The moment Dan-Bi rounded the corner of the corridor, out of sight of the Governance Hall and the twins' prying eyes, her legs turned into noodles.
She didn't just stumble; she practically melted against the red lacquered pillar, sliding down until she was crouching on the cold stone floor.
I almost died.
She brought her hands up to her face. They were shaking so hard her jade bracelets clattered together like wind chimes in a hurricane.
That wasn't a garden snake. That was a bamboo viper. One bite, and my blood would have turned to jelly before Steward Joo could even find the antidote.
"Haa... Haa..."
She pressed her hand over her heart, trying to force it back into a normal rhythm. For a solid minute, she just sat there, hyperventilating, replaying the moment her hand had hovered inches from the fangs.
She wasn't a martial artist. She wasn't a master of beast taming. She was a seventeen-year-old girl who had bluffed her way through a lethal situation using nothing but a lucky guess and a whole lot of adrenaline.
"I'm crazy," she whispered to the empty hallway. "I'm actually insane. Who touches a poisonous snake to prove a point about accounting?"
But then, a slow, hysterical giggle bubbled up in her throat.
She had seen Steward Joo's face. The man had looked like he was about to wet his robes. And the twins... she had seen the shock in those big, round eyes before she winked.
They expected her to scream. They expected the Paper Wife to run crying to her room, just like she did in the first timeline.
But I didn't run.
Dan-Bi slapped her cheeks with both hands. Smack.
"Get it together, Han Dan-Bi. You survived the funeral. You survived the snake. You can survive the rest of the day."
She used the pillar to pull herself up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her white mourning robes. Her legs were still wobbly, but her mind was clearing up.
She had secured the financial logs. That was a win. But Steward Joo was just a symptom of the disease. The real problem—and the only reason she was still in danger—was the four little monsters roaming the sect.
If she didn't get them on her side, they would eventually succeed in driving her out, or worse, accidentally killing her with one of their pranks.
She walked slowly toward the garden, her mind racing.
Jin-Hyuk and Min-Ho are lost causes for now, she reasoned. Jin-Hyuk hates my guts because I'm weak. Min-Ho hates me because I'm occupying a position of power he thinks is useless.
That left the twins.
Wi Tae-Yang and Wi Su-Ah. Eight years old.
In her past life, she had avoided them like the plague. Tae-Yang had a temper that could literally burn down a building, and Su-Ah... well, Su-Ah was creepy.
But they are eight, Dan-Bi reminded herself. They are dangerous, powerful, traumatized martial arts prodigies... but they are still eight.
And eight-year-olds had weaknesses.
"They like mischief," she muttered, watching a butterfly land on a lotus flower. "They like attention. And most importantly... they probably haven't had a decent meal since their father died because the kitchen staff is terrified of them."
A plan began to form. It wasn't a martial arts technique or a political maneuver. It was much simpler.
If you want to tame a wild beast, she thought, a small, genuine smile touching her lips, you don't use a whip. You use a treat.
High above the Governance Hall, perched on the curved tiled roof like two gargoyles, the twins were holding a council of war.
"It didn't work," Wi Tae-Yang grumbled, kicking a loose roof tile. It slid down and shattered in the courtyard below. "She didn't even scream. Is she deaf? Or just stupid?"
Beside him, Wi Su-Ah sat perfectly still, her legs dangling over the edge. The green bamboo viper was coiled around her wrist now, looking sleepy.
"Your snake is broken," Tae-Yang accused, pointing a finger at the reptile. "It didn't bite her. It just sat there like a worm. Why do you feed it expensive mice if it's going to be useless?"
Su-Ah slowly turned her head. Her large, dark eyes bored into her twin brother. She didn't speak, but the air around her dropped a few degrees.
Hiss.
The snake on her wrist reared up, opening its mouth to show its fangs at Tae-Yang.
"Okay, okay! I get it!" Tae-Yang threw his hands up, leaning back. "Don't look at me like that. I'm just saying! Jin-Hyuk Hyung told us to scare her off. He said, 'Make her realize this isn't a place for soft people.' Dropping a snake is pretty scary! But she just... touched it."
Tae-Yang frowned, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion.
"Why wasn't she scared, Su-Ah? Even the maids run away when they see Greenie. But she winked. Who winks at a viper?"
Su-Ah stroked the snake's head with her thumb. She leaned forward, cupping her hand around Tae-Yang's ear.
"Maybe..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, like dry leaves rustling. "...she knows we are playing."
"Playing?" Tae-Yang scoffed. Sparks of fire qi flickered around his knuckles. "I'm not playing! I want her gone! She took Father's ring. She sits in his chair. It makes me mad."
He punched the air, a small burst of flame erupting from his fist.
"Min-Ho Hyung said if we drive her crazy, she'll leave on her own. He said she's a Paper Wife and paper burns."
Su-Ah pulled back. She looked down at the courtyard where Dan-Bi had walked away moments ago. Her expression was unreadable, but her fingers tightened slightly on the snake.
"Next time," Su-Ah whispered.
"Yeah, next time!" Tae-Yang grinned, a wicked, jagged expression that looked too big for his face. "Snakes were too quiet. We need something loud. Something that goes boom."
Su-Ah nodded slowly. She leaned in again and whispered a few words into his ear.
Tae-Yang's eyes widened. Then, he let out a loud, cackling laugh that echoed off the rooftops.
"Oh, that's good. That's really good. Jin-Hyuk Hyung is going to love that."
The training grounds of the Dark Moon Sect were usually filled with the sounds of hundreds of disciples practicing. But today, the elite training circle was empty—except for two people.
