The Grand Secretary’s reply arrived two days later. His request for leave—submitted belatedly to the king—had finally been granted, and he was preparing to relocate to Hongju. The letter urged Seon to return to the family estate at once and take his place in the household.
The journey back to the capital was far from smooth. Seon didn’t provide Jihan with a separate horse; instead, he borrowed a massive warhorse from the magistrate’s office and made Jihan sit in front of him. The narrow saddle was unbearable—every slight shift rubbed their hips and groin together in response, forcing Jihan to sit rigidly upright until his entire body ached.
By the time they reached the estate, Jihan had fallen ill with a fever that alternated between burning heat and icy chills. He spent nearly ten days in a haze of medicinal decoctions and sleep, during which furious shouts frequently erupted from beyond the wall of the main residence.
“You foolish boy! With a future stretching ten thousand li before you, how can you afford to fall out of favor with the court’s powerbrokers? I took in this pitiful orphan out of loyalty to my late friend, and now you’re driving a wedge between us? The heir can’t even manage his own affairs, and the adopted son is no better—how am I to bear this karma?”
“A family’s prosperity and the welfare of all under heaven cannot hinge on marriage alone. But I ruined the engagement through my own stubbornness and brought shame to both houses. I swear I will make amends in time. I will ensure Young Master Jihan passes the civil exams within three years.”
“And how do you propose to repay this?”
“I will see to it that Jihan hyung passes the mungwa exams in three years’ time.”
“…”
“Though Lady Shin’s passing left him adrift, I will guide and discipline him more strictly, so that he may be of true assistance when his father returns to office. I am confident.”
The Grand Secretary’s exhaustion had deepened with age. Repeated disappointments and illness had worn him down, leaving him too weak to tend to his own kin, let alone enforce his will. Or rather—he was simply overwhelmed by Seon’s unshakable resolve. If it took ten years to bend Seon to his will, the man would argue for twenty more without hesitation.
The Grand Secretary stared at Seon in silence. Seon was young, sharp, and relentless. He would do exactly as he said. If the Choi heir was a frail sapling swaying in the wind, Seon was the woodcutter who would fell it for firewood if need be.
With a bitter sigh, the old man closed his eyes.
“I can never best Haegang’s son.”
Ten days later, he took half the household servants and left for Hongju in exile.
***
Before summer arrived, the main residence and inner quarters were emptied. Only the modest annex remained occupied.
It was around then that Seon had the plum tree from the small pavilion transplanted to the sunniest spot in the annex. He propped up the trunk with supports to help the roots take hold, then rearranged the landscaping with rocks and fresh flowers.
Soon, whistling thrushes gathered, flitting between the branches and singing sweetly. The sun warmed the tree, and the tree cooled its surroundings. Transplanted yet thriving, its leaves seemed fuller than the year before.
“…”
Seon had been busy commissioning new furnishings for the annex’s main room: a fresh quilt and pillows, a document chest, a lacquered five-direction table, inlaid cabinets, embroidered curtains, celadon dishes and cups, a vase, and a folding screen adorned with vibrant red plums…
“You’ve gone all out.”
But as Jihan surveyed the new items, his mood soured. He was reminded of the gifts Seon had sent to the Left Minister’s household before.
“You knew all along, didn’t you?” he snapped, hurling a plum-embroidered pillow at Seon’s chest. The older man silently absorbed the soft assault, furrowing his brows slightly as he looked down at Jihan askance.
“Consider yourself lucky I didn’t throw the chamber pot. Why the sudden temper? Those gifts were destroyed, and these are new things—for us.”
The word “us” caught Jihan off guard, making him retort petulantly:
“I don’t need any of it. Take it all away. I’m going to Hongju to be with Father.”
“Don’t be childish. I know you’re just avoiding your studies.”
“…”
“Open your books.”
But we haven’t even had breakfast yet—
Pale-faced, Jihan swallowed hard as a stack of heavy tomes thudded onto the floor before him. His mind went blank.
