Reverse Murder v1c2

Jihan had never known the meaning of restraint in anything. His position and status had always made that unnecessary.

The only legitimate heir of the Choi Clan, said to bring down even birds in flight. His paternal family had held high-ranking offices for generations, a house of power, while his maternal side boasted wealth passed down through the ages—landed gentry of the highest order. His future had been as solid as the royal road leading to the palace gates.

Then that bastard arrived, and everything went to hell. His once-secure path had turned into thin ice, all because of that damned orphan.

Jihan wasn’t used to this instability. He had never imagined anyone could threaten his place—especially not some penniless, lowborn brat from a family of incense merchants.

“Greet him. He’s the boy we’re taking into the annex.”

When Jihan was eighteen, his father, Grand Secretary Choi, brought home a child—supposedly the son of an old friend. The boy was ten years old, named Kim Seon. Beyond that, his origins were unclear.

Jihan’s father, Choi Mugyeom, claimed he had taken in the son of a sworn brother who had died of illness, but Jihan didn’t believe a word of it. A brother’s son? Ridiculous.

It was obvious what had happened. His father, who had never so much as glanced at a concubine or courtesan, had finally succumbed to the dangers of late-in-life indiscretion.

“Some country whore’s bastard, no doubt.”

Jihan narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the boy’s face for any resemblance to his father. But before he could finish, the child stepped forward and bowed.

“Greetings, Hyung. I am Seon.”

Even in the imposing grandeur of the ancestral hall, where most adults would cower, the boy smiled brightly, unfazed. It grated on Jihan’s nerves.

“My, what a sharp little thing for his age. Already so fair and refined. Come here, young master. Let me get a better look at you.”

“Though you’re young and far from home, think of this as your own house and make yourself comfortable.”

The head maid, who fancied herself knowledgeable in physiognomy, pulled Seon closer, cooing in admiration. Even Jihan’s mother, Lady Shin, welcomed the boy with a warm smile. The absurdity of it all made Jihan’s blood boil.

“Jihan, be kind to this poor child.”

“…Yes, Father. Don’t worry.”

He answered obediently, but in truth, he had no intention of pampering this worthless stray. What was so pitiful about him?

His father warned the servants not to mistreat the boy, even assigning him the entire guest annex—a space fit for honored visitors—and a personal attendant. With the master of the house openly favoring him, the servants followed suit. Before long, Seon was being called “the Young Master of the Annex” among the staff.

“A mutt’s just wandered into the inner courtyard.”

It was a bright spring day. Jihan, perched barefoot on the veranda, lazily smoking a long pipe, suddenly spoke in a teasing tone.

Seon, alone in the small courtyard tending to a plum blossom tree, paused at the sound. Jihan flicked his ashes, keeping his gaze fixed on the ashtray as he asked,

“Do you know what kind of tree that is?”

“Yes. It’s a plum blossom tree.”

Seon answered readily, his voice still unnaturally composed for a child.

“My mother planted it to mark the day I was born. It was the height of plum blossom season in the third month. Back then, it barely reached my shoulder, but now it towers over the roof tiles. Every year, the branches sag with fruit—sweet as anything.”

A breeze carried the faint scent of freshly bloomed plum blossoms. Seon closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the fragrance, then gently traced the tree’s sturdy trunk with his small hand.

“I never knew plum blossoms could smell so sweet. They must be even lovelier in full bloom. And… you may not realize this, Hyung, but you carry a similar scent.”

Not a hint of hesitation. Jihan nearly choked on the acrid smoke. He exhaled absently, then let out a hollow laugh.

“How old are you this year?”

“Ten.”

“Do you even know that saying someone ‘smells’ like this or that is just flirtation?”

Seon tilted his head, then asked boldly,

“Was I flirting with you, Hyung?”

Jihan’s temple throbbed. If he agreed, he’d be admitting a ten-year-old boy had just flirted with him like an idiot. If he denied it, he’d have to take back his own words. The brat was cunning.

Jihan loosened his grip on the pipe, swaying it slightly.

“Come here.”

“……”

“Closer.”

“……”

“Your hand.”

Seon obeyed, extending his hand. Jihan flicked the pipe’s embers sharply against the back of it.

“Call me Young Master.”

“……”

“That’s what servants call their master’s son. And you don’t touch my mother’s tree without permission. Consider this a lesson in knowing your place. Don’t take it personally.”

Even after the strike, Seon’s expression remained infuriatingly pleasant, as if nothing had happened.

“Are you telling me to act like a servant? Who decided that? Did the master of this house command it?”

Jihan was speechless. Technically, the master of the house was his father, Grand Secretary Choi, and his father had instructed the household to treat Seon with care.

In other words: You’re not the master, so I don’t have to obey you.

Jihan’s face flushed with rage.

“You little shit, all mouth.”

He pressed the lit end of the pipe against Seon’s hand, letting the embers sear his skin. The boy didn’t even flinch—just watched the burning ash melt into his flesh without so much as a blink.

“You will never be my equal in this house. There are three rules you must follow here: Don’t catch my eye. Don’t annoy my ears. And don’t ever be the subject of my words. Know your place. Break even one, and I’ll find a way to throw you out, no matter what it takes. Understood?”

“Understood, Young Master Jihan.”

Only then did Seon take a step back, correcting his address with that same infuriating smile. Jihan turned away, snapping his outer robe shut with a sharp flick of his wrist. Even after besting the boy, his mood remained sour, as if he’d swallowed a wriggling maggot.

From that day on, Seon followed the warning to the letter. He never called Jihan Hyung again and rarely left the annex. They only crossed paths during annual ceremonies, and each time, that same unchanging smile made Jihan’s stomach twist.

He suspected there was something sinister behind that sly grin—every time the boy smiled at him, it felt like a vulgar joke playing in his head. So he avoided him. For years, they lived under the same roof without exchanging a single word, even as the boy grew into a young man.

A decade passed. In that time, Lady Shin, who had always been healthy, succumbed to a sudden fever and died.

Grief-stricken, Jihan wandered aimlessly for a long while. By the time he passed the preliminary civil service exams and earned the title of Jinsa (진사), he was already deep into a life of dissipation—drinking, gambling, and carousing with friends and courtesans. He frequently embezzled funds from his father’s accounts to fuel his debauchery.

“Have you no shame?”

“Do you think you can eat after failing the main exams?”

“Is this how you grieve for your mother?”

“How long do you intend to live like this, you worthless wastrel!”

His father’s attitude toward him shifted drastically. There was no way Grand Secretary Choi would tolerate a son who abandoned his studies for pleasure. Jihan would put on a show of sitting at his desk whenever his father checked in, but that was the extent of it.

“You won’t inherit a single coin until you pass the main exams, and I won’t acknowledge you as my son.”

Only then did Jihan finally buckle down—but by then, his passion for scholarship had long since faded. Forcing himself to study was torture.

Just as both father and son were reaching their limits—

“Top scholar in the special exams?!”

The inner quarters of the main residence erupted in noise. Grand Secretary Choi, a man who rarely raised his voice, was now bellowing loud enough to shake the rafters.

“Did I hear wrong? Seon—you took first place in this year’s special examinations?!”

The gold vein had struck in the most unexpected place.

Notes:

Civil Service Exams (소과, 대과, 별시)