The Yang Wife's Slap
Vice Head Dang Chehwan's door creaked open, jolting Dang Yohwan awake. The pitch-black gap through the door made it clear plenty of time remained until dawn. 'Back to sleep.' He tried to close his eyes again, but the mirror wouldn't let him.
— Idiot, someone's here?
Exchanging telepathy with the mirror, which now doubled as his alarm clock, had become routine.
'What? It's just Yeonnyeon. She comes every day.'
— Not that maid. It's a woman I've never seen before.
"Ugh?"
Even in his groggy haze, those words snapped him alert.
"Still sleeping?"
A warm, soft hand brushed his tightly shut eyelids. Only then did he realize the woman in his room wasn't Yeonnyeon. She wouldn't wake him so gently, and her hands were rough from grueling housework anyway.
"Yohwan, time to get up."
It was Dang Jihwan's mother, the plump auntie known as the Yang Wife.
Caught off guard by her sudden appearance, he rubbed his eyes and sat up.
"Yang Wife? What's going on?"
She'd always treated him kindly despite not sharing a drop of blood, but she never visited his room—she'd invite him to her place with Jihwan instead.
'Something embarrassing, huh.' He glanced at his rumpled bedding from his sleep habits and the pillow that had rolled far away. It was a sparse, cozy single room with no real clutter; no one but Yeonnyeon had ever entered.
"What do you mean 'what's going on'? Don't you know better than anyone?"
Her gentle voice filled the room.
"Uh..."
'No clue at all.'
He stared blankly at the Yang Wife. Her dignified posture and refined speech came from no ordinary background. A gracefully raised noblewoman through and through, she asked in a warm, kindly tone. Though not from a martial house and seemingly looked down on as a merchant's daughter, her wealth from a great trading family rivaled the other two wives.
— No eye for people, huh.
'Shut it, mirror.'
He sensed something off. The usual smile was gone, replaced by a piercing glare aimed squarely at him.
'Did she have a drink?'
Her lips moved softly.
"Did you... frame my son?"
"Ah, yesterday..."
Slap!
Before he could even respond, a lightning-fast slap struck.
"So that's it. It was all your fault!"
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!
She hit him mercilessly, alternating sides with perfect fairness. Could this woman really have never trained in martial arts? Her slaps packed a punch. His already sore gums from his missing tooth now throbbed in tandem with his cheeks.
Dazed, he pieced together last night's events.
'Looks like Dang Jihwan got dragged off after all.'
"Got anything else to say?"
Her voice wasn't outright icy, which made it all the creepier. He tried to stay composed and parted his lips.
"I-I get why you're mad."
"That bastard Dang Chehwan is as petty and vile as they come, just like he was to my mother. Yeah, he must've tormented you even worse without a mom around. Why not just talk it out nicely if it was tough?"
'This might calm her down.'
But that thought proved naive as she gripped his shoulders hard and shook him.
"That doesn't excuse pretending to be my son to dodge trouble! After all I've done for you—how dare you bite the hand that fed you! Ungrateful brat!"
"Uwagyagyagyeok!!!"
Her ruthless shaking dredged up memories from his past life: a gym reeking of sweat and iron, a hulking gym bro mixing massive protein shakes with ferocious arm muscles rivaling a bartender's cocktail flair. Yohwan felt like that powder on the verge of annihilation, scrambling in panic.
"Blood or not, I'm still your big brother, and you tried to ruin my future!"
"...That's exactly it! Dang Chehwan's future!"
"What?"
Finally escaping her grasp, he explained.
"He'll confess to being the real culprit, so don't worry about Jihwan. But yeah, we'll have to think about when and where he spills it, right?"
"Yohwan, you don't mean..."
He'd planned a little payback, but nothing that would ruin Dang Jihwan's future. Dragging Jihwan in instead of him was clearly Dang Chehwan's blunder. Spilling it now wouldn't make the minor fire in his managed building a true catastrophe for the number two. Security lapses in Hyeongjeonggak could happen to anyone in Tang Family Village.
"...You even planned for what happens if the vice head slips up?"
He shrugged casually.
"We'll leave him with a stain he'll never live down."
"Clever... but..."
If she didn't get it, consider Hyeongjeonggak's role again: the clan's internal police, hauling off bad apples to keep Tang Family Village secure.
Only then did Jihwan's mother revert to her familiar gentle demeanor.
