad. I didn’t understand back then why her face looked so bittersweet while telling such grand tales.”

I laced the bitterness of ginseng into my words.

“......”

The woman he abandoned had told their son stories—his stories. That’s gotta sting, huh? Even if he’s trying to stay composed, I caught the faint tremble in his cheek.

“As I grew older... as I came to understand love... I realized something. That face she made—it was the face of someone who missed someone deeply. And the heroes she spoke of... they weren’t some mythical figures from the Central Plains. They were the story of one man. A man from Sichuan.”

I pressed the branding iron right into his wound.

“They were stories about you, Hyang-ah said.”

Sorrow and longing flickered in the Clan Head’s eyes.

“I heard from the Pavilion Head why you wrote Storm of the Tang Clan.”

“He said it was to ask for help.”

“That’s true. But there was another reason.”

“Another?”

I looked at him in silence.

The characters in Storm of the Tang Clan were fictional. But the Tang Clan’s secret history—that was real.

And now, I’d ensured that someone close to the Clan Head—someone who knew that secret—would come find me. They would be the one to protect Hwa-rin from Tang Geo-ho’s schemes.

That was the goal I’d told the Pavilion Head. But if I stop there, I’ll have no reason to continue the serialization.

If the only purpose was to fulfill that goal, then Storm of the Tang Clan has served its purpose. Worse, the Tang Clan could use the fact that it contains their secret history as justification to shut it down permanently.

So what do I do?

I reframe it.

“I wanted to capture, in Storm of the Tang Clan, the kind of hero my mother used to speak of.”

The weak spot of the Head of the Tang Clan.

Let’s imbue Storm of the Tang Clan with Hyang-ah’s will—the woman he once loved.