Chapter 6
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Swordsmen Are the Natural Enemies of Small Business Owners
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Knock, knock, knock.
The steady drip of the water clock pounded against my eardrums. I opened my eyes to see the familiar ceiling. Glancing sideways, I spotted an inner servant lighting a candle.
"Your Highness, it's time to rise."
"...What time is it?"
"The third quarter of the Yin hour—3:45 a.m."
3:45 in the morning. Even after three rounds of drinks at a company dinner, I'd be asleep by then.
But in the imperial palace, this was when the workday began. No, not palace life—this was Crown Prince life.
"Ughhh..."
As I dragged myself up, my joints creaked.
Crack, crackle, pop.
This wasn't the sound a five-year-old body should make. Stretching out, my whole body suddenly ached.
Aging at this age? No way it was growing pains. This was rapid deterioration from overwork.
Suddenly, my daily routine flashed through my mind, and a wave of misery crashed over me.
Wash up, get dressed, head to the antechamber for duty. Stand there like a zombie during the morning audience, chew through ledgers and petitions over breakfast with the Emperor, get lectured on law by old man Gwak in the morning, then endure horse-riding torture and laps around the training grounds with General Ma in the afternoon.
And at night?
With Soso's help, stamp through the backlog of documents. Spotting the Emperor's tasks slipped in among them made me sigh without fail.
This had been going on for a week straight.
Not a single day off. Even when the Emperor rested, I had to work and study.
'I'm losing my mind.'
At the morning meal table, I was too drained to even lift my spoon—my hand trembled.
The table overflowed with top-grade medicinal cuisine, but to me, it just looked like feed. Eat this, groan, and keep grinding away.
"Your Highness, has your appetite fled?"
Soso asked from the side, testing the food for poison with her silver needle. Even though the Emperor's kitchens already vetted everything, she double-checked anyway.
Grateful, but I was too exhausted to even say so.
I mumbled blankly.
"Soso."
"Yes."
"Can a person live on rice alone?"
"...?"
Her face screamed, What nonsense is this Crown Prince spouting? Blasphemous, but that wasn't the point—I let it slide.
"Sometimes you need greasy food, spicy stuff, and above all, fresh air to stay alive, right?"
I'd made up my mind. This couldn't go on. I was on the verge of collapse.
If I didn't get a breather today, I might just ditch being Crown Prince—or even Emperor—and run away.
But I couldn't just stroll out. Announce a joyride, and my teachers would shut it down. Old man Ma would have me running laps for "lack of mental fortitude."
I needed a pretext. A perfect, irrefutable, Crown Prince-worthy one.
My mental calculator whirred. Life on the line sharpened my wits. I hit on the perfect excuse in seconds, slammed down my spoon, and shot to my feet, buzzing with excitement.
"Old man Gwak! Old man Ma!"
My two waiting teachers entered.
"You called, Your Highness?"
"Cancel today's lessons."
"What do you—"
Minister Gwak Jeong-eon's eyebrow twitched. A lecture barrage loomed, but I cut it off with a grave expression.
"Desk learning isn't enough. I need to see the real world."
"The real world?"
"How can I know how the people live or market prices if I just stare at ledgers? What's the most vital lesson? Beware empty armchair theories."
I pointed out the window.
"Word is, the Imperial City's buzzing with talent for the Military Examination Festival. Inspecting rookie officials' caliber and local commerce—that's true kingly arts, isn't it?"
Yes, my pretext:
[Inspect and Evaluate Prospective Talent]
Perfect. Minister Gwak was moved by the Confucian "care for the people," while General Ma was hooked by warrior curiosity over "exam candidates."
They probably saw through my ulterior motives but let it slide anyway.
"Oh... Truly profound insight, Your Highness!"
"Excellent! Then we'll escort—"
"No."
I waved them off firmly.
"If you two come along, it's a procession, not a covert outing. The people would scatter. Soso's enough for protection."
"But—"
"I'll write an inspection report after. You can review it then. Alright, I'm off—wish me luck!"
I grabbed Soso's hand and bolted without waiting for replies. Shouts echoed behind us, but my mind was already scaling the palace walls.
Soso asked worriedly.
"Your Highness. Will you really write the report?"
"Quiet. Don't jinx it. That's for later. Fun first."
Inner servants changed us into plain young master and maid outfits. Guards would shadow from afar for emergencies; close protection was Soso alone, as planned.
And so, we hit the streets of Geumneung.
Whoa. People. Living, breathing people—not stacks of documents.
No officials. Just ordinary folks living their lives, overflowing everywhere.
This was life. That damned palace hell? Forget it. I wanted this—peace without paperwork purgatory and the Emperor's bellows.
The streets brimmed with energy that even revived me. Hotteok sizzling, merchants hawking. This was living. Worlds away from the palace drab.
"So many people."
"Military Examination Festival draws crowds. Every thug... er, martial artist in the country."
The streets crawled with sword-swinging posers. Sure, a few sharp-eyed experts lurked, but most screamed "hire me" with desperate eyes—livelihood warriors.
They looked like they'd bolt at real trouble. Otherwise, why strut so sloppily?
Aiming for exam success? They reeked of gangster, not soldier.
"Even the Diamond Mountains are best after a meal. Smell that?"
I pointed to the famed Dragon Gate Inn of Geumneung. Palace maids gossiped about its killer food and killer views.
The greasy roast duck aroma punched my gut. Forget medicinal slop. Today, I'd grease my veins.
We grabbed a corner table, ordered dumplings and duck. I stopped Soso's reflexive silver needle pull.
"Hey, none of that here. Bad vibes."
"What if it's poisoned..."
"Public joint like this? They'd go bust. Just eat."
I tore into a duck leg. Juices exploded.
