Chapter 13
One day until the Facing Ceremony. As one of Joseon's grandest events drew near, Hanseong began buzzing with people. Or more precisely, the uppermost layers of Hanseong were bursting at the seams.
“Lord Go? Fancy meeting you here!”
“Professor Hyun, you look splendid yourself—delighted to see it!”
On the eve of the Facing Ceremony, Joseon's power brokers gathered at the Andong Kim Clan Main House for the welcoming rite. The Facing Ceremony itself was where every yangban in Joseon assembled to gauge the aura prowess of the new generation. Only yangban could enter the venue, and no media outlet dared film or report on it.
But tonight's welcoming rite was a prelude, honoring the sponsors from all walks of life. So the place was packed not just with yangban, but with corporate titans and dignitaries from across the globe.
“This is Byung Il-won from Hanseong Daily! Thank you for the interview. So, your eldest young master will be attending the Facing Ceremony?”
“Hahaha! That's right. My boy's aura reading this time...!”
Some flaunted their offspring's aura stats to the powerless commoners.
“The scale of this event is massive. Looks like the Central Ministers' Council will be...”
“Kim Jung-heon again, no doubt. Lord Jo Gang-seok didn't seem thrilled, though.”
“Then we'll adjust our sponsorship accordingly. With the Chief State Councillor likely going to the Andong Kim again...”
Experts from the conglomerates sized up the yangban power dynamics, plotting their next moves.
“Hello! I couldn't help noticing you—you're just my type. Mind sharing your comm code...?”
“Beat it.”
Some with hawkish eyes scouted potential marriage prospects.
“We're Donga Industries, newly listed. We'd be so grateful if you esteemed guests could...”
Ambitious entrepreneurs seized the chance to schmooze the yangban.
In this den of tangled motives and desires—the Andong Kim Clan Main House—what was I doing right now?
“Hoo...”
Nothing.
Absolutely jack squat.
I'd wandered around, trying to scout potential allies for the shifting power landscape, stamping faces in my memory. Shockingly, no one gave me the time of day.
Simple reason: I'm a powerless bastard.
Even among yangban, I'm trash. Why would the bootlickers courting them treat me any different?
If my family weren't hosting the Facing Ceremony, I'd probably get an earful of every insult in the book just for lurking nearby.
“Filthy world.”
I muttered to myself and scanned the opulent banquet hall. Air purifiers lined the roads leading to it. The sky lounge stretching into the stratosphere overflowed with lavish cuisine. Holographic art danced across the heavens amid gales of laughter from people in dazzling attire.
Compared to the slums I'd visited weeks ago, it was night and day.
No wonder revolutions brew. You insane bastards.
'Fuck it, screw those corporate assholes. Let 'em all die in the uprising.'
I hurled inner curses like daggers, then sighed at the sky.
“Hoo...”
“Why the heavy sigh?”
“Life's a bitch—sighs come naturally.”
Live like me and see if you don't snap.
That grumble lasted a moment.
“...But who the hell are you?”
I eyed the kid who'd squatted beside me.
'Judging by the clothes, a girl. Any late-bloomers like this among the arrivals?'
“Mister, what's your name?”
“Not telling. You didn't share yours either, young master.”
Heh, playing coy?
I gave her an up-and-down scan.
“Let's see... You're not from Hanseong, right?”
“...How'd you know, young master?”
“Hanseong yangban girls don't wear that. Went out of style a decade ago.”
She finally glanced at her outfit: pink skirt, white jeogori, bobbed hair. The kind that'd draw coos of “so cute!” anywhere. But she looked deflated.
“...For real?”
“Nah, just messing with you.”
Her reaction confirmed it—total country bumpkin.
I smirked, and she puffed her cheeks in a pout. Face ballooned like a pufferfish.
“So, missy, why pick on a guy just sitting here? Where's your group?”
I poked her inflated cheek to deflate it. She kept pouting.
“...Aura testing's tomorrow. Dad's off schmoozing adults everywhere. They all ignore me, but he's hustling to make a good impression. Boring.”
“Ah.”
Classic tale: late bloomer past ten, aura test tomorrow; dad hustling for face-time. Dime a dozen for non-Hanseong folk.
“Other kids your age?”
“I'm bullying them into leaving me alone.”
Outcast.
That stinging label stirred deep empathy.
Ah, loser and bully-repellent. Amid Joseon's noble bloodlines in this sacred hall—me the bastard, her the bumpkin!
My heart twinged; I secretly wiped a tear.
Kim Chang-un here—after endless wandering, I'd found a 'friend' to open up to!
“What a coincidence. Same here.”
“Oh, so you're free too, young master?”
“Yep.”
“Then pay for teasing me—show me around Hanseong.”
Not “please,” but “do it”? Friend revoked. Thought she was a pal; turns out, she's the boss.
But Kim Chang-un, paragon of Joseon manhood, won't fold so easy.
I feigned sternness and lectured her.
“Missy. Like this: 'Handsome big bro, this girl humbly requests a Hanseong tour...'"
“Show me Hanseong! I'm hungry!”
“Yes, ma'am. As you command.”
One shout crushed my frail resistance.
Getting bossed by a kid half my age. This is my life.
'Whatever, no big deal.'
