The Spirited Girl Returns
Lately, the young lady has been acting strange.
No doubt, anyone in the clan—even if it wasn't her nanny like herself—would think the same upon seeing her.
What was it, exactly?
She had always been so prim and precocious.
But just four days ago, out of nowhere, she completely changed.
In a good light, she brimmed with energy, brightened up, and grew spirited.
In a bad light... she became utterly unpredictable, like a wild spark ready to fly anywhere.
One moment she'd grill me about intel on the Heuksa Ryeon and the death of its former leader.
The next, the girl who'd always obeyed her nanny so meekly would throw a tantrum demanding an old manual over thirty years outdated.
But what truly shocked Dang Yeonseol was something else entirely.
The young lady, who normally spoke only in refined, gentle words, had picked up the foul-mouthed slang of street thugs somewhere—"son of a bitch," "fucking moron," tossing them in like casual asides.
Of course, thanks to a bit of loving discipline, she at least refrained from such language in front of her nanny now.
In short, this was behavior no one could square with the fragile girl who'd teared up at the mere sight of falling petals.
Others in the clan might not know, but as her nanny, Dang Yeonseol did.
That unpredictable, mischievous side was actually the young lady's true nature—the one she'd shown before her mother passed.
Before losing her mother, Dang Hoiyeong had been a bundle of curiosity, second to none in the clan, bouncing with lively energy.
But after her mother's death, the girl had locked herself away in a shell of premature maturity and quiet obedience, as if all joy had been confiscated.
Her refusal to learn martial arts because she hated harming others, her hypersensitivity to even the tiniest loss of life—it might all have been rebellion against the pain of losing someone precious at such a young age.
I have no idea what shifted in her heart.
But starting four days ago, the young lady began unleashing all that pent-up vitality at once.
Dang Yeonseol watched her crouch on the floor, carefully gathering the shreds of the torn manual into a cloth bundle.
"I was really gonna clean it up..."
She grumbled, puffing out her lips in a pout that made Yeonseol wonder if her loving discipline had been lacking.
But honestly, those varied expressions were a welcome sight.
Even showing her emotions openly like this.
Compared to the days when she'd stared blankly out the window with a emotionless face, at least.
Dang Hoiyeong carefully packed the meticulously shredded manual pages into the cloth, then hesitantly approached her nanny and showed her.
"All done..."
"Well done."
"Hmph."
Those unfamiliar with Dang Hoiyeong's situation might scoff—what's so great that she has to pout and 'hmph' all primly?
But Dang Hoiyeong was direct lineage of the clan!
In her past life, a heaven-forsaken orphan. In this one, a sheltered child who'd never set foot outside—the details of other clans escaped her.
But she knew this much: it wasn't normal for a nanny to order physical 'discipline' and cleanup after a direct heir's mischief.
If asked why she'd obediently followed despite knowing that, without throwing a real tantrum...
First, this soft, untrained child's body instinctively feared the nanny's palm.
Second, to Dang Hoiyeong—who'd lost her mother young—the nanny was no different from a mother.
Third...
The affection the nanny showered on her was too heavy for Heukcheon's soul to bear.
Am I starting to lean on it again?
Whatever—her own feelings hardly mattered. The nanny could handle her so firmly only thanks to the patriarch's permission.
Not that she disliked it, of course.
"You did well, young lady."
Ignoring Dang Hoiyeong's pouty response, nanny Dang Yeonseol took the bundled shreds and gently stroked her hair.
A tickle fluttered in her chest. Even so, Dang Hoiyeong... Heukcheon knew.
That people couldn't be trusted.
Get a grip. Don't do anything stupid again, you idiot.
The Heukcheon who'd roamed the streets as an orphaned kid had faced every breed of filthy human.
But family was different, right? Comrades who'd shared life and death would be different—or so he'd believed. And his end?
A miserable death by betrayal from those very comrades he'd trusted without doubt.
It's no different now.
He didn't think their hearts had been false from the start.
At first, they'd pitied the orphan and reached out.
Once they saw his talent, they'd marveled at his potential and stayed for the shared martial glory.
When he reached the pinnacle of the unorthodox martial world, they'd lingered only to share his power.
Yes. Unconditional love doesn't exist. Even if it seems to, it's just a fleeting illusion that fades.
Bonds are valid only while there's power, value, spoils to share—that's the delusion called fate.
The nanny's touch was no exception. If Dang Hoiyeong weren't the Tang Clan's direct young lady, if she weren't the one she served, and if a better opportunity arose...
Would the nanny still lavish her with this affection?
"What's got our young lady in such a sour mood?"
Noticing her darkening expression, the nanny playfully pinched her cheek.
"Eek! Ow, that hurts! Let go!"
"Hee hee. You didn't complain once, and you cleaned up your own mess perfectly. Here's a tangwa as reward."
The nanny pulled a paper-wrapped tangwa from her bosom. The crinkle of paper brought a rush of sweet scent.
Dang Hoiyeong whipped her head away, snapping primly.
"W-who said I like this stuff? You think I'm some kid?"
"True, you're already a proper adult, young lady. Then I'll share these with the servants in the yard. Being the last ones, it'll take time to get more..."
