Something surprising happened at the welcome banquet Oroseong’s lord prepared.
It wasn’t just talk—it was genuinely shocking. So shocking that when I reached for a sip of cold water, I nearly choked on the lord’s words.
“I spent my youth in Seopyeong,” he said.
Oroseong’s lord had lived in Seopyeong as a young man, wandering various places before his appointment here.
An unusual case.
A low-born officer rising to lord of a castle like this?
“Interesting,” I said.
His mention of Seopyeong sparked a sense of camaraderie, like meeting someone from my hometown. Perhaps sensing my interest, he prattled on about Seopyeong.
Some of what he said I knew, some I didn’t.
“Have you met Hyeolyunseong’s lord?” I asked.
“Yes, Your Highness. I saw him,” he replied.
“What kind of man was he?”
He chuckled softly.
“As a lowly man then, I couldn’t easily meet Hyeolyunseong’s lord. I only saw him from afar. The man I saw was the current lord, the successor to the previous one, so I’m a bit embarrassed,” he said.
I meant our lord—Lord Baekyeon—but he took it as referring to the previous lord, Baekyeon’s father.
It seemed he’d been in Seopyeong much longer ago than I thought.
“What’s the current lord’s son like?” I pressed.
He answered without hesitation. “He’s noble enough to be admirable.”
I grinned. “You must be noble yourself, then.”
“I’m grateful, Your Highness. Could I ask for such generosity?” he replied.
“If someone capable of finding a noble can’t be one, I’d be surprised,” I said.
After speaking, I felt piercing stares from behind. Turning, I saw my entourage glaring at me.
Wanting to talk, huh?
I turned back awkwardly.
In doing so, I noticed Oroseong’s lord’s son, Jo Jegun.
When our eyes met, he openly scowled, then looked away.
Jo Jegun, was it? Late teens, probably. Too young to know better?
Since greeting me, he hadn’t said a word, dragged here against his will, it seemed.
The lord didn’t welcome me warmly but tried to please me. Jo Jegun, though, just sat silently.
To ignore me so blatantly, despite my wastrel reputation?
Technically, it wasn’t the lord who needed to curry favor—it was Jo Jegun. The lord, old and frail, would soon pass, and Jo Jegun would inherit Oroseong.
There wasn’t much at stake here.
Did he think it didn’t matter if he displeased me?
But it didn’t seem Yehwi had already won him over.
Oroseong wasn’t very useful, anyway.
Harsh, but my judgment was sound. I had to gather those Yehwi overlooked, the ones he discarded.
I really want to sleep.
I hadn’t decided to do anything drastic yet.
It wouldn’t always be that way.
As my gaze lingered on Jo Jegun, the atmosphere grew subtly tense. The lord, with a stiff expression, tried to shift attention.
“I heard Your Highness enjoys revelry, so I’ve prepared some modest wine,” he said.
I frowned.
Jongmeoki Flower was one thing, but wine with medicine?
And I planned to leave Oroseong without drinking.
“Revelry,” I muttered.
That word pointed directly at my wastrel reputation.
I knew he didn’t mean to mock me.
“I used to enjoy drinking,” I said.
“Yes, Your Highness?” he replied, confused.
I shook my head slowly. “Let’s just eat.”
“Uh, yes?” he stammered.
He was flustered, but I ignored him, picking at the food.
Later that night, I couldn’t sleep. Had living as a prince made me so soft that I couldn’t rest outside a palace?
If I had to return to Seopyeong like this, it’d be a problem.
“Need to pick up sleeping on the floor again?” I mumbled.
Tossing and turning, I gave up and went outside, taking a sword for safety.
Hands behind my back, I walked along the castle wall, looking up. A bright moon hung among the stars, watching me.
In Seopyeong, someone was likely gazing at the same moon.
From below, I heard a voice.
A thud, like someone setting down something heavy, followed.
“Leave it here,” a voice said.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Young Master,” another replied.
“No need. I’m done, so go inside,” the first said.
“Yes, Young Master, please rest,” came the reply.
Peering down, I saw Jo Jegun.
Beside him stood an older woman and a heavy sack.
I called out to Jo Jegun as he turned to leave. “Jo Jegun.”
