Choi Yung was a carpenter’s son from the eastern side of Hanseong, a neighbor made of other artisan shops and small family-owned restaurants. Those of the noble classes only visited that side when they wanted something, and even then, they’d opt for one of the more expensive shops. No one knew how Yung had learned to read and write, but they supposed he might’ve been sneaking into the local bookstore when his father didn’t need him in the shop. The reasonable ones thought so, anyhow. Others spewed wild rumors, from deals with demons to secret noble lineage. Most agreed that he must’ve bribed the examiners when he’d entered the Royal Academy. Min-jun doubted that considering the King surveilled each examination.
Aside from his achievements, not much else was known about him. He was a brilliant, well-behaved student who never thought to cause trouble for anyone.
“How is his relationship with the other students?” If someone had framed Yung, it was likely it would be some arrogant noble’s son.
“I’m not sure,” Ha-jun said, bringing a finger to his chin and scrunching his face up in thought. He looked handsome even so. “He’s not in any of the classes I oversee.”
“You oversee classes?” Somehow, Min-jun couldn’t imagine it. Ha-jun was far too lax to be a teacher. The students would undoubtedly gang up on him.
Ha-jun tipped the brim of his hat up a little, a smug smile on his face. “I teach a course on poetry.”
Surely, he was jesting. “You do?”
“Most of the scholars have to teach at least one course to be fully accepted.” Ha-jun sighed, letting up on his act. “It’s a bother.”
Min-jun nodded, lost in thought as he schemed for his next case, now that this irregularity of Ha-jun being a teacher was dealt with.
It felt more like a school prank than anything else. Things like this happened often in Wolgwang City schools. In any case, Min-jun would have to ask Yung if he’d seen anyone else walk into the store with him. He’d wait until the students were out on a break between classes.
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.
“Come on.” Ha-jun took hold of Min-jun’s shoulders, pushing him forward. “I’ll take you to your office.”
“P tjnf jc boolmf?”
“Lbk firf jgf atf rmtbijgr reqqbrfv ab wjlcajlc atflg vlrajcmf ja jii alwfr?”
Of course.
Zlc-pec rlutfv, rijqqlcu Lj-pec’r tjcvr jkjs. “Ufgtjqr sbe rtbeiv tffv atf Blcu’r kbgvr jr kfii.” Lf uijcmfv ab ktfgf Vec obiibkfv atfw, tlr tjcv bc atf tlia bo tlr rkbgv. Kb rjs Zlc-pec’r uejgv kjrc’a obcv bo Lj-pec kbeiv yf jc ecvfgrajafwfca. Lf vlrilxfv tlw ogbw atf yfulcclcu, yea joafg Lj-pec tjv atf gfra bo atf rmtbijgr vlragjma Vec sfrafgvjs, rerqlmlbc jiibkfv atf vlrvjlc ab ofrafg lcrlvf tlw. Zlc-pec tjv ab jvwla atja tf tjv ugbkc j yla kjgs bo atf wjc. Cr bo gluta cbk, la ofia j yla ilxf . . . atf vjwcfv rmtbijg kjr agslcu ab rfvemf tlw.
“Here we are,” Ha-jun said, opening the doors for him. Min-jun stepped inside of the spacious office. It was sparsely furnished but tidy, its walls made of light blond wood. There were a few windows facing the courtyard, closed to keep out the rain.
“Indeed, we are,” Min-jun said. Before the scholar could take another step, Min-jun shut the door on Ha-jun, who shouted through the screen that if Min-jun needed any assistance, he should come to him. He was certainly persistent.
“He’s so annoying,” Mai muttered. “Can’t we get rid of him?”
Min-jun shook his head. “He’s a valuable asset right now, and honestly Mai, we can’t get rid of every person who bothers us.”
“We could if you weren’t such a coward,” Mai said, lowering her voice even more. Teenagers.
Min-jun sat down behind the desk and began to draft all he knew off his current case. Sun stood behind him, glancing down at the paper.
“Your Highness is very kind to help that boy,” Sun said, as he peered down at him with a certain softness in his eyes.
“He just can’t mind his own business, that’s all,” Mai said, though she also came to sit at the table. “You think it’s a school prank?”
