Chapter 58
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Model Answer
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"What? Your Majesty? What did you just say...?"
He doubted his own ears. He could hardly believe those words had come from Yeonhwa, the very incarnation of jealousy.
"Why? Don't you like it? My body's gotten heavy, so I can't play like I used to. I figured I'd just watch for a bit."
Yeonhwa smiled and pinched Cheonwi's cheek.
"I'm kidding, Cheonwi. Look at that face... But if you do a good job, it's not entirely impossible."
Yeonhwa left those words hanging with meaningful ambiguity, then closed her eyes again.
"I'm tired. You can head back to them now. Don't be late for morning greetings tomorrow."
"......Yes, rest well."
Cheonwi left the Empress's chamber in a daze. Cold sweat trickled down his back, but a strange smile played on his lips.
'Hormones, maybe... She's getting harder to read by the day...'
Was her outrageous suggestion just a joke, or another test? Either way, Cheonwi's heart pounded as if it might burst from dopamine overload.
The night air in the eunuch quarters was cool, but the heat pouring out from within rivaled a blast furnace.
After his tightrope walk in the Empress's chamber, Cheonwi stood at the entrance to his residence and let out a deep sigh. Drained from his mental spar with Yeonhwa, he had a strong premonition that the real ordeal was only just beginning.
Loud, raucous shouts leaked through the crack in the door.
"Drink up! Can't you barbarians handle even this? Empire soldiers march with booze barrels strapped to their backs!"
"Don't make me laugh, you red beetle! My tribe drinks spirits in place of water! Think a milk-scented wench like you can keep up?"
Cheonwi cautiously pushed the door open, and a nose-stinging wave of alcohol hit him.
The scene was downright shocking.
Dozens of empty bottles lay scattered like a mountain range across the floor, and smack in the center, two women squared off.
"......What in the world is this mess?"
Cheonwi's voice trailed off into the air. "Dead drunk" didn't even begin to cover the state of the pair.
Cheolhyeol had flung off her precious red armor. Clad only in thin silk undergarments, she had one leg propped on the table, blowing into a bottle like a horn. Any trace of the battlefield reaper's dignity was gone, replaced by the boisterous vibe of a neighborhood drunk.
Tira was no better. She'd shredded every scrap of her leather garb, clinging to nothing but a lion-skin cloak. Her savage allure had regressed straight to primal.
"I told you to train, and you throw a booze bash? Using stolen palace supplies, no less?"
Cheonwi approached, hand to his forehead. Cheolhyeol peered at him with bleary eyes. Her unfocused gaze blinked a few times before lighting up.
"Huh...? My hubby's here?"
Cheolhyeol staggered toward Cheonwi. Her usual stiff tone was nowhere to be found, replaced by slurred words laced with a nasal whine.
"Hehe... Cheonwi. I won. Saw that barbarian chug and spill? I won, so gimme my prize."
Cheolhyeol threw her arms around Cheonwi's neck and hung on. A heavy, soft sensation pressed against his chest. She grabbed his cheeks and unleashed shocking aegyo.
"Kiss me. C'mon? Quick. Smooch right here on the lips."
A chill ran down Cheonwi's spine. The word "smooch" from the iron-blooded general packed nuclear-level destructive power.
"Liar! I drank way more!"
At that moment, Tira lumbered over with heavy stomps and yanked Cheonwi's other arm. A bizarre aroma of booze and wild musk wafted from her.
"That bitch spilled half of hers! I'm the real winner! Prize as promised—my body! Plant it in me. Right now!"
As Tira flung her cloak wide, Cheonwi panicked and yanked her collar shut.
"Whoa, whoa, calm down. You're both wasted. Sit, first."
Cheonwi coaxed and coddled them onto the bed. The two beauties on either side growled and glared at each other—yet leaned their heads on his shoulders.
With the booze fueling them to the max, the mood turned strangely intimate. Seizing the moment, Cheonwi decided to ask something he'd always wondered. Drunk truth serum time.
"Alright, while you're buzzed, be honest. Ever think about other guys besides me? Old flames or whatever?"
Cheolhyeol spoke first. She suddenly clutched Cheonwi's clothes tight and started sniffling.
"No... Sniff... Swung my sword my whole life... Never even dated, much less held hands... Waaah..."
Tears out of nowhere.
"You're my first... The one who took off my armor, shook my heart... Take responsibility, you jerk... Sob sob."
Cheolhyeol buried her face in Cheonwi's chest and poured out her tears. A lifetime of battlefield loneliness, bottled up, finally burst free on the booze.
Tira chimed in with a snort.
"Same here. My tribe's males are all weaklings. Challenge 'em to mate—er, spar—and they drop in three seconds flat."
Tira stroked Cheonwi's thigh with her sturdy hand.
