Yoshika felt awful. First she’d hurt Dae in a misguided attempt to encourage him, then Yue by fleeing from a moment of genuine vulnerability. The problem, she realized, was that she’d made the mistake of thinking that her empathy granted her a perfect understanding of the people around her. It was true that her empathy had grown more powerful—she could feel the emotions of those around her almost as clearly as her own. Her mistake was thinking that her interpretation of those emotions was flawless.

  She sat in meditation, considering the problem from different perspectives, with each aspect adding their own voice.

  “This is definitely Jia’s fault. She’s always had a blind spot when it comes to intimate relationships.”

  Jia crossed her arms and pouted at Eui’s accusation.

  “That’s not fair!”

  “Even after dual cultivating with me you didn’t realize that I was in love with you, and you had to be told that Dae has a crush.”

  “Had a crush! We settled things a long time ago.”

  Yoshika felt a prickle on the back of her neck when she realized how silly that sounded. Of course Dae was still harboring feelings, he’d just given up on them. It had been inconsiderate of her to pretend not to see it, but Jia was right—the blame wasn’t hers alone.

  “Eui, you’re not exactly an expert in romance either. You grow too attached, even in bad relationships. You knew that Sun Jaehwa was manipulating you, and still threw your life away for her.”

  Kaede struck right at the heart, putting Eui on the defensive immediately.

  “Are you suggesting that my relationship with Jia is a mistake?”

  “Of course not, but you’re lucky that it was her you fell for rather than someone like Yan Yue or Bai Lin.”

  Yoshika took offense to...her own comparison. But she saw what Kaede was getting at. Eui could be shy or even downright antisocial, but when she did engage with others, she did it with maximum passion. If things had gone differently, there were many who might have taken advantage of her, and she couldn’t forget that Yue hadn’t always been a friend.

  But in that case, Eunae had to point out the part that Kaede had left unsaid.

  “Or you, Kaede. You might have been the worst of all, as you were when we first met. Second only to myself, perhaps.”

  “I won’t deny it. I saw relationships as tools, and vulnerability as weakness. Had Eui exposed that vulnerability to me when we met, I would have taken full advantage.”

  Eui scowled miserably. She’d always considered herself to be the most romantically conscious of Yoshika’s aspects, but Kaede and Eunae were making strong points. She was too focused on her own feelings, and had often been a poor judge of how others felt about her.

  “What about you, Eunae? I can’t imagine a world where you’d treat me poorly.”

  Eunae shook her head and sighed. Of all of them, she’d probably had the best understanding of her own weaknesses before joining the gestalt. She was, after all, the only one who’d reached xiantian independently of Yoshika.

  “You met me after I’d vowed never to use my power on other people, but not long after. I did meet Jia’s gaze when we first met, and though it was by chance, it wasn’t exactly an accident. I broke the spell before doing any harm, but I did suffer that moment of weakness, and it was Jia’s reaction to it that helped me to grow past my former selfishness.”

  Jia pursed her lips, recalling the old memory.

  “You were beside yourself about it, even before I said anything. I was scared, but you were so contrite that it was hard not to forgive you.”

  “Now imagine if you’d forgiven me without a second thought. If you’d been so fascinated that you didn’t care whether I had implanted that fascination or not. If you’d pursued friendship with me not in spite, but because of what I’d done.”

  How might things have changed? Eunae wasn’t a perfect saint, and it had taken years of practice to master herself. Self control was a crucial part of who she was, but only because she’d built herself that way in defiance of her baser nature. Had she met Ja Yun—or, indeed, Eui—instead of Jia, they might have dragged each other down into the depths of their worst traits.

  Eui drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them, frowning.

  “I wouldn’t have done that...would I?”

  “It’s as difficult to envision a different past as it is to predict the future. It’s impossible to say for certain, but the possibility was there.”

  They all had their faults—blind spots when it came to relationships. In a way, their joining had helped each of them cover for their weaknesses, but in another way it had compounded them. Jia’s fear of intimacy could be offset by Eui’s passion, but it compounded with Kaede’s fear of vulnerability and Eunae’s self-denial.

  The common thread was that despite most of them being in happy relationships...they weren’t very good at being loved. In fact, the more Yoshika thought about it, the deeper that weakness went. She was a demigoddess, growing into her domain of Unity, but though she fostered cooperation between herself and those around her, though she was very good at being liked by even some of her enemies—love was another story.

  Love made her uncomfortable. She made exceptions, but only reluctantly. Yoshika loved her family—her sisters, her parents, her closest teachers. Even Misun and Minhee, though she was still upset with them. Her partners—Jia and Eui, Jiaying, Rika and Yun—all felt like rare exceptions, and when she thought of being loved by anyone else, it disturbed her.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Like the people of Kucheon, or even Jiaguo City, where they would cheer at the sight of her. In a way, Meili’s separation from the other aspects was an expression of that discomfort. The part of her that didn’t want to be seen and adored. Yoshika was more comfortable surrounded by hostile nobles plotting to undermine her than she was on a parade through her own city. But why?

  How long had this heart demon festered unchecked within the deepest recesses of her soul? She craved companionship, trust, and vulnerability, but pushed it away at every chance.

