Chapter 22: Chapter 22
That night.
Chiseonru was brighter and more boisterous than any other night.
A feast was being held to soothe the hearts of the villagers shaken by the Slaughterhouse incident days ago.
The open first floor and the street outside were lined with seating, with drink and lavish food prepared for the cult members.
On the second floor, the Black Dragon Faction who’d worked hard on preparations, Chwi Hong-ran, Mao, and Jang I-seo gathered together.
“I honestly never expected you’d absolutely demolish the Slaughterhouse. And Mak-gwi, an officer, no less. Yes. Yong-tae the man hereby pledges to serve you as my brother from this day forward!”
Yong-tae thrust a thumb up in salute. Jang I-seo shook his head, moistened his throat with a cup, and replied.
“By any measure, I’m clearly younger than you.”
“Respect doesn’t care about age. Yong-tae the man isn’t that old-fashioned.”
“Just drink.”
“Yes! Big Brother’s given permission. Drink up!”
“Woooo!”
True thugs to the bone. Jang I-seo smirked and set down his empty cup. Beside him, Chwi Hong-ran smiled warmly and lifted a bottle.
“Allow me to pour.”
“Oh, thanks. You have one too. Let me pour for you.”
“I’ll gladly accept.”
Pouring and receiving. A truly warm and friendly scene.
Save for one person.
The Seventh Young Master sat alone, scowling like a demon, blowing his own trumpet.
With good reason.
He’d sprinted without rest to the summit of nearby Inwang Mountain and back, only to find Jang I-seo had thrown a drinking party in his absence.
Unable to contain himself any longer, he flipped the table with a crash and sprang to his feet.
“You bastards… Is this guests overthrowing the host? Who’s the owner here. Me. The genius among geniuses, Mao!”
Guests overthrowing the host. What exactly is being overthrown.
“Who said anything? Why flip the table for no reason? Do you know how hard it was to prepare all this?”
“Kraaah! Shut up! I’m saying show me some sincere respect!”
“Yes, we will. Especially since you’re the one who made tonight possible.”
“Who did it?”
Jang I-seo jerked his chin outward. Mao blinked, pointed at himself, and asked.
“Me?”
Then Jang I-seo grinned, rose from his seat, and shouted to the cult members beyond the railing.
“You’ve all had a difficult time lately. Today, eat and drink without a care. Everything has been generously provided by the Seventh Young Master here.”
What was he talking about? What did he do? Right at that moment. WAAAAAH! Thunderous cheers erupted from the crowd.
“Thank you, Seventh Young Master!”
“Seventh Young Master! We’ll eat well!”
What exactly was happening?
As Mao stood bewildered, Jang I-seo nudged his ribs and spoke.
“Managing public sentiment is also a virtue of a Young Cult Leader. Look. See how happy everyone is.”
It was true. The way they looked at him was completely different from usual. Not the fear they showed toward a good-for-nothing, but bright smiles and cheers.
Why?
“Public sentiment is complex yet simple. If you want to become Young Cult Leader, start by changing how they see you. Your past won’t be erased in a single night. Right now, they’re just caught up in the mood. So from now on, give sincerely. Protect them. Then someday, they’ll become our staunch allies.”
“Staunch allies…”
Mao’s focus blurred, as if a new ripple had formed against the walls of his heart.
The good-for-nothing Seventh Young Master.
Had these people truly trembled out of fear of him? No. They’d bowed their heads to the title he carried.
And relying on such things would never win the Young Cult Leader war. That was Jang I-seo’s core belief.
Not fear, but reverence earned through respect.
That was the starting point.
“But… I don’t have money to give?”
Mao, practicing self-awareness as always, tilted his head and asked. What did it matter?
“You may not have any today, but will you not have any tomorrow? Borrow if you must. Now, at least wave back at them.”
“I don’t really want to borrow…”
“Go on.”
As Jang I-seo smiled and gestured, the hesitating Mao awkwardly raised his hand and waved.