"But you're different. First stud this strong and tenacious. Qualified to plant superior seed in my belly."
Cheonwi's lips curled into a grin at their candid confessions. The empire's iron general and the southern savage warrior—both with eyes only for him. What scenario satisfied a man's conquest drive more perfectly?
Cheonwi wore a pleased smile as he patted their heads.
"You pass. Textbook model answers. Prize for both: tuck you in."
Cheonwi first moved to lay down the still-sniffling Cheolhyeol.
"There, good girl. Sleep it off, we'll talk tomorr—"
But crisis always strikes in moments of carelessness.
The instant Cheonwi leaned to settle Cheolhyeol on the bed, a hot presence pounced from behind.
"No sleeping! Night's for hunting!"
It was Tira. She leaped onto Cheonwi's back like a beast.
"Hunt! Feast! Rawr!"
Tira's hand dove for Cheonwi's waist. Sash untied, pants slipping in a do-or-die moment—then Cheolhyeol's eyes snapped open from the bed.
"No way! He's mine! My toy!"
Jealousy-blinded Cheolhyeol sprang up like a coiled spring. She locked her arms around Cheonwi's neck and shoved at Tira with all her might.
"Get off, you thieving cat! Hubby's sleeping with me tonight!"
"Outta my way! Weaklings sleep! I'm eating first!"
"Gaaah! Hold up! Timeout! Timeout!"
The bed turned to pandemonium in seconds. With Cheonwi in the middle, the two tangled in a full-on wrestling match.
Soft skin pressed from all sides, rough breaths battered his ears. Tira's thigh coiled around his neck, Cheolhyeol's arms squeezed his waist.
Heaven or hell?
"Ow, not there! Don't step there, please!"
Cheonwi's blissful screams mingled with the women's struggles, setting the annex's night ablaze. After the fierce tussle of flesh, the three collapsed onto the bed, tangled and melting into each other's body heat.
The next morning.
Sunlight pierced Cheonwi's eyes through the window slit.
He rubbed his stiff back and hauled himself up from the floor. His whole body throbbed like it'd been pummeled from last night's battle.
"Ugh... Drunk women scarier than beasts—every old saying's spot on."
Cheonwi cracked his neck with a pop and eyed the bed.
A bizarre peace had settled there.
Cheolhyeol and Tira, sworn enemies, clutched each other tight in oblivious sleep. Cheolhyeol's face was buried in Tira's chest, while Tira had wedged her leg between Cheolhyeol's.
Cheonwi flashed a mischievous grin and cleared his throat.
"Ahem!"
The sound jolted both women awake. Their sleepy gazes met after a dazed stare forward.
Three seconds of silence.
"Kyaaah!"
"Eeeek! Why are you here?!"
Screams erupted as they tumbled off opposite ends of the bed. Clutching their bodies, they glared at each other in horror.
"Y-You! Dared touch my body?!"
"Filthy soldier! Don't drool on my pelt!"
Cheonwi chuckled as he watched the spectacle.
"Nice to see you getting along. Keep it up like sisters from now on."
"Ridiculous!"
"Over my dead body!"
They shouted in unison, but the hangover hit, and they clutched their heads with groans.
"Ugh... my head..."
"Stomach... churning..."
Cheonwi sensed it was time for his secret weapon. He rolled up his sleeves and headed to the kitchen.
"Hang tight. Serving up Cheonwi's gut-clearing hangover soup."
Rare seafood even the palace kitchens struggled to procure, plus Cheonwi's smuggled special chili powder, hit the counter.
Clang. Sizzle!
The wok heated with a whoosh, leeks and garlic aromas blooming. Cheonwi's hands flew in a dazzling display: veggies stir-fried over high flame for that smoky edge, seafood dumped in, broth poured—the red brew bubbled furiously.
A spicy-yet-refreshing scent filled the annex. The two sprawled on the bed twitched their noses.
"Wh-What is this smell...?"
"Dangerous... but smells so good..."
Cheonwi set down two steaming bowls of finished spicy jjambbong.
"Dig in. One bowl, and last night's memories vanish—you'll be a new person."
Cheolhyeol and Tira took up spoons like they were entranced. The first slurp of broth snapped their eyes wide.
"!!"
The hearty brew slid down, cradling their raw stomachs. Pores opened, hangover toxins flushed out in pure bliss.
"D-Delicious! What kinda dish is this?"
"Palace chefs' slop was garbage! This is the real deal!"
Forgetting all decorum, they buried their faces in the bowls and inhaled the noodles. Slurping echoed cheerfully. Sweating buckets as they polished off the jjambbong, not a shred of last night's ferocity remained.
Cheonwi propped his chin, gazing contentedly.
'Yep, the ultimate weapon for handling women? Cooking.'
Tamed like baby birds accepting food. Cheonwi hoped this peace would last forever.