Born As The Daughter of a Lowly Concubine - Chapter 41

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Born as the daughter of a minor concubine.
Chapter 41
The Fourth lunar month, first day—naturally, it was by the lunar calendar.
By the solar calendar, it would be roughly May.
Since I was planning a night outing, it was still the season to wear an overcoat, so Gayi had brought a spare one of mine; I had another set of clothes I’d thought to change into before leaving. In other words, there was no real problem dressing this child in my clothes.
This child’s age was still at that ambiguous stage where gender wasn’t yet distinct, so outwardly there’d be nothing particularly odd about it.
What I needed to worry about now wasn’t Jihwa.
The protagonist—that creature with a vitality that could survive even the ends of hell—wasn’t my concern; standing right in front of me was a child whose bad ending was already written in stone.
“Why, why are you doing this, Sister?”
As if I were about to devour her.
The atmosphere grew stranger once I’d dragged her into the room.
“Miss? What are you planning?”
“You brought my spare overcoat, didn’t you? Give it here.”
“Pardon?”
I stripped off the clothes I was wearing and held out my hand.
“Oh!”
“This isn’t the time to be shy. Come on, undress. Quickly.”
“Eek?!”
As I began removing my clothes, the little one’s pupils dilated in shock; I gave her back a light tap and undressed her myself. She was already layered in an inner jacket, inner skirt, and inner trousers anyway—what was there to be embarrassed about?
“Keep your wits about you and put these on.”
“No, I—”
“Ah, I’ll need to put on an inner skirt too.”
“What?!”
Without an inner skirt, the garment wouldn’t drape properly. The trousers she was wearing underneath were a light color, which was fortunate, but they couldn’t show beneath the skirt.
“Miss, get dressed! If you catch a chill, what then?”
Just as I was about to remove my inner skirt for the sake of flawless execution, Gayi—who had brought the change of clothes I’d thought to take—quickly dressed me herself. Then she produced an inner skirt and inner trousers from somewhere and handed them to Sucheon.
When I’d put on the change of clothes earlier, she’d thought to bring along an extra inner skirt. Gayi was certainly pursuing flawless execution as her own style.
Understanding my intent without needing to ask, she sat Sucheon down, undid her hair, retied it with a hair ribbon, and began refastening it with practiced speed and care. It was the work of a professional.
She looked good in the clothes.
Though Sucheon was slightly taller than me, the difference in build wasn’t so great that my clothes looked out of place. Besides, what I was wearing today wasn’t my usual fitted garment—it was something I’d procured from outside anyway.
“Will this do?”
“Yes. Thank you. … Gayi, you’re not stopping me.”
I thought she would object.
I glanced sideways at her, but Gayi kept her calm expression and continued working her hands busily.
“I have served you for many years now. You are not a person who listens to objections, so what can I do?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It is obvious I will lose this argument anyway. I might as well save us both some time.”
Perhaps because we’d spent so much time together, she simply understood me too well.
“And since you are as you are, how can we do anything but follow suit?”
“Me?”
“You have always overlooked the mistakes of the younger attendants.”
“They’re just children.”
The younger attendants weren’t actually in my service; rather, I spent time with them as playmates my own age.
Though “playmates” was a generous term—they could never truly be my equals in status, regardless of our mental ages.
They were so young that they made mistakes from time to time, but that’s what children do.
If I considered what would happen if they were caught—the tears and brutal scolding from the senior attendants—how could I not overlook it?
“When the attendant Soeun spilled hot water by accident and scalded her own arm, you poured cold water on her wound and had a physician summoned at once.”
“I didn’t get burned then—Soeun did. Burns need quick treatment.”
What else was I supposed to do in that situation?
“There was even a time when Joseng spilled soup and ruined your clothes.”
“I heard Joseng injured his arm when he was younger and sometimes loses strength in it. He should have gotten proper treatment long ago, but when the physician was offered, it slipped my mind.”
For someone so impossibly young, why did I manage to forget things so easily?
“There was once when a young attendant was crying at night, so you asked what troubled her and sent a physician.”
“She’d received word her parents were ill. Was I supposed to just leave her alone?”
These children had already been separated from their families and forced into service at such tender ages.
“When the eunuch Jin accidentally broke the ceramic that was in his keeping, you gave him one of your own cherished pieces instead and sheltered him.”
“That wasn’t the first time it happened—I did it so he wouldn’t be dragged off and beaten. After that, eunuch Jin has done whatever I ask.”
The Palace Women’s Affairs had strict discipline, but the Eunuch Service was no less harsh. If I hadn’t acted, he might have returned days later limping.
And even if we’re being generous about the “cherished” part, that ceramic ranked around thirtieth in my collection at best. Anything in the top twenty would have been problematic.
That’s also why, whenever I slip out like this in secret, he’s cooperative about it.
At my words, Gayi grasped my hand and smiled softly.
“There was a time when you saved me, catching me as I was being dragged away as a criminal.”
“Me? When?”
“When you were very, very small, Miss.”
No—if she’s going to bring up my actual infancy, what am I supposed to do?
“……Gayi, wouldn’t I have simply let you go if you’d done nothing wrong?”
I decided to play ignorant rather than risk revealing I remembered—though I wasn’t certain enough to claim recognition. Gayi laughed softly at this.
“Of course. Our master, Ongjoo, is that sort of person. So whatever you do, we will simply follow.”
But does that mean it’s acceptable to help a traitor’s child escape?
‘If this is discovered, I don’t know what will happen to me as Ongjoo, but the others won’t escape unharmed.’
I was confident they would ultimately obey me, but seeing them help so actively made me feel guilty instead.
“In exchange, you must protect Ongjoo’s safety above all else.”
“I value my own life too. If anything happens, I’ll go to that meeting place from before—wait for me there.”
