The Magistrate's Hidden Son
The hidden son of the Giyang County Magistrate.
An Won-myeong.
He felt as though he were losing his mind under the harsh reality of his abduction.
No, Papa will definitely come to save me.
As the late-born son of his family, An Won-myeong had grown up pampered, eating only the finest delicacies and wearing only the most luxurious silks. He had never known a single day of want.
He possessed the status of being the Giyang County Magistrate's only son.
Furthermore, though limited to Giyang County, he was the eldest grandson of the prestigious An clan, renowned throughout the region as wealthy landowners.
The environment An Won-myeong had been born into was more than enough to allow him to look down on others from a very young age.
Papa, I'm so scared.
An Won-myeong jiggled his plump belly as he tried to make sense of his current situation.
On the first day, he had been so terrified that he had meekly obeyed every command of his kidnappers.
But today, the second day, he was starting to get annoyed.
Among the weeping children, his presence was far too conspicuous.
How dare they?
Who did they think he was?
Why did he have to be shoved into a place like this alongside such lowborn trash?
If they were kidnappers, shouldn't they at least treat him well until they received the ransom? It was utterly unfair.
So, he had gathered his courage and thrown a tantrum.
But to his surprise, the kidnappers hadn't even reacted.
As the fear of being beaten gradually faded, his confidence began to swell.
Just then, one of the lowborn brats beside him suddenly began to wriggle closer.
Wriggle, wriggle...
And then...
"Young Master."
"...Hmm? Who are you...?"
With his arms bound, the lowborn boy deftly rolled his body over and whispered softly into An Won-myeong's ear.
"To tell you the truth, I have come to rescue you."
"Huh? What? R-Really?"
An Won-myeong was genuinely shocked. Looking at the boy's shabby attire, he didn't look the part at all. And yet...
"Yes. The Magistrate sent me in secret."
Astonishingly, this boy knew who his father was. Instantly, a bright gleam lit up An Won-myeong's eyes.
"I knew Papa would!"
"Shh! Please lower your voice first."
"Ah, okay. I mean, very well."
Ilyang whispered softly as he looked at the exceptionally plump An Won-myeong, who was already gazing at him with absolute trust.
"Young Master."
"Yes?"
"You must listen very carefully to what I am about to say."
"Mhm. Go on."
Perhaps sensing the gravity of the situation, An Won-myeong curled his chubby body like a shrimp and focused on Ilyang's words.
In truth, the room was so dark that they could barely see each other's faces, but Ilyang was certain that An Won-myeong was staring at him with the most serious expression in the world. He would have bet on it.
Indeed, An Won-myeong was currently placing infinite trust in Ilyang, whom he had only just met.
"The iron bracelet you are wearing on your wrist. Please lend it to me for a moment."
"This? Huh? No way. Papa gave this to me. He said it was made with a blend of precious dark iron."
As An Won-myeong pulled his arm back, his voice thick with reluctance, Ilyang quickly countered.
"Must we not escape from here first? If using it allows us to flee, your father will surely applaud and praise your wisdom."
"Oh... Is that so? But they said this was a family heirloom..."
"How could that be? There is no treasure in the An family more precious than you, Young Master."
"I-Is that so? Well, of course! You certainly know your stuff!"
To Ilyang, a sheltered, greenhouse-flower young master like this was nothing short of easy prey.
As An Won-myeong, completely swayed by Ilyang's words, struggled to slip the bracelet off, Ilyang leaned in closer, slid the iron bracelet off for him, and spoke.
"Then please prepare yourself to leave, Young Master."
Escaping the entire compound was a separate matter, but getting out of this room was not particularly difficult.
"Yes, very well. But what is your name?"
"My name is Ilyang."
"Hmm... I have never heard that name before. Still, if you get me out of here, I will make sure to tell Papa to reward you handsomely."
"Yes, yes, of course."
While speaking, Ilyang pressed one end of the iron bracelet against the floor and used his entire body weight to push down on the other end.
