Chapter 139
Chapter 139
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 139
Chapter Title: Light up the fire(1)
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I wasn't deluded enough to think something like, 'Hong Inhan tried to frame me over the Kim Chiryang incident, only to realize my immense virtue and dignity, and used my return as an excuse to seek forgiveness.'
It's not that my virtue and dignity aren't immense—it's just that a fool like him could never comprehend them.
From seven days prior, I'd prepared meticulously. I entered Nakseondang with nearly all my abilities fully unleashed, including Shin Sukju's Integrity.
Shin Sukju's Integrity doesn't read minds, but when someone's scheming, their head is working overtime, so their stats shift noticeably.
Combining that with my bureaucratic experience gives results far more accurate than mere guesswork.
First off, the Crown Prince seems no different from usual.
Actually, his stats are slightly down, probably because he's out of practice with these long-overdue revelries. Right? Coming off the screen so suddenly must be disorienting, huh?
As for Hong Inhan... unfortunately, since he's not his usual self, I can't tell exactly how he differs from normal.
But any Joseon person worth their salt has basic proficiency in physiognomy and mind-reading. That sly face of his says it all.
Which leaves the highest probability from the start.
Hong Inhan is definitely deceiving the Crown Prince and preparing something.
Once the formal ceremony ended—the Crown Prince praising me, me feigning gratitude, and everyone clapping in unison—the real drinking party kicked off.
The king might abstain in secret, but no one respects the alcohol ban for that. After the palace tragedy tarnished his authority, it got even worse.
Joseon folk (king included) don't even grasp the concept of prohibition from the start.
Among the Crown Prince's faction, at least more than my fingers can count joined expecting him to lift the ban upon ascending. He's no fool; he permitted it knowingly.
Hong Inhan plopped down blatantly next to me and murmured slyly.
"I've long lacked the chance, but finally meeting the renowned Dog-Beating Stick Kim of the capital brings me immense joy."
I've heard "Dog-Beating Stick" once or twice, but pairing it like that feels extra mocking.
Some guys you just hate no matter what they do, and Hong Inhan fit the bill perfectly.
Every word from him pulled aggro like Eulji Mundeok composing poetry for Wu Zhongwen. Is this your skill or what?
"They say Dog-Beating Stick boasts a hundred talents that ring through the capital, yet I've never heard he knows how to revel. Please enjoy yourself to the fullest today."
It's not that I don't know revelry—it's just too laughable. Would a modern guy jamming to EDM in a club suddenly want to dance to gugak? I'd rather groove to Hong Daeyong and the kids' authentic performances.
Besides, with Guan Yu's Patience at full throttle, it was nearly agonizing.
The piercing music, laughter, premodern stench from every attendee, and lavish oil wasting away—it all mixed into vomit-inducing nausea. Was Joseon cuisine always this greasy?
Not bothering to hide my displeasure, I glanced at Kim Chiryang across the way and said loud enough for Hong Inhan to hear.
"Truly, this gathering brims with those who 'know revelry.' Even the gisaeng look thrilled."
Anyone could see the gisaengs' deathly pallor—they'd been dragged here against their will.
Of course. They know their hosts. If not for the palace, half would've died tonight. Even Dalmun picked the sharpest ones, and they're still like this.
Hong Inhan's face twitched uncomfortably before recovering.
"Glad you approve. But... that servant you brought is anything but ordinary."
Not talking about Jangbok, obviously.
Jangbok looks utterly ordinary to anyone. Plus, he's over there intercepting rice cakes from a food-fetching servant.
Hong Inhan pointed at the man standing rigidly behind me—Eoji, who'd come with Jangbok.
"I'm ashamed of my ignorance in such matters. Having received the rank of Mutual Defense Commander, I must maintain some dignity."
"Hoho, your fame precedes you—even children know it. No need for such humility."
Hong Inhan seemed quite tense.
Your plans are obvious.
Something like the 'Ulleungdo Hong Moon-yeon' ploy I pulled?
Get the Crown Prince drunk, then ambush me in the bathroom or whatever.
Sorry to disappoint. Unlike ignorant Dutchmen, I've read the Classics widely.
Lay out special cards 'Burning Joy,' 'Guan Yu,' 'Zhang Fei,' and you neutralize 'Cup Tossing'—it's all in the books.
And I've got a real S-rank card that could handle all three of those clowns at once.
I'd stuffed Eoji full of Jangdong Kim clan secret steak beforehand, so he's disinterested in food.
No worthy peers around, so he ignores the gisaeng too. He just scans the room, standing behind me.
To me, he looks bored; to mortals, he's clearly hunting his next skull to crush.
Hong Inhan fidgeted nervously, offering me a cup.
"Why aren't you drinking? With His Highness here, excessive refusal goes against decorum, as the ancients said."
