Chapter 14
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Mori Yoshinari (2)
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"...You look way older than me at first glance, so why do you keep using formal speech!"
Baek Il-yeong doubted his ears for a moment, but soon nodded and muttered to himself.
"I'm drunk."
It had been nearly two months since he'd touched a drop of alcohol, so it made sense that it was hitting him hard. But still. There was no way Yoshinari would say something like that...
"Why aren't you answering? Huh?"
She did. Damn it.
Il-yeong let out a small sigh as he looked at Yoshinari, who was clearly quite intoxicated at a glance.
Her hair had come undone at some point—the string that had held her ponytail was lying discarded on the floor—and her face was flushed red as she glared at him with eyes full of dissatisfaction. But Il-yeong had no choice but to avert his gaze. The reason? Her chest.
"Lady Mori. Sorry, but could you please fix your clothes...?"
Her breasts were already huge, about the size of her face. Normally, her armor hid them somewhat, but after drinking and getting heated up, she'd apparently felt stifled and draped those massive mounds right onto the table, exposing them brazenly.
Because of that, Il-yeong couldn't find anywhere to look and had to turn his eyes away. The problem was that it only provoked her further.
"...Answer me! I said answer!"
She kept prodding him like a child throwing a tantrum, and only then did Il-yeong recall her question and respond.
"Obviously, I have to use formal speech. I don't have any rank, and I'm just a ronin from Joseon..."
His words were perfectly reasonable. In any other era, he and Yoshinari wouldn't even be sitting together sharing drinks.
However, there was one thing Il-yeong had overlooked.
"So what? This world's a mess anyway!"
Common sense didn't apply to someone thoroughly drunk.
"Besides, you're going to rise in rank soon anyway, right? So we might as well be friends starting now. Don't you think?"
And it wasn't like he couldn't understand Yoshinari's position at all. In this battle, Il-yeong had directed the strategy and personally taken Nobutomo's head, racking up major achievements.
The rough report of victory had already been sent to Nagoya Castle, so upon their return, his promotion was all but guaranteed.
'Of course, it was based on the three-rank volley fire that Oda Nobunaga came up with first...'
No helping it. He had to show his abilities to survive. Surely Nobunaga wouldn't say, "How did you know the method I was just thinking of? Suspicious. Commit seppuku."
Right now, though, dealing with Yoshinari took priority over such worries.
"Lady Mori. Calm down first and hear me out..."
If he explained well, she'd understand.
But soon, Il-yeong realized he'd overlooked Mori Yoshinari's drinking habits, and after a full thirty minutes of argument, he had no choice but to surrender.
"...Fine. I'll drop the formalities. Happy?"
"Hee. Yeah!"
Yoshinari crossed her arms in satisfaction, grinning ear to ear as if Il-yeong's surrender delighted her to no end. It was so cute that Il-yeong shook his head in defeat and took a sip of his sake.
"Ahh—."
The lukewarm, smooth alcohol slid down his throat and into his stomach. Soon, a warm alcoholic scent wafted from his mouth and tickled his nose.
A beauty in front of him, good booze, good snacks. This wasn't so bad, was it?
With that thought, Il-yeong picked up a snack, popped it in his mouth, and asked Yoshinari—who was beaming at him.
"So, why were you in a bad mood?"
It was a casual question.
But the answer that came back was anything but light.
Yoshinari's expression hardened at his words, and she muttered softly.
"...Just. Didn't like it."
"What?"
Il-yeong tilted his head at her uncharacteristically downcast look. What could possibly have her upset?
Of course, he wasn't in a great mood either.
Letting battlefield excitement take over and killing opponents was shitty. Personally impaling the head of someone old enough to be his grandfather on a spear and cheering was shitty too.
But he did it for one reason.
To survive. To climb higher.
Then, Yoshinari spoke.
"...Seeing those retainers commit seppuku earlier reminded me of the old days."
"The old days... Ah."
So that's it. I see.
Only then did Il-yeong recall not the gray-ponytailed beauty before him, but the past of the real historical Mori Yoshinari, and he let out a groan.
The Mori family had originally served the Toki clan of Mino Province, right next door—not the Oda of Owari. But after Saito Dosan, the "Serpent of Mino," swallowed the entire province, they returned to their home in Owari and became Nobunaga's retainers.
'That was early 1554, I think.'
By the current timeline, late 1554, it hadn't even been a year since she lost her clan.
'And "old days" probably means... that.'
As if sensing his gaze, Yoshinari gave a wry smile and nodded.
"Yeah, what you're thinking. I watched the senior retainers who upheld our clan commit seppuku right in front of me. Haha..."
Whether for their clan's revival or true loyalty to Nobunaga, who knew.
