The Secret Weapon
“Pick whatever you like. How about this one?”
Prince Yeoning nudged an exquisitely carved jade ornament toward me, but my eyes were locked onto a completely different object.
This is it. This is the one!
The instant I laid eyes on it, I knew. This was made for me. Its true identity was none other than—
A slingshot!
It was a masterfully crafted piece, featuring a polished wooden frame and a remarkably taut cord braided from multiple strands of horsehair. Choosing it was a foregone conclusion. Out of everything in the room, it was the only item that met my golden criterion: something genuinely useful in daily life.
Sure, there were miniature hunting bows, but an aegi-nain could hardly strut around the palace grounds hauling a bow on her shoulder. A slingshot, on the other hand, was compact enough to slip inconspicuously into my sash. And more than anything else…
I actually know how to shoot one!
In my past life, I had been blessed with natural athletic reflexes. In particular, I possessed an uncanny talent for hitting targets. Whether it was archery or target shooting, I was skilled enough that people had repeatedly urged me to pursue it competitively. In any case, slingshot, you’re coming home with me!
“Yeoning-gun-jaga.”
“Oh? Did something catch your eye?”
“Yesh.”
Noticing the sudden sparkle in eyes that had been as lifeless as a dried pollack’s until a moment ago, Prince Yeoning leaned forward with open curiosity.
“Can I weally have anything?”
“Of course. I told you, just name it.”
“Then this one!” I proudly hoisted the slingshot into the air.
“Huh? A slingshot?”
Prince Yeoning blinked in genuine bewilderment. Small wonder, given that he had spent the last ten minutes pushing tiny, shimmering trinkets at me. But I was no magpie; I was a clear-eyed realist of a child who placed practical utility above all else.
“You truly wish to have that?”
“Yesh!”
“I don’t mind giving it to you, but… whatever for?”
Hmm… what should I say?
If I claimed it was for self-defense, he would confiscate it for being too dangerous. And claiming it was for hunting game was a bit much coming from a four-year-old. Unable to conjure a plausible excuse on the spot, I decided to go with the unvarnished truth.
“To pick persimmons.”
It wasn't a lie in the slightest. With this trusty weapon, I fully intended to wipe every single offensive ripe persimmon off the face of this palace.
In response, Prince Yeoning burst into outright laughter.
“Pick persimmons? You? Hahaha! Do you even know how to shoot that thing?”
Oh, so that’s how you want to play it…?
Small as I looked, I possessed a fiercely competitive streak.
“I don’t know how. Could you teach me, Jaga?”
“Me?” Prince Yeoning paused, flustered, before puffing out his chest. “To ask a prince of the realm to instruct you in a crude diversion like martial weaponry… It is hardly fitting, but… since it is your earnest plea, I shall grant an exception. You should consider this an immense honor.”
He put on quite the grand air, acting as though he were bestowing the grandest favor in history.
“Yesh. It is an immense honor, Jaga.”
Playing along with his vanity, I trailed after him as he strode out of Hongseogak.
I think I’m finally starting to grasp Prince Yeoning’s personality.
He was a seven-year-old boy who carried himself with unearned solemnity and meticulous airs, but beneath that veneer, a childish craving burned bright: the desperate urge to show off. Was this peculiar trait of his connected to the excessive self-regard he would display later in history?
…Yep, exactly as I expected.
Sure enough, having loaded a pebble into the sling, he stood striking the most dramatic, exaggerated pose imaginable. Anyone watching would have thought he was preparing to fell a man-eating tiger. In reality, our quarry was a solitary, overripe persimmon dangling precariously from the topmost branch of the tree beside Hongseogak.
“Watch closely. This is how you fire a slingshot.”
Wearing a deadly serious expression, Prince Yeoning drew back the band. Crafted from fine horsehair, the cord stretched with impressive, supple elasticity.
Twang!
…Clatter, roll.
The pebble failed to get anywhere near the tree, plopping weakly onto the ground and tumbling across the dirt.
“What?”
Visibly rattled, he hastily loaded another stone. Once more—Twang!
…Clatter, roll.
“There is something wrong with this slingshot. It has sat unused for so long that the cord must have rotted.”
“Jaga. May I twy shooting it just once?”
“Even if you shoot, it will not fly a single span.”
“I just wanna twy.”
With an air of great reluctance, Prince Yeoning passed the slingshot to me. I scooped up a suitably shaped pebble from the ground and nested it in the pocket. Lifting my chin, I carefully gauged the distance to the target, then closed my eyes for a fraction of a second to read the breeze brushing against my cheek.
The wind is light; it won’t affect the trajectory. An arc like this should do it.
I pulled the cord taut with all my might, steadying my breath.
Now!
Whiz!
Cutting sharply through the air, the stone flew straight as an arrow and struck the target dead center!
Splat!
The ripe persimmon detached and plummeted to the earth.
Oh. It actually worked.
Even if I retained my muscle memory, pulling that off with the arm strength of a four-year-old was nothing short of miraculous. I leaped up and down, cheering in sheer delight.
“Whoa!”
Mid-celebration, my eyes landed on Prince Yeoning. His face—and his ears—were flushed a vibrant, mortified crimson.
“Um… I guess I got lucky. Thank you for giving me such a wonderful thing, Jaga,” I mumbled hastily, shoving the weapon into my pocket to smooth over his wounded pride.
“I cannot fathom why an aegi-nain would fancy such crude pastimes,” he muttered stiffly. “There are plenty of noble pursuits, such as embroidery.”
“I like the slingshot. I’m very happy.”
“Well… as long as you are pleased, that is fine,” he replied, looking utterly sheepish.
