His mouth had gone completely dry.
Was he afraid that Dan Ijae might be a genius like Dan Yun?
Even if Dan Ijae were to master all six classics of Confucianism in a single year, how could a year in a child’s life be the same as a year in someone in their mid-twenties?
He was someone who had already missed his time.
And yet, someone who should know that still clung so stubbornly…
“Isn’t it the eldest sibling’s joy to help their younger brothers’ talents blossom?”
Dankyeong reached out nonchalantly and patted Sahyeon on the shoulder.
A chill crept up the back of his neck.
“Please guide our Ijae well.”
Sahyeon respectfully brought both hands together to his forehead and bowed deeply.
The hand resting on his shoulder slipped away smoothly.
“I will devote myself wholeheartedly to fulfilling the will of Lord Taejeong.”
He couldn’t see what kind of expression Dankyeong was making.
But in this moment, perhaps that was for the best.
A ‘lord’ desires a subordinate who understands his heart, yet instinctively shuns anyone who can see straight through him.
“Oh, by the way,” she said, almost as an afterthought. “I heard the third prince offended Scholar Baek.”
The casual tone landed coldly on the back of Sahyeon’s neck.
“I scolded him harshly, so it won’t happen again. Tell Baek Munhak to let it go.”
It was a clear warning: Don’t let word of this leak outside.
He licked his dry lips and exhaled softly before reciting the prepared response.
“It was my own failure to understand Lord Baek’s intent that led to his anger. How could it possibly be his fault?”
“Hmph. It seems the third prince had some misunderstandings about Scholar Baek too. We should arrange a time for the two of them to clear the air.”
Again, Dankyeong patted Sahyeon’s shoulder—this time with more weight.
“Those who aim to accomplish great things must be of one mind.”
“Your words honor me far beyond my worth.”
“Hahaha.”
A refreshing laugh rang in his ears.
But within the sound of her laughter, like an echo or a phantom, Sahyeon could hear Dan Ijae’s voice from that night, whispering coldly into his frozen ear:
“There is no place for you here in Yeonju.”
Of course.
How could a newly arrived rolling stone easily displace the boulder that had been firmly rooted in place long before?
It was something he’d known even before crossing the borders of Pasa.
And yet…
The shoes that had lingered in front of his eyes vanished.
Footsteps slowly receded into the distance.
Only after a gust of wind swept along his spine did Sahyeon finally lift his head.
He saw Dankyeong gently soothing the wildly agitated Yu Baekhu, who had been riled up over Dan Ijae.
Yu Baekhu was foolish and impulsive.
Because of that, he had long since fallen from the late king’s favor and never even had a chance to participate in the succession struggle.
For Dankyeong, he was a rare younger brother she could care for without concern.
But from another perspective, Yu Baekhu was already categorized by the royal family as a worthless figure.
What benefit would Dankyeong gain from keeping such an indiscreet man—someone who would even dare insult a fifth-rank official—by her side?
Everyone in the palace already knew Yu Baekhu was Lord Taejeong’s man.
So if he caused trouble, it would reflect poorly on Dankyeong.
And for someone walking on thin ice like her, there could be no greater danger.
So even if she had affection for him, Dankyeong had to send Yu Baekhu back to Bongjakryeong and create distance between him and the palace.
That she hadn’t done so yet… perhaps it was because Yu Baekhu was the one who had reached out to her, a woman who had lived nearly forty years never knowing when her father might cast her aside.
The bond of comradeship forged through a harsh era—such ties, she would never be able to ignore.
It was an ominous sign.
Power, by nature, must center around the king.
If someone stands above the king, the system is inevitably corrupt.
The master of the granary values and uses wealth with care, but once the key is in someone else’s hands, that person will only think of filling their own belly.
Unfortunately, the key to Lord Taejeong’s granary was no longer in her hands.
***
“Which would you like to learn first—sword or bow?”
Dan Ijae spoke as if nothing had happened. Sahyeon tightened the strap on his wrist unnecessarily and glanced at him cautiously.
He was curious what kind of conversation he’d had with Yu Baekhu to make that man react so explosively, but if he pried, Dan Ijae would probably make snide remarks like he’d found something to tease him with.
Besides, it wouldn’t do anyone any good for him to learn what had happened with Yu Baekhu.
Still, if today’s events led Yu Baekhu to harm Baeksongol again, that would be a problem.
That clever creature wouldn’t be caught easily, but once someone harbors poison in their heart, there’s no telling what they might do…
“Where is your hawk now, my lord?”
