Surviving as the Sacheon Dang Clan’s Servant - Chapter 22

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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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Episode 22
Mo Yong Gi looked entirely bewildered by the situation. Like a malfunctioning automaton, he blinked rapidly, his eyes darting between Dang Jung and Mo Yong So Ye.
Since Mo Yong Gi had lost his voice, another elder intervened to stop Mo Yong So Ye.
“Yes, yes. That gentleman is the Supreme Elder of the Dang Clan.”
“I see. Then when should the marriage take place?”
“Even if he is the Supreme Elder?”
“Is there some law that prevents a Supreme Elder from marrying?”
“Of course there is no such law. However…….”
“Then we should just do it.”
At Mo Yong So Ye’s calm insistence, the elder glanced sideways at Mo Yong Gi as if to say “what can you do?”
“Young Patriarch.”
…….
“Young Patriarch. Come to your senses.”
He jabbed Mo Yong Gi, who was standing slack-jawed. Only then did the young patriarch snap to attention, sweat beginning to bead his forehead.
The elders of the Mo Yong Clan hurriedly took the child aside and explained why she could not marry Dang Jung, but Mo Yong So Ye could not grasp it.
“Yesterday you said that a Marriage Covenant with the Dang Clan would benefit our house?”
“Well, yes. Your father said so. And it’s true, but wouldn’t it be better to look for another match? The Poison King is quite old…….”
“He’s not going to live forever anyway, so what does age matter? If we’re going to marry someone, I should be the one choosing, shouldn’t I?”
Well. She’s a logic prodigy.
Mo Yong Gi was at a loss for words, his mouth working soundlessly. He seemed to lack even the strength to argue back.
Mo Yong Gi, his spirit seeming to have departed his body, looked around desperately before fixing Dang Jung with a pleading gaze.
“Ah, goodness. This is difficult.”
Dang Jung let out a heavy sigh and turned to Mo Yong So Ye.
“Miss Mo Yong. I’d recommend you choose a husband-candidate from that direction instead.”
He gestured toward where the younger members of the Dang Clan were seated in a row. But Mo Yong So Ye shook her head stubbornly.
“I don’t like them. They’re old. They look like uncles!”
An uncle would be better. You’ve chosen a grandfather.
Every time Mo Yong So Ye opened her mouth, everyone except Mo Yong Gi wore expressions of delight. Truthfully, I found the situation rather amusing myself.
An eight-year-old girl, captivated by the youthful face of a man well over a hundred and fifty years old, suddenly proposing marriage to him.
Does Mo Yong So Ye realize she’s writing a black mark in her history that will haunt her for life? I suspect that before long, the mere sight of anyone from the Dang Clan will make her thrash about beneath the covers.
Well, I could understand her feelings.
Born into a martial family and accustomed to seeing only large, dark-skinned warriors, she’d caught sight of a noble youth who seemed to emit the fragrance of flowers even through the sweat. No wonder her eyes had been bewitched.
And now, dressed in formal robes for the banquet, he must have looked like a white-horse prince straight out of legend.
Everyone was holding their breath, watching the two face off, when suddenly a booming laugh erupted from the Peng Clan’s side.
“Hehehehe, ahahahaha!”
An elderly man with a mane of hair and beard as wild as a lion’s was laughing at Dang Jung. Each time he laughed, his salt-and-pepper beard trembled.
Dang Jung rubbed his forehead and scowled at the old man.
“Don’t laugh.”
“Hyahahaha, brother. So you’ve been chosen by an eight-year-old? In all my days, I’ve seen everything. Ahahaha!”
“I said don’t laugh.”
Dang Jung’s irritation deepened into a frown. The old man, undeterred, continued cackling while clutching his belly.
“Kekeke, well, it’s certainly time you took a wife……. Ah, brother! Is throwing a Dae-chim at a guest proper courtesy?”
The grumbling old man lifted his hand. In his enormous palm, which was as big as a pot lid, lay a hand-span-length Dae-chim.
