Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Unsurprisingly, I didn't catch a single fish until sunset.
It would have been stranger if I had succeeded. Catching fish with coins? That's as absurd as putting an elephant in a refrigerator.
I stared at the sunset-stained pond with a hollow look. Coins floated to the edge of the water, dyed red by the setting sun.
The sight of the waterlogged coins glinting was familiar. It looked like something I'd seen at a tourist attraction.
...It's become a wishing fountain.
I squatted in front of the pond and peered into the water.
Do I have to fish these out too?
As I pondered, tapping the pond with my index finger, Dang Jung called out to me.
"The sun has set. Stop and come inside."
"Yes, sir."
I guess I don't have to.
At the welcome call, I ran towards the pavilion as if I had been waiting for it. Dang Jung, who was leaning against a pillar, asked,
"How was it?"
"Difficult, sir."
"What was difficult?"
"Um... the direction goes off when the wind blows. Oh, and it slows down when it's submerged in water. It was hard to control the power so it wouldn't run out before it reached the fish."
"You're much better than those blockheads."
Dang Jung smiled with satisfaction at my answer.
"The art of Hidden Weapons isn't just about mindlessly throwing Poison Needles. Our ultimate goal is to control the myriad of variables."
He raised one arm high. The flowing sleeve fluttered in the direction of the wind.
"Look. The direction and strength of the wind change every day. The weight of the air is the same. On humid days, the air is heavy, and Hidden Weapons sink more than usual, and on dry days, they float more lightly than usual."
Dang Jung, gauging the direction of the wind with his hand, lightly flicked a coin. The coin flew like an arrow and embedded itself in a rock by the pond.
"You must be able to recognize all these changes and adjust your strength and speed. That is the level we seek. The art of Hidden Weapons is a beautiful and delicate Martial Art."
Pride was evident in Dang Jung's calm explanation.
"Beautiful indeed. Hmph, it's different from the brute strength of ignorant swordsmen."
Then, as if reminded of someone, he ground his teeth. He must have suffered a lot from swordsmen in his younger days.
He quickly erased his expression and stroked my head.
"So-hye, you will soon understand this joy too. Let's have dinner."
"Yes."
I answered obediently and followed Dang Jung into the pavilion.
Dinner was difficult in a different way. Putting aside the discomfort of eating at the same table, my arms were trembling so much that I couldn't use my chopsticks properly.
It was like my arms weren't my own. It was as if someone had squeezed all the muscles in my body, and I couldn't muster any strength.
Dang Jung, unable to watch me struggle with my chopsticks, placed side dishes on my plate.
"You're too skinny, that's why you can't use your strength. You need to gain some weight."
You said I had quite a bit of strength earlier, sir. Shouldn't you think about who made me like this?
He clicked his tongue and moved his chopsticks incessantly. Thick chunks of meat endlessly piled onto my plate.
But my eating speed gradually slowed down. I ate whatever he gave me, and my stomach felt bloated. Barely emptying my plate, Dang Jung asked,
"Not enough? Want more?"
I hurriedly stopped Dang Jung, who looked ready to bring out another plate.
"Sir, I can't eat any more. I'm full."
"Already? Just one more bite."
"I think I'll get indigestion if I eat any more."
Dang Jung put down his chopsticks with a regretful look as I shook my head. Seeing that, I was reminded of Dang Jung's age.
He was no different from our elders who try to feed their grandchildren as much as possible when they come to the countryside.
I quickly cleared the dinner table before Dang Jung could feed me anything more.
"Sir, I'll be going now."
"Okay. Take this with you too."
As I prepared to leave, Dang Jung handed me a bundle wrapped in green cloth.
"Paper, brushes, ink, and the Thousand Character Classic. Memorize it."
"...How much do I have to memorize?"
"As much as you can. Copy each character ten times."
Sir, it's eight o'clock at night. And I told you, I don't know how to read.
Dang Jung simply shrugged at my pitiful gaze, without budging. It was unspoken pressure to do well on my own.
I sniffled.
* * *
Cleaning, throwing coins, memorizing the Thousand Character Classic.
Cleaning, throwing coins, memorizing the Thousand Character Classic.
The same routine continued.
Songji's worries grew day by day as she watched me wither away after meeting Dang Jung.
"Hey. Are you okay?"
"I'm dying..."
I staggered in and lay down on the floor, and Songji shook me.
"Lie down on the bed. I haven't cleaned there yet."
"Can't I just sleep here?"
I really feel like I'm going to die.
Songji chuckled at my exaggeration.
"If you want to clean the floor with your body, go ahead. Take a break tomorrow. I'll go clean for you instead."
Ah, kind-hearted Songji. To be able to say that even knowing Dang Jung's infamy, you're an angel.
"No. The Patriarch told me to come."