“Probably somewhere stuffing its face and sleeping. Not that it’s mine. It doesn’t even see me as its master.”
“It carries your tag, so it’s yours. Please take better care of it. What if someone harms it?”
He’d expected a dismissive snort and a sarcastic remark, but Dan Ijae didn’t respond right away.
Instead, a moment later, his warm breath brushed against Sahyeon’s frozen ear.
Startled, Sahyeon shrank back.
Damn it, why was he suddenly leaning in like that?
“Well, people get attacked in alleyways the moment you look away. What hope is there for a speechless beast?”
“Why are you bringing me up now?”
“You’re also the ‘Eighth Prince’s teacher,’ so you carry my tag too. Neither of you think of me as your master, though. Now I understand why he follows you.”
Sahyeon narrowed his eyes and stared at him.
He wanted to retort, Why should I see you as my master?, but held his tongue.
Even Baeksongol followed him out of gratitude for saving its life—shouldn’t he at least treat the esteemed prince, who had done the same for him, with a bit of respect?
“If you want to take the creature and raise it yourself, I’d gladly hand it over.”
“I can’t even afford to raise a horse—how would I care for a hawk? Just stop neglecting the poor beast and look after it properly.”
“If I just let it loose, it’ll hunt for itself. Though it might flip over someone’s chicken coop and cause some trouble…”
“That’s enough. Goodness, it must be an amazing hunter.”
“Ah, that’s right.”
Dan Ijae snapped his fingers as if struck by a brilliant idea.
“My ‘third brother’ says the hunting ban will be lifted soon. There’s no way Lord Taejeong—who loves hunting—will sit still. If Scholar Baek wants to join us, he’ll need to pull his own weight. Better to start with the bow, then.”
Was it because of the season?
It was winter.
The harvest had ended, firewood was stocked—perhaps it was time to start gathering beaters for a royal hunt.
A hunting party hosted by Lord Taejeong would draw nobles and officials from all over, including the princes and princesses of Un Gyeong Palace. It would be a valuable opportunity for Sahyeon too.
And yet…
“He’ll need to pull his own weight”?
What exactly did he think he was?
Thunk!
The arrow flew through the air and pierced the target.
A red flag fluttered proudly in the distance.
Sahyeon lowered his bow and turned his head toward Dan Ijae, clearly showing off.
He curved his lips into a smile. A hint of awkwardness slipped into his grin, and Sahyeon, pleased, smiled back and nocked another arrow.
He took a deep breath, held it, and quietly aimed toward the direction the arrowhead pointed.
Toward the red circle on the target at the end of its arc.
If this were a hunting ground, a frightened animal startled by the cheers would be standing there.
But if it were a battlefield…
There would be a person.
A nameless enemy soldier, struggling to survive amidst countless blades and arrows.
The taut bowstring was released.
The string scraped past his fingertips as the arrow fletching shot forward with force.
Before he could even confirm whether it had hit the target, the red flag fluttered once more.
Only then did Sahyeon let out the breath he had been holding.
“Where did you learn archery?”
Dan Ijae’s voice broke through the ringing in Sahyeon’s ears.
Fingering the bow, Sahyeon replied flatly.
“I once stayed at a hunter’s house for a short while. I learned it then.”
Dan Ijae picked up an arrow.
Sahyeon eyed him cynically, as if to say, Let’s see what great skill you have that you were so eager to show off.
A casual gesture, drawing the bowstring as if aiming randomly at the sky.
Even the movement of smoothly aiming the crescent-shaped bow toward the target appeared so serene that, if not for the bulging blue vein on the back of his hand, one might not have realized he was exerting any force at all.
Dan-gyeong had said it, hadn’t she?
That among the royal sons, 5th Prince Dan Ye was the most skilled in archery.
What had she said about Dan Ijae, again?
That he’s good… but sometimes completely misses…
“Bullseye!”
The arrow left his hand in an instant and quivered right in the center of the target.
Sahyeon glanced back and forth between his own arrows—haphazardly embedded within the red circle—and Dan Ijae’s, which was dead-center.
His expression was one of reluctant acknowledgment.
Well, he had grown up under the Great General’s watch; it was no wonder he had such training.
“A hunter?”
Dan Ijae picked up another arrow in quick succession.
This time, he didn’t even aim properly.
He simply pulled the bowstring lightly and let it go.
And then, there were two arrows embedded in the dead center.
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