Mo Yong So Ye, who had been watching Dang Jung, tilted her head in confusion. It was strange to see an old man with white hair address such a small child as “brother.”
“Why does Grandfather Peng call that brother ‘brother’?”
At his daughter’s question, Mo Yong Gi’s expression brightened. This was the perfect opportunity to explain the age difference between Mo Yong So Ye and Dang Jung directly.
“The Supreme Elder of the Dang Clan is older than the Patriarch of the Peng Clan.”
“Why?”
“Well. You’ve heard of the Banrowhwan-dong state, which Supreme Masters enter when they reach enlightenment, haven’t you? The Supreme Elder has reached precisely that state. His body has grown young again.”
“I see.”
“So perhaps you should reconsider? The Supreme Elder is older than your grandfather here.”
“Yes. That’s right. The Lord Dang Jung is an elder even to this old man. Do think it over.”
An elderly man who appeared to be Mo Yong So Ye’s grandfather chimed in. Judging by his elaborate hair ornaments, I suspected he was the Mo Yong Patriarch.
Despite the adults’ dissuasion, Mo Yong So Ye remained unmoved.
“I don’t care. His body is young, isn’t it?”
No, child. That’s not the issue at all.
No matter how I look at it, Dang Jung’s appearance is the problem. He makes everyone around him seem strange.
While the adults attempted to convince Mo Yong So Ye, Dang Jung, who had planted himself beside the Peng Patriarch, was engaging in lighthearted banter.
“Peng Rak, you rascal—what have you been up to all this time? I haven’t heard from you in so long, I thought you’d already gone into the ground.”
“Me? I’ve been busy building a coffin. For someone my size, you understand. It’s hard to find a coffin that fits this frame. So what’s to be done? I’ve had to fell the timber myself and build one from scratch.”
……Is this a joke? Seeing just the two of them laugh, it certainly seems like one.
“Really? What do you like? I’ll set out a memorial spread early, so eat plenty before you go.”
“Ha ha ha! So you’ve got quite the sense of humor too? Excellent. We’ve come all the way to Sacheon—let’s taste some of Sacheon’s finest liquor.”
Peng Rak beat his chest heartily and reached for the wine bottle. I glanced sideways at him as he poured drink after drink into Dang Jung’s cup.
At the sharp jests between the two men, the Peng Clan attendants clenched their teeth, unable to laugh or cry.
Please think of the descendants who’ll hear of this.
Unlike Dang Jung, who clinked cups with Peng Rak and giggled, Mo Yong So Ye looked distinctly unhappy.
“I hate Father.”
“Yes, yes. It’s not that your father is…”
“I don’t care. I hate him!”
Mo Yong So Ye, who had been stamping her feet, threw herself across the table in a pout. She seemed upset that the adults weren’t listening to her.
Raising children really is a war, no matter where you go.
I smacked my lips and, after soothing my granddaughter, watched the Mo Yong Patriarch return to the dais with my eyes.
On the dais sat the patriarchs of each of the three great families, stern and dignified.
From the left were Nam Goong Sang and the Mo Yong Patriarch, then Dang Mu Hyuk and two men whose names I didn’t know—but I suspected the one waving the Cheol-seon was the Je Gal Patriarch.
That meant the burly fellow was the Peng Patriarch. One touch from those forearms and you’d go flying as if hit by a truck.
Watching the man with such exceptional musculature, I clicked my tongue. The rumors about the Peng Clan’s remarkable physiques were apparently true.
“Ahem.”
Just then, Dang Mu Hyuk drew everyone’s attention with a deliberate cough and rose from his seat.
He surveyed the banquet hall, then slowly spread both arms.
“We welcome our honored guests who have traveled so far to Sacheon. Now we shall begin the banquet. We hope you will enjoy it.”
After his brief greeting, the musicians who had been waiting began to play the moment Dang Mu Hyuk took his seat. It was the first day of the banquet.