WAAAAAH! The cheers swelled even louder.
Emboldened, Mao’s lips crept higher and higher. His wave grew more natural. By the end, his gums were fully exposed in a wide grin.
Yes. This was how you read the people’s hearts and approached the seat of a leader.
‘Naturally, all expenses will be billed to your name at Chiseonru. For reference, the interest rate is fifty percent.’
Jang I-seo also beamed and waved along.
And then.
“Unusually boisterous.”
An even, beautiful voice drifted from the staircase.
Another guest, invited to celebrate the occasion.
“Hey. You came.”
Jang I-seo grinned and waved warmly.
Slightly fierce eyes paired with a sullen figure and face.
“Hmph.”
The Quake Mountain Grandmother.
No. Third Young Lady Sa Hae-ryeong in a skin disguise graced them with her presence.
“Ah, wait… how…?”
And the first to react to her arrival was Mao.
“Hm? Is she someone the Seventh Young Master knows? For someone who usually can’t stand women, what’s the occasion?”
Why indeed. Naturally, because they were acquaintances. This was the skin disguise Sa Hae-ryeong typically wore during her covert outings. Mao, who could be called her confidant, couldn’t possibly fail to recognize it. He’d identified his sister instantly.
[No need for commotion. I merely stopped by while passing through.]
At Yong-tae’s clueless question, the Quake Mountain Grandmother shot him a fierce glare, then sent a sound transmission to Mao.
What possible route would take someone past the outskirts of Wolha Village? But fortunately, Mao was not a deep thinker. Sa Hae-ryeong appreciated that quality in him. He never harbored unnecessary doubts.
Naturally.
“Ah, I see. Just passing through!”
“Huh? Seventh Young Master, what are you talking about all of a sudden?”
“Huh? What.”
His thinking was shallow from multiple angles, which was the problem. The Quake Mountain Grandmother snorted and coldly surveyed the seating arrangement.
At the round table, from the right: Chwi Hong-ran, Jang I-seo, Yong-tae, Mae-gi, and Mao.
Without hesitation, she marched over and seated herself gracefully between Jang I-seo and Yong-tae. Chwi Hong-ran, on the left, wore a curious expression.
“Forgive me, but may I ask your name?”
“Ah, let me introduce you. First time meeting, right? This is the Quake Mountain Grandmother. My adjutant examiner.”
And also the one who would become their sturdy shield. Jang I-seo smiled and answered on her behalf. Chwi Hong-ran’s expression grew even more awkward.
“She’s far too young to be called ‘Grandmother.'”
“True. Then let’s just call her Jin-san. Has a nice ring to it. Manly and suits you.”
“Why are you the one deciding that? And I’m not a man.”
When the Quake Mountain Grandmother glared fiercely, Jang I-seo hammed it up, drained his cup, and slid it in front of her with a thunk. Then poured her a fresh drink.
This is the cup you were drinking from.
She scowled, but didn’t refuse. She took the cup and tossed it back generously.
“Thanks for coming, Jin-san.”
That bastard just dropped honorifics? Mao’s eyes nearly popped out, but the two carried on exchanging casual pleasantries as if nothing else existed.
“Heard the news. You went through quite an ordeal.”
“An ordeal? More like a little diversion.”
“If felling the Slaughterhouse’s Mak-gwi is a diversion, then that’s humility.”
“Oh, hearing it put that way, my chest feels all warm and my shoulders are rising.”
“Hmph. Drama queen.”
“Haha! Come on, drink.”
Such an intimate display. Mao gaped and rubbed his eyes vigorously.
Meanwhile, the others took turns exchanging greetings with her one by one.
“I’m Hong-ran, who manages Chiseonru.”
“Yong-tae. If it’s a black dragon on the right hand, that’s me. Fairly well-known around here.”
“Mae-giiii.”
Why was this bastard’s greeting like that. Jang I-seo looked at Mae-gi, whose eyes had already gone glassy. The drink was a bit strong.
