The Declaration — 8
When it comes to venting rage, the one who's actually done it before always does it better.
"Hyang, what on earth are you saying?"
"Oh my. Child, do you have any idea where you are, to be shouting like that?"
Jegal Hyang believed she had erupted like an active volcano, but to her aunts, it was nothing more than lava trickling down a slope they could easily sidestep.
"Miss Jegal."
Kang Yunho noticed her clenched fists trembling. This was about to turn ugly. He was just moving toward her to do something—anything—when it happened.
"What do you think you're all doing!"
A voice like an erupting volcano burst out, cutting through the chaos in an instant.
"Father!"
It was the Mangeum Lord.
Every gaze in the gathering turned to him as he entered the room.
"Father! Is it true? You're granting the heir candidacy to that barbarian?"
When his daughter demanded an answer out of nowhere, Jang Noya's brows knitted sharply.
"Barbarian? What did you just call the guest I invited into my own hall?"
"W-well, still, that's no reason to call him a barbarian—"
"Have you ever once seen me judge a man by the color of his hair? For a merchant, the only color that matters is the color of the money he brings!"
"F-Father, then it really is true?!"
It was a stern, seasoned lecture, but the words never reached the daughters whose heads had long since been hardened by greed. To them, the only important fact was that their father did not discriminate by hair color.
"Yeong-yeong already has the Zhuge Clan, doesn't she! Father! You should be looking after the children who lack, not the one who married well!"
"That's right! And that man of hers has been struggling so much lately!"
"Heh heh heh. What a fine spectacle you've put on for me today."
Watching his daughters' behavior, the Mangeum Lord let out a sigh of pure incredulity.
"……"
"Father. What exactly is our child lacking, that you would bring in this barba— this black-haired outsider?"
"Do you truly not know? Is that why you ordered the servants to buy up every bolt of cotton cloth your son sells?"
He rebuked his daughter, who still could not take back her words even after his warning.
"F-Father, how did you—?!"
Jang Noya turned his gaze away as if she weren't worth answering. His other daughters, with far too much weighing on their own consciences, scrambled to avoid his eyes.
What on earth had they been doing for the past half year? If it hadn't been for the test, he would have called in the loans long ago. No—he never would have lent them a single coin in the first place.
The Mangeum Lord had to swallow back the boiling sigh rising in his chest as he stared at the culprits of his frustration.
"Though Yeong-yeong is the mistress of the Zhuge Clan, she is my daughter, same as the rest of you."
He mentioned the one daughter who had not taken part in this test.
"Father, what kind of talk is this, all of a sudden!"
"Exactly. A barbarian! Father, could it be that after your son's death, you've lost your faculties a bit— oh."
The Mangeum Lord's murderous gaze swung to the daughter who had misspoken.
"Did I ever give you leave to bring up that matter?"
At the fury pouring from the old man's lungs, every daughter in the room flinched back a step.
"F-Fa-Father…."
Only then did the Mangeum Lord's daughters awaken to their terror of the man who had been paralyzed by the thought that Mangeum Hall might slip into a barbarian's hands.
"At your age, are you truly this blind? Or do you know exactly what you're doing, and mean to insult your own father?"
"……"
"You humiliate the guest I invited, and still hold your heads high as if you've done nothing wrong! Why would I ever grant such people an opportunity?!"
"What do you mean by—"
"The matter of the succession is annulled. As if it never happened."
At the Mangeum Lord's single, decisive pronouncement, his daughters went white as ash.
"Father!"
"Get out of my sight!"
"Father, we were wrong!"
"We do mess up now and then, don't we? Please! Please, just reconsider!"
These were daughters who normally wouldn't dare a word against their father's authority. Now they scrambled back to their places, knelt, and began to beg.
Jang Noya watched them for a long while. He had raised them to be beyond reproach. Was it the years that changed them? Or had greed remade his daughters into what they now were?
Before long, the Mangeum Lord turned his head and looked at someone else.
"The one who decides whether to rescind the order is not me."
At the end of the Mangeum Lord's gaze stood Kang Yunho.
Me?
Mangeum Lord, sir, I was merely enjoying the show. This is as flustering as being called up on a school field trip and asked to transform the class's quietest kid into a whole new person.