As the nanny moved to pocket them again, Dang Hoiyeong's eyes wavered.
"Wait! Ahem... Well, since you went to the trouble of taking them out, it'd be rude to refuse. Just this once, for your sincerity."
"Oh? Is that so? As expected, our young lady has a heart soft as silk. Here you go."
Dang Hoiyeong snatched the tangwa and stuffed it into her mouth, cheeks bulging.
As the crunch filled her mouth and sweet juice flooded her tongue, her furrowed brow relaxed unwittingly, a smile blooming at her lips.
Lost in the tangwa's bliss, she caught the nanny covering her mouth, stifling desperate laughter.
"Kkhk..."
"W-why are you laughing!"
"No, nothing. Ahem. I was just so proud seeing how maturely you force yourself to eat it, all for my sake."
Dang Hoiyeong flushed crimson and hung her head.
She knew she looked more ridiculous with every word.
This kid's body...
Anyway, the topic had veered off, but it was time to get to the point.
First, finish the tangwa though.
Nom nom nom.
With the last tangwa chunk gone from her mouth, Dang Hoiyeong wiped her lips solemnly and declared.
"Nanny. I want to learn martial arts."
"I see."
"Yeah."
"..."
The words hung awkwardly, the conversation stalling.
What was this? Shouldn't there be a bigger reaction here?
Tears of pride, or Finally, you've steeled your resolve!—something dramatic.
But the nanny's face remained placid.
No joy, just a bittersweet gaze fixed on her.
"You won't regret this decision?"
"Huh? Yeah. Why so glum, nanny? Be happy for me."
"Young lady, you're always my top priority."
"...Yeah, I guess."
"You've always shied away from martial arts."
"...True."
"As I said before, no need to worry too much. The patriarch's just hurt right now, but in time, he'll surely understand you..."
"Wait! Hold on, nanny—there's a misunderstanding."
Dang Hoiyeong waved her hands frantically, cutting her off.
A massive mix-up seemed afoot.
The nanny apparently saw her as a kid grudgingly buckling under clan pressure.
"This is my choice. Not forced at all. So clap and praise me already!"
"Is that so..."
Clap. Clap. Clap.
A soulless applause echoed softly.
From that cue, the nanny's expression eased subtly, brightening just a touch.
"Splendid! To think our young lady is finally ready to become Sacheon Tangga's dragon. I never doubted you, Dang Yeonseol."
The praise pouring from her lips felt... off.
Genuine-sounding words, yet somehow like coaxing a market child.
Still, the nonstop claps and flattery slowly lifted the corners of Dang Hoiyeong's mouth.
"As expected of our direct heir among heirs. The day you shake the world with Sacheon Tangga's might is just around the corner."
"Ahem." Didn't expect it to go this far...
"This nanny knew from the start you'd voice such ambitions and command the world."
"Really?"
"Of course. I knew it all along."
"Right! I'm not just inheriting the clan—I'll become the greatest under heaven, no, through all ages, and make the whole world look up to me!"
Unable to contain her grin, Dang Hoiyeong puffed up her shoulders proudly. Hands on hips, chin high—quite the aura for the supreme of past and present(?).
"Now, future supreme one, just one task remains."
Brimming with momentum, Dang Hoiyeong clenched her fist, ready to charge the library.
"Yeah! To the library now!"
"No."
"...Huh?"
"You need to sleep. The sun's set. To become the future supreme, foundations matter—and the foundation of foundations is early to bed, early to rise."
"But right now...!"
"Sssh. Bedtime."
"...Tch."
Her world-conquering spirit vanished; shoulders slumped under the thick quilt.
A ten-year-old's body couldn't defy the nanny's firm bedtime order.
Half an hour later...
Alone under the covers, Dang Hoiyeong realized the nanny's reaction had been insanely dry.
I got played...
She'd boasted shamefully of being supreme, then preened at that hollow praise.
I was just gonna learn martial arts half-assed anyway.
Why'd she do that?
Dang Hoiyeong kicked at the quilt, chasing away the embarrassment.
"Yawn..."
But anger faded quick; the child's body succumbed to sleep. Eyelids drooped heavy.
Come to think of it, why hadn't the nanny purely rejoiced at her pure intent to learn martial arts?
Worry she'd break a kid's spirit? Possible, sure.
But serving a direct heir who'd thrown tantrums refusing arts, banished to this remote annex...
Even if overlooked as childish now, persisting into adulthood would've surely gotten her cast out...
"Mm..."
Normally, relief or genuine joy would show—but the nanny looked like thorns lined her future path...
Ah, whatever. Think tomorrow...
Snooore...
Creak, click.
As the door shut, the room's warmth vanished.
In that instant, the warm smile on Dang Yeonseol's face as she stepped into the hall vanished too.
Her cold, sunken gaze belonged to someone entirely different. She stared briefly at the closed door—where Dang Hoiyeong slept—then heaved a heavy sigh.
"...Whether the patriarch will rejoice at this. He must."
Her low murmur carried not warmth, but a chill worry too deep to fathom.
The nanny slowly turned, heading down the dark corridor.