The Nanny's Sharp Rebuke
Are you well, Family Head?
To be frank, writing these letters every time is no small inconvenience.
If you wish to see the young lady, you could come yourself or simply call her back to the main residence.
Today's report contains both good news and bad news. I'll start with the good.
As I reported before, the young lady has changed.
Last time, I noted she'd brightened up like when her mother was alive.
But now, she's even brighter than that. Suddenly, she's started throwing tantrums, of all things.
This morning, out of nowhere, she demanded manuals over thirty years old.
By evening, she tore them all to shreds.
But no need to worry.
Your nanny gave her a good scolding.
In any case, the annex is buzzing with life after so long. Good news, isn't it?
Now, the bad news.
The young lady wants to learn martial arts.
Of course, you—cold-blooded enough to banish your own daughter to the annex—might scoff and ask why that's bad.
But with her pure wish crushed, my heart isn't at ease.
P.S. That's sarcasm. You should feel bad about this.
Additionally, tomorrow the young lady heads to the Cheondok Bigak.
You know what that means better than I.
Please rein in those old fools with heads full of nonsense.
Finally, give some thought to how you'll apologize and bring her back to the main residence.
That's all.
— The young lady's nanny, appointed directly by the Family Head himself. Dang Yeonseol.
"Mangwoocho feels so far away."
The head of the Sacheon Dang Clan, Dang Yeonmyeong, reclined in his chair, slowly scanning the letter Dang Yeonseol had sent the night before.
The steward watching from the side spoke up.
"Shall I fetch it?"
"No need. Since when do you not try to talk me out of it like usual?"
"Your concerns seem that deep."
Dang Yeonmyeong nodded.
"They are. Things blew up before I could even check the letter."
"I never imagined they'd already made their move. My apologies."
"No, it's not your fault. I thought the same. How could it be the steward's failing? It's all on those old fools trapped in the past."
Dang Yeonmyeong set the letter down and let out a heavy sigh.
His cold gaze then fixed on Dang Cheol, who groveled on the floor, trembling violently.
"The elders think me a joke, don't they? You too?"
"F-Family Head... mercy, please..."
"Otherwise, how could you block my daughter's meridians, shatter her wrist, and then claim you never touched her?"
Dang Yeonmyeong rose quietly from his seat, murmuring under his breath.
"Chukgok Gong? Hah. Ridiculous. At least put some effort into your excuses. Tsk."
Dang Cheol had no reply to that.
He knew full well how absurd it sounded—even to himself.
Even if he were in the family head's shoes, he'd see it as laughable.
But it was the truth, leaving him speechless. Protesting its truth would only stoke the family head's rage.
"Didn't I swear upon this seat, washed in my brothers' blood, that I wouldn't repeat the old evils? You were there, along with the clan's elders."
Long ago, the Sacheon Dang Clan had been counted among the demonic paths.
Centuries back, that was.
Yet those old evils lingered, gnawing at the clan from within.
Succession struggles were a prime example.
"Pity. I'd love to rip you limb from limb and hang you from the gates. But I made that oath."
Dang Yeonmyeong looked down at Dang Cheol like a worm.
"Cripple this vermin's dantian and lock him in the underground prison."
The verdict rang out, and two black-clad figures emerged from the shadows to bind and drag Dang Cheol away.
His screams echoed briefly before a heavy silence blanketed the study.
The steward ventured cautiously.
"No need for torture to loosen his tongue?"
"You're no martial artist, so you wouldn't know. The elders likely prepared him with poison."
Dang Yeonmyeong stared into the darkness outside. If their names came up, some toxin would surely spread.
In that sense, keeping Dang Cheol alive held far more value than killing him outright.
The elders behind him would panic at the thought of an antidote prying the truth from his lips and try to silence him.
With luck, they'd slip and expose their tails.
With greater luck, a real antidote could force his confession.
"...Where the hell did this clan go wrong?"
Dang Yeonmyeong sighed deeply, recalling the days when he'd poisoned his brothers and embedded hidden weapons in them to claim the seat.
He'd vowed never to pass that hell to his children.
Yet the old poisons still festered.
His daughter, denied clan status for not learning martial arts.
And the elders pushing her into peril to test her "usefulness."
His head throbbed.
Then the steward spoke up.
"Family Head. Won't you visit the young lady?"
"Didn't you say her wrist shattered cleanly? With luck, it'll heal stronger than before."
