Heo Seokkyeok was a junior officer in the Geumowi.
He wasn’t born into a prestigious family, nor did he possess exceptional talent. Compared to his peers from noble houses or so-called geniuses, he always came up short.
He was perpetually overshadowed. Yet, he stood here because he outworked everyone else.
While his peers drank, he wielded a sword. While they slept, he sat before books.
Three meals, ten years of effort.
That was the only reason.
The sole reason.
Thanks to that, he surpassed his noble-born peers and rose to junior officer.
He was proud.
All he had was the body his parents gave him, but he lived diligently. He walked the honest path without scheming. His hard work earned rewards. If you worked hard, doors opened—doors he opened himself. He believed that if he lived earnestly, someone would eventually notice, without relying on luck.
What did effort matter to others?
One day, Grand Prince Ikwon appeared before Heo Seokkyeok.
He was drunk beyond reason. In broad daylight, intoxicated and incoherent, he was a sight Heo Seokkyeok couldn’t find pleasing.
Damn wastrels.
A liquor bottle dangled from one hand, his silk robe stained with spilled wine, his face flushed red. The stench of alcohol clung to his damp clothes.
At least they let him do this because he’s a wastrel.
He vividly remembered the prince’s staggering, mocking demeanor.
The prince appeared out of nowhere and insulted him. He’d heard rumors of the wastrel prince, but seeing it firsthand was new. Despite being a junior officer in the Geumowi, the prince’s status was leagues above, a potential future king and a figure to serve.
Yet, this young prince, barely past his coming-of-age, shouldn’t have been allowed to degrade someone who’d spent years without privilege.
What’s that? Don’t I just need to say a word to have you all killed?
If dying for a prince’s word was a warrior’s fate, the prince’s words weren’t wrong.
But—
You think you’re some great lord?
Do I have to listen to you?
I’ll show you commoners your place.
What could an ignorant young prince teach? There were skilled warriors present, even a master swordsman. No one there needed to heed such words.
By what right?
“You lot are vermin, dying in pieces with no one to mourn. Even if you’re torn apart by blades, screaming, the capital’s scholars and His Majesty will sleep soundly in their chambers.”
Dying for a royal command is honorable. If he was recognized thus, who would forget his death?
Above all, Heo Seokkyeok was alive and breathing. The prince insulted him without cause, from a future not yet realized.
Get over here.
The prince stole his sword, swinging it clumsily while drunk. No one present had the authority to take it back or stop him.
If I killed you all here, who would care?
The prince’s madness didn’t end there. In his drunken haze, he drew blood. His unrestrained hand showed no mercy, and his blind sword left a scar on Heo Seokkyeok.
Then the prince fell unconscious.
It’s all useless.
He laughed maniacally, then collapsed. Heo Seokkyeok couldn’t understand the prince’s scorn or insults.
Why?
Is there a reason to live like that?
He knew the prince had an unhappy past. But that didn’t justify living this way. It was history, and dwelling on it only deepened the prince’s pain.
How long would the prince use the Deposed Queen’s death as an excuse for debauchery? When would this ruin end? Why drag others into his misery? What could he achieve by manipulating others like this?
The prince had no forward-thinking vision, only chasing past grievances, letting time slip away.
No wonder he was called a wastrel. Even street children knew him as such.
Heo Seokkyeok thought it fitting.
If he were a prince, he wouldn’t have acted this way.
If he were a prince, he’d have been a far greater figure.
Born to such a high station with better starting points than most, yet ungrateful for his fate—that’s what Heo Seokkyeok thought.
Then the prince appeared before him again.
“What’s your name?”
There was no business this time.
The prince spoke to Yu Geung, a subordinate Heo Seokkyeok valued. Like him, Yu Geung was diligent, never scheming, and acted with integrity.
Such a person should rise, not be mocked.
Being noticed by the prince wasn’t necessarily good, but it could be an opportunity for a loyal subordinate. Heo Seokkyeok watched quietly.
He looks promising.
Hard to read.
Perhaps…
Maybe he fought valiantly in a border war, dying gloriously but tragically.
