Chapter 23
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: The Night Thinking of Him
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"This way, Brother."
Hirate Masahide entrusted Uemon with guiding Il-yeong to his quarters and then took his leave. Il-yeong, well aware that their relationship wasn't close enough for Masahide to personally show him around, followed Uemon without a second thought, taking in the mansion for the second time.
'She takes after Hirate Masahide.'
That was Il-yeong's impression of the place. The mansion was quite large, yet it showed no trace of vanity—it simply exuded a solid, weighty presence. And that reminded him of Hirate Masahide, who was now his adoptive father.
'Probably just my imagination.'
As Il-yeong mulled this over, Uemon's voice reached his ears.
"This will be your quarters from now on, Brother. If you'll excuse me."
Uemon gave a light bow and turned to leave. Her straight black bob hair, cut as neatly as if measured with a ruler, swayed softly—perfectly suiting her dignified image.
"Uemon."
"...Yes?"
Il-yeong called out to her. Uemon, who had been about to head back to her own quarters, turned her head with an expressionless face and looked at him. Il-yeong chuckled and said,
"Thanks for showing me the way."
"...It was only natural. If you'll excuse me."
Uemon's lips moved awkwardly for a moment before she replied and departed. Il-yeong watched her retreating figure with a calm smile.
"...Little sister."
Objectively speaking, Uemon was cute. For Il-yeong, who had always wanted a little sister, her presence was a bit bewildering but far from unwelcome.
Of course, it was a shame she didn't act spoiled or anything...
"Well, can't be helped."
Muttering to himself, Il-yeong ducked past the servant holding the door open and entered his quarters.
"Yawn."
It looked like he'd be sleeping in tomorrow.
At that very hour.
High atop the castle, where Il-yeong couldn't hear, his name echoed softly.
"Baek Il-yeong."
No.
"Hirate Hikage."
A ronin from Joseon. An insolent brat who narrowed his brows at the nickname "Monkey" she'd given him for his annoyingly handsome face.
And yet.
"An intriguing one."
In the center of Nagoya Castle's highest chamber, her back to a display of countless swords, Nobunaga murmured softly.
With each opening and closing of her pink lips came a faint, sweet scent of sake that dispersed into the air.
"...The moon is bright tonight."
Suddenly, her gaze drifted to the massive window, landing on the pale moon shining serenely over the land beyond.
Wasn't it truly wondrous?
How that vast, tranquil moon soared so high, chasing away even a sliver of the night's darkness.
Nobunaga lifted the sake gourd dangling precariously from her fingertips to her lips. Lukewarm sake flowed smoothly into the slight parting of her mouth.
The sake warmed as it slid down her throat, gradually heating her body. She tugged her sleeve down past her elbow and resumed her thoughts on that brazen Joseon ronin.
'He might be a spy from Joseon. Even if not, there are many suspicious things about him.'
Those were the words of her great uncle and the one man she fully trusted and respected—Hirate Masahide. And when that punk Il-yeong's offhand remark proved true not long after, she'd felt genuine interest for the first time in ages.
The Shiba clan's vermin had indeed sent a letter of treason. Quite a fresh development.
That was why she'd summoned him.
What had she felt while waiting for him? Right—simple curiosity. Nothing more.
But that notion had soon changed unexpectedly.
When asked how he'd known about the Shiba clan's letter, Il-yeong had answered:
'The Shiba clan has lost all its former glory. Even if they aided a rebellion in such a state, they couldn't rack up any significant merit. Even if the previous clan lord sparked their downfall, they need something more solid to regain power, don't they?'
'For example...'
'Something like tipping off the current power holder about the rebellion in advance.'
Il-yeong's words were heavy on inference and speculation, yet they'd been convincing enough to make even her great uncle and herself nod. And in truth, he hadn't been wrong.
Thus, she couldn't help but ask:
'Then, what should I do?'
After a moment to gather his thoughts, Il-yeong had replied:
'Simple. Deal with Nobutomo, and Nobuyuki will submit. In the meantime, reestablish ties with "Mino," then force Nobuyuki to yield.'
And his words had shocked both Masahide and Nobunaga.
'Reestablish ties with Mino.'
The Saito clan of Mino and the Oda clan of Owari were entangled in quite a complicated web. Of course, Il-yeong had spoken merely of matchlock imports without knowing the full picture—but still.
