The Imperial Palace Garden Banquet
Il-hye-hyang, leader of the Sinbigak, arrived at the Haoman master's residence with an armful of documents thick with the scent of fresh ink.
This was the Haoman main hall, a place that had once reeked of the blood of betrayal.
The heart of this underworld power now belonged to a snake of a man named Heuk Jin-jo.
Unlike the previous master, he ruled Haoman with a cold, merciless hand—a true cold-blooded tyrant. But his legitimacy and base of support were paper-thin, so whenever trouble flared up in any of the branches, he had no choice but to deal with it personally.
No matter how firmly he gripped the reins of power, he had never fully seized the hearts of his subordinates.
This time was no different. Some troubleshooter from the Tang Clan had torn through their ranks and forced a major reshuffling of power. Entire networks of informants had been severed, and unsavory movements had even been detected in the Sichuan branch—so he had traveled all that way himself and only just returned.
"Sect Master, the measures we discussed last time against the Beggar Sect are progressing smoothly. In particular, this time the Imperial Court…"
Whatever he had encountered out there, though, Heuk Jin-jo was staring blankly into empty air while Il-hye-hyang reported on everything that had happened in Beijing, as if his soul had left his body.
He wasn't focusing on the report at all. His thoughts were somewhere else entirely.
Il-hye-hyang finally lost her patience and spoke up.
"Sect Master Heuk Jin-jo, is something the matter?"
Il-hye-hyang, who had been scheming to stab this traitor in the back, waited for his answer, sensing something off about his strange reaction.
Heuk Jin-jo opened his mouth, his face deeply unsettled.
"In Sichuan… I believe I found the previous master's daughter. Honggeum."
"…!"
Il-hye-hyang's eyes went wide for an instant before she swiftly regained her composure.
But whether she fought with all her strength to suppress her agitation or not, Heuk Jin-jo kept speaking, still staring into space.
"That vacant little smile. Those eyes and features. They were unmistakably Young Mistress Honggeum's."
A beauty so striking she could capture every man's gaze in a single breath. The only direct bloodline of Hong Gak-jan, who had fled with Haoman's sacred treasure.
Running into her on the street had been pure chance. The lingering doubt still written across Heuk Jin-jo's face made that plain enough.
"S-surely not."
Her fingertips trembled faintly. Il-hye-hyang swallowed hard and denied it.
"Might you not be mistaken? A great deal of time has passed. Her appearance would have changed…"
To think he had crossed paths with her in Sichuan—her, who should right now be stuck fast to that man Dan Mujin's side.
Just what in the world were those two doing all over the Central Plains?
"No. It's Geumhong. Others might not know, but I do. I've served her since she was a child, calling her Young Mistress."
Certainty filled Heuk Jin-jo's voice.
The face and voice of the little girl who had once trailed after him calling him "Uncle Heuk Jin-jo" remained vivid in his memories—the same memories of how he had fawned over that family like a tongue in their mouth, all so he could drive a blade into the previous master's back.
Damn it. What the hell is going on?
Hearing this, Sinbigak leader Il-hye-hyang ground her lips between her teeth as if things had gone thoroughly to hell.
Had she let her hair down from her male disguise for a job, even briefly? If so, her luck was rotten beyond words.
"I tracked her trail afterward, but she vanished like the wind. She must have put on another disguise and slipped away."
Heuk Jin-jo recalled Honggeum's extraordinary mind. The girl who had memorized entire libraries of knowledge meant for the heir, who had casually studied mechanical formations and every miscellaneous trick of the Murim.
Her hands had been clever, too. The disguise techniques she had used to startle the people of Haoman were ones Heuk Jin-jo knew all too well.
"But the man who stuck to her side wouldn't have been a master of disguise like that."
Scritch. Scratch.
Heuk Jin-jo took up a brush on the back of a document and slowly began sketching the man's face from his hazy memory of Sichuan.
As the face took shape under his flourish of brushstrokes, Il-hye-hyang's expression grew stiffer and stiffer.
When a face that was clumsy at best—but that, with a little imagination, could pass for Dan Mujin—emerged on the paper, she swallowed hard once more.
"Hmm. Drawing by hand feels awkward."
Heuk Jin-jo muttered as he set the brush down.
Just as he said, it was a rather vague portrait, the product of a single fleeting glance. Finding someone with that alone, when they didn't even know where he was, would be extremely difficult.