CRASH.
A wooden training dummy, reinforced with iron bands, exploded into splinters.
Wi Jin-Hyuk stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving. He was shirtless, sweat glistening on his scarred back. He held a heavy wooden practice sword, but the aura radiating from him was sharp enough to cut skin.
He didn't stop. He pivoted, swinging the sword in a horizontal arc.
WHOOSH.
The air pressure alone knocked over a rack of spears ten feet away.
"You're swinging too hard," a lazy voice called out from the sidelines. "You're wasting qi. Father always said precision beats power."
Wi Min-Ho was lounging on a stone bench under the shade of a ginkgo tree. He looked completely out of place in a training ground. He was wearing pristine blue robes that didn't have a speck of dust on them, and he was casually peeling a persimmon with a small silver knife.
Jin-Hyuk lowered his sword, glaring at his younger brother.
"Father is dead," Jin-Hyuk growled. "And I don't need advice from someone who hasn't held a sword in six months."
Min-Ho chuckled, popping a slice of persimmon into his mouth. "Why hold a sword when I have you? You're the muscle, Hyung. I'm the brains. It's a perfect ecosystem."
Jin-Hyuk scoffed, wiping sweat from his forehead. He walked over to the water barrel and ladled water over his head.
"Did the twins do it?" Jin-Hyuk asked, his voice muffled by the water.
"Do what?"
"Scare the woman."
"Ah. That." Min-Ho chewed thoughtfully. "I haven't heard any screaming yet. Which is disappointing. I had a bet with myself that she'd be packing her bags by noon."
Jin-Hyuk threw the ladle back into the barrel. "She's a leech. Elder Ma put her there to mock us. To show us that the Wi family is so weak we have to be babysat by a seventeen-year-old girl who can't even cultivate."
"She threw the gold back," Min-Ho pointed out, spinning the silver knife between his fingers.
"A performance," Jin-Hyuk spat. "She wants to raise her price. Or she thinks she can manipulate us."
"I don't know..." Min-Ho mused. "Steward Joo was seen running out of the Governance Hall looking like he'd seen a ghost. And rumor has it, she demanded the ledgers."
Jin-Hyuk's eyes narrowed. "The ledgers? What does she know about sect finances?"
"Probably nothing. But it's annoying Elder Ma." Min-Ho smiled, a genuine, sharp expression that made him look like a fox. "I kind of like it. It's chaotic."
"It's distracting," Jin-Hyuk corrected. "We have enemies at the gate. The Righteous Alliance is sniffing around. I need to focus on getting stronger, not playing house with a stepmother."
He gripped his wooden sword again, his knuckles turning white.
"If she doesn't leave soon, I'll make her leave."
Min-Ho watched his brother. He saw the tension in Jin-Hyuk's shoulders. He knew Jin-Hyuk was terrified—not for himself, but for the rest of them. Jin-Hyuk thought he had to carry the entire sky now that their father was gone.
"You know," Min-Ho said softly, "if she actually manages to handle the twins... that would be impressive."
Jin-Hyuk froze.
"The twins are wild animals," Min-Ho continued, slicing another piece of fruit. "Tae-Yang burned his last nanny because she told him to eat his carrots. Su-Ah put a scorpion in the soup of the last tutor."
Min-Ho looked up, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"If this Paper Wife can tame those two... if she can actually get them to listen to her without using force..."
He shrugged.
"Then I might actually accept her."
The air in the training ground suddenly grew heavy.
Jin-Hyuk turned around slowly. The wooden sword in his hand creaked.
"Accept her?" Jin-Hyuk's voice was a low rumble.
"I'm just saying—"
CRACK.
Jin-Hyuk swung the sword. He didn't aim at Min-Ho, but he slashed the air between them.
A wave of pure sword intent blasted outward. It tore a deep gash into the stone pavement, stopping exactly one inch from Min-Ho's expensive leather boots.
Dust rose in a cloud. Min-Ho didn't flinch, but he stopped chewing.
Jin-Hyuk glared at him, his eyes burning with blue fire.
"There is no accepting her," Jin-Hyuk hissed. "She is an outsider. She is weak. And in this sect, the weak die."
He pointed the sword at Min-Ho's face.
"Don't get attached, Min-Ho. Or do I need to remind you what happened to the last person we trusted?"
Min-Ho looked at the deep gash in the stone, then up at his brother's furious face. The playful smile vanished from his lips.
"No, Hyung," Min-Ho said quietly. "I remember."
Jin-Hyuk grunted and turned back to the training dummies.
"Good. Now get out of my sight. I need to train."
Min-Ho stood up, brushing a speck of dust from his robe. He walked away, leaving the fruit on the bench.
But as he walked, he glanced toward the Governance Hall.
Don't get attached, Min-Ho thought. Easy for you to say, Hyung. But chaos is so very entertaining.
Meanwhile, in the Sect Kitchens, Dan-Bi was currently staring at a terrified chef.
"You want to make... what?" the chef stammered, holding a cleaver like a shield.
"Honey-glazed pork ribs," Dan-Bi repeated, rolling up her pristine white sleeves. "And spicy rice cakes. Extra spicy."
She tied an apron over her mourning robes, looking completely out of place among the soot and grease.
"But... Lady Han... the Matriarch shouldn't be cooking!"
"The Matriarch," Dan-Bi said, grabbing a bag of sugar, "is preparing a trap. Now, hand me the gochujang."
She looked at the ingredients with a predatory gleam in her eye.
The twins want a war? Fine. But they better bring an appetite.