“Damn destiny, it’s not the kind of relationship you think it is, so please stop spreading useless rumors.”
“Then what is it, huh? Why is Baek Munhak acceptable, but I’m not?!”
Dan Yun threw away all dignity and propriety that came with her age, stomping her feet and making a huge fuss.
She was truly grateful that it was just the two of them in the room.
Dan Ijae looked at the spilled liquor tray that had been knocked over by her foot with disbelief in his eyes, then stood up abruptly.
But Dan Yun wasn’t ready to give up—her expression said it all: “Even if you run away, I’ll chase you down and continue this tantrum to the bitter end.”
He pressed his forehead.
A headache seemed to be coming on.
“I don’t know the reason myself. However…”
Dan Ijae stared down at his palm for a moment, then slowly clenched and unclenched his fist—as if trying to recall the feeling of someone he had once held.
Dan Yun held her breath, afraid that her overly sensitive younger brother might fall silent again.
She didn’t expect a clear answer—she just hoped for a small clue, a faint warmth she could cling to.
“What is the one thing a scholar entering the palace with ambition fears the most? Ending up like Lady Yeongeon, I suppose.”
Of course, Dan Ijae was not the type to bend easily to her intentions.
Dan Yun slammed her forehead on the edge of the liquor table, then quickly lifted her head again.
“Why are you bringing up Lady Yeongeon now? What if someone hears you?!”
“If you’re afraid of being overheard, maybe you should lower your voice, sister?”
“Ha! Fine. So you’re saying you made a move to scare Baek Munhak away before rumors of a scandal with you could ruin your career?”
Dan Ijae only shrugged in agreement instead of answering.
“Then why deny the rumors about the match?”
“There’s no need to lie to my own sister, is there?”
“My goodness, to think you’ve given your heart so deeply… my little brother has truly grown up.”
Dan Ijae raised one hand in a gesture of modesty.
To Dan Yun, it was an insufferably smug gesture.
“I’ll be going now. If I stay any longer, I’m afraid you’ll make me drink something weird again.”
A cold gust of wind rushed in through the door as it burst open.
Dan Yun merely gestured with her chin for him to get lost and pulled the liquor tray toward herself.
The hem of a robe, dark as the night sky, fluttered beyond the rough threshold.
The door, which had been creaking ominously, slammed shut in the wind.
Left alone in the now empty room, Dan Yun chewed on a piece of dried cod, glaring at the tightly closed door.
The expression that had briefly flickered across Dan Ijae’s face when he had looked at his palm slowly replayed itself on the battered door.
A deliberately furrowed brow.
One eyebrow slightly raised, aware of his sister’s gaze.
But when he clenched his fist, Dan Yun had clearly seen the subtle softening of his eyes.
A person couldn’t wear such a gentle expression while imagining something horrifying.
And hadn’t he almost slipped just before correcting himself?
“I don’t know the reason.”
He clearly hadn’t felt that “terrible sensation” when he grabbed Baek Munhak.
Whether it was affection, sympathy, or simply an inexplicable reaction didn’t matter.
What mattered was the possibility that Baek Munhak—who had suddenly appeared and seemed nothing but unstable and dangerous—might actually become a source of hope for her younger brother.
Draining the rest of the liquor in one go, Dan Yun made up her mind.
Tomorrow, when I enter the palace, I’ll tie those two together so tightly they can’t even wriggle free.
But the next day, for some reason, Sahyeon was nowhere to be seen in the palace.
And the day after that, an event occurred that turned the entire Ungyeong Palace upside down:
“The first voluntary lesson attended by the Rogue Eighth Young Master.”
***
“Rise early and go to bed late; never be lazy in reading. If one diligently applies themselves in this way, will it not bring joy to their parents? (Four-Character Elementary Studies, lines 87–88). What do you think of this saying, Confucius?”
Sahyeon beamed brightly and gazed steadily at Dan Ijae.
Unlike his radiant, cheerful expression, Dan Ijae looked as if he might die of boredom at any moment—but that wasn’t Sahyeon’s concern.
“Isn’t it basically saying that you have to at least pretend to study if you don’t want your parents to see you as a useless freeloader?”
“Precisely. However, Confucius, you have neglected your studies until this age. So shouldn’t you now dedicate your nights to reading?”
“Well, I wouldn’t know, since I don’t have a mother.”
“If you said that to guilt-trip me, it won’t work. I have neither parent, so I’m fine. Now then, shall we look at the next phrase? Ah, this one looks good. Why don’t you read it aloud, Confucius?”
Dan Ijae lowered his eyes to the phrase written on the bamboo scroll.