And with the Sinbigak leader herself throwing up interference on top of it, they would never find him.
There was just one problem.
"But that face is burned clearly into my mind. If I cross paths with him just once more…"
Heuk Jin-jo's voice came out cold, like a snake flicking its tongue.
If things went well, this could be the chance to locate even Honggeum, who had stayed so carefully hidden all this time, in a single stroke.
He drew a dagger from his robes and drove it straight into the center of the paper bearing the man's likeness—the man he had met on the road.
"It's been a long, long time. But Honggeum, I've finally caught your tail. The day you follow your father isn't far off now."
Heuk Jin-jo laughed, his shoulders shaking, his face steeped in long-nursed malice.
Watching the scene, Il-hye-hyang made a silent vow. She would work from below to ensure that tail was never stepped on again.
That alone was the only path to freedom for her, who now carried a gu poison of her own.
How to turn this crisis into an opportunity—the mind of the double agent spun without rest, racing through every tangled possibility.
A thin human-skin mask covered my face.
Dressed in a long, flowing blue official robe, I walked the corridors of the Imperial Noble Consort's palace, where lotus motifs bloomed across every surface.
With each step, the long sleeves flapped awkwardly at my sides. The woman walking next to me smirked and spoke up.
"Mujin, what the hell is with that weird outfit?"
She was Jo Harang, the Divine Wind Saber—the backup I'd brought along just in case.
This Imperial Palace was a dragon's pool and tiger's den, crawling with masters, after all.
"The uniform the Eastern Depot wears."
Today I was scheduled to become one of Cheon Su-gong's many, many underlings.
"The Eastern Depot? Those eunuch secret police of the Imperial Court?"
"Yeah. I'm perfectly disguised as one right now."
Jo Harang kept glancing around with wide, curious eyes, as if everything was new to her—which, given that this was her first time inside the Imperial Palace, it probably was.
She looked me over, thoroughly transformed into a eunuch right down to the Bone Shrinking Technique, then suddenly spoke with an uneasy face.
"You didn't, uh… go that far, did you?"
"…I didn't take the disguise that far."
Honestly, I never knew what this girl was thinking.
In a completely different way from the Heavenly Killing Star, the Purple Micro Star was a little cracked in the head.
"Whew. Thank goodness…"
Jo Harang let out a sigh of relief at the news that my "other half" was still intact.
A grown woman, and still this shameless. I shook my head and kept walking down the corridor of the Imperial Noble Consort's palace.
After walking for some time, we reached a building where blue pillars and red tiles formed a perfect harmony—Hwayang Palace.
Eastern Depot masters stood guard at the entrance to the Imperial Noble Consort's residence like an iron wall. Among them, Cheon Su-gong strode out, swept a look over my Eastern Depot getup, and snorted a laugh.
"Come in. Her Majesty the Imperial Noble Consort, the Princess, and the Prince are waiting for you."
I had met the Third Princess a few times before, but this would be my first audience with the Third Prince.
When the doors of Hwayang Palace opened, a subtle fragrance tickled my nose, and the Imperial Noble Consort greeted us with a warm, elegant smile.
"Welcome, Troubleshooter. You cut a fine figure. The Eastern Depot robes suit you surprisingly well."
Softly curved eyes. A face where the maturity of years and the lingering traces of youth blended in perfect harmony.
She was the sort of person who always radiated a gentle nature and a quiet warmth, no matter when you looked at her.
And standing with her mother to welcome me was a familiar face—Princess Dohwa.
"Just as Cheon Su-gong said. The look in your eyes when you regard my mother is… truly peculiar…"
Whatever nonsense Cheon Su-gong had been feeding her, the woman who never lost her poise was looking at me as if she had just witnessed something deeply strange.
"Ahem. I'm not sure what you mean…"
It was the same look I always had. Slightly awkward. I waved my hands as if to clear up a misunderstanding.
"Mujin, that was your type…? That kind of vibe is hard for me to compete with…"
What the hell are you even saying.
I shot Jo Harang a signal to shut up as she whispered more nonsense.
And it wasn't a "type," exactly. I'd just grown up without parents my whole life, so I was a little weak to that kind of person. That was all.
"Troubleshooter, will you not introduce this pure and lovely young lady as well?"
At the Imperial Noble Consort's question, I glanced at Jo Harang standing beside me and opened my mouth.
