Arson for a Sound Sleep
Preparations for a spectacular fireworks show to ensure a good night's sleep. My shrunken clothes. I'd inherited them from Dang Jihwan, so I didn't feel too bad about it. I'd slathered them in the oil given to me for studying, making for perfect kindling. Light it up and hurl it toward the target.
It sailed right over the wall, smashing into the empty corridor of the building! Thanks to mastering the Tang Family Fist, my arm had gotten nice and strong.
But even a wooden structure doesn't burst into flames that easily. So I tossed the other materials I'd prepared.
Crash! Crash! Crash!
Where'd those satisfyingly shattering liquor bottles come from? From Unnyeon, my ever-sour-faced maidservant. With no strict head maid to keep her in line, she always reeked of booze while cleaning my room. Well, I get two days off a month, but the servants probably get one every season—life must be tough for them.
I didn't just take them; it was a fair trade. With all the treasures I had on hand—my hoarded pocket money, the full assets of a five-year-old—I struck a deal with Unnyeon. I snuck a taste out of curiosity, and it was like makgeolli. Called miju—rice wine—so yeah, rice base makes sense.
Professor Adam Smith, are you watching? The Invisible Hand—it's pretty damn impressive. Anyway, total respect now!
—What? How does a simple exchange of goods turn into some "hidden hand"?
'I'll explain later, Mirror.'
Repeating the process—setting fire not just to the corridor but the roof and walls too—I circled the building once when I ran smack into a group of men charging from the opposite direction. A familiar punk was leading them.
"Dang Jihwan, you bastard!!! What the hell is this?"
Does that guy have no eyes? To the idiot asking the dumb question, I delivered the personal attack I'd been saving.
Watch this, grandma from the noodle shop who curses like a sailor!
"You're not even worthy of being called brother, you son of a bitch! After what you did to me, this is nothing! Brainless sea anemone tuna mayo! Go choke on your pineapple mala tang!"
"What possessed you to set fire to the punishment hall?"
"Then why aren't you putting it out? You deputy hall leader?"
"Damn it..."
Looking back, the moment the arson succeeded, Dang Chehwan was thoroughly screwed. Still, if they suppressed the flames before they spread too far, he'd face lighter punishment.
Now, here's the question. For a deputy hall leader, is extinguishing the fire more urgent, or catching me? Obviously the former. The place was already blazing—catching the arsonist won't magically activate non-existent sprinklers. Remember, firefighting without water ain't easy.
But I couldn't forget Sohee, so pretending to taunt, I spilled the family tree.
"I heard you had an important Blood Cult suspect in there. She'd look pretty pathetic if she burned to death."
Spelling it all out for him? Even if learning has no age limit, having to take lessons from a five-year-old? He'd be kicking the blankets in frustration tonight.
"You pup acting all bold!"
Receiving the ultimate compliment, I squeaked like a dancing dolphin.
"What are you dawdling for! You lot, suppress the fire now! I'll secure that child's safety!"
With that, Dang Chehwan dashed toward the room where he suspected Sohee was. The others, following the second young master's orders, just glared at me menacingly but didn't grab me. A kid like me could be caught later.
Pushed down the priority list, I bolted immediately. As I fled, I saw them all rushing toward the forge area. Unlike Dang Chehwan, his underlings might actually be smart. For gathering lots of water to fight the fire, industrial water from the forge beats well water.
—Oh ho, you knew at your age that forges need water? Hearing the mirror, it does seem like too much knowledge for a five-year-old.
For me, from a steel nation, it was common sense.
—Still, the fire looks like it'll die out soon.
'It's fine. That wasn't my real goal anyway.'
I've never been possessed by a game system. No quest to burn the punishment hall. Arson was just the way to piss off Dang Chehwan the most.
—Even a worm knows how to roll; you've got a knack for twisting people's guts.
'Revenge isn't over yet.'
The enemy who didn't recognize this body had only paid back a tenth! Returning to my room in a relaxed mood, Unnyeon was waiting. No booze smell today.
"Where've you been, young master? The Tang Family Village is in an uproar..."
"What's up, Unnyeon?"
"Fire at the punishment hall."
"They catch the culprit?"
"Want me to find out?"
"Nah, no need. It was me."
"Pardon? What do you..."
A handful of honest confession, but Unnyeon didn't take it seriously.
"More importantly, check this loose tooth."
"You haven't even wiggled it, and it's already coming out?"
"It's been two hours, and the bleeding won't stop."