Then he looked back up at Sahyeon with a gaze that seemed to say, “Are you seriously asking me to read this?”
Sahyeon simply nodded enthusiastically, the smile never leaving his face.
“‘When the teacher calls, do not delay in answering. Respond immediately with “Yes,” and rise. (선생소 무락, 유이기, Elementary Studies: Ethics Section).’”
“Exactly! You read it so well. Our Confucius here must be quite intelligent, but simply lacked effort until now. See how smoothly you read once you set your mind to it? Now, shall we review? Confucius, your teacher is calling you. What should you do?”
Dan Ijae was probably regretting every decision that led him to attend this lesson—he likely wanted to strangle his past self.
But since he had given his word, he didn’t flip the table.
Instead, he reached out and pinched Sahyeon’s constantly teasing mouth.
“Mmff, mmph!”
Sahyeon flailed, waving his hands to shake Dan Ijae’s hand off.
“My goodness, what kind of student pinches their teacher’s mouth? But it’s fine. Confucius is still like a baby who hasn’t graduated from Elementary Studies. I’ll assume you meant to give me a playful pinch and grabbed my mouth by mistake.”
“Then would it be okay to kick you? I mean, babies do accidentally kick people.”
“If you kick me, and I scream, and people gather, will you stand there crying waaah waaah like a baby? If so, by all means, go ahead.”
“Do you think I wouldn’t?”
Dan Ijae rose halfway from his seat, and Sahyeon flinched and threw up his hands defensively.
Whether it was because of that or not, Dan Ijae sighed and sat back down.
This time, he reached for Sahyeon’s cheek.
As his fingers brushed against the still-swollen area, Sahyeon winced slightly.
“It’s fine. I’ve been rolling a boiled egg on it all day, and the swelling’s gone down quickly.”
“I touched it because I don’t want it to be fine.”
Sahyeon pouted, then suddenly brightened as if he’d come up with a witty retort.
“So you’re shy after all, Confucius?”
“…What?”
Dan Ijae jerked his hand away as if burned.
“I nearly died in that mess, but thanks to you, I survived. So I’m truly grateful. That’s why I’m now wholeheartedly teaching you, out of gratitude. There’s no need to keep hovering around me hoping for a ‘thank you,’ Confucius. Though, if you’d like, I can call you ‘My Gracious Confucius’ every time I refer to you.”
“No need.”
“You just wanted to remind me of that day by poking my injury, didn’t you? Truly gracious of you, Confucius.”
“I said don’t.”
“My ribs hurt more than my face, actually, so maybe here instead—oh, wait. Is that why you said you wanted to kick me earlier?”
“…Can you just read?”
“If our gracious young master wishes it, I shall read it to you.”
Dan Ijae pressed his temple as if he had a headache.
It seemed like he should stop teasing him now if he didn’t want to risk losing the “next lesson.”
Sahyeon began reciting the passages of the Elementary Learning (Sohak) in a clear voice.
Dan Ijae absentmindedly traced the characters on the bamboo slips with his fingertip.
It looked less like reading and more like toying with the rough texture for amusement.
Sahyeon considered saying something but held back—after all, wasn’t it already a blessing that he was staying in his seat?
So he decided to ignore the boy’s antics, at least until Dan Ijae’s finger came to a stop on a particular line.
“Baek Munhak, what do you think of this passage?”
Our remarkable young master was asking questions now.
Sahyeon, pleasantly surprised, looked at the passage Dan Ijae had pointed to.
But soon, he looked up at him with a rather displeased expression.
“When a child serves their parents, if the parents do not listen even after being advised three times, the child must then follow their will while weeping.”
(子之事親也 三諫而不聽 則號泣而隨之 — Sohak, Chapter on Minglun)
Out of all the countless sentences on the bamboo slips, he had to pick this one.
Should he be thankful at least that Dan Ijae could read?
“Does this passage seem strange to you?”
“I asked what you think of it—I didn’t say it seemed strange.”
Sahyeon narrowed his eyes and stared at him.
The way Dan Ijae tilted his head as if he truly didn’t know was utterly irritating.
Still, he couldn’t risk offending this precious young master who had finally been made to sit in front of a desk, so Sahyeon calmly recited the conventional interpretation.
“My teacher, Master Chae, has also spoken about this. A child is born into this world having received their parents’ precious flesh and blood; therefore, the parents must come first, and the child should follow after.”
“It is not reasonable for one who follows to question the one who leads. Even if a parent strikes the child for unjust reasons, the child should not dare to darken their expression but should reflect submissively on what fault of theirs disturbed their parent’s mood. That, he said, is true filial piety (hyo).”
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