CH 10
– The Seven Star Palace in Wolha Village, Magyo.
“Is anyone here?”
Creak. The door of the Seven Star Palace opened with a light push. It was Jang Iseo. After two days, he had finally returned, now officially appointed as an aide.
Dressed neatly in black, his ordinarily plain face appeared surprisingly handsome.
“This place is a wreck.”
Jang Iseo sighed as he surveyed the interior. He’d noticed during his earlier visit disguised as a messenger, but the palace’s neglect was staggering.
The main gate’s broken lock left it unsecured, and weeds reached waist height across the grounds.
“Is anyone here?”
He raised his voice while stepping deeper inside. Still, no response came.
“This isn’t hide-and-seek.”
Before long, he reached the inner quarters. The wide-open sliding doors exposed the interior.
“What in the…?”
Jang Iseo’s brow furrowed. A collapsed wardrobe, shattered flowerpots spilling soil across the floor, shards of glass, and scattered belongings—everything unchanged from two days prior.
“Did he abandon the palace?”
No one could live like this for two days.
Step. Step. As Jang Iseo advanced, ragged breathing echoed from within.
“Is he seriously asleep?” High noon sunlight bathed the sky, yet the prince slept in this squalor?
Step. Step. Jang Iseo pressed forward.
This was it.
Behind this door lay the Seventh Prince, Mao.
“Is anyone here?”
Jang Iseo repeated softly. Silence swallowed the palace.
“Seventh Prince.”
His calm tone cut the air. The breathing stopped—Mao had awakened.
Or rather—
‘Come closer.’
Mao crouched inside, smirking as he readied a punch. A “welcome gift” to showcase the Seven Star Palace’s ways.
The instant Jang Iseo grazed the threshold—
Crash! A pale fist shattered the paper door. Mao grinned, imagining Jang Iseo’s nose bleeding as he collapsed.
“Hahaha!”
But something felt wrong. His fist met empty air. Snap! Instead, his own wrist was seized.
“What—?”
“Argh!”
Mao’s arm jerked violently, his body crashing through the door. A brutal impact struck his abdomen—a kick?
“Guh!”
He crumpled to his knees. Lightning-like pain flooded his senses, eyes bloodshot. Consciousness slipped away.
“Seventh Prince?!”
A voice called innocently as he… thud. Everything went black.
“Pleasure to meet you, brother.”
Jang Iseo, his new aide.
The Seven Star Palace had its first proper arrival.
*
“Hah!”
Mao bolted upright. Cold sweat dripped down his neck as delayed abdominal pain curled his body inward.
“You… fucking bastard…”
He glared at the tidy bed in the cleaned chamber. That bastard. Kicked him unconscious and dumped him here.
“Where is that shitstain?!”
Mao stormed out, hurling objects. “How dare a lowlife aide kick his master? I’ll kill him!”
“Get out here, you bastard!”
He scanned the spotless hallway—no trace of its prior filth. A clattering noise drew him around the corner.
“There!”
But only a dangling rope greeted him.
“What’s this?”
He squinted at the ceiling hole where the rope originated. “Fixing something? Get down now, you ass!”
Mao yanked the rope—
Thud! A massive flowerpot smashed onto his skull. His vision swam as he collapsed.
“Seventh Prince?!”
The same faux-concerned voice echoed before… thud. Darkness again.
“Should’ve been careful.”
Jang Iseo watched from the shadows, smirking.
*
“Hah!”
Mao awoke again, bandages around his throbbing skull.
“Aaaaaah!”
His scream shook the palace. But this time, he didn’t rage.
“What’s his game?”
First a “mistake,” now a booby-trapped ceiling? An assassin wouldn’t tidy the room afterward. This was… new.
“What is this?”
A folded letter caught his eye—unseen before. He snatched and read it:
【You seemed fatigued, so I’ll return in two days for our formal meeting. Let’s proceed accordingly. – Aide Jang Iseo】
“You psychotic bastard! ‘Proceed accordingly’?!”