“Don’t say such frightening things.”
“Don’t worry. Jeok-a is a clever child.”
At my words urging trust not in me but in my horse, Gayi didn’t object and handed over the overcoat.
“He’s just a boy—they won’t even check his pass. Make a story about being a young yangban lady out viewing lanterns with a servant. Say your brother is out on the Han River, that you’ve come to see him, something like that. Can you manage?”
“…Yes, yes!”
Today was the fourth lunar month’s first day. For this occasion, it was no exaggeration to say the capital had been lit brilliantly with lanterns these past few days.
So at this hour, there were still plenty of people passing through Namdaemun.
Besides, according to Sucheon earlier, there were many scholars enjoying boat rides on the Han River—so slipping out with a reasonable cover story would be difficult but possible.
‘The female lead, Jihwa, was similar.’
In the novel, Jihwa stole a commoner’s clothes and pretended to be a servant girl to escape the capital.
Since she left her own silk clothing behind in exchange for the stolen garments, the victim was bewildered—but upon hearing rumors that the Rebel Faction daughter had fled, quietly hid the clothes. There was no point in getting unnecessarily entangled, and even if one couldn’t wear such pretty silk clothing outside, no one disliked a beautiful dress.
‘Silk clothing is a luxury not everyone can wear.’
Of course, a poor commoner who mishandled it risked being accused of theft. Or harboring a runaway slave.
I explained this fact to the child inside the room as well, where the servants couldn’t hear.
“Understand? Take the clothes with you—change into them later if you encounter rough roads, or secretly sell them for money. Oh, and take the sweets I brought. Eat them.”
“Yes, yes.”
Then I pulled out from my breast the light trinkets and trifles I’d bought on the street today.
“Oh.”
In my haste, the things in my pouch fell to the floor with a clattering sound. It was untidy because I hadn’t bought only things of value.
Since the room was rather dim, I grabbed whatever came to hand and stuffed it roughly into the pouch, then sealed it and placed it in the child’s arms.
“Take what I bought today and, if you need to, sell or trade the items one by one. None are particularly expensive, but together they should be enough to keep you from starving.”
“Yes…”
“And—I don’t know what kind of person the male servant will be, but you mustn’t completely trust the other servants, or anyone you know. Keep what’s important with you always—money, anything. Do you understand?”
“…Yes.”
Worried by how listless the child sounded, I patted his shoulder.
“I’ll go with you to the front of Namdaemun. Don’t worry so much.”
“Why… are you helping me so much?”
I suppose I was being too prepared. But this is not the time for you to wonder such things.
“You likely did nothing wrong as a child, but the yoke of being a traitor’s son—what awaits you won’t be easy. At least until the truth of what happened is properly revealed, you must run far away and hide. You can decide what comes after when the time comes.”
“…”
Young Sucheon’s eyes trembled. Then, seeming to accept that my words were right, he nodded.
“Yes.”
“Good. Just focus on escaping safely, no matter what.”
For his age, Sucheon seemed remarkably composed, but he was still only seven years old.
He might understand what treason meant, but he couldn’t yet feel it in his bones.
‘I can’t easily save even your father…’
I wanted you to escape and live well.
Even if you were a traitor’s child, they wouldn’t kill a small boy outright. But I couldn’t guarantee what would become of a seven-year-old boy if he were taken away.
Most of all, in the original story, he died.
I hadn’t known before, but now that I did, I couldn’t let him perish.
“It’s all right. You’ll escape safely.”
I pulled the frightened child close and patted his back.
‘Getting out of Hanyang quickly is the priority.’
Jihwa is on the city wall above Namdaemun now, so if all goes well, she might escape even before we do.
First, this child needs to break away from the original story’s path quickly.
As I stepped back out to the courtyard, I draped the blue overcoat I was wearing over Sucheon and asked him,
“You said you know how to ride a horse, didn’t you?”
***
The gate at Namdaemun was crowded with people coming and going.
Those entering the capital mixed with early departures from sightseeing, creating a tumult of bodies.
Yet amid the chaos, one figure commanded attention: a young girl seated on horseback.
Though she couldn’t have been more than a child, she sat astride the animal with surprising composure and dignity.
Around her, children clung to parents or servants, slept in arms, or whined their complaints—and so the quiet girl in the saddle stood out all the more, her bearing almost solemn.
Indeed, yangban blood showed in yangban bearing.
“I wouldn’t ask for anything more if our daughter were half so well-behaved. Why does she have to be such a hellion?”
“She takes after you, so who are you blaming?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Not only the sentries stationed before Namdaemun to check the credentials of all who passed—but everyone nearby—kept glancing sideways at the girl on the horse.
If the child were truly yangban, at least she wasn’t throwing a tantrum. That was something.
“Ah, of all the rotten luck, to draw a duty on a day like this.”
“Pay close attention. If we let someone slip through, it’s our heads on the block.”
The sentries furrowed their brows against the weariness of the task.
Word had come down to inspect thoroughly, since the Rebel Faction’s family had fled—but checking every single soul in this throng was no simple matter.
‘That girl on horseback, at least—she can’t be the one.’
The fugitive’s daughter was said to be fourteen summers old, so the age didn’t match; his son was closer in years, but this child was plainly a girl.
Besides, word was that he’d fled with only servants—and acquiring a horse of such quality in haste was simply not possible.
The sentry had worked the gate for years now. One learned to read station at a glance from cloth and mount alone.
This was unmistakably a child of far higher rank, a young lady of genuine consequence.
Best to let her pass without fuss, he decided—but then voices erupted from somewhere behind.
“There! There he is! The boy in the skirt on the horse—he’s the fugitive traitor’s son!!”
A slave-looking man standing alongside an officer of the Geumbu pointed at the fine young lady even now passing through the gate.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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