Chapter 18
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Aren't You Curious?
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Curious, aren't you?
Strangely enough, a woman's scent tends to come across as alluring to most men.
If it had been some guy reeking of booze this close, Il-yeong might've wrinkled his nose and grabbed him by the collar.
But Nobunaga's aroma was something else entirely—profoundly seductive, almost indecently so.
It set his heart racing without warning.
Thanks to that, Yoshinari was so startled by the sight of Il-yeong and Nobunaga that her eyes went wide as she stared at them.
But Il-yeong himself was lost in entirely different thoughts.
'...Joseon monkey. This feels so damn weird.'
One of the go-to insults in modern Korea for bashing Japan? Calling Japanese people monkeys.
So getting hit with it from a Japanese person himself stirred up the strangest mix of feelings.
Not that it felt good, of course.
Everything else was fine, but why fixate on monkeys of all things?
Of course, the words coming out of his mouth were something else entirely.
"It's an honor, Milord."
Il-yeong responded with a soft smile, savoring the gentle touch of Nobunaga's fingers at the tip of his chin.
Then he met her gaze head-on, unflinching.
A scant thirty centimeters apart, the man and woman locked eyes, each harboring wildly different emotions.
Nobunaga was intrigued by the relaxed confidence in Il-yeong's dark eyes, while Il-yeong fell silent before the strange madness and bitterness swirling in Nobunaga's golden ones.
How long did they drink in each other's faces like that?
"There."
Just as softly as when she'd grabbed it, Nobunaga released Il-yeong's chin with a sly grin, turning her back to him. In that instant, the black robe draped over her elbow fluttered like a shadow.
"You planning to stand there all night? On a fine evening like this?"
Then, tilting her head slightly, she eyed the lacquered box cradled preciously by a samurai behind Il-yeong and Yoshinari, murmuring in a voice laced with mania.
"Perfect timing, too—a real treat's just arrived. Can't not drink to that."
A real treat.
At those words, several retainers swallowed groans of dismay, staring at Nobunaga with eyes full of dread, while Il-yeong could only muster an awkward smile as he thought,
'...Yeah. Nobunaga's Nobunaga, alright.'
And well he might think so.
Her gaze had fixed on the box containing Nobutomo's head.
The banquet was held in grand style.
The finest liquors were hauled out and set on the retainers' tables, while courtesans summoned from nearby pleasure quarters sat gracefully beside the vassals, pouring drinks and flirting with practiced ease.
"Hahaha!"
"That's it—pour some more."
Being pulled for these events was an annual ritual for the courtesans, so they knew just how to liven up the retainers' moods.
Naturally, male escorts from the quarters were assigned to the female warriors as well, but most were rebuffed and left to serve as attendants.
"...Um."
"......"
Even the courtesans seated beside Il-yeong and Masahide sat awkwardly, cowed by the men's auras.
Unlike the other retainers who were laughing and drinking merrily, the two men silently accepted the poured sake without so much as a touch or a chuckle. The courtesans, who at first tried coquettish tricks to spark some energy, soon gave up.
After a stretch of silence like that,
Hirate Masahide spoke to Il-yeong, who was gazing at the lively banquet beside him.
"Still no intention of answering?"
Masahide, who had warmed his sake cup and taken a sip, was asking one thing.
How had he seen through the seppuku?
That was what Masahide wanted to know.
Il-yeong paused at the question, then let out a wry chuckle.
"A prophecy."
"......"
Masahide shot him a sidelong glare, narrowing his brow.
A clear sign he had no patience for such nonsense.
So Il-yeong scratched his shaggy head with a grin.
"Kidding. Works back in Joseon, though."
"Not here."
"...Too bad."
Il-yeong emptied his cup as he spoke, and the courtesan beside him carefully refilled it from the bottle.
"Honestly, it was half a gamble. I pieced it together from rumors about you, Lord Masahide, and the Oda Clan's internal and external situations. Wondered what a heavyweight like you'd do."
Il-yeong swirled the sake gently in his cup as he continued.
"A typical retainer might advise her or scramble to extend their political life. But not you."
Hirate Masahide.
A man of much talk in many ways, but if Il-yeong summed up everything he'd seen and heard of Masahide in this world, it boiled down to one word.
'Loyalist.'
Since pledging himself to the Oda Clan, he'd proven his exceptional talent and unwavering loyalty time and again, aiding Nobuhide's reign immensely. What must he have thought upon seeing Nobunaga?
"You wanted to tell her."
He had a daughter of his own, but to Masahide, Nobunaga was like a daughter of the heart—the heir to the clan he'd devoted his life to.
"That she's not a child anymore. As Clan Lord, every action carries the family name, and all responsibility falls squarely on her."
That was the seat she occupied.
A position where one could only endure through endless struggle and proof.
"Hah..."
Masahide held his cup but didn't drink, merely letting out a faint sigh.
Was it because he was too old that his heart was seen through?
Or had that flippant prophecy been true?
Masahide turned to Il-yeong, a mix of confusion, surprise, and faint hope in his eyes. And Il-yeong drove the final nail home.
"...Even if the method was extreme."
"......"
Why did that word "extreme" taste so bitter? Masahide tilted his cup, drank, exhaled the lukewarm sake scent with a "fuh," and replied.
"...It was necessary. The girl's still young and unstable."
Hirate Masahide looked up, taking in Nobunaga as she chatted happily with Yoshinari, tilting her cup. Though her body had matured into that of a full woman, she still looked young in his eyes.
"If the land weren't in such chaos, I might've chosen to stay by her side as advisor, mentor—even head of the retainers—and serve out my days."
But reality wasn't so peaceful.
The Onin War decades ago had shattered the shogun's power, and the emperor had long been a puppet of the shogunate.
The bakufu had already lost control, leaving warlords across the islands madly building strength to march on Kyoto.
"Others call her a fool, say she'll ruin the clan. But I know. Given the right trigger, she has every quality to be a true sovereign."
"A trigger... you say."
Hirate Masahide's words sounded like utter faith-based drivel. But to Il-yeong, who knew the future, they were a stunning revelation.
'Did he see the future or something?'
No matter how long he'd watched Nobunaga grow, harboring that kind of faith wasn't easy.
And if an ordinary retainer said it, you'd call it empty talk—but how, when he went so far as seppuku?
Moreover, Masahide's death did provide that "trigger." Nobunaga was deeply affected, building Seishū Temple and embarking on her campaign to unify the land.
The only issue was how brutally, mercilessly she did it.
Il-yeong fell silent for a moment at his words, then spoke softly.
"Was such an extreme trigger really necessary?"
Masahide's choice wasn't wrong. He'd originally planned seppuku in two years anyway, ultimately giving Nobunaga her big push.
But Il-yeong saw it differently.
"I'm not saying you're wrong. But aren't you curious?"
In that instant, Il-yeong and Masahide's gazes locked onto Nobunaga's brightly laughing face amid the revelry.
"Whether the lord you cherish and believe in so much can truly conquer these islands."
And right then,
as if sensing their stares, Nobunaga glanced back and forth between Masahide and Il-yeong, set down her sake bottle with a sharp clack against her lips, and grinned broadly, her flushed cheeks prominent.
"Oh dear, look at me."
At her words, the retainers' eyes turned to Il-yeong and Masahide, and Nobunaga licked a drop of sake from her red lips before saying,
"Nearly forgot to honor the samurai who earned great merit and my father-like advisor."