Ah, bliss. This was it.
Tears welled up. Over this? But yeah—small, sure happiness like this.
I'd lived blind to joy before. Becoming Crown Prince hammered home its value.
Alas, my teary bliss didn't last.
'Eat at an inn, and trouble always finds you.'
Why now?
Crash!
Familiar destruction sounds. I flinched, nearly dropping my precious duck leg.
"You filthy riffraff! How dare you cause a ruckus in broad daylight?"
Turning, chaos erupted in the inn's center.
One side: burly thugs with mean mugs. Opposite: a delicate youth in white robes embroidered with red plum blossoms on the sleeves, facing them down.
"Plum pattern. Mount Hua Sect."
Soso murmured. Yup, their uniform. Fine fabric, too. No wonder I knew the name—they were big shots.
The youth dramatically drew his sword and bellowed.
"I am Baekun, secular disciple of Mount Hua! How can one pass by injustice on the path to exam glory? Begone!"
Shing!
Flashy. Sword tips bloomed like plum flowers. But Soso saw through it.
"All show, no substance. Fancy parlor tricks."
Still, Baekun swiftly downed three black bruisers. The crowd cheered his flair.
Fine until then. Problem after.
Thud! Crack!
His swing went wild mid-suppression, cleaving two intact tables in half.
One thug crashed into the counter; another's flight path hit a decorative sake jug—bad luck.
Smashed to bits.
Startled patrons screamed, fleeing half-eaten meals.
"Hmph. Pathetic."
Done, Baekun sheathed with style. Approaching the woebegone innkeeper, he tossed a single silver tael from his pouch.
"This covers it. For justice—surely you understand."
Then turned coolly to leave, no backward glance.
That mess for one tael? The owner clutched it, dazed.
Not even one table leg. Plus smashed jug, lost meals from fleeing customers?
My inner child—conscience—yelled.
'That's no swordsman. That's a business wrecker and dine-and-dasher.'
And he nearly cost me my sweet vacation duck?
"Soso."
"Yes."
"Block the door."
Soso shadowed to the entrance. I set down my chopsticks and called out brightly.
"Hey, Mount Hua uncle. Gotta pay the full tab first."
Baekun halted at Soso's blockade, turned at my voice.
A kid calling him? Priceless shock on his face.
"Kiddo. I just handled villains. Paid already..."
"Villain or not, you trashed the place."
I stood, strode to the counter, pulled the abacus.
"Let's tally. Two premium pearwood tables destroyed. Counter obliterated. One jug of Jukyeopcheong smashed. Can't forget revenue loss from scared-off diners."
Click, clack, rattle. Beads flew.
"Total: 50 silver taels. And..."
I pointed at his waist.
"This is the Imperial City. Wielding a blade over a foot without permit in town? Public safety violation. Fines make it 80 taels."
80 silver taels. Enough for a family of four to live two years comfy.
Capital prices, though.
And no fresh-upstart warrior had that.
Indeed, Baekun flushed beet-red.
"You impudent brat! Merchant spawn, are you? Dunning a Mount Hua disciple? Mere collateral from upholding justice."
"Justice is for constables. You're just a vandal."
Baekun gripped his hilt, unable to hold rage. Martial habit: blades before words.
If he knew I was Crown Prince? High treason. Sigh—better save his skin.
"Soso. Handle it."
She launched. Baekun reached for his sword, but her dagger nicked his wrist acupoint precisely.
"Urk!"
Arm numb, she swept his legs. Crash—he tumbled ingloriously. Soso snatched his sword, presented it.
"Nice. Recoup some. Seized."
I got paper and brush from the owner, scrawled [Seized] on it, spat-glued it to the plum blade.
"Uncle, broke now, huh?"
"R-release! Know who I am? Tell my family, funds come quick... Or Mount Hua HQ—do you know what happens?"
"Oh yeah?"
I feigned delight.
"Write the sect leader then. 'Secular disciple racked up 80-tael debt causing havoc in the capital—please cover.'"
"...!"
Baekun paled. Prestigious sects prized face over life.
Secular disciple's scandal bill to HQ?
They'd pay, maybe—but excommunicate him on sight. No exam, blacklisted from the jianghu.
"M-mercy! Not the sect! Please!"
"Pay up then."
"N-no cash now... Pass the exam, get stipend..."
Broke zealot, drunk on chivalry.
"No credit. No ID in the capital? Hard pass."
I grinned, called the owner.
"Report it. Request mediation clean."
Responding bailiffs assessed, moved to haul him off.
I signaled my shadows: have him work off the debt. Jail wasted coin on meals.
"Owner! This guy's paying in labor—no funds. Kitchen short-staffed?"
Bailiff spoke; owner flustered but nodded.
"Huh? Oh, yes! Radish slicer bolted..."
"Perfect. You—sword's seized, grab a kitchen knife. We'll watch—no slacking."
Moments later.
Inn backyard. Mount Hua's exam hopeful prodigy Baekun squatted, chipping at radishes. No famed plum sword—just a chipped iron kitchen blade.
"Sniff... Did I train at Mount Hua... to slice radishes...?"
Tears fell as he chopped. His flashy swordplay made him a radish-shredding machine.
Tat-tat-tat-tat!
Bailiffs loomed with spears.
Escape? Instant felon—no exam.
Back to duck leg, Soso quipped as she ate dumplings.
"Your Highness. You're ruthless."
I gnawed contentedly.
"This is justice. Grind down anyone making small business owners cry blood."
Watching the youth become a working stiff? Heartwarming pride.
Socalled swordsman—really thug—learning society's rules.
Educational spectacle.
Jianghu? Chivalry? Society first. This was true laughing proud of rivers and lakes—mocking the martial world.