CH 14
"By the way, I heard Ruju here is supposed to be stunning. But getting a proper look at her face is impossible. She won’t take money even if you throw it at her. And for a courtesan, her network’s absurdly wide. How about it… Couldn’t you lend us your influence, Seventh Prince?"
At the ludicrous suggestion, Mao finally turned his head.
"What influence?"
Sly, bat-like eyes pinned him.
"We have family reputations to consider, so we can’t recklessly cause trouble… But you, Seventh Prince? No one would dare criticize you. You stir up scandals daily. And there’s nobody who can punish you anyway."
"Get to the point. What ‘trouble’?"
"Keuk. Must I spell it out? Let’s have some fun with Ruju tonight. It’s getting dark anyway. Cozy atmosphere, candles out, everyone huddled close—sound good?"
"If it’s dark, go home. Why stay? And ‘fun’? This has been dull from the start. Want ghost stories? Visit the Seventh Prince’s outhouse. You’ll never forget it."
"No, you—! Ugh! If you’ve lived this long, act like it! You still can’t grasp basic conversation?"
"What did you say, you little shit?"
Mao shot to his feet. Majingu slammed the table over with a crash and stood too, fists clenched. The others watched nervously, sensing things had gone too far.
But Majingu was already drunk beyond reason—utterly unhinged.
"F*ck! Since when does some brat talk back to the Seventh Prince? Know who I am? I’m Majingu!"
"So? I’m the Seventh Prince. You’re a ninth-rank runt."
The truth stung. As others murmured agreement, Majingu’s lip quivered.
"Ha! Look how bold you’ve grown. Think you can handle this? If Brother Yishin came, could you keep that head held high? Huh? Should I call him? Should I?"
Yishin. That damned Yishin. Call him. Call him, you bastard! Mao’s fists shook, knuckles white.
But he swallowed the words he wanted to scream.
He knew too well—if Majingu ran to Yishin, innocent bodies would float on Wolha Village’s lake by dawn.
His defiant glare faltered. He looked away.
"Keuk. Right. Know your place."
Thud. Majingu jabbed Mao’s broader chest. Thud. Thud. Thud. "Stay in your lane, Seventh Prince. Before I call my brother. Got it?"
Humiliation burned, but Mao consoled himself—this would fade with the hangover.
Just as he resigned himself:
"Call him. I’m curious."
"Huh?"
A stranger’s voice. CRASH! The sliding door shattered. A metallic shriek—a chained dagger shot through, grazing Majingu’s cheek before whipping around his neck. Click.
"Ghk—?!"
The chain snapped taut. Majingu’s eyes rolled back, mouth gaping as he crumpled.
Mao and the others stared—assassins?—as the door fully gave way.
Thud! The intruder stomped Majingu’s drooling head, yanking the chain with a grin.
"Late as expected."
The man who’d become the Seventh Prince’s sole retainer today.
No—Amgak’s top agent, here to crown him Young Master.
"Advisor Jang Yi-seo."
He’d arrived.
"Ghk—! Air—!"
Thudthudthud! Majingu’s persimmon-red face hammered the floor, chain choking him, a foot on his skull—his only plea for life.
Jang Yi-seo chuckled, grinding his heel harder.
"Hey—wait—"
Mao panicked. Relieved but bewildered—Majingu was still Ma family blood, however distant.
"Seventh Prince! Stop him! He’ll kill me!"
"Ggaaahhh!"
Majingu’s gurgle bubbled through spit-soaked lips, eyes vacant. Death loomed.
"Jang Yi-seo! Release him! No—tighten it more first! Then let go!"
As Mao shouted, eyes squeezed shut, the chain loosened. Majingu coughed violently, spewing tears and snot.
"You… What the hell are you?!"
Majingu scrambled for the sword by the screen. Jang Yi-seo eyed the blade coldly:
‘250 nyang silver.’
Goblin-engraved scabbard, master’s mark on the steel—a quality weapon.
His dagger-chain slithered back to his wrist as he addressed Mao, ignoring Majingu:
"Seventh Prince."
"Huh? Yeah?"
"Are you injured?"
"Me? He’s the one hurt!"
