Chapter 10
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Tangled Bonds
-----------------------------------------------------------------
‘Hold on, Saru... monkey?’
That wasn’t the nickname Oda Nobunaga had given Toyotomi Hideyoshi?
Only then did Baek Il-yeong realize he might have blocked Toyotomi’s path forward, and his heart began pounding like mad.
To say he hadn’t anticipated it at all would be a lie, but now that it was becoming reality, his heart couldn’t help but race.
But that feeling didn’t last long.
A sudden thought crossed his mind.
‘...Do I look like a monkey?’
He’d always thought his face was at least decent enough. This bizarre mix of flattery and subtle insult left Il-yeong with an awkward chuckle.
Her gaze lingered on his face, sharp as if she’d spotted a tasty morsel. Before long, Nobunaga asked,
“So, what should I do?”
“Pardon?”
“As you said, with the Oda main branch vermin plotting rebellion and the Shiba fools clinging to me in this mess—what exactly should I do?”
Il-yeong mulled over her question for a moment before replying in a calm, steady voice.
“It’s simple. Deal with Nobutomo, and Nobuyuki will bend. In the meantime, reestablish ties with Mino, then force Nobuyuki’s submission.”
Her eyebrows twitched faintly.
Hirate Masahide, standing behind him, could only stare at the back of Il-yeong’s head in shock.
Even making every concession, Oda Nobutomo’s rebellion was inevitable. And his poor relationship with Nobuyuki was infamous.
But the mention of reestablishing relations with Mino—that was known only to Masahide and a handful of retainers.
This time, even Oda Nobunaga stared at Il-yeong with a subtly stiffened expression. But it passed quickly, and she returned to her usual demeanor, asking him,
“...Why leave Nobuyuki alone for now?”
“Nobutomo can be crushed easily, but Nobuyuki has strong support, so it’ll be a prolonged fight. Owari will be vulnerable to outside invasion in the meantime. To prevent that...”
Silence fell over the room.
They gazed at Il-yeong with wide-eyed disbelief, but he, confident in the hypothesis he’d formed from scouting the domain over the past two months, smiled faintly and continued.
“We need to import matchlock rifles in bulk through Mino. Of course, they’ll be essential for the upcoming battles with the Imagawa forces, so it’s a priority.”
“Hahahahahahaha!”
As Il-yeong finished, Oda Nobunaga burst into laughter that echoed through the room. Her ample chest heaved softly with each breath, dizzying him in the process.
How long did she laugh?
Nobunaga finally wore a deeply satisfied smile unlike any before and said,
“You pass, Saru.”
But at that moment.
Masahide, standing behind her, looked like a gruff father fretting over his daughter as he spoke up.
“Even if he’s not a spy, we can’t fully trust him yet. So...”
“No.”
But Nobunaga dismissed Masahide’s concern with a mad glint in her eye and a chuckle, lifting Il-yeong’s chin a bit higher before replying.
“Spy or not, does it matter? I’ve found talent this useful.”
Nobunaga withdrew her pale fingers from his chin and turned away. A fleeting pang of regret flashed through Il-yeong’s eyes, too quick for him to notice.
She then approached a wall lined with countless famed blades, picked up a katana, and tossed it to Il-yeong.
“A sword forged by the master smith Awataguchi Kunitsuna of Kyoto during the Kamakura period—Onimaru Kunitsuna. They say it was the blade Hojo Tokimasa used to slay the demon tormenting him.”
Her words made Il-yeong’s eyes widen.
This was one of the Five Great Swords of Japan, later renowned as the Tenka Go-ken.
‘Come to think of it, I recall reading that Oda Nobunaga once possessed this sword...’
But why was she handing it to him? Il-yeong eyed her awkwardly, and Nobunaga smirked before speaking.
“Use this to sever Nobutomo’s head—that power-hungry fool who looks no different from a demon himself. A fitting match, don’t you think?”
“...My lady. You mean...”
Masahide, belatedly grasping her intent, stared at her in disbelief. Nobunaga chuckled lightly at her uncle and swordmaster before answering.
“He said he stayed for my sake, didn’t he? Then I should give him a chance to prove it. Otherwise, who would follow me?”
“Th-that’s...”
Ignoring the flustered Hirate Masahide, she looked down at Il-yeong, who had hesitantly accepted the sword with both hands, and declared,
“I’ll appoint Yoshinari as the nominal commander and attach you as her deputy. You’ll get 300 matchlock troops, 200 samurai, and 1,000 ashigaru.”