"What will you do?"
It's not a microphone, so why are you suddenly shoving the hilt of a sword into my hand? If it were a mic, I might at least pull out Prince Hamlet. I was the one insulted, so the insulted party gets to decide? Is that it?
The middle-aged women who had been calling me a barbarian mere moments ago were now watching me with tense expressions.
So: void every test the granddaughters have taken, and swallow Mangeum Hall in one gulp?
Atempting offer. Tempting enough that I can see the trap plainly, right out in the open.
"I'm not the one who's owed an apology, though."
Why would I be accepting apologies from these aunties? I smiled openly and boldly at the Mangeum Lord.
"You dare speak of your father that way—!"
"Hoh!"
Jang Noya silenced his daughters, then regarded me with an intrigued look, as if to say, go on, then.
"When a daughter of the house does wrong to a guest, you don't hand the whip to the guest. The guest simply smiles and waits for the master of the house to apologize."
However old the daughters may be, discipline is a father's job. If I started swinging the whip around here, I'd be paying the price with my own hide.
"A fair point."
"That said."
I spoke to the Mangeum Lord, who was nodding along.
"……?"
"Since this is a family matter, there seems to be someone who should receive an apology first."
"M-Master Kang?"
The woman behind me, who had been quietly seething, looked up at me in bewilderment.
"Heh heh. So it is. His betrothed was the one insulted—of course she's the first to be apologized to. What are you all doing?!"
At Jang Noya's thunderclap, the kneeling aunts turned their eyes toward Jegal Hyang.
"Hyang, dear. Your auntie is sorry. I wasn't thinking."
"I'll buy you whatever gift you like later. Your auntie is truly sorry."
Jegal Hyang's face was set in an angry scowl, and she said nothing.
Anyone could see she had no intention of forgiving them, but under the relentless stream of apologies she finally gave a small, grudging nod.
"If you're quite finished, get out!"
With the matter settled, the Mangeum Lord issued his dismissal to his daughters.
"F-Father! The succession—!"
"In a few days, that boy Kang Yunho and I will hold the next test. Until then, confine yourselves to your quarters!"
None who raised further objections would be forgiven. Faced with the Mangeum Lord's bearing, there was not a single irate parent left to protest the transfer student mid-exam.
"That was an ugly sight to behold."
Once everyone else had gone, only three remained in the room. The Mangeum Lord spoke to me with a bitter expression.
"Think nothing of it, my lord."
"The hand that gripped the hilt chose not to swing the blade. What complaint could I possibly raise?"
That was your one shot at becoming the heir in a stroke. Why didn't you swing it? the Mangeum Lord was asking.
"A blade that cannot cut the lifeline of its enemy ends up wounding its wielder instead, my lord."
Your children have all failed, effective immediately. They called me a barbarian, after all. As of this moment, I am the successor of Mangeum Hall. Would you accept that?
"Hoh."
"Besides—didn't Your Lordship promise that I would prove myself?"
I could guess without looking: what the Mangeum Lord had aimed for was to slot me into the test naturally, without any further resistance. And if so, there was only one answer I could give.
Before everyone gathered here, I will prove myself worthy of being your successor—openly, and without a shred of doubt.
"Yes. Exactly so. That is how a man bound to become Hall Lord must carry himself."
The Mangeum Lord smiled at me as if I'd given the correct answer. Somehow, it was the expression of a professor whose student aced the exam, the paper, and the presentation, and now wants to grab a meal together.
"Would you care to offer this humble scholar some guidance, my lord?"
He seemed to have something on his mind, so I bowed low and took a humble posture.
"People are grateful when they borrow, and nurse a grudge when it's time to repay. Force a blade on a man to solve a problem, and before long you'll find yourself with armed retainers at your side every time you pass through an alley."
"What of those who offer their necks instead of money? What should one do then?"
So this was a lesson from the Mangeum Lord himself. In moments like these, you don't just nod along and let it pass one ear and out the other—you answer back properly.
"Then you must find what the man values more than money."
"Something more precious than money?"
"You slaughter an ox only when it can give no more calves, no more milk, and is of no use in the fields."
"I will bear that in mind."
