CH 8
She kept bursting out laughter while gripping the liquor bottle herself. Then she poured wine into Jang I-seo's empty glass.
This was the highest compliment.
'I'll acknowledge your boldness. Even Lord Jian might praise you for that much. Provided your skills match that mouth of yours.'
Truthfully, the Seventh Prince's aide position was a chicken rib - worthless yet hard to abandon.
Due to Mao's temperament, no one wanted the role, and even willing candidates would be rejected by Mao himself.
Thus placing someone temporarily through her influence posed no problem. If expanding Mao's faction could strengthen her own position as Jang I-seo claimed, there'd be no better arrangement.
But—
'Do you understand? That seat is a burial ground for fools who enter carelessly. You, a seventh-rank noble without family or reputation. Could you survive even a day?'
Impossible. Her head shook reflexively. She'd planned to simply reprimand him and send him back to the intelligence bureau.
Yet—
"Truly confident about handling Mao within three fingers?"
"No."
"What? Then what was all that earlier bravado?"
"Not confidence. Certainty."
"Madman."
Though crude words left her lips, their corners curled upward.
She knew she shouldn't, yet kept feeling this inexplicable hope toward him.
A highly trained spy?
No - the faint energy leaking from his body was too crude and ordinary. Moreover, the Seventh Prince was abandoned by all.
Then why this growing trust?
His ignorant disrespect in addressing her? The confidence stemming from that?
No. Not mere superficiality.
Jang I-seo possessed something deeper. More than confidence - absolute conviction.
Their gazes simultaneously turned toward Moonlight Lake's unobstructed view.
She appreciated how the wall-less structure allowed refreshing openness.
This also let her clearly see assassins approaching like rats through the crowd - likely sent by brothers who'd caught wind of news.
"Anyone can spout words."
Sahye-ryeong turned to face Jang I-seo as she spoke. He met her gaze and responded:
"Judging empty talk from substance is your duty. Though you don't seem incompetent."
"Shall I test your skills regardless?"
Jang I-seo scanned outside again, his focus perfectly matching the assassins she'd identified. Indeed. Not just a loudmouth. Sahye-ryeong's smile deepened.
"I'll handle the three left."
"Fine. I dislike losing, but I'll indulge. I'll take the four right."
"Agreed."
Glug-glug. He refilled her drink before grabbing his own cup and nodding. Clink! Their glasses met. As liquor burned down their throats—
Crack!
Seven masked assassins erupted onto the second-floor railing like soaring dragons.
Flawless movements. All exceptional fighters - first-rate masters at minimum.
But hopelessly inadequate against Sahye-ryeong.
Crash! Her light kick shattered the railing into wooden shards that pierced an assassin's chest—thud!—sending him plummeting.
Two remained.
Simple enough.
"Haaah!"
The first landing assassin charged sword raised—too slow. Thud-thud-thud! Chopsticks in her hand pierced left flank, abdomen, right armpit simultaneously.
"Ghk..."
He collapsed mid-breath.
One left.
Whoosh! The final assassin swung not a blade but a powder bottle spewing brown smoke.
'Impossible!'
Realization struck Sahye-ryeong—they weren't here to kill her.
This was Rongpi Powder, designed to melt human skin masks. Their goal: expose her identity.
To frame Third Princess's Wolha Village visit as motivated by base desires.
'Vile creatures...'
The full-body skin mask couldn't block all powder. Despair flooded her—
"Don't move."
Bang! The overturned table shielded her as a man embraced her, blocking residual powder with his body.
Jang I-seo.
"You?!"
Swish! His right hand shot out—Zing! A white thunderbolt pierced both table and assassin's throat. Thud!
Situation resolved.
Whirr! He retracted the crackling bolt around his wrist.
Sahye-ryeong stood trembling, gazing up at him.
He grinned: "A lady's secrets deserve protection."
"......"
"Falling for me?"
"Lunatic...!"
Thwack! Her palm strike sent him skidding five steps back.
"Ugh! I saved you!"
"Silence."
"Damn crazy woman..."
He grumbled while stomping, but Sahye-ryeong kept staring.
This strange man made her feel stranger.
She spun abruptly. "Come to Chilsogung in three days."
Approval granted. Behind her, Jang I-seo's laughter boomed. Sahye-ryeong's lips twitched upward unseen.
"Hey!"
