The Fragile Elixer of the Fallen Clan

“Open up.”

Hwa-ryun looked at me in disbelief before quietly opening his mouth. He nibbled on the treat I fed him, like a baby bird, which made me smile.

“Is it good? It’s my favorite.”

“Yeah, it’s… good.”

“But…”

“…?”

I grinned as I looked at the half-eaten yakgwa.

‘Even if he’s the young master of the Demon Sect, in two years he’ll have used up about 2,100 bowls just by counting meals!’ I thought playfully.

I couldn’t resist and flicked Hwa-ryun on the forehead.

“Don’t talk to your elder sister like that, you little runt.”

“…”

With my hands on my hips, I pretended to scold him. Hwa-ryun looked utterly shocked, as if he had been struck by lightning. He even dropped the shabby basket he was holding. Seeing his reaction, I felt a bit guilty.

“Did it hurt a lot? I was gentle… it was just a light flick…”

“No, it didn’t hurt…”

“Really? Well, here’s another!”

“…!”

I flicked his forehead again. Hwa-ryun flinched, took a step back, rubbed his forehead, and looked at me in disbelief. Then, unexpectedly, he started to laugh.

“…?”

He stopped abruptly and examined my face closely for a long time, until I tilted my head in confusion.

“I need to go now,” he said politely, maybe because he had been scolded for speaking informally or just to match my tone.

When Hwa-ryun suddenly said he was leaving, I blinked in surprise.

“Now? Already?”

He nodded, picked up his fallen basket, and prepared to leave. I quickly stuffed the remaining treat into his mouth, dashed to grab an umbrella from where Nanny was waiting, and hurriedly handed it to him.

“Take this. It’s raining… And I feed the chickens here every morning. If you come at this time, you’ll find me. Okay? You have to come.”

Hwa-ryun tried to avoid taking the umbrella, but I grabbed his hand and made him hold it. He looked at me for a moment, then nodded and turned to leave.

As he was about to walk away, I impulsively grabbed him again and stuffed the remaining yakgwa and rice cakes into his arms.

He gave me a puzzled look, but when I gently pushed him away, he didn’t refuse and started walking.

As I watched him go, Nanny Jang hurried over.

“Young Miss!”

“Oh, Nanny.”

Nanny Jang wiped my hands with a thin cloth, covered my head with a coat to shield me from the rain, and looked at my face.

“Do you like that boy?”

I swallowed my complicated feelings and forced a smile. Like him? That wasn’t the issue…

“If you see him again, be kind to him, okay? Make sure to give him something good to eat.”

Nanny Jang nodded, though she couldn’t completely hide her worried expression.

***

Lately, Grandfather had a new headache: me, his overly persistent granddaughter.

“Do you think visiting me every day will change my mind?” he asked, his tone gruff.

“No?” I replied, tilting my head.

“…Then why do you keep coming?”

“Because I want to see you, Grandfather.”

He was momentarily speechless at my straightforward response.

“Hmph.”

“Oh! I fetched the water for tea today. It’s from the stream behind Moonlit Abode.”

“What if you fell in…”

“Kang Rip came with me. Today, I’ll make tea for you, Grandfather.” Grandfather sighed and waved his hand, signaling me to do as I pleased.

I began to prepare the tea with smooth, fluid movements, just like I had been practicing.

“Remarkable…” I heard him murmur, though I pretended not to notice.

Grandfather watched me closely. When I had first come to thank him for the Eternal Blood Treasure, I could tell he was surprised. I had acted as if I didn’t even notice the severe scars on his face. I guessed he thought I was too young to understand the difference between what was frightening and what wasn’t. But I continued to visit him every day, determined to show him I wasn’t scared.

During my visits, I did little more than sit with him for an hour, sipping tea and chatting about trivial things. However, I never fidgeted, got bored, or found the occasional silence awkward. It reminded me of the highest martial artists who could discern the truths of the world by watching a single leaf fall.

To Grandfather, once a man who commanded the world before his injury, my abilities must have seemed extraordinary.

‘Could it be because of the Eternal Blood Treasure? No, that’s unlikely…’ I thought as I arranged the tea set, measured out the tea leaves into the lidded cup, poured hot water, and swirled the leaves to release their aroma. I tried to mirror his own movements, hoping he would notice.

But more than anything, watching this tiny child—me—handle a teacup with such concentration stirred something within him. I could feel it, even if he didn’t say anything.

“Grandfather, please enjoy,” I said, concentrating hard as I offered him the teacup. My tiny arms could barely reach halfway across the table. Grandfather suppressed a laugh with a cough and took the cup from my hands.

He closed his eyes and savored the tea. The clear and pure taste, the deep aroma, and the natural sweetness lingered in his mouth.

‘Has it always been this good?’ he wondered.

Decades ago, when the family was at its peak, he could enjoy the finest tea leaves. Now, he was accustomed to the stale taste of old leaves. Yet, the tea I made reminded him of the rare teas from his glorious past.

The taste was so clear it felt like spring water, and just one sip seemed to ease his breath and calm his insides. How could it be the same tea leaves he had brewed just days ago?

“How is it?” I asked, my eyes bright and eager for his thoughts.

“…”

He took another sip, letting the surprise wash over him. For the first time in years, even the chronic pain from his old battle injury seemed to ease.

‘This isn’t just a feeling…’ he thought.

He lifted his head and opened his eyes to find me looking at him expectantly.

“…Your tea-making skills aren’t bad at all.”

Was I like my father? His eldest son had also been knowledgeable about tea, and they often enjoyed tea together.

Grandfather thought of his firstborn, who had passed away too early, and fell silent. I noticed the change in his expression and wondered if I had said something wrong.

“Instead of making things like rice cakes, you should focus on practicing your tea-making skills,” he said, trying to steer the conversation away. But his words made my face fall, and I could tell he regretted them, even if he didn’t retract them.

Once, I had brought homemade rice cakes when I came to greet him in the morning. The red bean paste was so sweet it tasted bitter, and the white rice cake was almost too tough to chew. After eating it, his mouth was left with a strange, cool minty taste.

As a veteran of war, Grandfather saw food as a necessity, not a pleasure. He had no interest in snacks or gourmet food, and he ate whatever was given to him without complaint. His only luxury was drinking tea, even if it was from old leaves.

The clumsily made rice cakes by me, his granddaughter, however, had been an extraordinary experience for him.

Back then, he thought it was natural for a child to make mistakes in cooking, but seeing me excel at brewing tea made him realize that I simply wasn’t good at cooking. Grandfather resolved that when I grew up and got married, he would ensure I had the best chef in Zhejiang as part of my dowry.

“But the tea is…” I trailed off, mumbling.

Grandfather seemed to think about warning me against too much praise to avoid making me conceited, but he couldn’t bring himself to be stern.

“I told you, didn’t I? You did well.”

Finally, I smiled, and he realized he had forgotten the taste of the tea during our conversation. Now, as he took another sip, the warm, soft sweetness filled his mouth again.