Chapter 145
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 145
Chapter Title: Assassination Risk...?
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"Cough! Kkhup—."
In the heart of the Hirate Family's central residence, the sound of coughing from a middle-aged man—someone even more dignified and robust—echoed through the room.
The sound of him coughing it up, then swallowing it back down.
The samurai who heard it closed their eyes or desperately plugged their ears. They weren't fools; they knew full well that this wasn't just a simple cough—it was a sign that their lord's health was steadily declining.
That was when it happened.
—Thud, thud.
"Young master and young lady, we greet you!"
The samurai and ashigaru spotted Baek Il-yeong and Uemon approaching between the buildings and bowed in unison. Il-yeong gave a light nod in response to their greeting and asked the nearest one,
"The lord?"
"He's waiting for you."
"Tell him I wish an audience."
"Yes, sir!"
At Il-yeong's single command, the Hirate Family samurai immediately moved to inform Hirate Masahide.
Some might find it laughable.
No matter that he'd become the young master as an adopted son, wasn't he ultimately just a Joseon native?—they might say. To such people, the samurai were confident they could smile and reply,
'See him fight for yourselves.'
Owari Province had endured countless battles in a short span, and as the Oda Nobunaga's strongest pillar of support—given her somewhat shaky foundation—the Hirate Family had sent nearly all its samurai to the front lines at least a few times.
And in those battles, the one always charging at the forefront, grinding the enemy to dust, was none other than Baek Il-yeong.
The Yaksha of Owari.
No one hadn't heard that moniker, now firmly attached to him, so how could they not acknowledge him? Of course, it wasn't mere fear of his martial prowess that earned their respect.
"Young master. About that time at our house..."
"I heard from Itsuki. Your grandmother was ill."
"Thank you. Thanks to you, we could afford a physician."
While waiting for Hirate Masahide's permission, a samurai approached and bowed to him, and in such small ways, Il-yeong looked after the samurai.
No matter how foreign his origins, the rumors held that Il-yeong was the child of a warrior family from Joseon, and considering his conduct and various traits, it was likely from a prominent house.
'And yet, he notices even these little things.'
Hirate Masahide wasn't neglectful of them either, but Il-yeong's actions left a profound impression on the men.
In other words, in their minds, Il-yeong's image was something like...
'A perfect gentleman in peacetime, who flips 180 degrees the moment he grips his sword.'
—That was it.
Of course, this perception wasn't limited to the Hirate Family samurai; it was shared by most who knew him.
That was when it happened.
"Young master."
A samurai who had briefly gone inside returned and nodded. Leaving Uemon behind, Il-yeong strode into the building.
"I greet the young master."
"Come in."
He walked down the corridor of the building to the innermost room. Samurai on guard duty spotted him now and then and bowed their heads; Il-yeong acknowledged their greetings as he reached the chambers where Hirate Masahide resided.
"I'm entering, my lord."
"Cough. Very well."
—Creak.
The wooden door opened with a faint noise, and upon seeing Hirate Masahide seated in the place of honor, Il-yeong bowed slightly and spoke.
"I greet you, my lord."
As he bowed, he glanced ahead and caught Hirate Masahide, who had nodded in return to his greeting, hastily hiding the handkerchief he'd been using to stifle a cough.
'No blood.'
Fortunately, there were no bloodstains, so it was probably just old age or a cold, but for some reason... this uneasy feeling.
"Sit."
Perhaps noticing his expression.
Hirate Masahide pointed to a cushion already prepared, as if he'd never coughed at all, inviting Il-yeong to sit. Il-yeong nodded and stepped across the tatami to take his seat.
"I heard you summoned me."
Even as he asked the reason for the summons, Il-yeong's gaze fixed on Hirate Masahide's wrinkled face.
...Nothing had changed.
He only coughed occasionally; his sturdy build and healthy complexion hadn't deteriorated much over the past few years, and the sharpness in his eyes remained undimmed.