"The Tailor will die soon. Before that, somehow bring Kicho—that wench—to Owari. That was our promise at Seitokuji Temple."
The frail old tailor who had risen from selling oil to steal the land was slowly losing power to his grown daughter.
He was afraid. If Yoshitatsu, rumored to be the child of the Toki Yoriaki he'd personally ousted, inherited the clan headship, even a fool could guess what would become of his beloved daughter.
"The lady from Mino. Nohime, was it?"
What an ironic twist. In this age of chaos, the term "hime" (lady) had lost all meaning. How many daimyo born as mere ladies dotted these islands?
Nobunaga muttered a self-deprecating jest and drained her sake. Thinking of Saito Yoshitatsu, that madwoman, brought an involuntary smile.
"I can already picture that lunatic raging. Heh heh..."
The moment she heard Nobutomo's head had been taken, she'd dispatched her ninja underlings. They'd bring the wench called Kicho safely to Owari alongside the Ikoma merchant house, which was closely tied to the Oda clan.
Takigawa, whom she trusted like a limb, had left for a time because of it...
"Not that it matters."
She hadn't taken all her ninja—just enough to guard her. Besides, Nobuyuki would stay silent for the time being.
More pressing matters than Mino weighed on her now.
The Imagawa clan of Suruga Province had always been a threat, but when the reports from the Kiyosu Castle battle—where he'd been dispatched to record everything—arrived, how stunned she'd been.
"Three-rank volley fire. To actually use it in practice."
She herself had only conceptualized it, never tested it. Yet this Joseon ronin, unfamiliar with matchlocks, had seen them and tried it as if it were obvious.
It wasn't perfect.
Originally, she'd planned one shield-bearer and two archers per gunner for support. On a battlefield, without shield-bearers, the three ranks couldn't have fired—so her method was slightly superior.
But what surprised her was that Il-yeong, unlike the others, had sought to compensate for the slow reload with a systematic firing order. Wasn't that exactly her own thinking?
"Intriguing... No, this isn't mere intrigue."
Nobunaga emptied the sake gourd, now nearly drained and sloshing at the bottom, as she muttered.
This was no trifling curiosity.
Something more fundamental drew her in.
Thus, Nobunaga couldn't stop thinking of Il-yeong—now Hikage.
"Time will tell."
There was no rush. Il-yeong had become Hirate clan's adopted heir, which meant he was effectively her retainer. If he had something to offer, it would reveal itself naturally. Because—
"This is an age perfect for anyone with talent to shine."
That was the nature of chaotic times.
In an era of strife, it was harder for the capable to hide than to stand out.
She let her thoughts drift no deeper and softly recited a verse.
"The human world, fifty years..."
It was a poem that had once.
"...Compared to the heavens above, no more than a fleeting dream."
Slipped from her lips.
"Young master, shall we grab a bite together?"
"Sure."
Time sometimes flows swiftly. Moments can feel long and fragmented, but when you realize they've connected, those instants have already become the past.
'Already a week, huh.'
Il-yeong stepped out with the samurai who spoke politely yet with a mischievous lilt, yawning as he went. The samurai poked Il-yeong's side without hesitation, grinning.
"After eating, we can work it off at the pleasure quarters. Come on, young lord from Joseon. I know an amazing spot..."
"Pass."
Il-yeong brushed off the samurai—no, Itsuki—lightly and scratched his cheek. Itsuki squinted and grumbled,
"Tch. Eunuch."
Itsuki couldn't make heads or tails of Il-yeong—now Hikage. Or rather, he couldn't pin down his true nature.
From Joseon.
Yet his Japanese was fluent enough to pass for a native, and his swordsmanship was solid enough to survive a battlefield.
'And his looks?'
Frankly, judging another man's appearance was distasteful even among men, but he was handsome enough to be infuriating. Not some pretty boy courtesan either—his build was substantial.
And now his talents had earned him adoption as Hirate's heir...
"...Ptoo. Drop dead."
A sudden surge of irritation hit him. Itsuki scowled, his usual goofy face twisting as he spat insolently.
"Yawn. You first, Itsuki."
But Il-yeong just yawned lightly again, ignoring him. Itsuki hadn't meant it seriously either, so he smoothed his expression and plopped down beside him as if nothing happened.
"Anyway, heard the news?"
"What news? Moving to Kiyosu Castle?"