Mao pointed at Majingu’s bruised neck. The others nodded, but Jang Yi-seo shook his head.
"That man attempted to harm you. Yet you show concern. Your mercy humbles me."
"Lunatic! When did I—"
"Laying hands on royalty is treason. You struck his chest four times."
The crowd gaped.
‘That… almost makes sense.’
Only Mao’s raised eyebrow agreed.
"You—! Who gave you rights to meddle in Ma affairs?!"
"Advisor Jang Yi-seo."
"Advisor? Hah! Seventh Prince—didn’t you dismiss your advisor? Explain this!"
Majingu turned the sword toward Mao—
Thwack! Jang Yi-seo slapped his arm, disarming him, then elbow-slammed him into the wall.
"Keuk!"
Thump! The moment his back hit the wall, a dagger was swiftly drawn from his waist and placed against his neck. A movement as fast as lightning.
“Th-this bastard…!” Ma Jin-gu stammered, his courage draining as he glanced sideways at the blade beneath his chin. In a real fight, he’d already be dead. Even drunk, he’d been caught off guard—not once, but twice.
This guy! They said he was from the 7th-rank nobility, but… I underestimated him! His movements aren’t normal. Could the Third Princess have sent him with malicious intent?
Though Ma Jin-gu held only a 9th-rank position and hadn’t risen higher, he was still of the prestigious Ma family lineage. His skills far surpassed ordinary men’s. Yet he’d been subdued so easily…
But what did a silver spoon like him have besides brute force? True power came from family backing. Ma Jin-gu’s eyes blazed as he barked, “Seventh Prince! Do you think you can handle provoking me? Can you withstand the Ma family’s retaliation?!”
Behind him, Mao’s expression turned icy. Noticing this, Ma Jin-gu grew bolder.
But then—
“Dare…?” Jang Yi-seo’s eyes sharpened, not cowed but venomous. “You dare speak of consequences to the Seventh Prince—the Supreme Lord’s revered adopted son and a 1st-rank noble? Would you repeat that before the Sect Leader?”
Ma Jin-gu and the officials paled instantly. If the Ma family was their shield, the Seventh Prince’s was the heavens themselves.
“N-no! I didn’t mean—”
“Amusing. Your family head is just Ma Il-seong, a mere 2nd-rank elder.”
Hey, that’s my father you’re mocking, Mao muttered silently, unheard.
“Yet you threaten the Young Supreme Lord? This reeks of the Ma family’s audacious rebellion.”
“R-rebellion?!”
The word terrified Ma Jin-gu, not yet twenty. He shook his head wildly. “N-no! Never!”
“Then why say it?”
“A mistake! I misspoke!”
“Convenient. Shall I make a ‘mistake’ too? Like piercing your throat?”
“Wait! Wait!”
As the dagger tip pressed into his neck, Ma Jin-gu shrieked. This madman wasn’t bluffing—he’d kill without hesitation.
“S-Seventh Prince! Spare me!” Ma Jin-gu begged, tears streaming. “I was drunk! It was a mistake! M-Mao, please…!”
Pathetic. Mao scratched his neck. When status fails, he resorts to begging. Some things never change.
He sighed. They’d won the verbal battle, but Ma Jin-gu wasn’t wrong. What could the Seventh Prince truly do? Tomorrow’s fallout alone was daunting.
“Sheathe it,” Mao ordered, turning toward the window.
Crash!
“Aaaagh—!”
Ma Jin-gu shattered the window and plummeted outside. Mao and the officials gaped.
This is the fifth floor?!
“M-Ma Jin-gu!”
They rushed to the window. Below lay Ma Jin-gu, unconscious, as crowds gathered screaming.
Mao whirled on Jang Yi-seo. “What the hell was that?!”
“You said to put it away.”
“I meant the dagger, not him!”
“Did you?”
“Did I? You lunatic!”
Mao’s eyes bulged. Jang Yi-seo merely smirked, steering the stunned officials away. “The Seventh Prince is weary. The gathering ends here. Leave.”
The officials bowed profusely and scattered.
Only once they’d gone did Jang Yi-seo turn back.
#The Aide Begins (1)
