Surviving as the Sacheon Dang Clan’s Servant - Chapter 69

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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 69
17. A Walking Natural Disaster
Dang Jung seemed more delighted than the day Peng Lak had visited.
He hummed tunelessly as he brought out cups of various types, then began carefully selecting which spirit to drink.
“We should start with Takju, shouldn’t we?”
Ah, well. Yes.
Dang Jung didn’t sense anything amiss even in my soulless smile.
He set a bowl made from half a dried gourd on the table and began rattling on about spirits.
“You won’t often have the chance to drink Takju, but… it’ll be different once you venture into the Martial World. Since it’s brewed from grain, it’s quite rare. Anywhere that isn’t a major city, you’ll find it hard to get proper Baekju.”
“Have you tried many kinds?”
“Of course. When I was younger, I traveled all across Zhongyuan on Martial Alliance business. In those remote roadside inns, you know, when you ask for liquor they pour water into the dregs and call it Takju. Tastes absolutely dreadful.”
Dang Jung poured Takju into the wide bowl and set it before me, grumbling.
“That scoundrel Peng Lak gulps that stuff down without complaint, but I say. If that’s liquor, then water steeped in grass must be tea.”
Isn’t grass-steeped water tea?
Brew barley and you have barley tea, brew polygonatum and you have polygonatum tea.
He seems genuinely excited, though. This is the first time I’ve seen grandfather tell old stories unprompted.
I offered an awkward agreement.
“Aha, I suppose you’re right. Should I fetch some side dishes?”
“Geun Myeong.”
From somewhere, Dang Geun Myeong appeared as if from shadow, set out a broth-rich meat dish and dried appetizers, then vanished.
Dang Jung ladled meat and broth generously into a bowl before me.
“Just taste the Takju. It won’t suit your palate.”
“Yes.”
I rinsed my throat with the rich meat broth and tilted the Takju bowl. The spirit, with its grainy texture, was watery and barely held any strength.
…This is liquor? This isn’t just watered-down water?
“I told you it wouldn’t suit your palate, didn’t I?”
Seeing my bewildered expression, Dang Jung chuckled as if he’d expected exactly this.
“You say the elder Peng Lak drank this by the cupful?”
“That man could chew stone. Yet I suppose the taste does come back to me now and then.”
He cleared away the Takju bowl and poured new spirit into a smaller cup. The whiskey-colored liquid sloshed gently.
“Hwangjiu should be drunk warm for its full flavor. It must be heated for the aroma to truly emerge.”
Dang Jung explained as he gently warmed the cup and handed it to me. Steam rose delicately from the warm glass, and the aroma burst clear and sharp through my nose.
“Oh, grandfather. This is very sweet.”
“That’s the Hyangseoljiu. Try it with those sautéed vegetables.”
“Where are the sautéed vegetables… Ah.”
I was looking around in confusion when my eyes widened. Dang Geun Myeong had already cleared the broth side dishes and brought out sautéed vegetables and dried fruit.
Mister Geun Myeong… I’m sorry to say it, but honestly, I’d love to have a secretary like you.
“Baekju is best drunk lukewarm, though occasionally chilled isn’t bad either.”
Dang Jung brought out a Baekju cup and chilled it lightly, then poured. The spirit, with its thin layer of ice floating on top, tasted fine even plain.
Dang Jung seemed pleased and without pause opened a fresh bottle. I matched his rhythm, clinking my cup against his again and again.
Despite drinking strong spirits liberally, my mind remained clear.
…So the Thousand Poison Non-Drunkenness means I don’t even get intoxicated? What joy is there in living if you can’t even taste drunkenness?
A slight melancholy came over me at losing one of life’s pleasures, yet the spirits tasted too fine to refuse simply because I wouldn’t get drunk.
“You drink well.”
“It’s delicious.”
“True liquor is Baekju. Didn’t you see it before? That scoundrel Peng Lak loses all restraint with Baekju.”
Dang Jung laughed, his cheeks flushed in a way they ordinarily weren’t.
…Is he drunk?
The words urging him to stop rose to the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down.
I didn’t want to dampen his spirits. This was the first time I’d seen him so utterly relaxed.
His face drowsy, Dang Jung leaned back in his chair and spoke slowly.
“When you reach an age like mine, you know… you can see where the end of life lies.”
“The end of life?”
“Yes. You can sense when this body will stop moving. The way old men say their knees ache so rain must be coming tomorrow—it’s similar to that.”
