Chapter 77
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 77
Chapter Title: The Predetermined Answer
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“Want to do it with me too?”
“Pardon?”
Baek Il-yeong could hardly believe his ears upon hearing those words. It was a conclusion that defied all common sense. What made him even more flustered was how utterly serious Oda Nobuyuki's face looked.
For some reason, the back of his head started to itch.
Turning slightly to glance behind him, Il-yeong spotted the expressions of Itsuki and Akechi Mitsuhide. He stared at them in utter disbelief.
And no wonder—their gazes were like those of beasts eyeing prey. He could practically read what their faces were saying.
—Lustful demon, womanizing philanderer.
Of course, Il-yeong felt deeply wronged.
'What the hell did I even do?'
He'd never once intentionally seduced a woman. Even Mori Yoshinari had been the one half-seduced, hadn't she? Oda Nobunaga went without saying. He'd never made any overt moves to flirt first.
So what about the women throwing themselves at him? Well, he had no real defense there. But unless he was a eunuch, refusing them would make him insane, right?
'To begin with, what kind of messed-up world is this?'
It wasn't a world without ugly women or men. Yet the women around Il-yeong were mostly stunning. How could he turn down advances from beauties like that?
Chewing over those thoughts, Il-yeong lowered his gaze. There he saw Oda Nobuyuki looking up at him with drunken, hazy eyes.
'Blood ties, huh.'
Strikingly similar black hair and golden eyes. Not just the colors—the face shape and curves of her body were eerily alike too.
Her eyes were slightly relaxed from the alcohol, cheeks flushed. Their looks were so similar, yet their personalities and behaviors were polar opposites.
'Oda Nobunaga's still the wild one.'
Cute only at night. Only at night. A classic day-night personality. Oda Nobuyuki, on the other hand, turned aggressive in moments like this. What an amusing pair of sisters.
Of course, those weren't his only thoughts.
'Her words lacked coherence.'
Nobuyuki's logic was full of holes. Much of it was based on guesswork and circumstances. In other words, what she'd just recited was merely a string of her own assumptions.
She didn't truly know what kind of woman Dota Gozen was.
Nor what sort of man Oda Nobuhide had been.
Il-yeong couldn't judge what kind of parents they were or the influence they'd had on the two sisters.
But one thing was crystal clear: what Il-yeong had to do.
'Stop the war.'
And there was no room for personal feelings in that. Especially not now, when discovery meant instant death.
Thus, the only answer he could give from the start was a gentle refusal.
—Swish.
He softly gripped Nobuyuki's shoulder and gently pushed her away, whispering.
“...You're drunk, miss.”
A concise, polite rejection even a fool could understand. Hearing it, a flicker of bitterness—and resignation, as if she'd expected it—crossed Nobuyuki's face.
'Right.'
Neither she nor Il-yeong were fools.
She knew the consequences of her impulsive words all too well. Quickly composing herself, she forced a smile and pulled her body back from his embrace.
A momentary silence passed.
Their eyes met, and soon Il-yeong rose from his seat. Then, almost in unison, they spoke.
“The sun will rise soon, so...”
“...you should head back.”
Il-yeong started the sentence, and Nobuyuki finished it. It was as if they'd rehearsed it beforehand.
—Swish.
Il-yeong's footsteps pressed against the tatami mats. Nobuyuki rose to see off the enemy general who would soon return to cut her down.
“If you change your mind, send word.”
In that contradictory atmosphere, Il-yeong left a sliver of possibility, pulled up the mask hanging at his mouth, and departed the way he'd come—with Itsuki and Akechi Mitsuhide in tow.
—Whoosh.
The dawn breeze, bitter and cool, brushed her flushed cheeks. As if urging her to wake from a fleeting dream, she stared at the spot where Il-yeong had vanished, then murmured.
“Oichi.”
She missed that child.
She was probably sleeping now, but she had to see her, engrave her in her eyes.
Muttering to herself, Nobuyuki quietly set off. It was her small comfort—the one pure bloodline left in the Oda Clan.
Even leaving Suemori Castle, Il-yeong and his two guards had to stain their blades with blood. But since not only Il-yeong but his highly skilled escorts were exceptional warriors, the pursuing forces had no choice but to let them go.
By the time they raced through the forest under the slowly rising sun and brightening sky, returning to camp, the warriors who belatedly realized their absence were already preparing a search.
“You're back. You could've at least said something before leaving.”
Those were Niwa Nagahide's words as Il-yeong dismounted and handed the reins to an ashigaru in the camp. Only then did Il-yeong realize he hadn't informed her, flashing an awkward smile.
“Sorry. It was urgent.”
“Well, I had a rough guess where you went...”
In response, Niwa Nagahide gave a sly smile and whispered just low enough for others not to hear.
“So, any success?”
“Eh...”
It wasn't zero, but it wasn't enough to fundamentally avert the war either. Niwa Nagahide clicked her tongue, as if acknowledging the complexity.
“Tricky, huh.”
“Very.”
Niwa probably knew as much as Il-yeong did. No matter how sharp she was, she was still just a retainer aiming for a mid-level position.
With nothing more to say, Niwa shrugged.
“Oh, right—Shibata's looking for you.”
“I see.”
Naturally, unless she was a fool, she'd sense the off atmosphere in camp. Though Il-yeong had no idea what had happened. Nodding, he headed straight for the tent holding Shibata Katsuie.
“You're here.”
Inside were only Il-yeong—samurai of the Hirate family—and ashigaru. Not that he distrusted the other warriors in camp; it was more to reassure Shibata Katsuie.
At least she'd opened up to him a little.
“No issues, I hope.”
“None. Except...”
“Except?”
Il-yeong eyed the samurai as if to say spit it out, and the samurai spoke softly, as if it weren't a huge secret.
“She's refusing meals.”
“Skipping breakfast?”
“Yes.”
At the guarding samurai's words, Il-yeong asked with a glance that hinted at suspicion.
“Has she been showing her face?”
“No.”
No one in the Oda Clan was unaware that Shibata Katsuie didn't want to show her face. So that wasn't the issue. Stroking his chin thoughtfully, Il-yeong nodded as if he'd figured it out.
“Got it for now. Keep watch. Block everyone unless I call.”
“Understood.”
The guarding samurai—one who'd accompanied Il-yeong when rescuing Mori Yoshinari—nodded firmly, as if he'd never dream of defying him.
Not that there was any reason to rebel anyway. His Joseon origins might raise eyebrows, but in these chaotic times, it meant nothing.
Leaving the samurai to his thoughts, Il-yeong swept aside the tent flap.
There sat Shibata Katsuie, cross-legged on a simple bed, meditating silently.
A cold meal sat untouched on the table. As Il-yeong entered, she opened her eyes and fixed them steadily on him.
Their gazes locked. Finally, Il-yeong turned to Itsuki, who had followed him in late.
“Bring food. Mine too.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Itsuki nodded as if he'd anticipated it and retreated. Casually seating himself, Il-yeong chuckled.
“Skipping meals? A general should know food is vital for longevity.”
He said it lightly on purpose.
To ease the mood even a little.
And perhaps because of it...
Shibata Katsuie's eyes widened slightly. Staggering forward, she sat across from him.
A small table separated the man and woman as they faced each other. It might've seemed romantic at a glance—if not for their armor.
Breaking the silence, Shibata Katsuie spoke.
“You've been to Suemori Castle.”
Her words caught Il-yeong off guard. He couldn't quite hide his surprise.
He hadn't expected her to guess it so quickly.