But she had the goal of reviving her house, and this battle's merits would help greatly. She surely thought so too.
"It's ridiculous. On the battlefield, I went wild feeling the thick smell of blood and my pounding heart... but during the inevitable clan extermination, I feel shitty... What an idiot."
Doesn't it seem contradictory even to you? That's what Yoshinari seemed to be saying.
"Everything pisses me off. I'd rather die on the battlefield. Those old geezers who get dragged in and slice their bellies like it's nothing, those pathetic warriors begging for their lives at the sight..."
"Pisses me off. So fucking pissed. Being born a woman in this world in the first place... These uselessly huge tits getting in the way when I swing my spear... Not having anyone to vent to, so grabbing you and spilling all this... All of it pisses me off."
Yoshinari slammed her head onto the table and muttered, while Il-yeong caressed his sake cup and watched her.
Honestly, it was unexpected.
To think she could have thoughts like this.
She seemed endlessly bold, numb to killing, and like she could hold her liquor.
'...Maybe she hasn't fully accepted this world as reality yet.'
He'd thought he'd adapted to this world.
The gray hair or other flashy colors impossible for natural East Asians, the famous historical warlords and daimyo turned into women via TS—he'd accepted it all as reality.
But now he wondered if he'd seen it as somewhat unreal, treating them more like characters than people.
"Not sure if this helps."
"Huh?"
Il-yeong spoke softly and rose, heading to the window. Yoshinari lifted her head—red mark on her forehead from the table—and watched him.
"Honestly, I could say 'You okay?' or 'I totally get it,' but I don't want to."
The sun was setting, orange twilight blanketing the sky. Il-yeong took in the sight of Kiyosu Castle sparkling as if devoured by the dusk, then spoke to Yoshinari watching him from behind.
"Just enjoy it while you live. Don't let the past wear you down. This world's shitty enough; if your mood tanks too, how miserable is that?"
This was advice to Yoshinari—and to himself, Il-yeong.
Even with goals, the disconnect in small things had nearly driven him mad several times.
He'd cursed whoever dumped him in this crap world, suffered nightmares of despair for days. This was the conclusion he'd reached.
Il-yeong smirked at Yoshinari staring blankly at him.
"So. If you're pissed, just cry it out. Shake it off and laugh boldly. That's all it takes."
At that moment.
Yoshinari's face flushed red.
**
"So. If you're pissed, just cry it out. Shake it off and laugh boldly. That's all it takes."
Il-yeong's pleasant mid-low voice pierced her ears. Yoshinari's mind, half-lost to the alcohol, snapped awake.
'W-what have I been saying...'
She must have lost all restraint from the booze. Sure, he was someone she'd met at night with Lord Hirate, but he was still a warrior from Joseon.
Their connection was closer to bad blood than friendship. Though Il-yeong didn't see it that way.
Spilling her heart to such a man while drunk—she might kick off the blankets for days over this. Just then, the twilight filtering through the window draped half over Il-yeong and the table.
She looked up at him involuntarily and could only fall silent, staring blankly.
Objectively, Il-yeong was handsome.
His shaggy hair suited him oddly well, and without his armor, sitting by the window with his clothes taut, the contours of his toned body were subtly revealed.
'I've gone mad.'
Yoshinari shuddered at the slow dampness building below, shaking her head. The alcohol must have made her already lonely body go wild.
'F-first, end the drinking session...'
She decided to stand, call a maid to wrap things up, then handle it alone. But Yoshinari had forgotten a universal truth.
The truth being—
"Wh-what?"
Clang—!
"Yoshinari!"
—that when drunk, the body doesn't listen.
As she pushed off the table to stand, she crumpled to the floor. The table shook violently from the motion.
And with it, the porcelain sake bottle flew through the air, smashing right in front of her—not taking long at all.
Clang—!
The porcelain shattered, filling the room with a clear ring. The startled Il-yeong vaulted the table to check if she was hurt.
"You okay?"
Il-yeong scanned for any shards that might have flown, and that caring sight was enough to snap the last thread of restraint in the already aroused, booze-fueled Yoshinari.
Grab.
Her slender hand softly gripped his shoulder, and before Il-yeong could speak.
Smack.
Yoshinari pulled his shoulder, pressing her lips to his.
Pale pink flesh rubbed lightly in the dark space.
Her tongue then plunged aggressively into his open mouth, ravaging the inside as if devouring his own.
Slurp. Smack.
Sweet sake breath mingled from their mouths with lewd sounds born of mutual craving.
How long did they devour each other?
Finally parting slowly, they didn't even glance at the now pitch-black outside—just gazed at each other, breathing heavily.
And soon.
Il-yeong smirked softly.
"...You started it, Yoshinari."