"How did you catch the Patriarch's eye? I'm going crazy because of you. Really."
Songji slapped my back, feeling upset. I'm wondering that too. How did I catch Dang Jung's eye?
The Martial Artists in novels get healthier as they train, but somehow, I feel like I'm just getting skinnier.
What good is it if the food I eat looks better? My complexion is getting duller and duller.
Is it because I don't have a Dantian yet? Will it be different if I learn Internal Energy cultivation?
Groaning, I slowly got up. The floor was cold, so my stomach was cold. I should sleep in bed.
Just then, someone called out to me.
"So-hye. Are you asleep?"
It was a strange man's voice.
Startled, I turned my head and saw a long shadow cast over the paper door.
Who could it be? The only men I knew here were Dang Jung and a couple of men who ran errands for him. Oh, and the Chief Steward too.
He was calling my name so affectionately, so he must have known So-hye before, but I was reluctant to answer rashly.
What kind of relationship did they have that he would come to my residence at 2 a.m. like an old boyfriend?
When I didn't answer, he called out to me again.
"So-hye. If you're awake, would you come out for a moment?"
"Yes! So-hye is coming out! Hey, this young master has come. Go out quickly."
Then Songji answered instead and pushed me out. Judging from Songji's attitude, he must have been a frequent visitor.
Is this young master the Tang Clan Patriarch's son?
I opened the paper door, guessing the man's identity.
A cool breeze and a subtle scent of orchids wafted in.
As I rubbed my eyes to adjust to the darkness, a man holding a lantern below the porch came into view.
"Did I wake you while you were sleeping? I'm sorry."
The man, apologizing with a gentle face, was a handsome man with delicate features.
He looked to be in his mid-20s. Unlike the dark and gloomy Tang Clan people from head to toe, his hair, illuminated by the moonlight, was brown.
If it weren't for the green robe, I wouldn't have thought he was a Tang Clan person.
Is it from his mother's side? I stared blankly at the man.
"Oh. Yes."
"Why do you have such an unfamiliar face? Is it because I haven't visited in too long?"
We're meeting for the first time. I swallowed the words that rose to my throat and gulped.
His gentle voice matched his soft impression well.
"What brings the Young Master here..."
As I trailed off, the man looked as if he was about to die of disappointment.
"Young Master? This older brother is disappointed. I told you not to call me that. Call me Un Oppa like you used to."
"But..."
"Call me Oppa."
The man who shook his head made a stern expression.
To have a mere Maid call him Oppa, they must have been quite close. What kind of relationship do they have?
"...Yes. Un Oppa."
The man smiled brightly as I awkwardly changed my title.
"That's right. Now you're more like the So-hye I know."
Dang Jung's smiling face overlapped with his smiling face.
Blood is thicker than water, I guess, they look subtly alike when they smile.
Of course, that means he's handsome.
Is his name Un? Then is it Dang-un? Un might be a nickname.
Dang-un, bending down to meet my eye level, asked,
"Has anything happened while I was away? I was worried that my trip to Jianghu would be this long."
"Yes."
"You seem to have grown a bit taller. Are you in any pain?"
"Yes."
I repeated the same answer like a parrot. I didn't know who Dang-un was, so I didn't have anything to say.
Dang-un didn't lose his smile despite my insincere reaction. He curved his light-colored eyes and held out something.
"I bought this for you, So-hye."
It was a hairpin with a delicate peach blossom decoration.
The high-quality jade shone transparently, and the flowers carved from coral looked so lifelike that they seemed to have a fragrance. Even I, who didn't know much, could tell it wasn't an ordinary object.
I looked back and forth between the hairpin and Dang-un. I couldn't understand why he was giving such a precious item to a mere Maid.
After racking my brain for a while, I remembered a conversation I had with my boss once.
'Boss. What does it mean to give a hairpin as a gift? Why does the topic of hairpins keep coming up?'
'That's a proposal. In the old days, they used hairpins to propose.'
...Surely, a hairpin meant a proposal.
I was speechless with bewilderment.
Is this bastard proposing to a Maid who is at least ten years younger than him?
As I hesitated, Dang-un waved his hand as if telling me to take it quickly.
"I didn't buy any for Ju-hee and Cho-hee. So, what I gave you is a secret."
His whispering voice dripped with affection, but I couldn't smile.
Who Ju-hee and Cho-hee were aside, what kind of relationship did they have that he was giving them hairpins? It wasn't something I could accept carelessly.
It was too suspicious to dismiss as a misunderstanding.
Why would a direct descendant of the Tang Clan come to the residence of a Maid in the outer castle in the middle of the night and act like he knew her?
And what's the reason for secretly handing over a hairpin, saying it's a secret?
Suspicious thoughts followed one after another. My face contorted involuntarily.
This bastard has ulterior motives for So-hye, doesn't he?
