Chapter 6: The Talking Bird’s Secret

I faced off with the crow for a while.

But it wouldn’t easily open its… beak.

“Your Highness, I’ve brought the snacks as ordered,” Eunuch Han said, returning.

I grabbed the crow’s beak to hide it from Han and stuffed it under the bedcovers.

“Oh, you’re back.”

My quarters had a paper sliding door separating the bedroom from the living area. Han, holding a wooden tray of food, slid it open and looked at me.

“I’ll place this over there… Your Highness?”

The crow naturally thrashed, but with its beak clamped, it couldn’t do much.

Still, it wasn’t completely silent, so Han quickly noticed I was holding a bird.

“Your Highness…?”

I mean, I couldn’t muffle the cawing, so Han figured out right away I’d caught some bird.

“It was skulking about, so I nabbed it.”

“You caught a bird, Your Highness?”

I nodded.

It’s probably a big deal, but for a wastrel like the first prince, catching a bird in his quarters might pass as understandable.

Right?

Being a wastrel’s pretty handy.

“While I was gone, you caught that?”

I nodded again. The crow still hadn’t stopped flapping.

“No way… A wild bird in the palace?”

Han set the tray on the table, muttering gravely. I decided to throw a fit.

“What fine palace management—birds can’t tell if this is a palace or a mountain.”

Han’s shoulders twitched.

“Isn’t that right, Han? Next, we’ll have tigers strolling in. When that happens, I’ll use my stellar hunting skills to bag one and make you a fur coat.”

To keep up the wastrel act and avoid rumors of a sudden personality change, I’ve got to hassle Han now and then. Right? No way a resourceless prince like him wouldn’t mess with his daily eunuch.

If even a birdbrain noticed I’m not the real first prince, Han would catch on even faster.

I mean, a human head can’t be dumber than a birdbrain.

Sorry, but it can’t be helped.

“I-I’ll look into it, Your Highness. I’ll have it removed at once.”

Han, flustered, moved to take the crow I’d hidden under the covers.

No way.

“Han, I forgot to mention. I caught this one, but I let another slip.”

“A-another one, Your Highness?”

I nodded.

“I’d like you to catch the one I missed. It was a different kind, I think. If I recall.”

“W-what kind of bird was it?”

I snapped, “Do I have to spell it out? If there’s more than one bird in the palace that shouldn’t be here, that’s the real problem. Need more explanation?”

“My apologies. You’re right, Your Highness.”

It was a stretch, but it worked on Han.

“Then go catch it now.”

“Y-yes, Your Highness!”

Han bolted out of the pavilion like he was running for his life.

Good luck.

I stared at the empty spot Han left, then stood with the crow.

“Alright.”

“Cawwww!”

The moment I released its beak, it screeched.

“Now let’s talk.”

Perfect timing—snacks to go with the chat.

I sat, grabbed a rice cake from Han’s tray, and ate.

“A talking bird? Never heard of such a thing.”

“Don’t lie!”

Oh, tasty.

I ate another rice cake.

Palace treats are colorful, a feast for the eyes too.

As a wastrel, I can demand these daily, right?

“What’s the lie?”

“How can you be so calm? I see no tension or shock! To be so composed before this lord’s majesty, you’re no ordinary human!”

I said flatly, “You’re not even pretending I’m the first prince anymore.”

“Youuu! Showing your true colors! A worse wastrel than before! A demon, a fiend!”

If it were human, its eyes would be bloodshot.

“Where’s Ye-kyeong? Did you possess his shell? Did you wear his skin? Speak the truth!”

I ate a few more rice cakes while it ranted, then sipped the tea Han brought.

“Mmm, nice.”

Slacker snacks are the best.

Living like this might be better than I thought.

Then I said, “Shut up.”

The crow went silent instantly.

It must’ve realized its neck’s in my grip.

“You just answer my questions.”

I tightened my hold.

Its feathers were surprisingly soft.

Fearful eyes look the same, human or beast. Seeing the crow’s terrified gaze soured my mood.

I hate those eyes.

“First.”

The most important question.

“Who in the palace knows about you?”

The Founder made me Ye-kyeong. So it’s natural to link this weird crow to him.

Both the Founder and this crow are hard-to-grasp beings.

And right now, so am I.

“Uh, no one!”

“Really? Or I’ll kill you.”