With a sharp snap, the joint of the bracelet bent, causing a piece of metal to jut outward.
Using the sharp, protruding edge of the metal, Ilyang began to saw through the thick hemp rope binding his hands.
Scritch, scratch...
It took no longer than a single deep breath to sever the rope using the modified iron bracelet.
Ilyang was quite the expert in this particular field.
"Whew."
He had to resort to such classical methods because using mana might alert anyone sensitive to its flow.
And there is another reason.
Strangely, the flow of mana throughout this room was abnormal. It was clear that someone had tampered with the space.
It feels as though they have partitioned the boundaries using a magic circle.
He would need to step outside the door to get a clearer picture of its structure. Regardless, having swiftly freed his hands, Ilyang immediately used the iron bracelet to cut the bindings on his feet as well.
Slash, slash...
Once the hemp ropes were severed, the stifling restriction vanished completely.
Through the faint light filtering in through the crack in the door, every boy and girl in the room watched the entire process unfold in silence.
"You... You are truly amazing!"
An Won-myeong was genuinely impressed by the skills of the suspicious, lowborn boy before him. In his excitement, he blurted out something utterly ridiculous.
"Would you like me to take you in as my subordinate?"
"...?"
Ilyang stared at An Won-myeong as if he were looking at a madman. But realizing the boy's eyes were filled with pure, albeit misguided, goodwill, he let out a dry chuckle.
I can't really snap at him, considering he's my ticket to a fortune.
Money was a vital resource no matter which world one resided in. Therefore, he had to tolerate whatever nonsense this fat little brat spouted.
"Let us discuss that once we are out of here, Young Master."
"Right!"
After freeing An Won-myeong from his ropes, Ilyang noticed the other children watching them with faces full of desperate hope.
I suppose I should free them too.
When he had first been captured and brought here, he had been forced to abandon the children who shared his fate as sacrifices. Back then, he had been too busy trying to save his own skin.
But things are different now.
Now, if he played his cards right, there were ways to escape. In fact, having a larger crowd might actually work to his advantage.
With that thought, Ilyang approached a filthy child nearby to cut their ropes, but An Won-myeong suddenly rushed forward and blocked his path.
"Ahem!"
"...?"
As Ilyang tilted his head in confusion, An Won-myeong signaled him to stop with a sharp look. He had absolutely no intention of associating with these lowborn commoners.
When Ilyang stared back with a look of sheer disbelief, An Won-myeong spoke up.
"Ahem. If we all try to escape together, won't we get caught? Just leave these lowborn brats behind."
What a piece of work.
His selfishness was remarkably transparent. Now that his own ropes were gone, he had apparently regained enough peace of mind to act superior.
Looking at An Won-myeong, who was suddenly trying to sound mature, Ilyang gave a smooth nod and replied, "If that is your concern, it is actually better to have more people escaping."
"Why is that?"
"If we scatter in all directions, the guards outside will not be able to pursue all of us at once, will they?"
"Oh...?"
Finding this highly persuasive, An Won-myeong immediately nodded in agreement.
"Your reasoning is quite sound."
"Then I shall free the children."
"Ahem, you lot better count yourselves lucky."
"T-Thank you, Young Master."
An Won-myeong clasped his hands behind his back and watched as Ilyang went around untying the children.
Because there were so many of them, cutting all the ropes took a considerable amount of time.
Eighty-two children, including myself...
The number of kidnapped children was far greater than he had anticipated. Fortunately, whether they were unusually mature or simply paralyzed by fear, they only whimpered quietly without making any loud noises.
"What do we do now?" An Won-myeong asked, keeping his distance from the other children.
Ilyang glanced toward the door and spoke.
"Now, Young Master, you must do what you do best."
"What I do best?"
As An Won-myeong stared back with a clueless expression, the corners of Ilyang's lips curled upward.
"You miserable, lowlife bastards! Do you have any idea who I am?! How dare you feed me these rat droppings and not even serve them on time! Bring me food this instant!"
Thud!
Bang!
