Surviving as the Sacheon Dang Clan’s Servant - Chapter 17

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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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Chapter 17
My chest tightened.
Now it wasn’t the hidden weapons I feared, but the ambush that would come—I’d stumbled into a blood-soaked struggle without even realizing it.
As my expression hardened, Dang Jung tried to reassure me.
“There’s no need to be so anxious. They won’t move against us just yet.”
But that only meant they would, eventually.
A headache settled behind my eyes. I’d suspected trouble when I learned I was an illegitimate child, but the reality of it was worse.
How many people knew I carried the Dang Family’s blood?
Dang Un knew I was his younger sibling. Though I’d never met my other half-siblings, if he knew, they would too.
Remembering how Lady Jin and the Chief Steward reacted to my name—those who’d spent years in the Dang household surely knew of my existence.
Dang Bu Gyeong had even said he’d heard my name before.
From the servants’ behavior, it seemed none of them knew I was the illegitimate child the family kept hushed up, though one could never be certain.
The Simyang faction had noticed me being summoned regularly to Dang Jung’s quarters lately.
If it became known that today’s quarrel between Dang Mu Hyeok and Dang Jung was because of me, someone might connect the pieces.
Even a rough calculation showed the window of safety under Dang Jung’s protection wouldn’t last long. Half a year, perhaps. A year at most.
In that short time, I had to find a way to protect myself.
As I bit at my lip, Dang Jung patted my shoulder.
“Don’t be afraid. So long as this old man stands, no one in the Dang Family can lay a hand on you.”
“But…….”
That only means I’m prey to be disposed of the moment you’re gone.
I swallowed the rest and looked at Dang Jung’s face. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes brimmed with concern.
He was lying to me, though he knew exactly what my situation was.
Still, it made sense—you couldn’t easily tell a naive child that one wrong move meant death.
Beneath that stern appearance, there was something oddly tender about him.
I decided to accept his kind lie.
“Yes. I’ll trust only you.”
At my awkward answer, Dang Jung’s eyes narrowed. He’d caught on that I was lying too.
He let it pass and changed the subject.
“Things are about to get busy. How far along are you with the Thousand Character Classic?”
The sudden question caught me off-guard, and I stammered. To be honest, I’d slacked off the past few days.
“Well……. About thirty percent, I’d say.”
“Too slow. Apply yourself.”
Dang Jung frowned as he spoke.
“If you’re direct lineage, there are proper things you must learn. First, you need to master the written word—then you can accomplish anything else.”
Things to learn? Wasn’t I only supposed to be training in martial arts? I hesitated. “Weren’t we learning the Poison Art?”
“Weren’t we learning the Poison Art?”
Dang Jung clicked his tongue at my question.
“Does poison spring from nothing? As the saying goes, All Waters Return to the Sea—every stream flows toward the same ocean. Poison is no different. Before one who understands its principles, poison and remedy are indistinguishable. To wield poison properly, you must first know what a remedy is. Isn’t that so?”
“Y-yes.”
“Then you must understand the human body first. Once you’ve mastered the written word, read the Medical Texts.”
I bowed obediently, but I wasn’t pleased. It meant books filled with crooked characters waiting for me.
Seeing my reluctance, Dang Jung reprimanded me.
“The Medical Art comes first. If you put a flame in the hands of an infant, doesn’t it burn itself? That’s what you are now, So Hye. Ten Thousand Poisons No Penetration is not some invincible secret technique. It’s merely a superior constitution, that’s all. To handle poison, you must understand how it affects the human body. There’s no rush—learn the Medical Art first. It’s something everyone in the Dang Sect must master.”
Every word was right, and I had nothing to say against it. I nodded in resignation.
“Yes.”
Seeing my expression, Dang Jung rose from the stump. Had I shown my displeasure too plainly?
“There’s no time to waste. Let’s go back. You need to master writing quickly.”
“But I haven’t finished looking at the flowers…… Yes.”
His sharp gaze stung. I clamped my mouth shut and followed at his heels.
* * *
We returned to Dang Jung’s Quarters as the Hour of the Sheep was drawing to a close.
To be honest, it was hard for me to judge time by the sun’s position. Dang Jung said it was so, and I took his word for it.
Maybe I should ask him to teach me how to read the sundial. They did strike the drum at two-hour intervals.
My ignorance was staggering. No wonder Dang Jung would suspect me.
A normal-looking person who can’t find her way, can’t tell time—and yet shows poison resistance and catches flying darts. Suspicious doesn’t begin to cover it.
It’s a miracle I haven’t been discovered yet.
Scratching my head, I glanced up at Dang Jung. He was cradling me at his side while gazing toward the back garden.
Why wasn’t he putting me down? What was out there?
As I dangled from one of his hands, I poked him lightly.
“Grandfather?”
Dang Jung lowered me at my call, his brow furrowing.
“Go inside first.”
“Pardon?”