"But visiting the sick is another matter."
"...What good is a father's face after casting out his child?"
"It couldn't be helped. Complaints were erupting everywhere. She'll understand."
"Understanding doesn't erase the sin. Enough of this."
The steward sighed as if exasperated by Dang Yeonmyeong's stubbornness.
"Then will you bring the young lady back to the main residence?"
"...We'll see." Dang Yeonmyeong stroked his chin thoughtfully before continuing. "In the end, Hoiyeong still hasn't learned martial arts. Once she does, and if she still wants it then..."
"That damn martial arts talk. Martial artists are all... Tsk. Understood. I'll relay that to the nanny."
Dang Yeonmyeong nodded wearily and waved him off.
Even the steward departed, leaving thick silence in the family head's quarters.
Reclining once more, Dang Yeonmyeong muttered.
"Heaven's fortune... wrist... Chukgok Gong..."
A shattered wrist normally never fully recovered.
Yet Hoiyeong's could return to normal swiftly, as if heaven-aided, per the clan physicians.
But before that verdict, Dang Cheol had claimed she'd shattered it herself with Chukgok Gong.
Timing too perfect to deny his guilt.
Coincidence?
Chukgok Gong was an ancient lost art, nonexistent in the clan—a monstrous technique no less.
Manipulating bones freely without inner energy? Impossible.
Absolutely impossible...
Yet why this nagging doubt?
Whatever. It doesn't matter.
Dang Yeonmyeong picked up the letter again, eyes lingering on the end.
— Finally, give some thought to how you'll apologize and bring her back to the main residence.
Creases deepened between his brows.
"Apologize... apologize. Do I even deserve that?"
Ah, bliss.
If this isn't paradise, then what is?
"Tanggwa."
Lying in bed, she named her desire, and it was promptly fed to her.
Followed by the nanny's icy retort.
"Young lady. Mind your speech."
"Aaaah! My wrist!"
"...Understood."
"Young lady. Wasn't it ten pieces max?"
"Is it the broken wrist? Feeling dizzy. One more tanggwa might help, but we have a deal. Yeah. No choice. Even if it's dizzy. Yeah."
"...Exactly one more."
*Nom nom.*
"Feels like one isn't enough?"
"..."
"J-Joking."
Of course, the nanny's piercing glare forced her to stop.
All in all, a satisfying day.
She'd skimmed all the clan's advanced manuals as planned.
Some commotion, sure, but now basking in the nanny's care.
Don't clan kids normally live like this?
Even if her family was strict—no living lawlessly—making your own bed and rationing daily tanggwa felt off.
At least, the noble kids from her past life lived freely.
Because we're heukdo?
Baekdo must be different.
Stricter baekdo families probably raised kids like her.
She'd never had family before, so who knew.
Anyway, she'd achieved one goal and scored nanny service—mood booster.
But the big one—entering martial arts—had failed. Her body itched unbearably.
Especially with a dozen baekdo advanced arts now in her head, untouched in her past life.
The nanny wouldn't allow it like this, right?
And I'd love to check the fourth floor.
Realistically, heading there today was impossible.
Even if one arm sufficed for reading and cultivating, going back the day of the "accident" would have the nanny blocking her.
Fine. Compromise time?
"Nanny, I wanna go to the pavilion tomorrow."
"No. Absolutely not."
"Yeah. Haven't checked the fourth-floor arts yet... Huh? No? Why?"
Dang Hoiyeong panicked.
Not just unexpected—the nanny's tone was firmer than ever.
The nanny sighed deeply.
"Young lady. You don't grasp your own condition."
"Broken wrist? Clean break. In twenty days, splint off—light injury."
"Light? Your wrist bones are pulverized. You'd be screaming and fainting, yet you want to skip rest and head to the pavilion? No."
Organs spilling or limbs severed was one thing—but mental rest for this?
Was the nanny, like that librarian, trying to block her martial arts?
But the genuine worry in her eyes stopped Dang Hoiyeong from voicing it.
As she tilted her head in baffled protest,
*Knock knock.*
A knock at the door.
She glanced at the nanny for permission; after a moment's thought, the nanny nodded.
"Come in."
The door opened at her word, revealing the family head's closest aide—the steward.
She'd half-expected the family head himself.
Wouldn't a father check on his little girl's shattered wrist?
What an emotionless bastard. Even heukdo aren't this ruthless.
Whatever. Not her problem.
So why this tightness in her chest?