Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang

The day after the Tang Clan’s order was magnificently “restored,” I found myself training again in the rear training ground behind the Four Harmony Pavilion, reserved for the direct lineage of the family.

“Again! Poisoned or not, where did I tell you to aim?”

“At the center of the body, you said.”

“And why aim at the center of the body?”

“Because targeting the head or shoulders makes it easy for the opponent to dodge. Even if they evade, aiming for the center ensures a glancing blow.”

“Correct. The chest and abdomen are ideal targets. Now, try again.”

Standing in the expansive training ground, centered around a towering centuries-old deadwood tree, I focused on throwing knives at a straw dummy shaped like a human figure.

I pulled my arm back taut like a rubber band and let the blade fly just as my sister suddenly burst into the training ground with a panicked expression.

“Soryong! It’s terrible!”

Thunk!

Startled by her shout, my aim went astray. The throwing knife missed the straw dummy and embedded itself in the hollow of the ancient tree.

Mandok Shingun, standing nearby, scowled deeply.

“Didn’t I tell you to focus when throwing knives? If this were a real fight, your enemy’s blade would already be at your throat!”

“I-I apologize!”

I flinched under his reprimand but couldn’t help thinking it was harsh considering the distraction. Glancing at my sister, I noticed her eyes—normally large—had widened to cartoonish proportions.

“What’s the matter, milady?” I asked cautiously.

Her response was incomprehensible.

“O-our children! Something’s wrong with our children!”

“What? Children? What nonsense is this?!” Grandfather’s eyes widened in shock.

For a granddaughter who hadn’t even married to suddenly burst in claiming to have children, who wouldn’t be surprised? Realizing her slip, my sister’s face turned as red as her nickname, Rose Laurel (Wol-gye).

“No, not like that! I mean the O-gong! Something’s wrong with the O-gong!”

I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at her blunder, though her concern about the O-gong, the five centipedes she cared for, quickly caught my attention.

“The O-gong? What happened to them?”

My gaze shifted to her body as I searched for the O-gong. Lately, I’d entrusted them to her during physical training sessions since their presence on my body made it difficult to move. Normally, they clung to her while I enjoyed some temporary freedom. Until now, it had always been a smooth arrangement.

But they were nowhere in sight.

“Have they hidden in your clothes?” I muttered, reaching out without thinking to check her collar. Startled, she clutched her neckline protectively.

“They’re not here! They’ve all fallen off!” “Fallen off?!”

“Yes, and… something’s wrong. I don’t know how to describe it…”

Sensing that something unusual was indeed happening, I hurried to the pavilion where she’d been resting. Mandok Shingun followed closely behind.

Arriving at the pavilion, we found the O-gong lying motionless at its center.

“What’s wrong with you all? Hey, wake up!”

I leapt onto the pavilion and examined them closely. Their appearance was strange—slightly translucent, as if they were covered in a thin, film-like layer. It resembled a transparent membrane, and I immediately understood what was happening.

“Oh, so that’s it. They’re molting.”

The first molt.

“Molting?” my sister asked.

“Yes. Creatures with hard exoskeletons like centipedes shed their shells as they grow. They’re in the process of shedding now.”

As I explained, my sister’s startled voice interrupted.

“Look! Over there! The head!”

Turning to where she pointed, I saw one of the O-gong’s heads swelling at the back.

Rip!

The back of the head split open, and a yellow neck began to emerge. Soon, the entire head slipped free of the old shell, and the rest of its body followed, wriggling out like a spirit leaving its vessel.

Once fully emerged, the centipede stretched its new body. What had once been as thick as a sausage now matched the width of my forearm. Its previously golden-yellow hue had softened into a luminous white sheen, and its exoskeleton had taken on a sharper, more refined appearance.

“Wow, this is incredible!” my sister marveled.

“It’s grown twice its size!”

As we watched in awe, the second O-gong began molting, followed by the third. They unfurled their bodies, adjusting to their new shells, while my sister asked,

“What are their names?”

“Names?”

I realized I hadn’t named them yet. Scratching my head, I offered,

“O-il, O-i, and O-sam?”

Her expression turned incredulous.

“What? If they become dragons after a thousand years, you’d call them O-il, O-i, and O-sam? These are creatures meant to protect the Tang Clan for generations! Their names should reflect dignity and the majesty of dragons!”

“Sister, O-gong won’t turn into dragons, even after a thousand years…”

Despite my logical protest, she turned to Mandok Shingun for support.

“Grandfather, O-gong turn into dragons after a thousand years, don’t they?”

Mandok Shingun nodded solemnly, indulging her.

“Yes, indeed. A thousand-year-old O-gong becomes a celestial dragon. That’s why they’re sometimes called Heavenly Dragons (Cheon-ryong).”

‘What am I even trying to explain to these people?’ I thought.

Resigning myself to the futility of arguing biological facts, I listened as they debated potential names.

“How about Golden Queen (Geumhu), Golden Emperor (Geumje), and Golden Prime (Geumsang)?”

Even the centipedes seemed to object, pausing their body-drying process to glance up at her. I sighed and interjected.

“Sister, they’re all female.”

“All three of them?!”

“Yes.”