She turned slightly, faintly flustered, as he struck a pose: "Don't disappoint."
“You’re the one who should pay for what you broke before leaving. Where do you think you’re going?”
Ha, that bastard. She stormed out, shouting at him irritably.
“You’re the one who should pay. Whether you beg the owner or borrow to repay it—that’s part of the test.”
“Hahaha! Damned bitch...”
It was a night when the full moon rose over Wolgangho.*
On the night Jang Yi-seo passed the adjutant exam.
Scratching the back of his head, he ascended the floors of Chwiseonru.
Third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh.
How far would he go? He finally climbed to the eighth floor—a restricted zone where the owner resided.
Was he really here to pay for what Sahae-ryeong had destroyed?
Yet the white-clad guards parted like the Red Sea upon seeing him, as if familiar. Jang Yi-seo strode confidently through the opened path.
The destination turned out to be Chwiseonru’s deepest, most secretive place—a lavish top-floor room overlooking Wolgangho, furnished with a bed and a table laden with delicacies.
“You’ve arrived.”
A celestial beauty in an azure skirt, her hair pinned with a black ornament—Chwi Hong-ran, Chwiseonru’s owner. She greeted him, leaving him bewildered.
“Skip the food. Just bring wine. I’ve no appetite.”
“You seem troubled today. It pains this humble one’s heart.”
The woman, known to rarely show her face even to nobles, pressed a hand to her chest with a sorrowful expression.
Was Jang Yi-seo somehow the master here?
“Not your fault. I took a loss—shattering that railing for nothing. Do you know how much that cost?”
“Did you meet the Third Princess well?”
“Well enough.”
Shocking—that Jang Yi-seo exchanged such secrets with a courtesan. But this was merely the beginning.
“Here.”
As the table was cleared, Jang Yi-seo sat on a cushion and scrutinized the ledger she handed him. It listed every transaction—Chwiseonru’s complete financial records.
“Good work. Profits have risen.”
“If this repays even a fraction of my debt... I’ll do far more.”
“We both benefit.”
“No. Had you not rescued me from abduction and entrusted me here... I’d be dead.”
Chwi Hong-ran bowed deeply. Jang Yi-seo forced an awkward smile. He’d long given up stopping her ritual gratitude.
It made sense.
Her true name was Moyong Ran—daughter of the vanished Moyong clan, kidnapped by the Demon Cult before adulthood and saved by Jang Yi-seo during a spy investigation.
This was the outcome of that bond.
“Tell me what’s happened at Chwiseonru.”
“Yes, Master.”
A master-servant dynamic.
Meaning:
The true owner of Chwiseonru...
Was Jang Yi-seo.
Spies gather intelligence through infiltration, bribes, or institutional support. But Jang Yi-seo, operating unpredictably in hostile territory, needed stability. Hence—Chwiseonru.
“The Demon Cult is a powder keg—volatile and ready to explode.”
Jang Yi-seo sipped weak wine as Hong-ran reported. Old news. Rumors of a new sub-leader’s appointment had stirred tension.
Three prime candidates:
“First Prince Cheon Mu-gi. Second Prince Mu Han-seong. Third Princess Sahae-ryeong. The next leader will undoubtedly emerge from these three.”
“Naturally...”
An irrefutable truth—until his mission to install Seventh Prince Mao as sub-leader.
“Current power dynamics?”
Rubbing his brow to ward off fatigue, he asked. Hong-ran answered crisply:
“Under the leader: Seven Elders handle judiciary matters, Five Dragon Hall manages administration, plus a hundred subsidiary factions.”
“And the Seven Princes with Left and Right Guardians.”
“Yes. The Elders and Hall leaders’ support determines legitimacy and power.”
“Your analysis, Hong-ran?”
“Seven Elders likely back First Prince. Five Dragon Hall favors Second Prince.”
“Why?”
She paused, then answered:
“Their temperaments.”
Cheon Mu-gi: reserved, ruthless, detached. Plans alone, moves subordinates like chess pieces.
Mu Han-seong: brash, camaraderie-prone. Error-prone but commands fierce loyalty.
Thus:
“Conservative Elders want a leader-like figure. The aggressive Hall leaders lean toward Mu Han-seong.”
“And Sahae-ryeong? She’s favored by the leader.”
At his hopeful question, Hong-ran sighed.
“She stands no chance.”
#Gotta get some lessons from my brother (2)
