Namgung Se-ga, the warrior, was reincarnated in Romance

Maelo Sanson asked if I had ever wielded a magic sword, and Douglas Mustang asked if I was a dragon.

Hearing about magic swords from a respected teacher made me dig through the academy’s library to verify the various legends, and I came to know that neither magic swords nor dragons existed in the current Sieron. I was taken aback and had trouble hiding my expression.

The new parents I had met in this life, unlike me, had never truly raised a child close up before. My father, William, was an only child, and my mother, Seyrin, had only one older brother.

Due to the social norm of not letting children under five play outside, they had little knowledge about children until I was born.

Because of this, they didn’t think it strange when I cried less than other children, spoke earlier than expected, or, once I started speaking, immediately scolded my father to treat my mother well. After the birth of my younger brothers, Michael and Asdel, they quietly whispered among themselves that their firstborn was a little special, but they didn’t think much of it.

Because of these circumstances, when I saw people wearing swords at their waist, my parents, the young Lord and Lady Ernheart, collected dozens of fairy tale books, much like squirrels gathering acorns, filling their study.

Back then, I, too, was curious about how the warriors of Sieron behaved and lived, so I greedily read the books without refusing their kindness.

The stories were all somewhat similar, with the mighty heroes of Sieron becoming sword masters, hunting dragons or demons, and marrying princesses. These dragons were referred to as “dragons” and were defined as monsters with intelligence.

The dragons in these fairy tales were quite different from the ones I knew; they were round-bellied, with strong hind legs and no horns, resembling baby pigs rather than true dragons. I didn’t like them.

When I firmly denied it, Mustang looked a little embarrassed and waved his hand.

“Hmm, it was just a joke. Honestly, the aura of Lord Ernheart is too weak for it to be a Dragon Heart. The Ernheart family is also completely unrelated to dragons. Where did you learn this and how did you practice it?”

I was momentarily speechless, wondering how to respond, and then replied:

“…Well, I just thought everyone did it this way…”

“Why would you think that was normal?”

Well, it was normal in the Central Plains.

Anyone pretending to be a martial artist in the Jianghu would have their lower dantian. The great sects and families shared their own secret internal techniques within their ranks.

The students of the Shaolin Sect would learn the Great Supreme Prajna and the Dharma Reverse Sutra, while those from the Mount Huashan School would practice the Heavens and Earth Divine Arts, and the martial artists of the Namgung family used the Bow and Arrow Great Art.

By comparing the internal energy of each, one could easily guess the sect by looking at the structure and the color of their aura.

When a disciple of the martial arts sect is to be imprisoned without killing or destroying their martial arts, it is inevitable to break their lower dantian and render them an ordinary person. Without the lower dantian, one cannot use martial arts. This is a universal truth in the martial world, shared by all, from third-rate to first-rate warriors. Yet, to be treated like a monster, and then also considered an unreasonable human being, felt somewhat pitiful.

Seeing my expression, Mustang was startled and began acting as though he were consoling a child, which was rather amusing.

“No, no. I’m not trying to blame you. I’m just curious. I have so many questions, but I’m not sure where to start.”

“Ah, yes…”

“Do you remember when you first started doing this?”

“…I think I’ve been doing it since I was born.”

I could see that he wanted to say “dragon” again, but I sealed my lips. At that, Mustang, having finally discarded his playful demeanor, paused for a moment, and then said:

“This is something I can’t answer immediately. I’ll need to do more research and organize the data… Once I learn more, we can talk about it. Right now, this is not the right place for such a conversation. I’ll call you to my office when I’m ready.”

“Thank you.”

I bowed slightly, feeling a little worn out, and turned to leave. I knew that martial arts in Sieron were different from mine, but I had assumed that each knight had their own style of swordsmanship and that the vast land explained the variety. I never imagined that people here didn’t use a lower dantian at all.

A sudden desire to teach others my internal arts arose again, but with the differences in language and structure, I knew I couldn’t pass on the exact techniques, much less explain the meanings and formulae that accompanied the methods. I still had no confidence in teaching the breathing techniques, especially after remembering the confusion and frustration I felt when my family’s guardians asked about the Golden Sutra’s verses.