* * *
The morning banquet passed without major incident. More precisely, Dang Jung extracted me before any trouble could arise.
He hauled me out using the pretext of wanting to catch up with Peng Rak alone.
“What’s the point of us old men mixing with the children? Let’s not drag down the mood—let’s go.”
“When did you start minding such things? Are you drunk?”
At the awkward remark, Peng Rak questioned him, but Dang Jung pretended not to hear and rose to his feet.
He handed me a wine bottle and spoke.
“You there. Take this wine bottle and follow me.”
Sir, your scheme to extract me is incredibly obvious.
At the hurried movement, Dang Mu Hyuk looked toward Dang Jung and me. But he seemed to have no desire to make a fuss, and his gaze quickly withdrew.
Clutching the wine bottle, I scurried after Dang Jung and Peng Rak.
Following Dang Jung without understanding why, Peng Rak seemed puzzled.
“Where are we going?”
“My quarters.”
“What? I don’t like this. Why are you dragging me to a dust heap?”
At Peng Rak’s words, laughter burst from me unbidden. It seemed Dang Jung’s quarters had been a pigsty for more than just a year or two.
Dang Jung glared at Peng Rak and me in turn, his lips twitching.
“A dust heap? So Hye cleaned it thoroughly just yesterday.”
“It’ll be a dust heap regardless. And who is So Hye anyway? Is this the girl?”
Peng Rak’s gaze fell on me. I bowed politely, and he nodded, his eyes narrowing.
“It’s quite something that you remember every servant’s name. Could she be Hwa Yeon? No, that can’t be—she wouldn’t be wearing servant’s clothes.”
“She’s someone else. Nothing to do with Hwa Yeon.”
“But you mistook her for Hwa Yeon?”
“I was surprised too. I thought maybe I’d put on a mask—I even touched her face twice to check. I wondered if it was some sort of setup.”
“You’re something else. Who says they remember Hwa Yeon’s face? You’re too suspicious.”
At Peng Rak’s rebuke, Dang Jung managed a bitter smile.
“……That’s right. Now no one but me remembers her. Everyone’s become a handful of dust.”
At the mournful tone in his voice, I blinked. It was the first time I had seen Dang Jung show such loneliness.
Peng Rak too seemed startled, his words faltering.
“Has this old man really aged? Talking weak like that. And why are you pulling me out? I’m still here.”
“What use is dragging along a man who’ll soon be gone?”
“Who said I’m getting into a coffin tomorrow? I’ve got two or three good years left in me. Besides, you said you wanted to catch up, so why are you calling people over and getting all maudlin? What’s gotten into you?”
“Just in case. If you happen to meet Hwa Yeon first, tell her that your brother is sorry.”
“Stop it, friend.”
Peng Rak cut him off awkwardly, but Dang Jung didn’t cease.
“I think of it often. If I’d known Hwa Yeon would go so soon, I’d have taught her whatever martial arts she wanted, rules or no rules.”
……
“That Dokgong technique was nothing special, anyway.”
Dang Jung kept his mouth firmly shut, gazing silently at the sky. In his sunken eyes, I glimpsed the regret of an old man.
I clutched the Wine Bottle in my arms tighter. My heart felt as uneasy as if I were sitting on a bed of nails.
I couldn’t offer comfort when I didn’t know the full story, and I couldn’t thoughtlessly intrude and change the subject.
All I could do was stand quietly, pretending not to have heard.
Peng Rak, who had been rubbing his face with a troubled expression, looked up. But he didn’t console Dang Jung. Instead, he spoke with cutting sharpness.
“Elder. That’s a cruel habit. Don’t lay the dead upon the living.”
“Who’s laying anyone upon anyone?”
Peng Rak didn’t even flinch at the sharp retort. He spoke with cold precision.
“Then why do you keep a child who resembles your dead sister? Don’t do this. It’s unfair to both Hwa Yeon and that girl.”

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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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