Surviving as the Sacheon Dang Clan’s Servant - Chapter 19

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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 19
Dang Un’s appearance was far simpler than when he had come to greet Dang Jung a few days earlier.
There was no Jade Crown Ornament on his head, and he wore no Embroidered Robe with delicate needlework.
He wore only a plain Green Robe with a pristine White Outer Garment draped over it—a rather modest look for a direct descendant of the Dang Family.
Yet the young master’s distinctive bearing was not hidden; if anything, he resembled a nobleman dressed plainly for stealth, refined even in simplicity.
He really was handsome.
I gazed at Dang Un with genuine admiration.
With each step he took, his loosened hair swayed gently.
The brown hair that faded toward the tips looked as though it would pale to a honey color once more water was lost.
Strands were already taking on that honey-blonde hue—the mark of Jeolmaek.
I had no right to worry about anyone when I could barely manage my own affairs, yet unease gnawed at me.
The first meeting had been late at night, and the second in a lamp-lit reception room, so I had not seen him clearly.
Now, meeting him in daylight, it was unmistakable.
Dang Un’s face bore the pallor of illness. The smell of death clung to him, inescapable.
What would happen when his hair turned completely white?
The Namgung Cheonha contained not a single line describing Dang Un. He would likely be gone before Namgung Hui came of age.
I shook my head urgently and bit the soft flesh inside my mouth. It was rude to contemplate a future that had not yet arrived while standing before the subject himself.
After turning over my words for some time, I finally managed to speak.
“Grandfather has stepped out.”
“I know. He asked me to help you with your Chinese Character Study. Come, sit here.”
Dang Un tucked back the hair that had fallen across his shoulder and pulled out a chair as he spoke. His complexion was ashen, at odds with the smile at his lips.
“Your older brother is surprised you’ve changed your mind. You said before you had no interest in Chinese Character Study.”
So Hye, was that true?
“Ah… yes, it was.”
I answered with difficulty, my hands fidgeting awkwardly.
It seemed Dang Un had once tried to teach me characters.
Sensing that I had grown timid, he spoke gently.
“I’m not interrogating you, so don’t worry. I simply mean I’m glad we can now exchange letters.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you.”
“I hear you’re learning the Thousand Character Classic. How far have you progressed? Would it be all right if I took a look?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.”
Dang Un patted my head in praise. It was hardly the gesture for a grown young woman.
More the way one handles a five-year-old child than a fifteen-year-old.
Yet his naturalness in doing so suggested he had been stroking So Hye’s head since she was very small.
The gift from before fit the pattern too—it was clear Dang Un had been quietly caring for his illegitimate younger sister, whom no one else paid mind to.
This is why one shouldn’t judge people hastily.
I was sorry for misunderstanding a good man. I’d accept his next gift.
As I reconsidered Dang Un while reflecting on my hasty past judgment, Writing Materials appeared before me.
Dang Un placed the brush in my hand and spoke softly.
“Well then, let’s see what our So Hye can do.”
His tone was mild, yet suddenly gooseflesh prickled across my skin. In the eyes of Dang Un, whom I had taken for gentle, a peculiar madness flickered.
An ominous premonition crept over me. I swallowed hard and lifted the brush.
* * *
Examining the characters I had written, Dang Un lavished embarrassing praise upon me, declaring I must certainly be the finest prodigy in Sa Cheon.
Then he found seven strokes out of place and made me copy each wrong character twenty times over.
He was an instructor of no ordinary skill, wielding carrot and stick with equal mastery.
After copying the character for ink twenty times as instructed, my fingers tingled with numbness. I set down the brush and called to him.
“Brother, I’ve finished.”
“Let me see. Oh, excellent. But wouldn’t the character look more refined if this stroke rose just a bit higher? What do you think?”
“I’ll do it again.”
He was even particular about penmanship.
I offered no complaint and unrolled fresh paper. My own handwriting looked like earthworms crawling across the page.
To be fair, I’d never written Sino-Korean characters by hand before; my Hangul was nowhere near this bad.
“Good. Much better now. This time, shall we redo this stroke? The ending should flow as one continuous line for beauty.”
“Like this?”
“Try it this way. Hold the brush a bit more upright…”
Despite his gentle tone, Dang Un showed no willingness to compromise with my crooked characters. He methodically pointed out every flaw and clung to his teaching until I got it right.
He was a completely different sort of instructor from Dang Jung, who simply said “Do your best” and left it at that.
Somehow, this one seemed more frightening. Beneath his placid exterior, Dang Un was clearly a man forged by the Dang Family’s characteristic venom and obsession.
But it was impossible to continue practicing characters on Dang Un’s terms. By now his hands trembled so badly he could barely hold the brush.
I watched his expression carefully before ventured to speak.