The professors at the academy were like reclusive hermits, and at times, I wondered if they might be watching me practice my techniques, trying to decipher them. But then the thought would fade away.

If being good at internal arts meant that one could decipher the hidden techniques of a family’s martial arts by simply observing them, then anyone would have mastered techniques like the Dharma Reverse Sutra or the Seraphim Art by now.

Even someone as skilled as Douglas Mustang, who was an expert in aura manipulation, didn’t seem to imagine the existence of a lower dantian until I demonstrated and explained the flow of energy.

Anyway, having sweated a lot, I was heading back to the dormitory to wash up when Benjamin Claudian, who had been silently listening and walking beside me, suddenly spoke.

“I don’t think Lord Ernheart is a dragon.”

“Pardon?”

“There are no pink dragons.”

What in the world is he talking about?

I pondered what to say but ultimately decided not to respond, letting the moment pass. When I looked up again, Benjamin was wearing his usual silent expression, making me wonder if I had misunderstood. I wiped my ears, just in case.

That night, the strange words “pink dragon” kept echoing in my mind, leaving me utterly confused.

* * *

Perhaps that’s why, that night, I had a strange dream involving a pink monster.

The next morning, while I was washing up, I couldn’t help but stare at my reflection for a while, thinking it was a result of the dream. Like most people I encountered in Sieron, my face—large eyes, a high nose, and plump lips—looked like that of a child, with baby fat still visible.

While traveling through the martial world, I had always focused on masculinity and dismissed matters of beauty, so it felt awkward to be staring at my own face.

Come to think of it, Shayden had once commented on the color of my hair. When I first arrived in this land, I didn’t know the names of colors well, and I had thought my mother’s hair was a reddish hue. However, upon closer inspection, it was actually a pale pink color, just like mine.

However, everyone I met in this land had hair that was either blue, gold, white, green, or some other vivid color, sparkling like a rainbow. I just assumed that everyone in this land looked this way and thought nothing of it, but now I was starting to feel uneasy, wondering if it wasn’t quite as common as I had thought.

Even my light-colored, watery eyes felt like an oddity here.

My second brother, Michael, took after both our father and mother, with black hair and watery blue eyes. The youngest, Asdel, who was now five, had the opposite—a pinkish tint to his hair and red eyes, like a little rabbit.

If pink hair was truly something extraordinary, then my mother’s name should have been famous in the imperial capital, but I felt a little aggrieved that it wasn’t.

After washing my hair and combing it back, I gazed at my reflection from up close and from afar. The only thing that stood out was my face, with eyes, nose, and mouth intact. I thought to myself, “A person is just a person, I suppose.”

Since childhood, I had consistently trained my body to become a martial artist and practiced the “Changong Daeryeon Shin Gong” (a martial technique), which had helped me maintain symmetry between my eyebrows and nose, giving me a balanced look without any crooked habits, which I appreciated.

Now that I was thirteen, I had grown quite a bit. I thought that by the time I reached twenty, I would be similar to my past life, having grown even further.

In my previous life, though, when I was this age, my heart would race, and I would feel embarrassed about the red skirt I wore. If there were any other girls my age around, I’d move away, maybe even wash my face for no reason. But now, as I grew older, I realized I was more focused on my body’s balance, the length of my limbs, and my health—something that seemed silly to dwell on now.

I clicked my tongue, feeling as though time had been wasted, and quickly gathered my things and left the room.

This morning, it seemed that getting ready had taken longer than expected. When Shayden asked if something had happened, I answered casually and shrugged my shoulders. As we walked toward the training grounds, exchanging various topics of conversation, Shayden suddenly looked surprised and said:

“So, you’re planning to spend the whole afternoon in the training grounds after the swordsmanship class this morning?”

“Professor Sanson said he would let us stay until the training grounds close…” I replied.

“No, you shouldn’t take that literally. Friday evening is meant for rest, since it’s close to the weekend.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s just bad manners… Hmm, though the professor might not mind…”

* * *

“So, you want to practice a new sword technique until 8 PM today…?”

“Yes!”

“Hmm, alright. When learning a new sword form, you need someone to help you practice, so it’s only natural…”

“Yes, thank you!”

“Uh-huh. You should thank me.”

By this point, I had noticed Sanson’s somewhat reluctant expression, but I just smiled in response.