“It’s true!”

It trembled. Didn’t seem to be lying.

“Next question. What’s your deal with me?”

Sure, a person and a bird could be lonely palace buddies, but a person and a talking bird? Suspicious.

“…A vassal!”

It hesitated.

“…I was.”

“Dubious.”

Beyond dubious—hard to believe. Even a regular prince wouldn’t serve a birdbrain, let alone a wastrel prince?

No way.

“Next.”

The crow squirmed. Pointless—it’ll only lose feathers.

“What’s your deal?”

“Don’t you see?”

It thrust its head up.

Facing death and still acting cocky—birdbrain indeed.

Hmm.

Not the legendary sacred bird, then.

Just, what, a weird talking birdbrain?

Guess dying and coming back raised my shock threshold too high.

“I don’t see.”

“I’ve lived in this palace longer than your father’s father’s father’s father! If you don’t know, it’s because that head of yours is dull!”

My eyes widened.

“You’ve lived that long?”

“…Yes!”

“Hey, crow.”

I lowered my voice.

“I said I could kill you.”

It went docile again, scared.

I wasn’t bluffing. If it won’t cooperate or if others learn it can talk, killing it’s my best move.

“Speak so this dull head can understand. Let’s play nice, yeah? Behave, be useful, and… I can’t be your vassal, but I’ll feed you.”

I flicked its head with my finger; its fearful eyes glistened.

Do birdbrains cry?

“Got it?”

It paused, then answered, “It’s true. I’ve lived longer than your grandfather’s grandfather.”

I don’t fully buy it, but it didn’t seem like a lie.

“A wild beast mooching off the palace.”

Probably ate better than me in my beggar days. Kitchen scraps would be a feast.

Jealous?

“Then you must know something. A birdbrain that talks, flies, and says I’m the only one who knows you?”

I nodded to myself.

“Nice. Very useful.”

If it’s telling the truth, it’s more than useful.

Beyond “very”—immensely valuable.

But I can’t let it get too cocky by praising it outright.

“So.”

Maybe it’s part of the Founder’s plan? I might need to take back calling him clueless.

“Spill everything you know.”

But it disappointed me.

“Who does the king favor more? Me or the second guy?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, you don’t know what the king’s thinking? About the heir?”

“I don’t know.”

“The second prince’s weaknesses? Anything small?”

“…I don’t know.”

“Never seen him do anything embarrassing in secret? Like… picking his nose?”

“You insult the royal house! Neither you nor he would do such things! Cawww! You… you’re a demon!”

“Tch.”

So refined.

Then something hit me.

The king’s favor and checking the second prince matter, but the top qualification for crown prince is royal blood.

The royal blood’s special because of the Founder’s line.

“Special ability.”

The crow visibly flinched.

I didn’t miss that.

I wasn’t too hopeful. The royal Ye family’s rumored ability died out over a century ago.

If I had one, it’d likely come from my mother’s So clan blood.

If I held the Ye family’s ability, that’d be unmatched legitimacy.

An invincible trump card, but I didn’t expect such luck.

I’m already revived—massive luck. Wanting more’s greedy.

Could understanding this birdbrain be the first prince’s ability?

Not thrilled, but… it’s something.

“You little birdbrain… you’re hiding something.”

It thrashed violently.

“Nearly slipped past me.”

Still just pointless struggling.

“Answer straight. Bullshit, and I might snap your neck.”

“W-what, what’re you t-talking about…?”

But I doubt even the first prince fully grasped his own abilities.

I heard abilities are like a third arm or leg—you naturally know how to use them without being told.

Like how anyone with limbs knows where they are and how to move them, even if not everyone’s a master.

So what? The answer it’s dodging might be elsewhere.

Like this.

“Maybe the second prince’s ability’s got a flaw. Just thought of it. Why else would he target me?”

Maybe he faked his ability to fool people.

With his maternal grandfather, Grand Marshal Wu Jo, and the Wu clan’s influence, conjuring a lie isn’t impossible.

Yeah, that makes more sense.

“Or…”

But knowing the future, I’m more suspicious of myself.

I never once heard doubts about the second prince’s ability, not until I died.

So, maybe.

Just maybe.

If I dare hope once more.

“Do I have something too?”

Cold sweat trickled down my forehead—maybe because I wanted it more than I thought.