Hard to miss it. Nobunaga had taken Kiyosu and was relocating there soon. But contrary to Il-yeong's guess, Itsuki shook his head.
"Nah, not that. Imagawa."
"Ah."
Only then did Il-yeong recall the impending Muraokitiride battle and mutter softly.
"...Already?"
"Huh?"
"Nothing. So?"
One reason Il-yeong had taken Itsuki under his wing was that no one else in this world even made him consider calling them a 'friend.' But Itsuki's wide network was useful too.
For a low-rank samurai, he knew everyone—great for rumors and intel. Though most of what he brought was which courtesan was the best or whose daughter was a beauty.
Still, not all nonsense. Itsuki glanced around and whispered,
"Winter's an unwritten rule for no wars, right? Closer to can't than won't... So they figure it won't be a big battle."
"...Testing the waters."
"Exactly."
The Imagawa clan had always eyed the Oda. It bordered on obsession.
'The fixation that they must swallow Owari to reach Kyoto.'
Indeed, conquering Owari was the fastest path for Imagawa to march on Kyoto. And with the Oda infighting obvious, they'd see it as perfect timing.
'No need to worry yet.'
At least until the Okehazama battle, better focus on Nobuyuki than Imagawa.
"Hey."
Then, spotting a man, Il-yeong stopped and called out.
The man, who'd turned to flee, whipped back with a face like he'd swallowed shit worse than diarrhea. Il-yeong chuckled and named him.
"Been well, Hideyoshi?"
"...Don't...call me by name."
Grind.
Hideyoshi couldn't call Il-yeong a "Joseonin" like before. He had to use polite speech, no insults or equals. Deeply humiliating, he ground his teeth.
"Oh? What then? Hashiba Hideyoshi? Kinoshita Tokichiro?"
"......"
All names Hideyoshi had borne. Hearing them so casually from Il-yeong stung. But he couldn't lash out.
'...Why...why did that vermin...win over old Hirate!'
Back when they were both low-rank warriors, such an insult would've cost his job—but he'd have cut Il-yeong down. Now, the punk wasn't "Joseon ronin Baek Il-yeong," but "Hirate heir and young master Hirate Hikage."
"I...take my leave..."
Thus, Hideyoshi swallowed his humiliation, defeat, and murderous urge, bowed lightly to Il-yeong, and vanished.
Watching Hideyoshi go, Il-yeong inwardly raised a brow in surprise.
'Impressive... Called Monkey and Bald Rat, yet he bowed his head his whole life and unified Japan.'
Calling someone you weren't close to by name was a grave rudeness. Especially for Hideyoshi, already inferior to Il-yeong—it amplified the humiliation. Il-yeong had prodded deliberately, but Hideyoshi didn't bite.
'Could've pressed if he'd snapped back...'
Feeling the subtle gazes upon him, Il-yeong walked on calmly with Itsuki. The looks weren't pure hostility, nor full goodwill.
Basic respect for the Hirate heir.
Subtle disdain for a Joseon native.
A mix stabbed and faded. In short, lots of eyes on him.
'No need for needless scandals.'
Humans pity the weak by nature—even if the weak aren't good. So Il-yeong had only lightly provoked and let him go.
Plenty of time ahead anyway.
"Come on, no wasting emotions. Let's eat, young master."
Then Itsuki teased, leading Il-yeong into the restaurant. Il-yeong glanced at him, chuckled, and replied.
"Yeah. Let's go."
The meal at Itsuki's recommended restaurant was excellent. Owari's port access meant fresh fish, so Il-yeong enjoyed meat for the first time in a while.
'They basically prefer veggies...'
Not anti-meat, but in this rice culture, vegetables were main sides. Even later, post-modernization, meat adoption was tough.
"Yawn."
Heading back, he yawned more than going. Naturally sleepy, now drowsy from the meal.
'Nap after returning, then spar with Itsuki...'
Itsuki wielded a sword well despite his light personality. Good for digestion too.
Then.
"Young master!"
A familiar shout hit Il-yeong's ears. Looking up, he saw a Hirate servant running from afar.
"Hm."
Il-yeong and Itsuki exchanged glances, but as the servant arrived, he had to ask.
"Why call so urgently?"
They knew he'd gone for food.
No reason to run out near the end...
But the servant's words cleared it up.
"The clan lord summons you urgently, young master."
None other than.
Hirate Masahide's call.