Chapter 19
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Father? (1)
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Oda Nobunaga's words prompted Baek Il-yeong to change seats. He accepted the sake she personally poured for him and bowed his head.
After performing the proper courtesy of a vassal and downing the drink, she nodded with a satisfied expression and turned to Masahide.
"As expected, Uncle's discerning eye never fails. To find a man like this."
"You flatter me, my lord."
Masahide responded to Nobunaga's words—uttered without a trace of flattery—with his usual impassive face.
To an outsider, it might seem curt, almost disrespectful in its dryness.
But she knew it was the best this rough middle-aged man could offer, so she paid it no mind.
She merely chuckled softly and poured more sake into Il-yeong's cup before asking,
"You've earned no small merit this time. If there's a reward you desire, speak it."
At her words, the gazes of the retainers—who had been enjoying women or men in their own ways—snapped to the back of Il-yeong's head.
What reward would this new Joseon ronin, freshly joined as a vassal, seek?
They couldn't help but wonder.
"Wealth? A woman? Or perhaps power?"
Growing even more excited, Nobunaga murmured low like she was reciting poetry.
Wealth, women, power. Even for a lowly ronin from a foreign land, no one could object to such demands after this feat.
If he asked for wealth, he'd receive a stipend akin to Mori Yoshinari's. If a woman, the finest beauty Oda Nobunaga could procure would land in his arms.
Power? Not a core minister, perhaps, but she could easily adopt him into a decent samurai family if he wished.
Yet the man in question, Il-yeong, bowed expressionlessly into a posture halfway to a full dogeza and replied,
"I am grateful for the offer, but what I desire is neither wealth, nor women, nor power."
"Hm...?"
His response drew a tilt of surprise from Nobunaga. Beside her, Mori Yoshinari—who had been sipping green tea alone instead of sake—widened her eyes slightly and looked at Il-yeong. The other retainers were no exception.
A samurai who had earned merit seeking wealth, women, or power wasn't a flaw.
It was a natural right.
So why refuse that right?
Did something even sweeter exist?
Doubt, suspicion, and even a faint wariness flickered in their eyes.
But Il-yeong, who had stirred such waves among the retainers, remained bowed and spoke softly.
"Though I followed along, it was Lady Mori who truly commanded the troops. I merely offered a bit of aid. How could I shamelessly claim a reward? If one must be given, I believe it right to grant it to her."
"Haha... hahahaha!"
A brief silence fell at his answer, broken by Nobunaga's hearty laugh. She swept back the hair veiling her eyes and turned to Yoshinari beside her.
"Yoshinari. I grant you wealth and a 2,000-koku domain. That should satisfy you."
"Th-thank you! My lord!"
A koku domain meant ruling one commoner per koku. In effect, Yoshinari had gained land sustaining 2,000 souls. Combined with her clan's original holdings, that made a full 4,000 koku. How could she not rejoice?
At this utterly unexpected windfall, Yoshinari promptly slammed her forehead to the floor. Her immense size made the scene somewhat awkward, causing some retainers to avert their eyes—but Yoshinari herself could barely contain her pounding heart.
'For... me?'
She slowly lifted her head, cheeks flushing at the sight of Il-yeong impassively bowing to Nobunaga.
She vaguely recalled grumbling to him about her family troubles. He must have remembered and deliberately yielded all credit to her. Why else would he?
But Il-yeong's true thoughts were utterly different from her misconception.
'Standing out too soon would be a headache.'
His Joseon origins already drew prickling stares at his back. Flaunting ambition now would breed enemies.
In a modern office, it might end in office politics, resignation, or ostracism. But this was Japan's Warring States era, an age of upward rebellion. Cross the wrong person, and madmen would draw blades first.
'This level is fine for now.'
With vast power and wealth ahead, chasing scraps now would paint him a petty opportunist. Nobunaga's reaction proved it wasn't a bad choice.
At that moment, Nobunaga grabbed her matchlock rifle from beside her, set it down with a thunk, and said,
"But giving you nothing would harm my dignity. Name your desire."
As he'd anticipated, Il-yeong promptly voiced his modest request.
"There is a low-rank samurai named Itsuki who showed promise among them. He's well-liked, skilled with the sword, and can ride. If you'll permit, I'd like him under my command."
"Just one low-rank samurai."
Nobunaga nodded with a peculiar smile at Il-yeong's unwavering expression.
"Granted."
Il-yeong couldn't read her mind, but one thing was clear: he'd avoided her enmity, at least.
"But why?"
"Pardon?"
At Il-yeong's reflexive question, Nobunaga swept back her jet-black bob, her golden eyes flashing as she asked,
"Why you came from Joseon."
Her words plunged the banquet hall into silence. Everyone had inwardly wondered about the distant journey from Joseon.
Thus, amid the focused attention, Il-yeong gave an awkward smile and quietly replied,
"A close friend suffered the annihilation of his clan."
"Annihilation...?"
"Yes. His house erased, every blood relative executed."
The smile on Nobunaga's lips slowly faded, and with a subtle emotion, she probed,
"What crime did they commit?"
"...They lost in politics."
As he answered with a bitter smile, Il-yeong suddenly felt an odd disconnect. He'd just felt genuine grief for a friend's loss.
'Why me?'
It was this world's 'Baek Il-yeong' who'd lost that friend, so why did he feel it?
'Get a grip, Baek Il-yeong. You're not a Joseon ronin—you're a guy from the modern world.'
Two months here had made it too familiar. For a moment, he'd truly thought himself Baek Il-yeong.
"Lost in politics."
Thankfully, Nobunaga's timely mutter snapped him back. She looked at him with a self-mocking smile and said,
"Right. Joseon or here, politics is the problem. Fools wagering lives on things with no gain or value."
Her sharp criticism drew nods from the core ministers. Hadn't their misrule birthed this chaos?
Japan's current state was no better than Joseon's—worse, even. Self-proclaimed Sei-i Taishogun, the shoguns, had sparked a decade-long civil war (Onin War), unleashing the present turmoil.
"Enough. Such talk sours the mood."
Dismissing thoughts of the inept central powers with a wave, she moved on. Il-yeong silently bowed in tacit agreement.
Then, as if to lighten the chilled atmosphere, Hirate Masahide spoke softly.
"Are you set on formally appointing him, my lord?"
This was crucial, so even Il-yeong held his breath for her answer. Unlikely as it was, a negative from Nobunaga here would...
'Not even worth imagining.'
His path forward would turn bleak.
Worst case, seek another daimyo.
"Yes, Uncle."
Fortunately, Nobunaga nodded matter-of-factly, and Il-yeong exhaled in quiet relief.
But then.
Hirate Masahide, as if resolved, spoke softly—and shocking words tumbled from his mouth.
"If so, may I adopt him as my son, my lord?"
"...Pardon?"
Naturally, Il-yeong whipped his head up to stare at Hirate Masahide, his voice pitching high in disbelief.