Can't let the skill drop.
But I didn't pull the clueless "Don't you know the ban?" card. Instead, another excuse.
"My wounds from the recent flogging and starvation are festering; alcohol might worsen them. I've already informed His Highness."
Mentioning 'King Yeongjo's torment' and 'Crown Prince' together? Hong Inhan gets the jab.
I don't drink with king faction scum like you.
He caught on. After more pointless chatter, he slunk toward the Crown Prince.
Then, like a sycophantic deputy at a ministry party, he kept pouring for him.
This is where the Crown Prince's attendant Won Inson (my plant) should moderate.
But that gambler was off setting up a backgammon board under party pretense.
You're dead to your father Won Gyeongha. I'll tell him tomorrow.
The oil stench throbbed my head, stalling thoughts.
At least the incense lit around as night fell was a mercy.
Slipping out on a privy excuse, Hong Inhan bumped into Kim Chiryang, whose similar temperament struck at the same moment.
"I tried reasoning first, but he's stubborn as hell. No choice—stick to the plan."
Kim Chiryang swallowed hard.
"W-Will it work? With His Highness there..."
"What now? Defying his father makes him no prince, just a traitorous son. And it harms neither prince nor ministers—it's a 'rescue' merit."
"What if it goes wrong..."
"Then you make sure it doesn't. Hesitating to settle scores with your enemy Kim Unhaeng? Think you'll survive if he climbs higher?"
Kim Chiryang couldn't retort that Chundang wouldn't touch him again after one failure.
Kim Unhaeng bribed drillmaster Hong Bonghan, mingled with royal kin like Nakchang-gun, and got rank through Crown Prince lobbying—all to target Kim Chiryang alone, per Hong Inhan's intel. He couldn't fathom his offense.
Kim Chiryang's face twisted into a coward's self-preservation excuse. Hong Inhan drove the wedge.
"But if it succeeds, we pin crimes on Kim Unhaeng later. Just escort the Crown Prince out safely."
"...Yes."
As Hong Inhan and Kim Chiryang vanished, I hurried to the Crown Prince at the head seat to suggest ending the party.
But alas, he was in no state to heed me.
"Chunsik! Where've you been? Sit here!"
He resembled a department head hitting the chicken-soju-billiards-karaoke circuit, landing at a 5 a.m. street cart.
Classic end-stage drunkenness: moved by his own words.
"Without you, I might not be alive today. I owe you beyond repayment."
That's the gist—his slurred speech defied transcription; I just grasped the meaning.
"I've wanted to die countless times. Even kin couldn't care more. You're mere palace attendant now, but someday you'll lead ministers as Chief Councillor. No—Grand Marshal suits you better..."
A bit more, and treason talk incoming?
"I'd rather hear your lectures than these gisaeng tunes. As Mutual Defense Commander, guard the East Palace appropriately—and lecture often."
Hey, gisaeng ladies. No meaningful glances? That's what Dalmun meant by sharp.
Then Kim Chiryang returned.
I planned to have Eoji hurl him if he pushed more drinks.
But surprisingly, he said the same as me.
"His Majesty calls for liquor (Yeongjo's drink euphemism). Your Highness, I'll escort you."
He signaled a servant, who fetched a candelabrum as a lantern. No flashlight phones, so servants double as lights.
I fumbled my response momentarily.
Tipsy and annoyed by heat, or just fidgeting—the Crown Prince's meaningless gesture brushed Kim Chiryang.
Kim Chiryang flew back like hit by a shell.
Before marveling at the prince's potent palm strike, Kim Chiryang crashed into the servant, who dropped the candelabrum.
Anyone who's done a campfire knows fire doesn't spread easily.
Usually, a fallen candelabrum just scorches the floor unless you're cursed.
But the Nakseondang veranda around the prince ignited instantly, like doused in spirits.
Flames leaped to sliding doors, devouring paper lanterns greedily.
As if someone intended rapid spread...
Intended?
Sobriety hit like I'd downed shots.
'So that's the oil smell!'
You mad bastards. Burn the prince, and you think you'll survive regardless?
The king thanks inwardly then executes you all? Or the state crumbles.
But next instant, I grasped their true aim.
Kim Chiryang dragged the prince, urging him.
Chaos reigned—screams, panic—but flames weren't that dire up close.
We could escape easily. Everyone else already fled, us aside.
Not to cremate the prince.
Create 'fact': prince indulged forbidden booze and revelry, torched Nakseondang.
Hence the Hollywood stunt with the candelabrum beside him. Bonus: merit for 'saving' him, dodging suspicion.
No time to counter.
"O-Out!"
Eoji bear-hugged me like a lariat—his thigh-thick forearm crushed my ribs, breath gone, vision white.
