‘Was it out of sympathy, or did he really just not care about superstitions and such?’
Sahyeon grumbled inwardly with petty spite as he chewed on the candy.
One might think it only fair to consider Dan Ijae a “kind master” for taking in a pitiful eunuch who had been cast aside with nowhere to go.
And yet, strangely, whenever Sahyeon tried to think of him that way, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Well, to be fair, Sahyeon had been helped by him a few times too.
And the eunuchs here did seem freer than those in other places.
At first, he’d assumed from the rumors and appearances that Dan Ijae might be a violent brute—but it turned out he was… ki… ki… kind…
“You’re not a cow. Must you chew nonstop?”
Was it out of consideration, so Sahyeon’s mind wouldn’t get corrupted by odd thoughts?
The abrupt, mocking remark made Sahyeon swallow the half-chewed candy all at once.
“Is that any way to speak to your teacher, milord?”
“The lesson is over, so you’re not my teacher anymore. And since I’ll be teaching you this afternoon, doesn’t that make me the teacher? I’d appreciate a bit more respect, Scholar Baek.”
With a sarcastic tone, he handed something over.
It was a leather armguard, like the kind worn to bind sleeves during hunting or martial training.
At his urging gesture to put it on quickly, Sahyeon reluctantly slid it onto his arm.
He’d expected it to be too tight or too loose, but it fit surprisingly well.
Sahyeon stroked the leather, which wrapped snugly around his arm.
The light, soft texture alone was enough to tell it was high quality—not that you’d find cheap goods inside the palace anyway.
“Deer leather.”
Had he touched it too long?
Feeling slightly guilty, Sahyeon pulled his hand away from the armguard.
“Did you kill the deer yourself, milord?”
“All animals hunted in royal hunting grounds are royal property.”
There he goes, dodging the question again.
“But surely someone must’ve fired the arrow that killed it.”
At those words, Dan Ijae lowered his gaze slightly and looked at Sahyeon.
When he looked like that—his eyes showing only the deep blue parts—it became nearly impossible to read his emotions.
Still, the faint curve of his lips suggested he wasn’t in a bad mood, or so Sahyeon guessed.
“Do you know why I made an armguard from this leather?”
Sahyeon shook his head instead of answering.
“Twelve arrows were stuck in it. The first nine were from my third brother. Two were from Lord Taejeong, who tried to save me when the angry stag charged, antlers lowered. But neither was lucky. The way the deer kicked its hind legs reminded me of General Chae Hwang during the reign of Emperor Seomje.”
Chae Hwang was a general from the twilight of the old empire.
When Emperor Seomje fled from a rebellion, Chae Hwang alone blocked the rebels’ path.
He was said to be 9 cheok (a traditional length, about 23 cm in this context) tall and so large he was compared to a mountain.
He held the enemy off for half a day and died standing, pierced by countless arrows.
Sure, if you just think about the fact that eleven arrows were stuck in the deer, that story might come to mind…
But Sahyeon hesitated, wondering if he should point out that comparing a deer struck by even Taejeong’s arrow to a loyal general who gave his life fending off rebels was perhaps inappropriate.
But Dan Ijae continued speaking before he could say anything.
“If it was destined to die anyway, there was no need to let it suffer longer.”
It seemed the final arrow had ended the deer’s life.
And Sahyeon had a feeling he didn’t even need to ask who had fired that final shot.
Dan Ijae curled his lips into a cool smile and looked away.
The afternoon sun cast shadows across the sharp line of his nose.
“Now that I think about it, Scholar Baek, doesn’t that song go something like this?”
“What song do you mean?”
“‘Woo, woo, the deer cries as it grazes on the mugwort in the field.’ (From Book of Songs, Minor Odes, “The Cry of the Deer”)”
“And, ‘The noble guest who comes to me shines with virtue.’”
Sahyeon quickly followed up with the next line, and Dan Ijae shrugged.
“Strange song.”
“It’s not strange at all. Deer are animals that call their herd when they find a place rich with food. So this song likens the people gathering in praise of a good king’s rule to a herd coming together.”
“Ah, is that so? That explains it. The deer cry I heard back then was quite bizarre. It was more like a cow mourning its lost calf… or the last scream of someone hanging from a rope. I suppose the person who wrote that song had never heard a deer cry like that.”
Dan Ijae’s gaze drifted somewhere in the distance.
Sahyeon naturally turned to follow his line of sight.
A small group stood at a distance, watching them.