Seon’s methods of torment were endless. Until recently, he’d been shamelessly grinding against Jihan at every opportunity; now, he’d replaced his cock with textbooks. The latter might have been more wholesome, but it was no less draining.
Of course, Seon was more learned than Jihan expected, and an effective teacher. Under his tutelage, Jihan’s literary skills improved by leaps and bounds.
The problem was his temperament. He was stricter than any private tutor, intolerant of the slightest laziness. Even while poring over books morning and night, Seon insisted on “building stamina” through archery and horseback riding. It was a grueling schedule with no room to breathe.
“At least let me rest until breakfast…”
“The preliminary exams are in two years. If you keep slacking, you’ll fail again.”
“Have you forgotten how old I am? Back when I was your age, I could kneel for three days straight reading without issue.”
“You’ve never kneel-read for three days in your life.”
“…”
“Plenty of scholars pass the exams in their fifties. Open the book.”
Jihan flopped onto the mat, groaning.
“I refuse.”
“…”
“You’re young and stupid, so you wouldn’t understand. No one passes the exams on merit these days.”
“Then how do they pass?”
“Through connections.”
Stretched out in sulky defiance, Jihan muttered:
“Even those dull-witted donghak brutes who tie up their topknots just to look the part manage to pass if they grease the right palms. But no—I’m the only one stuck like this, thanks to my upright, inflexible father…”
“…”
“Are you laughing?”
“No.”
“Mocking me?”
“I said no.”
Yet Seon’s shoulders shook as he turned away, stifled snickers escaping him.
“Oh, now that you mention it… I haven’t heard from those bastards in a while.”
Jihan suddenly sat up, pressing him.
“You’re still managing my contacts?”
“I don’t know the details. The Grand Secretary sent out official letters before his departure.”
Seon’s face still held traces of amusement as he continued casually:
“He warned that if his sons continued indulging in pleasure and neglecting their studies, their futures would be in jeopardy—and that we should all rein in our heirs.”
“Like hell.”
At that, Seon burst out laughing again, as if something were hilariously funny.
Exasperated, Jihan rolled over, turning his back on him entirely.
***
Red sunset glowed over the capital as evening cooking fires sent up curls of smoke. Households lit their lanterns, and pale flickers danced behind paper windows.
Jihan had spent the afternoon practicing archery with Seon on the hillside before returning home. After bathing and changing into loose inner robes, he stepped into the courtyard—only for Maki to sidle up and murmur:
“You’ve been looking well lately, Young Master. It’s the first time since Lady Shin’s passing that you’ve had any color in your face.”
“…”
It was true. For the first time since his mother’s death, Jihan felt a sense of accomplishment in his days. He slept well, ate with relish, and even his literary skills had sharpened. The aimless anxiety of his wasted years had faded.
Seon was merciless during study hours, but otherwise surprisingly affectionate. Their nights, too, had changed—foreplay grew longer, and Seon took care to be gentle, as if mindful of Jihan’s comfort.
Still, unease crept in now and then. Seon, as if reading his thoughts, often whispered:
“You overthink everything.”
“I’ll clear away anything unnecessary or meaningless. Don’t dwell on the past. Focus on building a proper future—one where we lack for nothing, where we excel in everything others do, and surround ourselves with only the finest.”
“Then no one will dare touch us.”
“No one…”
When those words echoed in his ears like tinnitus, the ripples in his heart settled, and even worry felt like too much effort.
Maki glanced around before lowering his voice:
“Since the Grand Secretary left, most of the young nobles you used to associate with have ruined themselves. Their families disowned them or they lost all credibility in court. Every single one was undone by scandals from their debauched days. How could so many disasters strike at once, as if orchestrated?”
“…”
“It’s terrifying. The Official’s Son—the one who distributed Goblin’s Water—was exposed by the royal secret police. His father was dismissed, and he was exiled to some godforsaken island…”
“Enough.”
Jihan cut him off with a scowl. Maki, undeterred, met his gaze boldly.
“You were furious when you found out he severed all your ties. And now you’re saying it doesn’t matter?”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
I think the update of the next chapter will be tomorrow??? Not sure.🥲