“Probably,” Min-jun replied. “I can’t think of anyone else being so petty, and the boy had mentioned most of the people who frequent that bookstore were nobles. If he were to be found guilty of stealing from a high-end bookstore, he would have no one to support him. He’d be expelled, at best.”
Min-jun brought the tip of the brush’s handle to his chin. If it was a child’s prank, then it shouldn’t be too difficult to track down the guilty party.
Hold on.
Why was he acting as if he were still a mere investigator? He was a consort to the King himself! The entire Academy lived in fear of him! He should just ask them to notify all the students they were looking for someone who’d stolen a precious item. Even if they didn’t come forward immediately, the fear would certainly gnaw at them until they returned the volume.
Ah, this position really did have its perks.
. . .
That afternoon, the Chief gathered the students for an assembly. The rain had let up, thankfully, though none of the students seemed excited to get their expensive boots muddied.
“His Highness Royal Noble Consort has been notified that a precious item has been stolen from the Daeyang bookstore. The item in question was a copy of ‘History of Saro’. It was addressed to a Kim Soo, and should have a dried rose within its pages. If you know the whereabouts of this item, come forward, or face punishment according to the Academy’s rules when we find you ourselves.”
Min-jun stood behind the Chief, watching the crowd of students, a mass of blue and white robes, as they waited to be excused. No use. There were too many of them all huddled together to keep out the cold.
Was this not going overboard? Gathering all the students on such a cold, muddy day, when the rain could start at any moment, just to give them a brief, albeit threatening, message about something that doesn’t concern most of them anyhow. Min-jun glanced at the Chief. Could he be trying to sabotage him by making him seem like some domineering, tyrannical consort? That wouldn’t do.
“Thank you, Chief Ni,” Min-jun said, just loud enough for the first row of students to hear. “Gathering everyone certainly expedited the process. I never would’ve thought of it.”
The Chief coughed, and when he spoke, his voice came out hoarse. “Well, I’m glad to be of help.
Min-jun smiled. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one of the students walking a little too quickly toward the doors of one of the buildings, his steps carrying a strange urgency.
Perhaps this plan would be even more effective than he’d expected.
. . .
Mai had been left alone in the office, painting with the brush set Min-jun had left at the desk. She’d been stuck with keeping an eye on the office. How dull. Her hand moved over the paper, the brush leaving behind a jagged line resembling a tree. She’d never been much of an artist either. Not that she had ever had a chance to pursue it.
She froze, the ink forming a puddle in the center of the paper. Steps? She was certain those were steps. The soft, nearly inaudible steps of a criminal.
Mai sprung forward, back against the wall near the door. Instinctively, she reached for the hem of her gloves but stopped herself. No, she couldn’t use it here. They’d accuse Min-jun of bringing a plague into their homes. That would reflect badly on her, too. She’d finally gotten away from Mother. Mai felt that her mind was clear for the first time in years. To give that up thanks to a stupid mistake . . . she could never use her powers here. Her arms hung at her sides once more, as she waited, the steps growing closer and closer.
A boy entered the room, unaware that it was still occupied. He appeared to be the same age as Choi Yung, but appeared far more stoic than the latter. Quietly, he slid the bag off his shoulder and pulled out a book: a blue-bound ‘History of Saro’. He placed it on Min-jun’s desk, and quickly turned to make his escape. When he saw her, he nearly tripped over his own feet. He opted to dip into a low bow instead, his actions swift and graceful as any noble son’s.
“What is your name?” Mai asked him.
“I am Ni Seung, Your Highness.”
A/N: Everyone treating Mai like the Princess she is even though no one is sure about her title is so fun to write. I hope I got the rebellious teenager vibes across. Let me know how you think this case will end in the comments. Thank you so much for reading!
Don’t worry i feel like mai is a top tier rebellious teenager 👌
And this little kid is seriously a bastard… did he put the book on min-jun’s desk to make it seems like min-jun wanted attention or smth like that?
Thank you for commenting! Mai truly is a proper rebellious teenager.
Thanks for the chapter ♥️♥️
Thanks for commenting!
I adore Mei! Calling Min-Jun a coward for not getting rid of annoying people sounds like Cheol 😆. It’s exciting that she feels her head clearing. I can’t wait to see how this current situation plays out!
Mai is slowly learning how to be a kid again. I’m glad you like her! Thanks for commenting!