Exactly.
Another insult.
People don’t change that easily. This time, too, he’d come to mock the warriors.
Didn’t he know the warriors were the ones who protested the Deposed Queen’s death sentence?
So he called Ah Jin to challenge the prince. Someone as cunning as Ah Jin could handle him. A swordsman like Yu Geung shouldn’t be near the prince.
Yet the prince kept summoning Yu Geung.
Yu Geung didn’t seem to mind. Nothing significant happened—he even saved a child on the way.
Why?
Why would that wastrel? For what reason?
Curiosity surged, almost overwhelmingly.
Thinking of the wastrel prince, the scar still ached.
“Give me a chance too, Your Highness.”
This could be the price for that scar.
“Let’s duel. If I win, it’s your neck.”
The same untamed mockery flowed out. The wastrel’s habit of belittling others hadn’t changed.
But Heo Seokkyeok had no doubt he’d win.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
His lifelong effort had made him confident.
“Start.”
“I’ll show no mercy, Your Highness.”
“Good. If you held back, it wouldn’t be polite.”
His casual, unserious attitude.
It grated on him.
“Let’s go.”
Even talking was a luxury.
Today, he’d teach the prince fear. To show he didn’t deserve respect after such insults.
This filthy wastrel needed to learn a prince’s fear.
“Yes.”
The prince thrust his sword. True to rumors of indulgence, it was flashy. Where did he get such a blade?
Heo Seokkyeok stepped forward to parry, gripping his sword tightly. He planned to knock the prince’s blade away with one strike, teaching him a lesson.
He imagined the prince dropping his sword, retreating in fear. Even imagining it was satisfying.
A wastrel prince from the sheltered palace, crying pathetically, wouldn’t fully erase his grudge, but it would fulfill his purpose for seeking him out.
But reality defied expectation.
The swords clashed, ringing sharply. He quickly checked the prince’s expression.
The prince was smiling.
It wasn’t the strength of a meticulously trained warrior. The wastrel prince, rumored to overeat at feasts, had no real combat experience.
Yet he held his ground.
“Not bad,” the prince said, chuckling awkwardly.
Heo Seokkyeok was stunned. The prince had the leisure to laugh. He couldn’t smile—anger surged. The prince deserved to lose. That was the reward for effort, the difference in dedication.
His years of toil couldn’t be in vain.
A prince and a warrior could never be equals.
Their blades crossed several times, clashing and scraping. Each metallic ring flipped Heo Seokkyeok’s stomach. The prince shouldn’t be holding his own.
The prince struggling was already a thing of the past. Heo Seokkyeok’s imagined scene lay shattered. He couldn’t teach the prince a lesson like this. The prince wouldn’t feel fear or humility at this level.
Another clash rang out.
“Huh?!”
After a particularly loud strike, the prince spoke in a surprised tone and stepped back.
Heo Seokkyeok didn’t want to continue this duel. The thought of exchanging blows with the prince like this overwhelmed him.
He’d fought and won.
He lowered his sword and bowed his head.
All he saw was his own dark shadow on the courtyard of the prince’s pavilion.
“I apologize, Your Highness.”
It was humiliating.
“I’ve committed an offense. Please punish me!”
But he didn’t know why it was humiliating. That made it suffocating.
The prince responded.
“An offense?”
“Hmm, is that so? An offense?” he muttered, approaching. The prince’s footsteps felt almost terrifying, as the wastrel’s actions were unpredictable.
“Well, no big deal.”
A low chuckle sounded above his head.
“Lift your head.”
The prince commanded. After a moment’s hesitation, Heo Seokkyeok obeyed.
“You said Heo Seokkyeok, right?”
The prince was smiling.
“You’re pretty fun.”
A weight settled on his shoulder. Heo Seokkyeok glanced at it, then at the prince.
“If you’re this skilled, you might be more useful than Yu Nangjam. I’ll call on you often.”
Before he could respond, the prince spoke cheerfully.
“Let’s meet again.”
The prince didn’t mention the bet or the neck.