They said he harassed Crown Prince Sado so relentlessly for loving martial arts, and it turns out he despised rough sports even as a young boy.
Chewing on that historical tidbit, I offered him a polite bow.
“Then I shall take my leave now, Jaga.”
“I must return to Jeoseungjeon as well, so we can walk—”
“Yeoning-gun-jaga.”
A woman’s voice cut through the air behind us. Turning around, my eyes widened at the familiar figure, and I promptly lowered my head to the dirt.
Is my luck cursed today or what?
Of all people, it had to be Noble Consort Kim.
Gwi-in Kim. The memory of her spitting venom at Lady Jang Hui-bin by Aeryeonji Pond was still vivid in my mind. Yet right now…
Her face looks so benevolent. She seems like an entirely different person.
Beaming at Prince Yeoning, there wasn't a trace of malice or spite to be found on her features.
“What brings the Prince here? Ah, did you come to read at Hongseogak?”
“Yes, Gwi-in-mama-nim. I stopped by Hongseogak on a brief matter.”
“As expected, our royal prince is brilliant and wise. Keeping company with books is the true duty of a gentleman.”
The bond between Gwi-in Kim and Prince Yeoning appeared remarkably close. There had been palace rumors that Suk-bin Choe, hailing from a lowborn water-maid background, had placed Prince Yeoning under Gwi-in Kim’s foster care to secure her son’s political standing. I had assumed it was merely unofficial gossip, but seeing them together lent the rumor considerable weight.
“However…”
Gwi-in Kim’s gaze slid toward me. In an instant, the warmth in her eyes froze into sheer, biting frost. She clearly recognized me from our encounter alongside Hui-bin at Aeryeonji Pond.
“Why is the Prince keeping company with a child from Chwiseondang?”
“That is…”
She did not give him a chance to answer.
“Yeoning-gun-jaga. You are of sacred royal blood. Mingling with such base, low creatures is beneath your royal dignity. Do you understand?”
“……Yes, Gwi-in-mama-nim.”
Prince Yeoning’s cheeks flushed hot. He cast a discreet, hesitant glance toward me.
Gwi-in… she really doesn't mince words, even around her own allies.
The phrase “base creatures” was pointedly deliberate. While it appeared to demean me as a lowly court maid, it was in truth a veiled strike aimed at every concubine who had risen from the ranks of palace women—including Jang Hui-bin, and Prince Yeoning’s own mother, Suk-bin Choe. Among all of King Sukjong’s royal consorts, Gwi-in Kim was the solitary Gantaek Hugung, chosen formally from the high aristocracy.
Prince Yeoning might not suffer the tragic end of the Crown Prince, but his childhood couldn't have been a walk in the park either.
As I stood with my head bowed in somber contemplation, a prickling heat bore down on the crown of my skull. Gwi-in Kim was glaring at me with unvarnished disgust.
…Did you really need to look at me like I’m a piece of garbage?
“Be gone at once. And do not ever dare loiter near Yeoning-gun-jaga again.”
Seriously, this woman…
I was a four-year-old child. What kind of nefarious, scheming intent did she think a toddler was harboring around a prince?
“Yesh! I shall leave at once!”
I belted out my answer with cheerful vigor, spun on my heels without looking back, and marched away with loud, stomping strides—the day’s grand prize safely tucked in my waistband.
Harsh as Gwi-in Kim’s words had been, I refused to dwell on them. I already knew the suffocating inferiority complex that this noblewoman carried throughout her life. By the time the walls of Chwiseondang came into view, the encounter had vanished entirely from my mind, replaced by the sheer thrill of having acquired a slingshot.
As I reached the compound’s entrance, something caught my eye.
A persimmon tree.
A massive, ancient persimmon tree stretched its heavy branches right over Chwiseondang’s inner courtyard. Dangling from its highest twigs were half a dozen overripe, unharvested persimmons. I had already developed a burning grudge against the fruit after what happened to the Crown Prince, and here they were, practically taunting me.
I cannot let this opportunity pass.
Glancing around to ensure the coast was clear, I stealthily slipped the slingshot from my waist. With practiced ease, I loaded a pebble and released!
…Miss.
Undeterred, I nested a second stone into the leather pocket.
Whiz!
Ripping through the autumn air, the pebble struck a fat persimmon dead center. As the fruit wobbled and began its downward plunge, a smug, satisfied grin spread across my face—
SPLAT!
“Aaaack!”
“Aigoo-ya!”
“Gasp! Mama-nim!”
“Heavens above!”
A chorus of frantic shrieks erupted from the inner courtyard.
What was that?
I hastily tucked the slingshot back into my waistband and scurried into the courtyard. The scene greeting my eyes made my jaw drop.
“……?”
Right in the very center of Court Lady Han’s towering formal false hair structure—her prized eoyeo-meori—sat a monstrous, pulped persimmon!
“Someone get this off me! That accursed, miserable tree!”
Court Lady Han’s stern face was utterly ruined, dripping with thick, sticky orange syrup and crushed pulp. Around her, a flock of court maids scurried about in panic, desperately biting their lips and trembling as they fought to hold back explosive laughter.
If I get caught, I’m dead meat.
Leaving the persimmon-battered Head Court Lady behind, I silently tiptoed away and bolted straight into my quarters.
“Phew……”
Exhaling a long breath of relief, I shoved the slingshot deep beneath the wooden chest. Outside, Court Lady Han’s wrathful roars still reverberated through the courtyard.
Feeling genuinely guilty, I pressed my tiny hands together and whispered toward the ceiling.
“Court Lady Han-mama-nim. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
Sure, I had made a terrible blunder, but in the grand scheme of things, it was born entirely of my fierce loyalty to the Crown Prince! That had to count for something, right?