He looked around, then up, meeting my eyes.
“What’s Your Highness doing wandering at night?” he asked.
His eyes widened, startled, as if he’d met a ghost.
“Your Highness,” he said, his voice tense.
I jumped down from the wall, and he flinched, stepping back warily.
His caution was amusing.
“Ha,” I laughed.
“It’s late, Your Highness. Why aren’t you in your quarters?” he asked.
“Wandering at night isn’t just my habit, is it?” I countered.
He grimaced, then quickly smoothed his expression, but his thoughts were clear.
I recalled Yehwi stirring rebellion, taking the throne after my death. Then Mokryeoguk invaded, and Seopyeong fell to ruin. Something happened before that, though.
Back then, as a mere soldier in Hyeolyunseong, I didn’t care much.
“Heard about it?”
“What?”
“A rebellion in the north, from the south.”
“Is it coming here?”
“No way.”
“Then why bring it up?”
“Lords rose up across the kingdom.”
“They’re picking their own king?”
“Crazy bastards.”
Laughing heartily, I slung an arm around Jo Jegun’s shoulder. He recoiled in disgust.
“What are you doing, Your Highness?” he snapped.
“You seem like a fine man,” I said.
“What?” he replied, confused.
I remembered Oroseong’s lord wasn’t involved in that rebellion.
In that plot to kill the first prince, we were all dragged in—lords included.
So, what’s the use?
“The lord says you’re skilled with a sword,” I said.
“It’s nothing special,” he replied.
“If your skill’s nothing, then his praise is too. Is that what you mean?” I asked.
He fell silent.
“If you say your skill’s worthless, is the lord a liar?” I pressed.
No answer.
I asked calmly, “Can I see your skill with my own eyes?”
The wastrel prince was coming.
According to his father, Oroseong’s lord, Jo Jegun realized who it was instantly.
The first prince, infamous as a wastrel for years. They said he threw fits daily, his favorite pastime assaulting palace staff. His cruel nature was beyond words.
What sin had Baekseong committed for the heavens to send such a prince?
In these peaceful times, he was the sole blemish.
His misdeeds were so vile they said even his kin shunned him.
When he ascended the throne, who knew where he’d swing his sword?
A prince like that coming to Oroseong? Jo Jegun wasn’t worried about him causing trouble—sleep wouldn’t come.
He quietly hoped to avoid him.
It irked him that his frail, aging father stood all day at the gate for this wastrel. A prince? That rumored wastrel didn’t deserve such treatment.
He wouldn’t even appreciate it.
Even a wastrel prince was worth seeing, just in case.
His father said so, but Jo Jegun wanted nothing of this prince’s favor. If the rumors were true, the second prince, Grand Prince Jean, should be the next king.
But what if? The world doesn’t always bend to will.
His father worried he’d be too stubborn. He wasn’t wrong.
He bowed to his father’s urging but still loathed the wastrel prince.
He believed he’d become a martial officer, even without inheriting Oroseong. He’d never bow to such a man, no matter the cost.
To him, the wastrel prince was no different from a beggar.
Despite his father’s efforts to please, the prince engaged halfheartedly. He showed no interest in an old man’s words, unlike how one might humor an elder.
Then he perked up at talk of Hyeolyunseong, a remote place.
He barely listened when Oroseong was mentioned.
This wastrel cared more about that backwater than Oroseong.
He knew the prince was vying for the throne against his brother. As a prince, wanting to be king was natural. If he sought allies, Oroseong’s influence was more useful than some frontier.
“The lord says you’re skilled with a sword,” the prince said.
He knew the prince had an interest in swords but lacked skill. His kin were supposedly formidable, though.
He hadn’t caused trouble yet. If not provoked, he might leave quietly.
He bowed. “It’s nothing special.”
“If your skill’s nothing, then his praise is too. Is that what you mean?” the prince asked.
Surprised, he clamped his mouth shut.
“If you say your skill’s worthless, is the lord a liar?” the prince pressed.
What was he thinking?
The wastrel prince asked, “Can I see your skill with my own eyes?”
Then Jo Jegun noticed.
At the prince’s waist hung a fine sword in a splendid scabbard.
Exactly like the rumored blade of that wastrel prince.