“Brother. Perhaps that’s enough for today…….”
“Hmm? Cough, cough. I didn’t quite hear that.”
“I think today’s practice is sufficient…….”
“Cough, cough. Hack!”
After coughing for a while, Dang Un spat out a basin of blood.
My eyes widened in shock at the droplets running down his fingers, and he smiled benignly at my alarm.
“Don’t worry about me.”
As if you wouldn’t worry, the way you looked.
He seemed so composed that I couldn’t tell whether he’d truly coughed blood because his condition was so poor, or whether he’d done it deliberately to cut me off.
Is Jeolmaek actually a disease that causes hemoptysis like this? Isn’t this consumption?
I hurriedly fetched Cotton Cloth and handed it to him. After wiping the blood from his mouth and hands, Dang Un reassured me.
“It’s just from overexertion. It’ll be fine once I rest a little, so don’t worry.”
The way he showed no concern at the blood-stained cloth suggested he was accustomed to such episodes.
Without a word, I brought him fresh Cotton Cloth and a Brass Basin filled with lukewarm water. Dang Un’s eyes widened as he smiled.
“So Hye is considerate.”
Anyone would be startled seeing someone cough blood like that and bring something to clean with.
I pretended not to hear and asked instead.
“Shouldn’t you change your clothes?”
“If I return to my quarters now, I won’t have the strength to walk back. I barely managed to get here as it is.”
“How did you get to Jeon Gak in the first place?”
“Grandfather brought me.”
Imagining Dang Jung carrying Dang Un here, I quickly bit my lip.
The image of Dang Jung scaling the wall with Dang Un tucked under his arm—a man a full head taller than himself—was almost too much to bear.
Dang Un chuckled as if reading my thoughts.
“As you know, Grandfather isn’t good at carrying people. Sometimes his feet drag along the ground.”
“Ah, really?”
This time I laughed out loud.
The thought that Dang Un and I were equally subject to being hauled about by Dang Jung made the laughter impossible to contain.
His feet dragging on the ground—that’s too much, Elder. So motion sickness wasn’t so bad after all.
The way he coaxed us with snacks as if feeding children, the way he carried us about—Dang Jung seemed to have no talent for it.
Though Dang Un was well over one hundred eighty centimeters, a full-grown man, so “childcare” wasn’t quite the right word……. But let’s call it that.
Perhaps because I’d found this unexpected common ground, Dang Un felt noticeably closer to me now.
Smiling, I reached out my hand.
“Give me the basin. I’ll clean it and be right back.”
“Poor So Hye, always having to look after such a useless brother.”
“Not at all. I’ll be quick.”
I winked at Dang Un and left Jeon Gak with the Brass Basin in hand.
* * *
As I stepped outside Jeon Gak, the strong sunlight stung my eyes.
I squinted and stopped in my tracks. The bright light was harsh, and tears welled up.
While waiting for my eyes to adjust, I heard a curt voice from above my head.
“Thought you’d be here.”
I looked up to see a boy perched on the willow branch.
It was Namgung Hui.
“Young Master. Surely you didn’t climb the wall?”
At my question, his expression darkened and he jumped down from the tree. He looked displeased.
“So Hye, did you see my letter? Why didn’t you come? I kept waiting.”
What did he write in that letter, and where was I supposed to meet him? I didn’t see it. Dang Jung burned it quite thoroughly.
Besides, did he really think a servant girl could read?
I laughed lightly and answered him.
“Young Master, I can’t read.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t. And Dang Jung told me not to cross the wall. He said there’s a Mechanical Trap Mechanism set up. He said I could get hurt.”
“Ah……. I didn’t think of that. All right. I’ll use the path from now on. So why didn’t you come?”
Casting pearls before swine. I told him I can’t read and he still doesn’t understand.
My face grew troubled and I pressed my lips together. I wasn’t sure where to begin explaining to this reckless boy.
If I’m not careful, he’ll probably find some excuse to demand more money from me again.
First, I need to make it clear that he can’t just barge into Dang Jung’s quarters whenever he pleases.
He swallowed back a sigh and opened his mouth to speak when a measured voice cut into the conversation.
“Might I ask which family the young master belongs to?”
Turning around, Dang Un had quietly appeared behind them, a smile playing at his lips. Namgung Hui caught his gaze and his breath hitched.
“Ah, well, that is to say, I…”
Unlike the day he’d announced the Namgung name to me with such confidence, Namgung Hui found himself unable to speak.
Though his words were polite enough, Dang Un’s question carried an edge—a pointed reminder that this visitor wandered through their family grounds uninvited, with no introduction, as though he belonged there.
Namgung Hui’s face flushed crimson.
It seemed he’d only now realized how far his behavior had strayed from propriety.

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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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