Ally-hunting was doomed anyway; action starts tomorrow. Tae-woong and Moo-young were off on their tasks—this was my first break in ages.
Planned nonstop for a month; one day off won't kill me.
“Alright. Those yangban ignoring me can shove it!”
“Yay! Shove it—!”
Heh heh, kid's picking up swears quick. Sharp one. Parents' jaws'll drop.
Thus, outcast and loser bonded and skipped out of the banquet hall, giggling.
Past life, I'd grovel to those yangban. Not anymore.
“Eat and play hard.”
Yeah. Plans, contacts, revolution—whatever. All for survival, right?
Seeing the sun in Hanseong was a privilege. Even in decent mid-layers, you needed private parks.
As that noble sun dipped toward quitting time, the outcast duo—having bonded at the Facing Ceremony—dodged jeers and harassment, roaming the banquet outskirts.
'Playing?'
More like demolishing every food stall in sight.
I figured watching a kid meant let her run till exhausted, stuff her till stuffed. Done.
But...
“Crazy...”
She crammed her eighteenth meat skewer, while I gnawed squid legs beside her.
The banquet thrummed like a festival. Below, vendors who'd sold out packed up.
“Sold out! Everything gone!”
“Cleared inventory too—worth the spot fee!”
“Pack quick before anyone sees! Knew luck was with me today...!”
Who shut down all those stalls? No shock: this pint-sized terror next to me.
Aura users eat leagues beyond us normals.
“Stuffed—!”
Blissful cheer, arms raised. Adorable, so I dabbed sauce from her mouth with my handkerchief.
“But young master.”
Moment over. She toddled up, eyes curious. In that blink, she'd demolished a box of yakgwa for dessert.
Easy there, my pretty wallet.
Watching cash hemorrhage brought tears.
“I'm a bumpkin, fine. But you're Hanseong—why hang with me?”
“No friends here.”
“Why? You're nice to strangers, buy tons of food.”
“Powerless bastard.”
“Whoa.”
Her stunned silence showed even she knew the stigma at her age.
'Go on! Run! I was the only sincere one.'
“Powerless... Family bully you?”
“Kinda.”
Expected her to bolt at “bastard,” but she stabbed the sore spot.
I shrugged it off.
“...Nice. Potential!”
Fists clenched, resolved, she beamed at me.
“Then, young master—come to my house?”
“Your place?”
She nodded vigorously. I chuckled, shaking my head.
“No way. Your folks'd flip bringing home trash like me.”
“Dad's not like that!”
“Dunno about that.”
Undeterred by my apathy, she sparkled on.
“Dad says: 'A person's worth isn't birth—it's how they live. Even a cheonmin can outshine yangban; even a yangban can sink below cheonmin!'”
“Ooh, wisdom.”
“So you're a good guy, so...”
Blushing, fidgeting, she raised a finger.
“Be my groom from today!”
First proposal in my near-forty years, including past life—from a girl.
“...Groom?”
One tiny issue: not marrying in, but out?
“Don't wanna?”
“No, it's not...”
She blurts it, now shy? Regretting it?
Frozen on a reply—
“Bang-seon—!”
Booming voice snapped me out.
Bang-seon. Obvious whose name.
Puff-cheeks activated: fresh pufferfish.
“D-Dad—! Don't call me that! Embarrassing—!”
“Oh! There you are, Bang-seon!”
Spotting her shout, the voice-owner charged over.
Good, dad's here. Time to recoup my demolished wallet from this eater.
Eyes on the source—
“...!”
The man rushing me froze me solid, speechless.
“Thought you'd vanished—made a friend already?”
“Not friend! My groom!”
“Heavens, now nonsense too.”
Voice casual beyond yangban norms. But hearing it, my jaw locked.
“Yu Sang-hyun. Grateful to this young master I don't know. Must've been... tough.”
“N-No, sir. I mean...”
Doesn't know me? Probably. He'd never smile like that knowing I'm Andong Kim spawn.
“Thanks for watching Ban—no, A-rin. If chance arises, please keep helping.”
“Y-Yes... sir.”
“Dad! He bought tons of food! From there to there! I ate it all? Good girl?”
“...All that?”
Hamgyeong Military Commander, 'Iron Tiger' Yu Sang-hyun.
Commander of the Iron Tiger Army, defending Joseon's borders from Manchu desert monsters.
Recognizing him clicked it.
That girl: Yu A-rin.
Right then—
“Oh, young master.”
She toddled close, whispering conspiratorially.
“My name's not Bang-seon.”
“...!”
Playful tone, but chills shot up my spine.
“Bang-seon? Yi Bang-seon. Dad said not to tell, but you're my groom—so special. Got it?”
“...Yeah.”
“Top secret! Promise!”
She waved innocently and vanished.
Once gone, I scanned for eavesdroppers.
No Detectives Bureau goons—safe.
“Why didn't I realize sooner?”
Alias: Yu A-rin.
True name: Yi Bang-seon.
The kid I'd played with: Joseon's last Jeonju Yi.
Last royal heir, legitimate throne claimant.
And someday...
'I lost it all—so you must too. Suffer as I suffered! So... so I...!'
Avenging her dead father.
Igniting revolution's flames to burn Joseon.
She'd become the hero.