My sin? Never teaching Eoji etiquette.
Lifelong first savage lunge—the prince recoiled. Instinctively, he yanked Kim Chiryang.
No matter Kim Chiryang's golden sun vitality, it's peasant-grade. Outmatched in strength, youth, lust.
They tumbled entangled toward the inferno.
As Eoji leaped with me, crashing beams and burning rafters, posts collapsed below.
Even after Eoji set me down, recovery took moments. I glanced aside.
Not pallid Hong Inhan. Not Won Inson dashing with a cauldron, yelling to douse with booze or water.
One guy who'd survive anywhere—bolted lightning-fast at first flame.
I yelled desperately at him.
"Jangbok! Dive in and save His Highness!"
"Flames roaring, though?"
"You insolent slave! Whose life matters more—yours or the Crown Prince's?"
Jangbok pondered execution for prioritizing self or immolation for prince.
Transcending slave wisdom, he found option three: my life matters least.
"Why not show loyal righteousness yourself, master who's trained in martial arts? Clothes singed, but no injuries..."
What?
I checked Eoji—groaning from minor burns on calf, arm.
Means flames reached me. Too shocked to notice.
Yet I'm unscathed.
Skill? But Guan Yu's Patience wasn't maxed for numbness then—dulls senses, not nullifies wounds.
Then it hit.
Earlier, Eulji Mundeok's Flame amid Hong Inhan's taunts—I pondered mental skills, but sans Janggak talisman, all skills apply only to 'me.'
Status Window (via skills) can't freely manipulate others, or no need to drop me here.
Thus, their influence limited; this is real, not their sim.
Ergo, paradoxical 'Eulji Mundeok's Flame' is clear.
Underwhelming: 'nothing there.'
Flames meaningless before Eulji Mundeok's natural water blasts. Bastards twisted it viciously.
Salu Battle wasn't water win? Right. Guan Yu didn't chess Ma Liang to ditch pain.
To avoid suspicion, I snatched Won Inson's cauldron, inverted it as helmet.
Joseon folk accept my survival thus. I charged like burst Cheongan River.
Luckily, only outer parts burned. No incendiary—whole building won't collapse instantly.
Pillars, rafters, walls, furniture tangled igloo-like, collapsed circular, smoke-filled core.
No need barehand clearing.
Flames extinguished where I touched. Body-slamming burning doors, I lit Guan Yu's Patience in smoke to spot floor.
'Why sunken floor sans ondol?'
This odd space sheltered from fire—fortunate.
But basements deadliest in fires. Extract fast.
I dropped slowly. Man-height basement: prince and Kim Chiryang sprawled.
Shaking prince's shoulder roused him. Rising, no breaks.
"Chu... Chunsik?"
"Yes. We must go! I'll clear the path."
Burning veranda partly collapsed, flaming planks rained.
Missed us (not Kim Chiryang). Instead, sparks revealed basement truth amid smoke-dark even Patience missed.
'You bastard...'
No blaming prince now.
I dragged a doujin bookshelf as ladder, shoved prince up brute-force. He ascended hastily—or assuming I missed.
Then shielded him side-on, batting flames like saving Cao Cao at Boxyang Castle, forging path.
Why make me ape Three Kingdoms? My role's Zhuge Liang, not vanguard.
Kim Chiryang? Not cruelty—basement seals his fate. Requiescat. Farewell. I'll explain to Park Sangsoon.
This Nakseondang links to Gwanheo Pavilion, for Crown Prince heir and Yongdu-gun.
Wife, kids near death—Crown Princess rushed despite pregnancy. Face new, but escorts confirm.
Supporting prince out, she collapsed weeping before crowd.
"You're a true loyalist!"
Spot on. Spare him joy that underground secret consort's fully 'exiled.' Hold back.
Lee Geum's first reaction matched history.
No query on prince's safety—unpleasantly alive.
Thus, he granted Hong Inhan and late Kim Chiryang's wish.
Summoned untreated prince, berated.
"Rogue! Why start a fire?"
Author's Note
1. In-story timeline (1756), Nakseondang fire per history: not party, but prince's real rage at attendants like Won Inson sowing father-son discord.
Hanjungnok: Prince scolded officials, swung arm, toppled candelabrum. It caught paper screens, spreading uncontrollably.
Pregnant Princess Hye-kyeong rushing out factual. Historical prince (sober) escaped quick; here, he went to save Jeongjo at Gwanheo.
2. Seungjeongwon Diary of night notes from prince's arrival onward 'deleted by Jeongjo's edict (Bing-sin year).' Beyond Annals' brief, official records scarce. Won Inson cross-verified via diary.
3. Subtitle "Light up the fire" literally 'ignite,' idiomatically 'start war,' 'let's have a hot night,' etc. Common in lyrics.