‘A total of 1,500 men.’
Il-yeong quickly calculated and bowed deeply, offering the utmost courtesy.
“Ronin Baek Il-yeong accepts your command, my lord.”
And in that instant.
As he bowed low, Oda Nobunaga leaned in close to his ear, her lips brushing near, and whispered in a voice laced with mischief.
“I like you, Baek Il-yeong. Don’t disappoint me. If you’re just a loudmouth worm...”
She curved her red lips into a sly grin, her pale face contrasting sharply as fangs gleamed like a wolf eyeing prey, adding,
“I’ll sink my teeth into your neck myself.”
In that moment, Il-yeong knew instinctively.
...He’d sworn fealty to a truly dangerous woman.
“Haah... Hngh!”
“Hah, hah!”
The narrow room, draped in lavish colors, brimmed with the moans of a man and woman lost in pleasure and ecstasy.
Yet to a third-party observer, it wasn’t a pretty sight. There were many reasons, but chiefly, the man’s ugly appearance played a big part.
A short, monkey-like man atop a pretty courtesan with a face whitened by powder thrust his hips relentlessly—who would find that appealing?
“...Hngh! Ahh!”
Even the courtesan beneath him felt the same. Despite moaning from the pleasure of his cock plunging into her, her face—turned away from him—held a trace of disgust and contempt.
Was his lust too overwhelming? Or had she grown numb to selling her body?
“Nngh!”
“Haaah...!”
The courtesan, mounted from behind with her breasts roughly gripped, let her eyes glaze over as he buried himself to the hilt in a climactic thrust, emitting a lewd whine.
But it was fleeting.
Feeling the hot semen flooding inside and his cock softening, she made a bitter face, gave a perfunctory nod without a word, and slipped out.
It might seem rude for a customer, but Hideyoshi—having vented his pent-up lust grandly after so long—was satisfied enough to overlook such petulance.
“Worth saving up for a high-class girl. Heh.”
Great heroes indulged in women, after all.
His looks kept him from brothels often, but he made up for it when he went.
Who could fault a sturdy man visiting one? High society even held gatherings there.
“For now, I settle for brothels, but someday... that wench.”
The “wench” he meant was none other than Owari’s current daimyo, Oda Nobunaga.
He’d been careful with his words, even here, but his eyes burned with naked, ugly desire.
It was no coincidence the woman who’d just moaned beneath him had short black hair and pale skin.
That was when it happened.
“Hm?”
As he wiped himself with a cloth nearby and dressed, a commotion reached his ears. Realizing the murmurs came from outside the brothel, Hideyoshi hurried out.
And soon, he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“J-Joseon bastard...?”
There was Baek Il-yeong, clad in black armor unfit for a low-rank samurai, following behind Mori Yoshinari.
“That guy caught Chief Advisor Hirate’s eye, they say.”
“Heh, a ronin from Joseon? How?”
“No idea. Rumor has it someone saw him entering the estate with Lady Uemon late at night.”
Samurai drinking near the brothel muttered in his ears.
“Ch-Chief Advisor Hirate?”
Hirate was a man he knew well—like a father to Oda Nobunaga.
“They’re off to attack Kiyosu Castle now?”
“That recent ambush was Nobutomo’s doing, apparently. Guy’s lost his mind. Even so, how could he...”
“That Joseon ronin’s Yoshinari’s deputy this time. What the hell’s going on?”
Not just samurai—merchants and courtesans gossiped too.
But Hideyoshi, hearing it all, just stared blankly at Il-yeong’s receding back.
Grind—.
His eyes reddened, bloodshot, and he felt utterly pathetic.
But it soon turned to inferiority, then rage, fixating on Il-yeong’s retreating head.
‘Joseon bastard...’
Since when?
At first, he disliked the Joseon man’s unwavering confidence despite his origins. Deep down, it stemmed from his own looks, but he wouldn’t admit it.
The more he learned of him, the less he liked anything about him.
‘I’m clawing my way up...’
He’d fled his foster father’s abuse, wandered clans to become a warrior, and now struggled for recognition here—unlike that carefree, composed bastard.
It grated on him.
Petty provocations had turned genuine enmity.
And finally.
As the bastard advanced first, something snapped inside Hideyoshi. Veins bulging in his eyes, he glared at Il-yeong and muttered,
“...I’ll crush you. You, and your homeland too.”