So squeezing an opponent to the very last drop is strictly the final resort.
"Let my apology stand as this."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I will be waiting for you to prove it."
The Mangeum Lord gave me an enigmatic smile, then turned away.
"Haaah. Finally hoooome."
Like driving through a storm-lashed coastal highway and finally pulling into the driveway, I felt like I'd come back to a familiar home.
Miss Jegal, utterly spent, shuffled into the parlor on limp, noodle-like legs.
"Miss Jegal."
"Y-yes?! Yes yes yes!"
At my call from behind her, she froze solid as an ice sculpture without even turning around.
Still embarrassed about the other day, apparently. I'd actually found the whole thing hilarious—downright adorable. But it seems my careful effort not to bring it up first had backfired spectacularly.
"Thank you. For today."
Never in my life did I expect her to step in for me like that. I bowed my head in genuine gratitude.
"Ah, th-that was noth-nothing at all."
Miss Jegal turned her head just enough to steal a glance at me, then quickly looked away.
"Being scorned as a barbarian is nothing to me—I've long since grown used to it. But you standing up for me, Miss Jegal? That was special."
The scorn is just daily life at this point. I'd learned to let it wash past one ear. I never dreamed Miss Jegal would get so genuinely furious on my behalf.
"F-feh. I-is, is that sooo?"
She peeked at my bowed head, then spun her face away again.
Miss Jegal. Your ears have gone scarlet. And your cheeks are trembling.
"Miss Jegal."
Unable to hide the feeling leaking out of me, I strode over and took the defenseless girl's hand in mine.
"Hyi—! M-Master Kang!"
Her flushed crimson face filled my entire field of vision.
And so the Mangeum Lord's succession test was officially set. Passing this trial would mean not only becoming the heir, but one more resolve I would have to steel myself for.
The marriage with Miss Jegal.
Countless problems still loomed before me, and now an unforeseen wedding had sauntered right up to my doorstep.
What should I say to Miss Jegal? What should I say to each of the other women? After days of agonizing, I had settled on a single answer.
"I will do my utmost."
"I beg your pardon?"
"An engagement, out of nowhere—your heart must be in turmoil, Miss Jegal. Mine, I confess, will have trouble finding sleep tonight as well."
It's hard to drift off easily when counting through every single person requires all ten fingers and then some.
"Ah… um… yes."
"I will earn the Mangeum Lord's recognition. I will make myself worthy. And after that—may I have a more honest conversation with you, Miss Jegal?"
After all, the one I owed a forthright conversation with once I proved myself was not only the Mangeum Lord.
My face was reflected full and clear in her blue eyes.
A woman so beautiful that, under normal circumstances, friends would raise a riot if you so much as glanced at her from across the street—she was gazing at me and me alone.
I took her hand carefully, cradling it in both of mine.
Her eyes darted between our joined hands and my face, unable to decide where to rest, and it was unbearably endearing.
There was no room to agonize over matters of the heart right now. So the only promise I could make Miss Jegal was this one:
I will focus wholly on the test for now. And once I've proven myself, we will speak with open hearts. It was the best promise this situation allowed.
"Th-then… o-o-o-okay…."
Miss Jegal nodded, her gaze ping-ponging between my eyes and the floor.
"Good. Then shall we prepare for the test together—"
"Um… Master Kang. I'm going to rest for j-just one day, okaaay."
"I'm sorry—what?"
Miss Jegal's hand escaped my encirclement with startling, practiced grace, and then she darted off, putting distance between us.
"One day! N-no, a week's worth of energy, I spent it alllll! I'm sorryyyy! …Hyaaah!"
Eyes forward, please. Why are you tripping over the door frame while running away?
Had I blown far past a homebody's daily activity limit?
"Kang Yunhooooo!"
I was chuckling to myself in private when a familiar voice rang out from beyond the door.
Word's already out?
"You're busting my eardrums, you rascal."
Rubbing my ear as if annoyed, I opened the door.
"Hah—hah! You! You-you-you!"
"Chilly out. Come in."
The visitor was my creditor, a fellow who had somehow drifted into something like a nemesis, and the Mangeum Lord's grandson.
Jeon Gilsan—one of the candidates in this very succession test.