Next was Mao’s turn.
When everyone looked at him, he panicked, unsure what to do. He couldn’t exactly call her Sister in front of others. A dilemma.
“Ahem, hem… Maaaaao.”
What was wrong with him now.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, uh. Nothing.”
With that, all introductions concluded. The Quake Mountain Grandmother merely bobbed her head without offering much response.
It might have seemed rude and haughty, but in truth, this was simply her natural disposition. No ulterior motive.
She had zero interest in others and couldn’t even remember faces unless they were important to her.
Which was precisely why Mao found this whole situation so hard to believe.
Not only had she shown up at a feast, she was accepting drinks from someone else’s cup. She even tolerated informal address?
‘This is suspicious. Come to think of it, she’s the one who sent that bastard. And then she wears a skin disguise to hide her identity. This…’
Mao glared back and forth between Jang I-seo and Sa Hae-ryeong, brimming with suspicion. Then, as if struck by revelation, his eyes flashed.
‘She’s here to monitor Jang I-seo! To check if he’s treating me well!’
His simplicity was truly endearing.
With the Quake Mountain Grandmother’s addition, the drinks flowed freely. Chwi Hong-ran excused herself to fetch more drinks and food from upstairs.
Soon after, the thoroughly drunk Mae-gi, Yong-tae, and Mao, caught up in the festive spirit, draped arms over each other’s shoulders and went down to the first floor to mingle with the cult members.
That left only Jang I-seo and Sa Hae-ryeong on the second floor.
A quiet stillness settled in. They naturally admired the view outside.
Perhaps because it was a moonless night, the stars glowed with unusual brilliance, forming a river of light across the sky.
And below, Mao, now a crowd favorite, exchanged greetings with cult members and danced with abandon.
“I never imagined you’d throw a feast for the cult members.”
Sa Hae-ryeong broke the silence. Her tone was even, but this was the highest praise she could offer. It meant she was genuinely impressed. And grateful.
How long had it been since she’d seen Mao so happily mingling with others? Knowing he was naturally spirited and sociable made it all the more moving.
“I told you. I’d get him within the top three. For that, the good-for-nothing label has to come off first. Would the Cult Leader acknowledge a Seventh Young Master whom no one around him acknowledges?”
“Impossible.”
Sa Hae-ryeong tipped her cup back.
Right. True. That was the natural order. And impressed by precisely that, she’d responded to Jang I-seo’s impudent invitation, delivered via a messenger pigeon sent unceremoniously to the Third Small Palace.
Because she wanted to praise him.
“I heard you made an unreasonable demand through the Guardian Dragon Hall Master. Demanding an apology from the Sa brothers.”
“Unreasonable… I don’t see it that way. Compared to dying, it’s easy enough.”
“That sounds like you’re saying you’d have won even if the Sa brothers had come.”
“Nothing difficult about it.”
“Still overflowing with confidence, I see.”
“Not confidence. Certainty.”
Pfft! Sa Hae-ryeong burst into laughter before she could stop herself. Then immediately straightened her face as if it had never happened.
Jang I-seo smiled without a trace of playfulness, genuinely serious.
“Judging by the standards of a Counter-Espionage Division Third Squad Leader, the Slaughterhouse’s Mak-gwi may seem impressive. But as an adjutant, it’s nothing special. The problems before the Seventh Young Master won’t be solved by effort alone. Same for me. To be acknowledged as an adjutant, I must constantly push forward. In that spirit, stepping on the Sa brothers or anyone else is simply necessary. By any means.”
Sa Hae-ryeong’s eyes widened. She’d known he was clever, but she hadn’t realized he’d thought this deeply about his own position.
Honestly, it wasn’t bad. No. It was quite pleasing.
“Of course, what’s done well is done well.”
Jang I-seo raised his cup with a cheeky grin. Insufferable.
A smile formed on Sa Hae-ryeong’s lips.