"Are you going to bring me food or not?! If you don't, I'll bash my head against the wall and die right here! If I die, it's your loss, isn't it?! Huh?!"
Standing by the door, Ilyang silently applauded An Won-myeong's stellar performance.
As they say, experience makes all the difference.
A true spoiled brat certainly knew how to throw a proper tantrum. For nearly fifteen minutes, An Won-myeong raged without pause, hurling curses and abuse at the top of his lungs. While the other children cowered in terror at his outburst, Ilyang was thoroughly impressed.
Soon, Ilyang's eyes gleamed. He could sense the growing irritation in the voices of the guards outside.
And then...
They're coming.
The guards outside had finally lost their patience. He could feel them approaching.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Fuming with rage, they marched down the hallway, snorting like angry bulls. Seeing this, Ilyang gestured to the other children to lie flat on the floor.
I only have one shot.
Though the flow of mana in this room was strangely erratic, he could hardly call himself an archmage if he could not overcome a minor obstacle like this.
Rattle! Bang!
"You little piece of shit! Do you think this place is an inn?! Do you think you're lounging in your own bedroom?!"
A man, red-faced with fury and wielding a wooden club, stormed into the room. Behind him followed a middle-aged man whose face was equally flushed with anger. Neither of them noticed Ilyang, who was hiding in the blind spot right next to the door.
"What took you so long, you useless fools? With hands and feet as slow as yours, how do you lowborn scum even manage to feed yourselves?"
"W-Why, you crazy little bastard... Do you still not understand the situation you're in?!"
With such a massive target drawing all their attention from the front, Ilyang was easily able to slip behind the guards.
Squelch!
Leaping lightly into the air, Ilyang drove the sharp, protruding edge of the iron bracelet directly into the back of the middle-aged man's neck, piercing his brainstem.
"Gah! *Gurgle!*"
With a wet, choking sound, blood sprayed like a fountain from the man's neck.
"Huh?"
Without losing momentum, Ilyang moved to the next target. Before the man with the club could even register what was happening, Ilyang stuffed a rag into his mouth to muffle his voice and sliced his throat wide open with the iron bracelet.
Spurt!
Hot blood sprayed across the room, and that was the end of it. Both men collapsed to the floor, their bloodshot eyes wide as they thrashed silently, unable to even scream.
After granting them a swift and merciful death, Ilyang stood up.
"Ugh... *gulp*."
An Won-myeong, who had been acting like a spoiled brat just moments ago, swallowed hard, his face pale with absolute terror.
"It is all over, Young Master."
"Huh? Oh... Oh, right. Of course."
Drenched in blood, Ilyang looked like a small demon, but An Won-myeong desperately tried to maintain his composure.
Hiccup!
Despite his efforts, his body betrayed him. He let out a loud hiccup and tried to scramble to his feet, only for his knees to buckle, sending him crashing back down. He flailed pathetically, struggling to stand. He looked as pitiful as a newborn fawn.
"Are you alright, Young Master?"
"Huh? Yes! Of course I am! Y-You do not need to help me up! Ahahaha!"
His lips twitched violently as he forced a laugh, but An Won-myeong did his best to keep up appearances.
Ilyang stared at him quietly for a moment before turning his gaze toward the other children, who had huddled in the far corner of the room as if trying to escape. He offered them a gentle smile.
"All of you, prepare to leave as well. Hurry."
"...Y-Yes!"
The metallic stench of blood filled the room, thick enough to make one's head spin. A few children had fainted, their eyes rolled back, while the rest nodded frantically, staring at Ilyang with sheer terror.
Paying them no mind, Ilyang stepped into the hallway to assess the situation. Suddenly, a pungent, acrid smell caught his attention, prompting him to turn around.
He noticed a damp, dark puddle staining the floor exactly where An Won-myeong had been sitting moments ago.
"M-My, I must have had far too much wine to drink..." An Won-myeong stammered.
"..."
It was a patently ridiculous excuse, but Ilyang chose not to comment. He simply turned his gaze back toward the end of the hallway, lost in thought.