Gyeo-wool thought Mother’s little assassin was rather foolish when it came to the precarious game of assassination. As a consort to the King, he served his purpose: Beautiful, intelligent, defiant enough to keep the King’s attention. Gyeo-wool hadn’t been surprised when his captivating ally took his seat next to the King, even as Iseul burned with jealousy beside him, badmouthing the poor boy to hell and back.
But Hae Min-jun was no killer. Gyeo-wool would have certainly been the best choice for covert murder. Just the slightest brush of skin-on-skin contact would do him in. Regardless, he shouldn’t concern himself with what appeared to be a doomed mission. Mother had already given him a job.
“You ready for this?” Iseul asked from his spot near the entrance of the tent. In his hands, he held a half-peeled pear and a knife with a hilt made of black cloth.
“Do you have the letter?” He had to let his daughter know somehow. That, without a doubt, he would be dead by the end of the night.
Iseul shifted the knife into his other hand and then pulled the envelope out from the folds of his vest. He held it up between two fingers briefly and then hid it away again. “You shouldn’t worry too much about her. Mother said she’d take care of Mai for the rest of her life. That little girl’s going to grow up spoiled rotten.”
And Mother failed at human decency in many ways, but she never broke a promise. No matter how much it cost her.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
“You should stay alive until you get back,” Gyeo-wool told him.
Iseul snorted. “Only until then?”
“Do you think he would’ve turned you in?” Gyeo-wool asked, thinking back to Min-jun’s face when he asked for Iseul’s safety in return for his capture. “He seemed annoyed when I asked.”
“That’s just how he is sometimes.” Iseul bit into the flesh of the pear, and it crunched under the pressure of his teeth. “He’s angry about most things. Probably angry at himself more than anything. He’s very …” He clenched his hand into a fist and then released it. “Prickly.”
Iseul’s face lit up whenever he spoke of his occasional lover. Everyone under Mother had a motive beyond themselves for staying with her. Iseul’s motive, as far as Gyeo-wool could tell, was Min-jun. Even though he knew the boy would eventually be sold off to the King.
“Most people have one button,” Iseul continued. Gyeo-wool would have to get out soon, or else they’d be here all night. “But Min-jun has a million of them. It’s all about making sure you step on the right one at the right moment.”
“No wonder he hates you so much,” Gyeo-wool muttered, pulling his hood up over his head. As he moved the tent flap aside, Iseul cleared his throat. Gyeo-wool glanced over his shoulder to Iseul, who was rubbing his neck with something akin to a bashful blush on his face.
“It’s really a shame that we ended up only working together now. You’re not … you’re not such a bad guy.” He clenched his jaw, hesitant. “And don’t blame Min-jun too much. He’ll beat himself up about it enough after you’re gone. He’s only doing what he has to.”
“Just like the rest of us.”
He walked out into the bustling festival grounds. The scents of braised meats and sweet desserts interweaving with the wind coming off the lake. Music drifted around him. People passed by, not a single pair of eyes drawn to him. Not being noticed could be strangely liberating.
A group of women performed a sword dance in front of a crowd, the black skirts of their hanbok twisting and spinning around with their movements. Even Gyeo-wool had some trouble keeping up with the silver blur of their swords. Mai would’ve loved to see something like this. She would’ve loved the lake, and would’ve eaten too many honey cakes because he’d buy her whatever she wanted. Perhaps, Mother would bring her to the next festival.
Gyeo-wool removed one of his gloves. Min-jun would be here any moment now, and with him, the King’s men. All according to Mother’s plan, whatever that might be. Min-jun had said Mother had set this all up because she wanted to improve his image in the eyes of the public. Less people would point fingers at someone they admired. Her investment in keeping Min-jun alive despite his situation left a bad taste on Gyeo-wool’s tongue. He had always thought they were all equally expendable.
Knowing how conspicuous he was being, he set his eyes on a young married woman, not older than twenty, with her hair pinned up in a bun. His hand lingered near her neck. The dancers had entranced her, the rest of the world falling away. A perfect victim.
At least she would’ve been, had Min-jun not seized his arm and pulled him away from her with enough force to dislocate his shoulder. He didn’t, as far as Gyeo-wool could tell, dislocate his shoulder, but it still hurt like hell as he dragged him down to the floor. Pretty boy sure had some strength in him. The woman gave a horrified gasp, clasping her hands over her mouth. Two court ladies stood on either side of her, explaining things.
“You should struggle at least a little bit,” Min-jun whispered. And struggle he did, enough that he managed to free his arm and hit Min-jun in the face with his elbow. He hadn’t been certain where he’d hit exactly until he managed to turn around and saw the blood dripping down from his lip. Shit. He wasn’t going to be happy about that. They didn’t know each other well, but Gyeo-wool had heard enough to know the boy was vain as a peacock.
He attempted to run away, in a sense, by scrambling away from Min-jun and into the crowd. His victory was short-lived when a gold-eyed man approached him from between the tents.
“Your Highness!” one of the women screeched, as Min-jun brought his hand up to wipe at his lip. The gold-eyed man restrained him easily, his grip tighter than Min-jun’s, and tied a rope around his wrists. The crowd had turned away from the performance and to them instead, a fight drawing more eyes than the sword dance. Whispers had already spread the news of a royal family member amidst the chaos. Min-jun took the initiative to sway the crowd.
“Go about your day,” Min-jun said in a loud, commanding voice, spreading his arms out wide, shielding Gyeo-wool and his captor from view. “We had received information about a criminal, who is now in our custody. The Royal Investigation Bureau will release further information as soon as possible. For now, please enjoy the rest of the festivities.” With all the elegance of a royal, Min-jun whirled around to face them, his durumagi flaring out around him. To them only, he said, “Let us go to his Majesty.”
That’s it, then.
Well that was fast and easy…
Thanks for the chapter ♥️♥️
So this silver-haired guy isn’t the endgame to killing the emperor?? But why not? His power is formidable!
But how did he father a daughter if skin contact with him is lethal??
Maybe it’s just about the contact with hands? He hit Min Jun with an elbow, yet our foolish investigator is alive and kicking
Haha, that’s a good point! Gyeo-wool’s daughter is adopted. We’ll see more of her later. Thank you for commenting!
(struggle he did, enough that he managed to free his arm and hit Min-jun in the face with his elbow.) LOL 😆 very satisfied with that hit lol . Min Jun you have been passing off from the moment we first crossed swords Lil
Lol I meant pissing me off lol 😆