At the front, wearing a golden headband across her brow, was Grand Princess Taejeong.
Behind her, someone whispered into her ear—
Yu Baek-hu.
Sahyeon came to an abrupt stop.
Dan Ijae, having stepped forward without noticing, slowed his pace and muttered casually,
“…Or maybe, with all the noise from the beaters, no one even heard the deer’s cry.”
He might have the reputation of a wild troublemaker who never even finished elementary study, but Sahyeon knew Dan Ijae wasn’t a fool.
What puzzled him was why Dan Ijae was saying this to him.
“It’s you, Ijae. And I see Scholar Baek is with you. I heard today was your first lesson?”
Princess Dankyeong approached them with a gentle smile on her lips. Sahyeon bowed respectfully.
Yu Baek-hu didn’t follow her.
That was a relief to Sahyeon, who still felt awkward around him…
But on the other hand, wasn’t it strange for her to leave Yu Baek-hu behind and approach alone?
Maybe she’d already received a report about what had happened between him and Yu Baek-hu…
“How was the reading? I hope you didn’t fall asleep in front of your teacher?”
Though she glanced sideways at Sahyeon with a suspicious look, she forced herself to joke casually with Dan Ijae.
“I didn’t doze off, but I did burn the book.”
Dan Ijae gave an honest answer to the sister who had shown interest in his studies…
“Haha, you never open your mouth without saying something outrageous.”
Unfortunately, Dankyeong didn’t seem to believe him.
Dan Ijae looked at both her and Sahyeon, who still had his head bowed, with an unimpressed expression.
Then he gave a slight nod and walked off.
Almost as if to give the two of them space to talk more comfortably.
“That boy.”
Dankyeong waited until he’d walked a fair distance, then finally stepped closer to Sahyeon.
As Sahyeon idly traced the patterns on her leather shoes, he caught her gesture for him to lift his head.
Slowly, he straightened up and met her eyes.
“So, Scholar Baek. Do you find our Ijae worth teaching?”
Her eyes curved gently, but her lips were somewhat tense.
Maybe it was that expression, but even though she spoke warmly—like a much older sister doting on her younger brother—something about it felt off.
‘Worth teaching,’ she had said.
Considering all that Dan Ijae had done to his past tutors, maybe she was just genuinely concerned about how today’s lesson had gone.
But this was the palace.
It was never just that simple.
Sahyeon glanced past her shoulder. Dan Ijae had already walked up to where Yu Baek-hu stood.
From a distance, he could see the man gesturing angrily at him, clearly scolding him about something.
Honestly, even though he acted like everything was a bother, Dan Ijae seemed to stir up trouble wherever he went.
It was that quality that made people curious about his true intentions.
Perhaps that was why Dankyeong was so wary of him—because he seemed utterly uninterested in the position of heir.
Sahyeon fiddled with the bundle of books at his side.
If he opened them and showed her the charred bamboo slips that Dan Ijae had burned, and grumbled about it, she might secretly enjoy it.
Maybe she’d even let the story “accidentally” spread around lightly—‘As expected, the Eighth Prince is hopeless,’ and so on.
“Should I act cute like this just to please Dankyeong?”
Dan Ijae was the kind of person who wouldn’t care no matter what others whispered about him.
But still…
Sahyeon lightly bit his lower lip and turned his head again.
Then, smiling faintly at her, he opened his mouth to speak.
“Today, I read the So-hak. You may have an exceptional understanding, but So-hak is originally a book meant for young children to learn before stepping into the world. For someone who already has the eyes to see the world, the pace of learning is bound to differ.”
“Only after mastering the Gyeongjo Yukseo can one dare to speak of true skill. However, even the Taijeong-gong knows well that it takes no small amount of time to learn all six texts.”
“As a teacher, it would be improper to speak ill of a student who has finally decided to settle down and study. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Yes. Sahyeon decided to compromise to a reasonable extent.
In short, what he meant to convey was:
“Don’t worry—I’m still far from learning enough to be a threat to you.”
“It took me three years to master the six texts,”
Dankyeong’s lips curved up ever so slightly.
It was indeed something to be proud of—learning the Gyeongjo Yukseo, which even children of noble families usually take at least ten years to fully grasp, in just three years.
Especially for her, who was more of a warrior than a scholar.
She must have made a bloody effort, probably driven by fear that the king might find fault with her or that she would fall behind other competitors.
“But Yoon managed to do it in just one year.”
…Yet there are always talents who mock the efforts of ordinary people.