Chapter 55
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: Behave Yourself
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Perhaps it was because he'd lost a bit of weight after his month-long illness. His already sharp jawline stood out even more prominently. His sunken cheeks weren't ghastly; instead, the mysteriously deepened contours around his eyes sharpened what had been a gentle impression.
The shaggy hair that had been a mess was now neatly trimmed, as if it had never been otherwise. The wide-sleeved black Japanese robe, embroidered with subtle golden lotus patterns, added a touch of understated elegance.
And that was just the beginning.
With a light dusting of powder on his face, he could now rival Amaterasu Omikami—the chief deity of Japanese creation mythology, the sun goddess, and an object of worship as a beauty. He had truly reached a divine realm.
Unaware or uncaring of the stunned silence enveloping those around him, Il-yeong ran a satisfied hand through his freshly groomed hair and thought to himself.
'Good thing it's not a chonmage.'
He couldn't help but recall his first moments in this world. The moment he'd realized he was in Japan, how worried he'd been about the chonmage hairstyle.
Chonmage.
The style where the hair on top of the head is shaved and tied back—comparable to the queue hairstyle. Of course, there were practical reasons like heat dissipation under a helmet, but for Il-yeong, who had zero intention of going from a full head of hair to a reverse two-block, it was a relief.
'That said...'
Powder on the face was a first for him.
The faint scent of powder and the sensation covering his skin weren't exactly pleasant. But what could he do?
If told to apply it, apply it he would.
Meanwhile, watching Il-yeong from the side, Yoshinari suddenly felt her cheeks flush.
'...She's lost her mind.'
Her heart was pounding.
And who could blame her? Any woman would feel the same seeing Il-yeong like this.
Il-yeong himself was unaware, but the light powder had actually enhanced the paleness of his face, adding a decadent allure.
Because of that, Yoshinari instinctively glanced around. A primal sense of danger prickled at her.
And sure enough.
Familiar faces and strangers alike were all staring at Il-yeong.
—He looks like a gigolo. Tsk.
—...Huh.
The men's whispers reached her ears, each one different.
Some were tinged with jealousy or envy, but the honest ones could only gasp in admiration.
—......
The women's reactions were mostly the same.
Blushing and staring blankly, or averting their eyes while sneaking glances.
Naturally, Yoshinari's expression soured. Those thieving stray cats eyeing her man...
That was when it happened.
"Ahem."
An awkward cough echoed from somewhere.
Turning her head slightly, she saw it was none other than the Daimyo herself—now Il-yeong's lover—Nobunaga, her throat twitching.
"Ahem."
She cleared her throat again, her voice a mix of strange superiority and unease, before stepping forward.
Step, step...
Yoshinari and Il-yeong followed behind her. Soon, she reached the head seat and sat without hesitation, scanning the room before speaking.
"Begin the banquet."
And with that.
—Dong, dong.
The pre-arranged musicians began playing, and the banquet truly commenced.
Unlike the chill outside that bordered on bone-deep cold, the banquet hall soon heated up with alcohol and laughter. Il-yeong's seat was right beside Hirate Masahide's. It was the spot closest to Nobunaga, befitting the eldest son of the Hirate family.
Because of that, Il-yeong couldn't help but feel his status sink in.
"Are you feeling better?"
Hirate Masahide's concerned voice reached his ear. Il-yeong gave a faint smile and nodded.
"Yes, Father."
Their relationship was... complicated, to say the least. It had started with suspicion and transactions, but now? More like a friendly neighborhood uncle.
'Heh, if later historians knew I thought this about Owari's great guardian who shaped Oda Nobunaga's personality, they'd call me insane.'
Il-yeong let out an absent chuckle.
"Uemon was very worried about you."
"I know."
How could he not?
His stepsister had brought dozens of herbs and medicines. Il-yeong nodded with a gentle smile.
—Pfft!
Suddenly, a choked sound like someone had won a bet echoed nearby, but Il-yeong paid it no mind. Probably just someone gulping down sake too fast.
And then.
A presence approached from behind, followed by a tearful voice.
"...Young master!"
Turning, sure enough, there was Itsuki, eyes glistening as he stared at Il-yeong. But his brisk approach seemed off, so Il-yeong put on a stern face.
"Hug me and it's seppuku."
"Yes, sir."
Itsuki quickly hid his arms and even stepped back. The déjà vu made them both burst into laughter upon eye contact.
Then, Il-yeong pulled Itsuki into a tight hug first.
"Sorry. And... thank you."
"Aw, come on."
It was heartfelt.
Il-yeong wasn't a fool; he knew how reckless he'd been. No regrets, but he owed his loyal follower at least this much apology.
Of course, the hug didn't last long.
Who'd embrace a guy rumored to be crazy for over ten seconds? Feelings aside, this was principle.
Itsuki, far from the custom of male lovers, quickly slipped free and asked with a sly grin.
"That said, you look especially handsome today. What'd they feed you in Joseon to grow like that?"
"Why, gonna get some if you know?"
"I'd have to hunt it down. Gotta get married someday."
"Sure you will."
Itsuki wasn't bad-looking or built himself, so Il-yeong brushed it off as a joke with a laugh.
Of course, Itsuki was dead serious.
And then.
"Long time no see!"
This time from the front—a voice both unfamiliar and oddly familiar. Glancing over, Il-yeong soon recognized her.
"How's the wound?"
A moderately tall frame and a healthy, vibrant smile. Her flushed neck from the sake stood out, along with the slight mole above her ample bosom.
Her brown-tinged hair swayed.
His gaze shifted to the somewhat petite woman beside her.
Silver hair, silver eyes. No sign of drinking, yet her face was flushed, avoiding his gaze.
Only an idiot wouldn't know.
Il-yeong smiled brightly and replied.
"Thanks to your concern, it's fine. Ikoma Clan Leader, Lady Nohime."
Nohime.
She knew it meant "girl from Mino," so Kicho gave a slight nod in response. Ikoma, meanwhile, stared blankly at Il-yeong before snickering.
"You're a far cry from the mountain man. Heh, almost made me fall for you."
"Pardon?"
"Joking. Just joking."
Ikoma chuckled playfully and raised her cup. It really was a joke. Even if it was a political marriage, her late husband hadn't been gone long enough for her to love another.
Perhaps because of her casual tone.
Il-yeong smirked and replied.
"Too bad."
He thought it was just polite banter.
But at that moment.
"Ahem!"
Nobunaga's cough from the head seat rang out, followed by killing intent from behind. Il-yeong broke into a cold sweat, survival instincts kicking in. And then, saving him was Hirate Masahide.
"Haha, Kitsuno, still the same as ever."
"You're one to talk, Lord Advisor. Heh."
Hirate Masahide shared a decent rapport with Ikoma Kitsuno, chuckling easily as he led her toward Nobunaga. Nobunaga eyed the friendly older sister flirting with her man but couldn't hide her inner delight.
"...Um, excuse me."
Then, the silent Nohime—Kicho—parted her small lips. Her petite frame opposite Il-yeong's large build made for an odd picture.
'Dad and daughter... No, even more indecent.'
Itsuki, watching from behind, sipped his sake with that thought. Yoshinari, too, smiled faintly, finding Kicho pitiable yet cute.
But in that instant.
"Hi-Hikage-sama."
Seeing Kicho's trembling, anxious expression, Yoshinari's face shifted to one of dread.
Nobunaga, inwardly glaring at Il-yeong, sensed danger and opened her mouth to speak.
Finally resolved, Kicho squeezed her silver eyes shut, bowed her head deeply, and shouted.
"Please marry me!"