"Shall I call the physician?"
"No need for that over something like this."
No fancy treatment like biting on something as Bi Yeon Pavilion's master would do—just primitive daily life.
"Then I'll be going."
Unnyeon extinguished the lamp, plunging my room into darkness. Snuggling into my warm bedding, I replayed Dang Chehwan and his men's predicament.
Their best outcome: suppress the fire and catch the culprit. I didn't think Dang Chehwan was that incompetent. Not just a couple of strong men, but six or seven martial artists—they'd manage somehow. So they'd pat themselves on the back for putting out the fire successfully, identifying the perp, and uncovering the cause.
But that's a miscalculation. The second bro didn't even know who I was.
They'd go after the arsonist they know: Dang Jihwan.
One stone, two birds. Plus revenge on the fourth bro who yanked out my baby tooth.
Imagining the brothers bickering cluelessly, I drifted off to sweet sleep.
That day was ordinary for Dang Jihwan too—except that his little brother's close friend, the daughter of the Gold Flower Merchant Group's leader, had been dragged to the punishment hall and lost her mind.
'Immature, but not stupid. Hope she pulls herself together.'
"Oh, my son. Something worrying you?"
"Just concerned about Yohwan."
"You're such a good boy. That kid needs to appreciate having a reliable big brother."
He was spending time with his mother, Third Wife Yang.
"Madam! Fire at the punishment hall right now!"
Yang had two maids. This one was hired by the Tang Family, bursting in urgently.
"Heavens, who would do such a thing?"
Asked the maid who'd served Yang since her maiden days.
"Miss, shall I go check?"
Contrary to her startled reaction, Yang shook her head.
"No. Not our business. Jihwan, could you light more lamps in your room?"
"Yes, Mother."
Unlike her usual nagging to sleep early like a martial artist, he didn't question it. Filial piety needs no logic. Dang Jihwan was a dutiful son.
"And I'm feeling a bit dizzy—could you call the physician?"
His mother, from a merchant family married into Sichuan Tang Clan, faced harsh scrutiny from the two wives who'd already borne children. Unfazed by the neglect, she showed graceful poise—a wise woman.
'All for my sake...'
Watching her, at six years old, Dang Jihwan matured beyond his years. Per his mother's advice not to reveal his talent, he hid his skills, feigning weaknesses. Of course, today he couldn't hold back against Dang Yohwan, but the clumsy little brother probably didn't even know why he'd been hit.
The physician arrived soon. Not fully grasping his mother's intent, he studied the classics diligently today. Peace shattered by an intruder.
"Dang Jihwan!!!"
Dang Chehwan, fury boiling over.
Dang Yohwan didn't know the details, but Dang Jihwan's mother, Lady Yang, had bad blood with Dang Chehwan's mother, the First Wife. Not so much Yang's fault as one-sided hatred from the First Wife, bullying the easier target. Tormenting the "junior wife" was less strategic and more emotional venting.
Dang Chehwan had inherited that temperament, treating Dang Jihwan harshly.
"What brings you here, young master?"
"Little auntie—no, I'm here as deputy head of the punishment hall. Hand over your son."
"What is this out of nowhere..."
"That punk set fire to the punishment hall. Other hall members witnessed it too."
Being emotional himself, Dang Chehwan jumped to conclusions easily. The quiet kid must've snapped and committed arson—what else?
That was Dang Chehwan's thinking. Listening from inside, Dang Jihwan was dumbfounded. Even if they looked down on him and his mother, pinning a false crime?
His chest burned with rage.
"Our Jihwan? No way."
"A hedgehog sees its own young as beautiful."
"I don't know when the fire started, but Jihwan was with me for hours."
"Huh? Then why are you up so late? Suspicious."
Dang Chehwan had long monitored Lady Yang's movements. This had nothing to do with hall duties—it was for his own mother. He'd even confirmed she usually slept early.
"Even if you were head of the punishment hall, not deputy, you can't frame my son unjustly! At least bring the family head!"
"Dang Jihwan! Stop insulting my mother and come out!"
"Jihwan! No!"
Dang Jihwan burst out quietly.
"Look at you—trash who can't watch his mouth anywhere else, but playing the good boy in front of Mommy?"
Feeling utter contempt for Dang Chehwan's vile grin, he clamped his lips shut desperately. That's when he realized who the real arsonist was.
'This has to be Dang Yohwan's doing.'
And if his guess was right, it was a trap Dang Yohwan had set for Dang Chehwan.