The Lord of Namakseong was in distress.
It was a dire situation.
So dire that, in his forty-seven years, it ranked among the most troubling moments. The last time he’d faced such a predicament was when his stomach churned in front of Duke Mungong, nearly committing a grave error unbefitting a seasoned man.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
This wasn’t what he’d planned. Unforeseen events kept piling up, one after another.
The Lord of Namakseong racked his brain, his head throbbing from the strain. He raised a hand to his scalp but stopped, recalling how his hair had recently begun thinning rapidly. Slowly, he lowered his hand.
“Prince Ye-kyeong,” he thought bitterly.
He’d expected the reckless prince to cause trouble and leave. That, he could handle. Hadn’t they said he was driven by drunken revelry and debauchery?
If he indulged the prince’s whims—wine, music, flattery—he could surely manage him smoothly.
“What’s so hard about satisfying a fool?” he’d thought.
It seemed simple enough. A sharp exterior often hides a rotten core, and a man like the mad prince should be easy to manipulate.
But there was one concern. The contact with Duke Mungong was scheduled to arrive at Namakseong on the same day as the prince. In their relationship, the Lord of Namakseong was always the subordinate—utterly subservient.
How could he dare ask Duke Mungong to adjust to his circumstances? Request that the duke delay the contact because the prince was visiting and would leave soon?
Such a demand would only earn a curt, disdainful response from the duke.
Yet, there was no way Duke Mungong would cancel the contact.
To the duke, the Lord of Namakseong was insignificant. He knew he had to bow first.
At least there was one silver lining: the prince had no reason to linger in Namakseong.
“If I entertain him lavishly, he’ll leave satisfied,” he reasoned. The mad prince’s schedule was reportedly busy; he wouldn’t stay long.
The Lord of Namakseong had no desire to cross Prince Ye-kyeong. The prince’s maternal relatives had disowned him, and his mother, Queen Woo, had been deposed. His title carried fearsome authority, but strip that away, and there was little to fear. No need to make an enemy of him.
Time was tight, but there was no cause for great concern. Once the prince left Namakseong, the duke’s contact would arrive, and all would proceed smoothly.
The Lord of Namakseong had thought so, free of worry, as he awaited the prince’s visit.
As expected, the mad prince was unpredictable. If he could just get through a day or two, everything would be fine.
Even if labeled a fool, a prince was still a prince. Prince Ye-kyeong acted as if he cared about Namakseong, but his efforts felt more dismissive than indifference.
The lord didn’t want his adopted daughter, the seer Gaeyeohwa, to be exposed.
With a crack, he struck a wooden pillar in the building in frustration.
It didn’t quell his anger.
“That damned prince,” he cursed.
Failing to anticipate this mess was his mistake.
But it wasn’t entirely his fault. Who could predict such a disaster?
Living one step ahead was human nature. He’d done his best within his control.
“That bastard,” he growled.
It was as if bad blood existed between him and the prince. He should’ve consulted a fortune-teller beforehand.
From the crow he’d tried to shoot, which turned out to be the prince’s pet, to a building inexplicably burning to ashes during the prince’s stay—nothing good came of dealing with Prince Ye-kyeong.
“Why raise a hunting falcon when you could choose something else? Why a damned crow that drags me into trouble?” he fumed.
The prince was the epitome of trouble—cursed, infuriating trouble.
And why, out of nowhere, did a building catch fire?
The loss was immense. It was maddening.
When the steward first reported the fire, the Lord of Namakseong thought the man was trying to deceive him.
It was that unthinkable.
Worse, Gaeyeohwa hadn’t helped him either.
Knowing the prince was coming, he’d asked her to foresee any risks. All he got was nonsense about the future being unclear.
And now, she was even cozying up to the prince.
That sight filled him with dread.
No matter how out of favor with the royal family, if the prince decided to take Gaeyeohwa as a consort, the lord, a mere island governor, could do nothing. He couldn’t refuse a royal marriage.