  “We can think in circles all day and never find an answer. It’s probably part of how we were raised—a deep-seated reaction that we didn’t realize we had. Or foolishly thought we’d overcome just because some of us found partners willing to see past it.”

  Meili chimed in for the first time. Her perspective was the youngest, having diverged from a point when Yoshika was still just Jia and Eui, but Yoshika valued it no less. Jia pursed her lips and fidgeted with one of her ears.

  “What do we do about it, then?”

  “What we always do when we’re stuck, of course. We get help. Seek an expert opinion to enlighten us on the things we lack.”

  “But who? Normally we talk to Yue about this sort of thing, but I don’t think that’s going to work this time.”

  Meili giggled and shook her head.

  “It’s a good thing you kept me around to bring us back down to earth when our head gets stuck in the clouds. Who else would we turn to for an expert on relationships?”

  Life had gotten much quieter for Lee Jung once Narae grew up. She still had her job as Jiaguo’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, but it was an important distinction that she served the city, rather than the empire. Her duty mostly amounted to consulting with city council members about how to avoid offending other cultures—a role that had grown less important as the city developed its own culture and the diverse people living there learned to get along with each other.

  There were still incidents, here and there. Traditionalists from different nations stepped on each other’s toes or got upset that the younger generations weren’t as interested in their heritage, and Jung would have to smooth things over. Indirectly, of course. Jung was barely a first stage cultivator, and for better or worse Jiaguo city was a place for immortals.

  The mortal population wasn’t insignificant, but a consequence of the academy’s open doors was that anybody could become a cultivator with effort, and so nearly everybody wanted to. Immortals and aspiring immortals made up the vast majority of the population, with only a quickly shrinking subset of people content to live out their lives as mortals.

  Even then, most of them lived out in satellite villages away from the more urban city center. Anyone who lived in the city at least tried attending the academy, but not everyone succeeded. Yoshika had made cultivation more accessible than ever before, but it was still far from easy.

  So there wasn’t much for someone like Jung to do. She didn’t mind the quiet, really. When she was younger, her days were a bit too exciting, and she enjoyed the freedom to relax and live at her own pace.

  She had friends and hobbies—An Chunhei had been more than happy to teach her sewing and knitting, and she often had tea with Pan Jiaying and her parents. Jung’s days could be as full or as empty as she wished, but they were quiet.

  “Yumi, am I getting old?”

  Her partner paused in the middle of a set of meditative exercises, and Jung admired the way the afternoon sun made Yumi’s amazingly well-toned body glisten. She used to do her training in full armor, but a few pointed comments about how much Jung enjoyed looking at her abdominal muscles had convinced the shy martial artist to switch to lighter exercise clothing. Much lighter.

  Yumi gave her an arch look, glancing at the blanket Jung had draped over her lap while she sat and failed to make any progress on her sewing. Too distracting.

  “What is ‘old’ even supposed to mean? I’m over a hundred and my peers consider me to be young and immature.”

  Jung rolled her eyes. Immortals.

  “Well, I’m thirty-two and despite the fact that I feel better than I ever have, I worry that I act like an old lady.”

  “So ‘old’ is an attitude, then? Nobody’s forcing you to sit in a chair and mend clothing all day. You could always train with me, if you want.”

  “I can think of far more interesting ways to get sweaty and physical with you, my love.”

  Yumi blushed and averted her eyes, eliciting a pleased giggle from Jung. She’d been worried that her admittedly intense sexuality might be off-putting for Yumi—who apparently had been a virgin despite being over a century old. Jung almost suffocated laughing when she learned that Jia’s infamous ‘first kiss’ experience had also been Yumi’s first, though even Jung could admit that medical interventions didn’t count.

  As it turned out, however, Yumi was as happy to make up for lost time as Jung. She just got embarrassed about it.

  “Yes, ahem, well. I was just saying that if you’re bored, you don’t have to confine yourself to the house all the time. I think you sometimes forget that you’re not as fragile as you used to be.”

  Jung inclined her head and hummed thoughtfully. Yumi had a point. Jung’s illness had been cured for years, but she’d been sick for a long time and it was hard to break the habits she’d developed. She really did forget that she was as healthy as she’d ever been. Healthier, even, thanks to a robust diet, daily meditation, and the fussiest little sister in the world.

  As if summoned by the thought, Jung felt a familiar aura sweep across the courtyard. Her mana sense wasn’t particularly refined, but Empress Yoshika was hard to miss.

  “Ah, it seems our lovely daughter deigns to visit us. Go get dressed Yumi, I’ll put the kettle on.”

  Yumi chuckled softly and shook her head.

  “You know she doesn’t like you calling her that. You’re too young to be her mother.”

  Strictly speaking, Jung was too young to be Narae’s mother, but that was another matter entirely.

  “Nonsense! She loves it. Besides, if I must suffer this advanced age, then I may as well reap some benefits.”

  “You’re thirty-two.”

  “Positively ancient.”

  Yumi narrowed her eyes dangerously.

  “I will slap you.”

  “Oooh! Promise? I’ll hold you to that later, dear.”

  Jung left her flustered partner behind, laughing all the while. Age and boredom aside, Jung could at least take solace in the fact that she didn’t have Yoshika’s problems.

  She wondered what world-shattering disaster her daughter would consult her about this time.

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