“I’ll take a walk and come back in.”
With that, he disappeared from sight. I shrugged and entered the Main Hall ahead of him.
In any case, I couldn’t neglect my duties. Whether Dang Jung ate or not, I had to prepare a late lunch.
* * *
Dang Jung, who’d said he was going for a walk, didn’t return until the food had grown cold.
When he finally came back, after I’d reheated the meal once, a Blue Silk Pouch hung from his hand.
“Is this yours, So Hye?”
I shook my head firmly at his question. It was the first time I’d seen the thing.
“There was a letter alongside the pouch.”
“What did it say?”
“Wait a moment.”
Dang Jung unfolded the letter. I stood beside him, stealing glances at the page.
Of course, there were only a few characters I could read.
White is paper, black is ink. Is this what it feels like to be illiterate?
Though I didn’t understand the content, I could tell the brushwork across the pristine sheet was neat and careful.
The pleasing calligraphy kindled my curiosity. Who had written it?
“Grandfather, what does it—”
I stopped mid-sentence, my mouth snapping shut. The color had drained from Dang Jung’s face.
As he read, his expression twisted more and more, until finally he tore the paper clean in half.
“Grandfather?”
“Don’t read it. You’ll waste your eyes.”
I can’t read anyway.
He said it decisively, without hesitation, and burned the letter without a trace of regret. The paper flared up in flames, crumbling to ash that scattered on the wind.
I couldn’t help but admire the clean disposal. Wow. That’s the real Samadhi True Fire Method.
Heat intensity: fifty points. Reflexes: twenty-five points. Artistic merit: twenty-five points. Total score: one hundred.
I watched the ashes drift away on the breeze. I was curious about the contents, but I figured he must have had his reasons for telling me not to read it.
Dang Jung spoke curtly.
“Tell the Namgoong boy not to climb over walls recklessly. Has his family no shame, not knowing where the mechanism traps are set?”
“Yes, I will.”
So Namgoong Hui had left that letter?
Now that I thought about it, he’d said he’d come by today. I’d been so scattered I’d forgotten.
Dang Jung must have gone to the Back Garden because he’d spotted signs of an outsider.
Whether the letter mentioned climbing the wall or whether he’d actually snuck in over it, I couldn’t say.
But as I answered, a strange word caught on something in my mind. My eyes went wide.
…Mechanism traps? Like Indiana Jones and the arrows flying at you if you step wrong? There’s something like that installed here?
Come to think of it, it would’ve been stranger if a family of poison and needle masters hadn’t set up defenses against intruders.
But then why was Dang Jung climbing over walls?
Dang Jung let out a dry laugh at my puzzled expression.
“I’ve lived my whole life in the Dang Family Residence. Do you think I wouldn’t know where those traps are?”
How did you know that, sir? You could set up as a fortune teller.
“You brat! Where does anyone get the nerve to treat an old man like a soothsayer? I can read your thoughts just by looking at your face!”
Dang Jung fixed me with a look of utter exasperation.
Was it really that obvious?
I laughed it off and hurriedly covered my mouth.
So Dang Jung had been flying over the walls, dodging the mechanism traps all this time.
It was a feat only possible because he knew the Dang Family Residence inside and out.
The more I learned of this old man, the more of a character he revealed himself to be.
Dang Jung, sighing deeply as if my very presence exhausted him, held out the Blue Silk Pouch.
“This one is yours. He says it’s repayment.”
“Repayment?”
“You lent him some money, didn’t you?”
“W-well, yes?”
It wasn’t inaccurate, but calling it repayment made it sound strange. Almost like a bribe.
I hadn’t given it expecting to be repaid, but if he wanted to settle the debt, I wasn’t going to refuse. I opened the Blue Silk Pouch with joy.
Inside were ten clean coins.
He’d paid back exactly double.
A small laugh escaped me at the precision of the gesture. As I laughed, Dang Jung’s brows twitched.
“So Hye, do you fancy the Namgoong boy?”
“Pardon? What are you saying? Who would take a liking to that snotty little—!”
Oh. I’d misspoken.
I clamped my mouth shut too late; the word had already tumbled out.
I glanced nervously at Dang Jung’s expression and gave my own lips a light tap.
‘Wretched mouth of mine. I shouldn’t speak so carelessly about the young masters. At this rate, I’ll catch a beating one of these days.’
But Dang Jung’s face had softened at my words.
“You dislike young men, then?”
“Well, I suppose I prefer someone a bit older? There’s something uncomfortable about it when they’re too young.”
If pressed to choose, yes—though “older” hardly matters if the difference is less than a zodiac cycle; it’s much the same as being younger.
“I see. Very well. Let us eat.”
With that, Dang Jung began his meal with a satisfied expression, clearly pleased by my answer.
‘What could he be so pleased about? I can’t fathom what he’s thinking.’
As I stole another glance at him, I finally picked up my chopsticks.

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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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