Chapter 6
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Hirate Family (3)
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“Wh-what kind of nonsense is that?”
Baek Il-yeong was utterly dumbfounded by Hirate Masahide’s completely unexpected words and reflexively shot back. But Masahide interpreted it merely as the flustered reaction of someone whose secret had been exposed.
“You’re rattled. Enough to spit the word ‘nonsense’ at a senior retainer of the clan.”
“...Ah, no. That was a slip of the tongue.”
Only then did Il-yeong realize what he’d said and try to backpedal belatedly, but Masahide was quicker.
“I’ve looked into your past movements. It was tricky in these chaotic times, but I managed to gather some useful information.”
He fixed Il-yeong with a cold stare as he spoke.
“You entered Japan via Tsushima. After that, you revealed yourself as a ronin from Joseon, wandered through various clans, arrived in Owari Province, and then—as if you’d reached your destination—sought shelter as a low-rank samurai. Do you expect me to believe that was mere coincidence?”
“...That’s. Well.”
It was certainly understandable why Masahide would be suspicious. A man who wasn’t even Japanese, claiming to be a ronin wandering from place to place, had suddenly settled in Owari.
Only then did Il-yeong grasp why Masahide harbored such doubts.
“...So you suspect I’m a Joseon spy.”
“About time you caught on.”
But there was a flaw in his logic.
“If that were true, why would I bother announcing my Joseon origins before coming here?”
If Il-yeong really were a spy dispatched from Joseon, there’d be no reason to advertise his background. Masahide couldn’t come up with a rebuttal to that point either; he trailed off for a moment before finally responding.
“Maybe you thought it made for a better cover.”
“...A double bluff, you mean. Hah.”
Il-yeong shook his head at Masahide’s overflowing imagination. Still, it wasn’t entirely illogical.
The current era in Japan was the Sengoku period, starting from the Ōnin War—a time of chaos perfectly suited to the term “turbulent age.” If Joseon, backed by Ming, were to invade Japan now...
Of course, that’s never happening.
Not only was it unlikely to occur, but Joseon itself was in political turmoil at the moment.
If Japan was a mess due to foreign threats, then Joseon was rotting from within.
This was the reign of King Myeongjong, the 13th king, with the aftermath of the Yi Sa-ri Incident of 1545 still lingering.
The ‘Baek Il-yeong’ from Joseon whom he’d naturally learned about upon arriving in this world had been a martial artist who fled to Japan in disillusionment after his close friend’s family was wiped out in the purge.
No wonder the Annals of King Myeongjong lament that it’s fortunate the country didn’t fall.
Sure, it nearly did collapse under King Seonjo, but let’s set that aside.
Masahide’s theory had a sliver of possibility, but it bordered on pure fantasy with zero realism. Still, it wasn’t all that surprising.
Statesmen were supposed to anticipate even the slimmest chances and prepare accordingly.
Il-yeong met Masahide’s cold, probing gaze with a smirk.
“So, to sum up your words, Lord Masahide: I’m one of the spies sent to scout Japan—or specifically Owari—and right now, Joseon is scheming with Ming to invade... That about right?”
Masahide nodded.
“That’s my take. And it’s plenty plausible.”
“...Well. It’s not entirely wrong.”
Il-yeong gave a wry smile.
Ming aside, if Joseon were in any decent state.
He might have been born Korean, but Joseon in this era was a disaster the more you scratched at it. The result? Repeated defeats in the Imjin War.
But getting misunderstood like this is unfair.
He respected Masahide’s stance as a statesman, but he couldn’t stomach the injustice.
“Hoo.”
Il-yeong let out a small sigh and spoke.
“You seem half-convinced already. So why would I come seeking you out?”
“That’s for you to explain.”
He thought he’d struck a nerve, but Masahide merely tilted his chin, as if to say, go on.
“Come to think of it, the young lady coming out to greet me means you were already keeping tabs on me.”
“Sharp. Or slow—two months is a long time to miss it.”
Damn. No wonder everything felt too peaceful.
Might’ve been better to start as a Japanese.
But the silence didn’t last.
Il-yeong lifted his head, ran a hand through his hair as if conceding the point, and said,
“I’m not a spy.”
“Is that so.”
His words rang with sincerity, but Masahide turned toward the warriors waiting behind the door, as if he’d expected as much. It was no wonder he didn’t buy it. Why would a spy ever admit to being one?
But in that moment.
Il-yeong gazed at Masahide with a calm face devoid of any anxiety and said,
“Are these men all trustworthy?”
Masahide nodded at the question.
“They’ve served me for years. No point appealing to their mercy—they won’t spare you.”
Who else would he bring to a meeting like this if not his most trusted? Il-yeong flashed a wry smile at that, then continued.
“You’ll regret killing or imprisoning me, Masahide.”
“Hm.”
Masahide’s hand, poised to give the order, froze at the utterly matter-of-fact tone laced with conviction. He silently permitted Il-yeong to continue, and the reply came.
“You asked why I settled in Owari Province.”
“I did.”
“There’s only one reason I pledged myself here.”
Il-yeong’s black pupils locked with Masahide’s. But the person Il-yeong was truly looking at wasn’t Masahide.
“Oda Nobunaga.”
“...What?”
Masahide doubted his ears for a moment.
What had this Joseon spy just said?
Oda Nobunaga? He’d uttered the name of that capricious girl—the one who made even a loyal retainer like him question things.
But Il-yeong repeated it, confirming Masahide hadn’t misheard.
“I saw Oda Nobunaga and decided to stay in this domain.”
“...You’re starting to sound insane.”
Masahide shook his head as if it wasn’t worth hearing more and gestured to the samurai. They burst through the door and closed in on Il-yeong, swords ready to strike him down in an instant.
“Think flattering the clan lord will save your neck? Fat chance.”
Yet Il-yeong met Masahide’s eyes without flinching and said,
“...What do you think of the current clan lord, Lord Masahide?”
“......”
No answer came.
So Il-yeong pressed on.
“You see her as a childish girl: impulsive, emotional, clueless about the real situation.”
Thud.
Shing—.
The samurai drew their katanas in unison, the moonlight glinting off the blades in a chilling flash that grazed Il-yeong’s cheek. They seemed ready to cleave him apart for daring to insult Owari’s ruler.
“But deep down, you worry about her more than anyone and remain loyal. That’s why you’ve left the main branch empty and spent two months already at Nagoya Castle, showing your support.”
In that instant.
Masahide halted the samurai with swords raised and regarded Il-yeong with complicated eyes.
“You asked why I sought you out.”
Il-yeong slowly approached him.
The samurai moved to block him, but Masahide shook his head, letting it pass.
“Simple. Partly to prepare for the threats ahead, but most importantly...”
The short distance between them shrank in no time, and once he stood before Masahide, Il-yeong spoke in a flat voice.
“To convince you not to commit seppuku for her. Hirate Masahide.”
And at that very moment.
“H-Hic?!”
A familiar voice to both men echoed from the ceiling.
“Gasp!”
She belatedly covered her mouth, but unfortunately, the sound had been far too loud in the night’s silence.
“......”
“......”
An excruciating silence followed, of course.
Il-yeong and Masahide exchanged glances, but Masahide soon shook his head and looked up at the ceiling.
“...Come out, Lady Mori.”
“......Y-Yes.”
Thud!
The moment Mori Yoshinari landed in the center of the room, the two massive ovals reflected on the floor began shaking wildly.
Masahide and Il-yeong averted their eyes from the overwhelming reciprocating motion of her enormous breasts, while the culprit herself grinned awkwardly and said,
“Uh, hello? Lord Hirate?”
Naturally, the silence stretched on even longer.