But why?
Why did his heart feel so uneasy?
'In the original history, Hirate Masahide committed seppuku to remonstrate with Oda Nobunaga, who had just become lord and was causing chaos in all directions.'
That was the last trace he left, and after that, the Hirate Family name barely appeared beyond a brief mention.
'In other words.'
Hirate Masahide.
This man sitting right before Il-yeong's eyes should have ended his life with seppuku just a few years after Oda Nobunaga took over as lord.
'The compulsiveness of history, was it?'
A common trope in alternate history novels he'd read: no matter how details changed, the main storyline followed historical rails.
He'd thought it nonsense.
That unchanged major plot despite altered details was just the authors' convenience.
But seeing a man who should have already died now coughing unexpectedly, Il-yeong inwardly assumed the worst and bit his lip.
"...What is that look in your eyes?"
"It's nothing. Cough."
Fortunately, Hirate Masahide didn't read the complex emotions or thoughts behind Il-yeong's gaze. He merely frowned slightly, sensing he was being pondered over.
"...Hm."
A brief silence passed.
—Pat pat.
Hirate Masahide silently filled Il-yeong's teacup, and Il-yeong took his without refusing the gesture.
The two teacups before the two men brimmed with tea. And as if on cue, they both brought the tea to their lips.
"So, they couldn't remove the scar on your face?"
"Ah, yes."
Hirate Masahide spoke first.
He eyed the scar running from Il-yeong's cheek to his jaw with displeasure, shook his head slightly, then retrieved something from a drawer and said,
"The lord said to pass this to you."
"This is..."
"An ointment imported from the West. They say it's quite effective for scars."
"Ah..."
Curious, Il-yeong peeked inside to find something halfway between a solid and liquid, gleaming with an ominous silver hue.
At first, he thought little of it, but then something clicked, and he asked,
"My lord, do you know what's in this?"
"Ingredients? Not sure about all, but I heard it contains... quicksilver or something."
"Quicksilver... mercury, you mean?"
"Seems like it."
"Ah."
Il-yeong set down the ointment in his hand, let out a light chuckle, and quietly placed it on the tatami. Then, to Hirate Masahide watching him, he said,
"Could you tell me who gave—or sold—this to you? I'd really like to meet them."
"Not a difficult request, but..."
To the questioning gaze implying 'Why meet a merchant?', Il-yeong laughed heartily.
'Because it's perfect for killing someone, that's why.'
He realized it belatedly.
In this era, mercury's dangers had been somewhat studied, but ointments and treatments still used it shamelessly.
'At least they haven't imported the syphilis treatment of fumigating with mercury vapor...'
Feeling like he'd dodged an unexpected assassination attempt from an unforeseen source, Il-yeong resolved,
'For now, I need to avoid everything I can.'
Not just for himself, but filter out what should be blocked ahead and swiftly introduce what could be.
"Is it dangerous?"
"Yes. I'm not certain, but I heard a close friend's cousin applied something like this and wasted away until death."
"Hmm."
A friend's cousin.
No matter how you spun it, it was still someone else.
In other words, thrusting hearsay that 'some guy died from it' to claim danger—it was natural for Hirate Masahide to squint suspiciously.
But what other way was there to explain?
'Tell him mad Emperor Qin Shi Huang went insane from eating mercury? Or that the Mad Hatter in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland went crazy from inhaling mercury vapor at the hat factory?'
The only answer was to gradually convince everyone that mercury was dangerous and to stop using it. Who would seriously heed a sword-swinging warrior spouting facts outright?
Thus, Il-yeong quenched his dry throat with tea and looked at Hirate Masahide's face before asking,
"So, why did you summon me?"
Unlike before, this was a direct request for the main point.
Thus, rather than beating around the bush, Hirate Masahide got straight to it.
"Go to the capital—Kyoto."
It was exactly the one phrase Il-yeong had been inwardly anticipating.