The problem wasn’t just losing his seer. If Gaeyeohwa became Prince Ye-kyeong’s consort, Namakseong would be tied to a disgraced royal line, unable to align with the Second Prince, Jaemandaegun, and his maternal relatives—Queen Woo, Duke Mungong, and Commander Woo.
The lord was certain that aligning with the Woo family was the greatest stroke of luck in his life. He’d secured a gifted seer, intended her for Duke Mungong, and planned to marry into the royal family through his lineage. It was a grand, hard-won opportunity.
He couldn’t let it slip away.
Yet, he also felt regret.
“Damn that wretched girl,” he thought.
He shouldn’t have made her an adopted daughter—he should’ve taken her as a concubine.
When he first took her in, younger than his own daughter, he’d made her an adopted daughter. But now, a concubine would’ve been better. An adopted daughter could be taken, but a concubine couldn’t.
Did the mad prince plan to take Gaeyeohwa? No matter how much he pondered, no answer came. Muttering curses, the Lord of Namakseong stormed down the corridor.
The prince had spotted Duke Mungong’s contact and demanded an introduction. For now, he had to comply.
He’d tried so hard to keep it discreet, but one fire had ruined everything.
Could his luck be any worse?
The fire wasn’t anyone’s fault—it just happened. But if he had to blame someone, he muttered toward Gaeyeohwa, who’d vanished to her quarters.
“She didn’t even open her mouth to warn me,” he grumbled.
If she’d foreseen anything, she could’ve mentioned the fire. Wasn’t her failure to predict it a clear flaw?
Since she’d claimed she couldn’t see the future while preparing for the prince’s visit, Prince Ye-kyeong was partly responsible for the fire.
If he had his way, he’d scream at the prince and kick him in the rear.
Stomping heavily down the corridor, his footsteps echoed.
“Did you see that?” a servant’s voice pierced his ears like a blade as he passed.
“See what?” the lord demanded, turning with a sinking feeling.
“Not some commoner like us, but the prince himself!” the servant said.
“Right, a prince no less!” another chimed in.
“And he was out there putting out the fire with us! I never imagined a prince carrying a water bucket,” one said.
“It’s a story I’ll tell until I die,” another added.
“Of course! My heart was pounding, worried he’d get a drop of water on his noble self,” the first said.
“What a commotion!”
“With his fine looks and stature, working under someone like that makes you feel alive, eager to work,” another said.
The Lord of Namakseong let out a bitter laugh.
The servants’ chatter was absurd. He couldn’t stand listening to it.
“You fools!” he roared.
The servants, mid-conversation, bowed hurriedly. They apologized without knowing why—his outbursts weren’t uncommon.
“How dare you!” he shouted.
There were no words to scold their idle talk. He clenched his jaw.
“You worms don’t deserve to speak of such a man!” he bellowed.
He hated hearing the mad prince mentioned, but his outburst only gave them more reason to talk about him.
His voice grew louder in his rage. “If I report this to His Highness, you’ll be whipped on the spot!”
The servants trembled, bowing lower. They knew a single word from the lord could get them expelled from Namakseong, and a word from the prince could cost them their limbs or lives.
Realizing his position wasn’t so different from these servants before the prince, the lord’s anger softened slightly, only to flare again.
“Can’t you grasp this? One word from me, and you’ll be dragged to the executioner before anyone can intervene!” he shouted.
“We’re sorry!” they cried.
“What’s your crime?” he demanded.
“Please forgive us! We’ve committed a grave error and won’t speak of His Highness again!” they pleaded.
The lord folded his hands behind his back and clicked his tongue, his expression dripping with contempt.
“I’ll let this slide as if I didn’t hear it. There won’t be a next time. If you value your miserable lives, take heed,” he warned.
“Yes, my lord!” they replied.
Shaking his head, he turned away. His mood had slightly improved.
He resumed walking. The prince and the Sukmuryang Clan’s visit still weighed on him, unresolved.
But being unresolved didn’t mean there were options.
“That damned prince,” he muttered, not even knowing why he was so cursed.
With a heavy sigh, the Lord of Namakseong continued.
The mad prince wasn’t someone to be controlled by propriety or law, leaving no way to avoid him.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.