Trembling, Mao crumpled the letter and shoved it into his mouth, teeth grinding the paper as he snarled:
“I’ll devour you alive, you dogshit aide…”
“Jang Yi-soo. Just you wait. I’ll make sure you regret coming here properly.”
It had been a long time since such intense heat filled Chilso Palace.
Who would end up anticipating this outcome remained to be seen.
“Lower. Not there. Yes. Right there.”
Meanwhile, Jang Yi-seo lay comfortably with his head on the lap of Chwi Hong-ran, a peerless beauty.
Her casual ear-cleaning suggested this was a routine gesture.
“So you just left things like that?”
Hearing the day’s events, Chwi Hong-ran furrowed her brows like a fretful mother.
Even a troublemaker was still the Seventh Prince. Knocking him out—twice, no less—could be deemed treasonous, punishable by execution.
“I merely greeted him. You can’t reason with someone like that.”
It must’ve hurt, of course.
Jang Yi-seo snorted, sat up, and tapped his ears with his palms before shifting topics.
“The investigation?”
“Yes.”
Clap, clap. At her signal, the doors slid open. Women entered and unfurled a lengthy family tree scroll across the wall.
Chwi Hong-ran began her report.
“Name: Mao. Age: nineteen. Born into the Ma Family, foremost among the Demon Sect’s three great lineages.”
Mao. The one who’ll be stripped bare isn’t me—it’s you.
A smirk tugged at Jang Yi-seo’s lips.
The Demon Sect’s three great families had entrenched their influence for generations:
The stoic Ma Family (麻), led by First Elder Ma Il-seong, who’d held his position for four generations.
The wise Cheon Family (千) of Second Elder Cheon Oh-san, mediators of Tianshan’s conflicts.
The fiercely loyal Meng Family (孟) of Third Elder Meng Cheol-yong, unmatched in brutality.
Their power permeated every corner of the sect like morning mist—except the Heavenly Demon Hall.
And Mao, the Seventh Prince, was born into the most prominent of these: the Ma Family.
The biological son of Ma Il-seong himself.
“To outsiders, his adoption by the Sect Leader seemed like a life showered in petals,” Chwi Hong-ran mused poetically.
Jang Yi-seo nodded. On the surface, Mao had everything: lineage, talent, looks. A flawless existence.
“But inside, he’s rotten. The Ma Family’s true heir was his elder brother, Ma Yi-sin. Mao—a bastard sweeping floors—stole that destiny.”
The family reeled. A lowborn with no martial training ascending so high? It was a slave stealing land even a cousin would covet.
“They publicly called it a blessing,” Jang Yi-seo added, “but everyone knew Sect Leader Jin Wu-guang was curbing the Ma Family’s power.”
Chwi Hong-ran blinked. Few knew this—the Mas had silenced most whispers.
Does the Master ever miss a detail? she wondered, not for the first time.
“Abandoned by his clan, ignored by his father pushing the Cheon Family’s proxy heir…”
“Exactly. Yet rumors call Mao a brute. In the Demon Sect.” Surviving such slander meant he had no allies—only enemies fanning flames.
‘Making him Young Sect Leader? Has the Dark Lord lost his mind?’ Jang Yi-seo shuddered but shook the thought away.
“Ma Il-seong’s cruel. His own flesh and blood, yet Mao’s palace stands empty.” A spy’s basic duty: scout territories. The “greeting” had served dual purposes.
“Master… must you really be his aide?” Chwi Hong-ran ventured. “He’s a hollow shell—all dragon patterns, no substance. Whatever your plan, I fear it.”
Jang Yi-seo chuckled, patting her hand. “I need this. Understand?”
Or my heart explodes. Death by gu poison.
He gazed beyond her, resolve hardening. His mission: make Mao Young Sect Leader. But more—make him human. The last conscience of a righteous man hiding in darkness.
Perhaps Mao too longed for this. Unacknowledged lives grow thorns. They crave a guiding hand toward respect.
“Let’s see what that headache’s up to,” Jang Yi-seo rose, grinning.
Seeing is believing.
#Aide Jang Yi-seo (1)