"This woman is an employee of my agency—Jo Harang, the Divine Wind Saber. She is a prodigy of the martial arts who reached the Transcendental Peak Realm at a remarkably young age."
At my introduction, both imperial women looked at Jo Harang with startled eyes.
Admiration filled the Imperial Noble Consort's gaze, while curiosity flickered across Princess Dohwa's face.
"To reach such a realm so young… You must have carved away at your own bones with effort. Remarkable and admirable, my dear."
"…Hehehe."
Jo Harang scratched her head, bashful under that pure praise.
Apparently fond of that simple, honest smile, the Imperial Noble Consort's eyes curved even more gently.
And from her side, Princess Dohwa was sending me a look that said she was genuinely impressed.
While her mother and Jo Harang conversed, she slipped over beside me and asked in a whisper.
"Just what does one have to do to keep a Murim master of that caliber as a subordinate?"
Masters of the Murim would do anything to protect their personal honor and pride—so how did I handle one as meekly as a tame sheep? That was what she meant.
"…You just feed them a lot of good food and say nice things to them."
"…?"
Apparently Princess Dohwa had simply been curious about my sales techniques. Unlike her mother, she was someone who lived in the cold reality of things.
And as for how I "handled" her—this was just the result of the fated bond between the Heavenly Killing Star and the Purple Micro Star. Hard to explain.
"Then, Jo Harang, I entrust myself, my lovely daughter, and my son to you today."
"Yes, ma'am! Leave it to me! This Divine Wind Saber Jo Harang will protect every last one of you!"
Jo Harang answered with a goofy grin, as loyally as a fluffy dog.
Her Majesty the Imperial Noble Consort sure had a gift for training people.
"Troubleshooter, I ask the same of you. Please protect my children."
"Yes, leave it to me. But where is His Highness the Prince…?"
This was the Imperial Noble Consort's palace, where only women and eunuchs could come and go—but as her blood kin, the prince should have free access.
"Ju Eogang. Stop hiding your face and come out here. Get a good look at this man. He is the Beijing Troubleshooter who saved me—and who may well save your life as well."
At that, Princess Dohwa—Ju Eoyang—called out the name of the prince who seemed to be hiding somewhere.
From far off, someone came pitter-pattering at a run and ducked behind the Imperial Noble Consort's back.
A young boy hid himself in his mother's skirts and poked only his head out.
By the standards of where I used to live, he looked about the size of a first-year middle schooler.
Of course, around here fifteen counted as adulthood, so he would be treated as a grown man in just a few years.
"W-who are you people, exactly?"
It was the feeling of a kid mimicking an adult's way of speaking. A boy with not a shred of imperial dignity about him.
His identity was almost certainly the young Third Prince the Imperial Noble Consort had borne—Suan-gong.
One of the princes who, due to the current bizarre state of affairs, still went by his childhood title instead of being called a Prince of the First Rank or a Commandery Prince.
"I am Dan Mujin, the Beijing Troubleshooter, dispatched today to protect Suan-gong at the Garden Banquet."
And my one-word impression of the Third Prince, whom I was meeting for the first time today:
Frail.
At that age, still hiding in his mother's skirts and only poking his face out to ask who people were.
And the Imperial Noble Consort wasn't even thinking of scolding him for it—she was just looking at him as if he were adorable.
No wonder the worry never left Princess Dohwa's face. The real head of this household was clearly none other than Princess Dohwa herself.
"Ju Eogang. A member of the imperial family, too timid even to step forward and ask properly—what kind of disgraceful display is this? Come out of there at once."
"B-but…"
"Hah."
Under his sister's stern rebuke, the Third Prince finally shuffled forward in front of me, fidgeting.
In modern society this would have been the sort of thing you laughed off as a cute little boy being shy. But this was the Imperial Court, packed with people who would seize on the tiniest pretext and tear you apart.
If he acted like this in front of everyone at the Garden Banquet, it would become a shameful scene on every tongue. Guaranteed.
And the Emperor who had arranged this gathering would take careful note of the Third Prince's weakness—a boy who might one day be a candidate for Crown Prince.
No wonder Princess Dohwa's worries were endless.
You've got it rough.
Realizing the weight of her burden, I sent her a look full of quiet sympathy.
But Princess Dohwa didn't seem to catch the pity in my eyes. She only tilted her head, as if she couldn't understand what I was getting at.