“Well, then…”

Before she could unleash another wave of questionable names, I took charge.

“They’ll be Cho (初), Hyang (香), and Bin (彬).”

“Cho, Hyang, and Bin?”

“Yes. The one with the long antennae will be Cho, meaning ‘first.’ The one constantly moving its antennae will be Hyang, meaning ‘fragrance.’ And the shiniest one will be Bin, meaning ‘elegant.’”

After pondering for a moment, she nodded.

“Alright. Fathers should name their children, after all.”

“…Excuse me?”

Mandok Shingun gave her an incredulous look as I stood there, stunned into silence.

***

Centipedes typically consume their shed exoskeletons after molting, but the O-gong showed no interest in theirs. Even when I held it up to their mouths, they turned away as if completely uninterested. It seemed they truly grew by absorbing energy and spirit rather than relying on nutrition.

Left behind were three molted exoskeletons, slightly yellow and translucent, lying on the pavilion floor like crumpled socks discarded after being pulled off. I thought about stretching and preserving them neatly, almost like taxidermy, when the sharp clang of metal striking something hard interrupted my thoughts.

“This... what is this?”

“It’s a precious material (guimul),” Mandok Shingun remarked.

Grandfather had picked up one of the exoskeletons and casually tapped it with a dagger. The sound it made was strange, almost like the clash of metal on metal.

“The shell from the one we caught on Hainan Island was tough, but this is something else entirely. Normal weapons won’t even leave a scratch on this,” he said.

I hadn’t realized it while handling the O-gong, given their flexible bodies, but their molted shells hid an incredible secret. I picked up one of the discarded exoskeletons, turning it over in my hands, marveling at its properties.

Grandfather studied the shell he held, his expression thoughtful. Without warning, he brought it over and began pressing it against my arm, as though sizing me up for custom armor.

He nodded to himself and said, “This would make excellent gauntlets (gwongap) for you, Soryong. If we connect the legs and bind them together, we could craft a magnificent pair of gauntlets.”

“Gauntlets?!”

“Yes. The length is perfect to protect your forearm, from the elbow to the back of your hand. If we attach the head to sit atop your hand, we could coat the fangs with poison for striking. It would be exceptional,” he explained with enthusiasm.

“A centipede-shell gauntlet with fangs on the hand? That’s practically ‘Centipede-Man!’” I thought, stunned by the absurdly cool design he was describing.

Grandfather wasn’t just any old man; he clearly had a deep understanding of what stirred a man’s heart.

“Is something like that really possible?” I asked, barely daring to hope.

My sister smiled, clearly proud of our family’s capabilities. “The Tang Clan’s blacksmiths are incredibly skilled. They can craft hair-thin flying needles and countless other hidden weapons. Making gauntlets from these shells should be well within their abilities.”

I gasped audibly.

I had always thought of the Tang Clan as a legendary assassination family, but this—this was a family that understood dreams, ambition, and fantasy.

As I entertained thoughts of crafting two gauntlets and preserving one shell as a keepsake, Grandfather spoke again.

“We’ll use one of the remaining shells to make Hwa-eun’s gloves (sutu). The inside is soft, while the outside is hard. It will be perfect for protecting her hands from hidden weapons.”

The idea startled me. I had been planning to keep one shell intact for the sake of documentation. To think he would use it for my sister’s gloves!

I stared at him, wide-eyed, as he chuckled. “What? Are you reluctant to part with it?”

Before I could reply, my sister fixed me with a look that said, Don’t even think about it.

Quickly, I shook my head. “Of course not. Why would I be?”

Though I denied it aloud, the truth was… I did feel a bit reluctant.

***

A full day passed, and the O-gong began crawling back onto my body. Their exoskeletons didn’t seem completely hardened yet, but they were clearly capable of moving around just fine.

The most noticeable change after their first molt was that the O-gong now looked like fully developed centipedes. While centipedes belong to the class Chilopoda, meaning they grow without adding segments after birth, their initial form is typically more rounded and worm-like. Now, their bodies had become flatter, their legs sharper, and their exoskeletons tougher.

They were finally complete centipedes, with a noticeable increase in weight—enough that I could feel it.

“Wow, you guys got heavier.”

-Tsrrr.

At my comment, the O-gong emitted warning sounds as if to scold me. How dare you call us heavy? We’re ladies! Their sharper, flattened bodies no longer clung to the same spots on my torso. Instead, they sought new positions.

Two wrapped themselves around my arms, while the third coiled snugly around my waist.

With their sharper legs pricking my skin and their increased weight requiring adjustment, I headed toward Gajujeon. As I passed its entrance, I overheard a pair of burly men emerging from the building, looking particularly pleased with themselves.

“Heh! What did I tell you?”

“Exactly. This is why the Sichuan Tang Clan is unbeatable. Let’s celebrate at the gisaeng house tonight!”

The two men, with coin pouches jingling in hand, strode off toward the base of the mountain, their demeanor not quite matching that of a prestigious assassination clan. Their presence felt out of place here, but before I could dwell on it, I heard a familiar voice call out from within Gajujeon.

“Bring Soryong here.”

It was my master, Mandok Shingun, summoning me.

What could it be this time? I wondered as I made my way inside.