"Sorry, Yohwan. I didn't know you'd thought of us mother and son like that."
'Eh, not really.'
Screwing over the vice head might actually make Jihwan happy too.
"Speaking of, your front tooth's missing. Did the vice head do that?"
"Let's say he did."
Jihwan had taken his real tooth, but Dang Chehwan had done something worse: ignored him. He'd wanted to coast on family perks, not turn invisible. He craved his Tang Clan life back—the one he'd kicked off with a poison snake ticket. Time to step out of the shadows and shine on his own. At five years old, he was betting his all—not just his past life's fortune—on this gamble. Time to show the world: the ultimate evolution of the troublemaker!
* * *
Tension hung thick in Hyeongjeonggak's office.
"So, after finishing Tang Family Fist training yesterday, what did you do?"
Vice Head Dang Chehwan set aside the girl he'd first brought in and turned to interrogating his younger brother.
"I told you. I had dinner with Mother."
"Right after Tang Family Fist, with Little Mother? Ha. You expect me to buy that?"
It was pure truth, but Dang Chehwan refused to believe it. First off, the witnesses were unreliable: his own mother and her maids. From her merchant-wife position, of course she'd cover for her son.
'Or this insolent punk fooled his own mother.'
That fit every detail perfectly.
'She stayed up late drinking instead of her usual early bedtime. No wonder she got riled up by his nonsense.'
How did Dang Chehwan know Jihwan's sleep schedule? Long before joining Hyeongjeonggak, he'd monitored the mother-son duo closer than anyone.
"The doctor who visited around dusk stayed awhile, but that doesn't matter. You set the fire before then."
With no counterargument, Dang Jihwan hung his head low. No sign of remorse from the brat. Dang Chehwan jabbed his forehead with the brush in hand.
Of course, he didn't forget brotherly advice.
"That's why you're giving Mother headaches with your unfilial crap. Own it."
Unlike Dang Chehwan's misconception, Jihwan hadn't started any fire and had been glued to his mother. He gritted his teeth and endured.
'Stall long enough, and it'll sort itself.'
Still, it was ridiculous—and unsettling—that he hadn't recognized him and Yohwan.
"...That's not for the vice head to concern himself with."
"Apologizing to me won't help. Once the head returns, you'll face a public trial!"
"Public trial..."
"Ha! You'll confess your crimes before everyone!"
Dang Chehwan gleefully detailed the punk's fate. No pity for the rude brat who never treated him like a brother. Wrongdoers must repent. He couldn't let tears stain the otter-like Yang Wife's gentle face again.
Then someone burst into the room.
"Vice Head! I colored it all!"
"What?!"
Dang Chehwan glared down at the intruder, a girl named Dang Sohee, oblivious to the serious mood.
Her father, the Gold Merchant Guild leader, had leaked Sichuan Tang Clan intel to the Blood Cult branch. Not actively meddling, but straight-up spying. As a son-in-law, he deserved execution, but his value in feeding them reverse intel would likely spare him. Since the spying happened at the guild, young Sohee—who'd always stayed in Tang Family Village—had no suspicion.
Dang Chehwan had questioned her briefly and dismissed her. Plenty of guild staff to investigate. To spare her feelings, her father was interrogated in the underground prison right away. They'd given her paints and brushes from leftover forge blueprints to kill time.
"Wait, this!"
Snatching the colored paper from Sohee, Dang Chehwan's eyes widened. His meticulous eye—honed by his mother's expertise in calligraphy and painting—spotted something off.
"Why'd you use only one color on the drawing?"
"Huh? I could use multiple colors?"
Irked by the bizarre question, Dang Chehwan snapped.
"What are those paints for then? Tsk, to think even you're a Tang—disgrace to the clan. Outsiders might think we're too cheap for paint! At least your brushwork's decent. Plenty more blueprints—do it over!"
"Yes, Vice Head!"
Watching Dang Chehwan shoo away the giggling girl, Dang Jihwan trembled silently.
'What a guy I never want to deal with...'
A meddlesome thug—that was his second brother, Dang Chehwan. At six, clumsy pity stung worse than outright enmity or scorn. Intent aside, the rudeness was real.
And so, with zero progress, animosity between number two and number five only deepened.
"Vice Head, the head of Hyeongjeonggak has arrived."
By the time the report came from outside, noon had long passed.