Dang Jung spoke as if it were nothing, but it seemed to me the instinctive sense of a Martial Artist.
Like a beast that senses approaching death and hides away, he was sensing the death drawing near.
He set down his cup and stroked my head.
“This old man has lived long enough… I suspect no more than ten years or so remain. I wish I could care for you longer.”
“Don’t say such things. You must live a long time, long enough to see me marry and bear children.”
“You want this old fool to deal with your brats too?”
Dang Jung laughed despite his bewilderment, a soft chuckle that carried no displeasure. His gaze upon me was warm.
He gently stroked my cheek, his lazy eyes curved into crescents.
“Little one. You’ve stepped boldly into this lonely old man’s life. Now I cannot imagine a day without you.”
Warmth bloomed across my chest at words I’d never expected to hear.
Yes, I felt the same. Without him, could I have endured this long?
The thought of myself alone in this strange world, struggling without Dang Jung, was impossible to bear.
He was my anchor. He was my compass.
I answered with a broad smile.
“So do I, grandfather.”
“……Ahem.”
Dang Jung cleared his throat awkwardly as if the drink were wearing off, then changed the subject.
“Is there anything you’re curious about? You must have had many things you wanted to ask.”
In that moment, a question I’d never dared voice tumbled out.
“Yes, there is! I’ve been wondering about something all this time!”
“Then ask.”
“Why haven’t you ever married?”
“Hmm?”
Dang Jung’s face went blank, caught off guard by the question.
“Why would you be curious about that? Let’s say I had bad luck. The timing slipped away.”
That made no sense. That face—he couldn’t have walked through life unmarked. His temperament was rough perhaps, but if he’d reached adulthood looking like that……
Was it truly a matter of temperament? Yet I’d seen that Dang Mu Hyeok had three wives, so it hardly seemed like a personality issue.
Tilting my head in confusion, I pressed further.
“Then what about grandfather’s first love?”
“……What?”
Dang Jung furrowed his brow and tilted his head slightly, as if doubting he’d heard correctly.
My eyes brightened as I asked again.
“I’m curious. You traveled so much in your youth on Martial Alliance business, didn’t you? Was there no one you fell for at first sight? No one you met briefly? No one like that?”
“There was one person I held in my heart.”
“Really? What were they like? Did you ever confess? Did they feel the same way about you?”
“She died.”
“……Oh.”
“…….”
“I… I see.”
An awkward silence fell between us.
I drained my cup without speaking, glass after glass.
I’d made a misstep. I should have measured the room before asking.
Dang Jung set down his cup and slowly lowered his gaze.
“……She was affectionate, thoughtful, and beautiful. I learned much from her.”
“She must have been a wonderful person.”
“Yes. She was good. The kind you never meet again in a lifetime.”
Longing hung so heavily in his voice that my heart sank.
So the missed timing was real……
I sensed that asking about the story behind it would only drive a nail into his sorrowful memory.
I quietly refilled his cup.
Dang Jung gazed into the gently sloshing cup before speaking.
“Little one. Will you make a promise with this old man?”
“Yes, grandfather.”
“You… don’t leave before I do.”
At those quiet words, I found myself speechless.
I suddenly understood that living long was not always a blessing.
This man, left alone in a world without family, without friends, without a beloved—he must have carried loneliness all his life.
Now I understood why Dang Jung clung so to the Dang family’s wellbeing. The clan was likely all that remained in his hands.
I slowly nodded.
“……Yes. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
At my answer, Dang Jung smiled with relief.
It was a boy’s face without a single wrinkle, yet somehow it looked like an old man’s face worn by years.
Noticing my troubled expression, Dang Jung’s eyes shifted and he brushed his hair back.
“My apologies. This old fool showed his weakness. The drink’s gone to my head after so long—made me talkative.”
“No, no. I’m glad you shared old memories with me.”
“Enough of this dull talk. Let’s discuss your betrothed instead. You said Gu isn’t to your liking, and there’s the heir to the Pyo Guild and a Sokga Jezа from Mount Hua, I hear…….”
“A Sokga Jezа from Mount Hua? But Mount Hua follows the Daoist Path, doesn’t it? Can Sokga Jezа even marry?”
“How many so-called Daoists are truly devoted to the path? Mount Hua permits even Bonsan Jezа to marry. In any case, this old man would prefer you didn’t go that far. Sword-users are all dreadfully unlucky.”
He’d said as much before—clearly he despised sword-users with considerable passion.
“Then I’ll meet the heir to the Pyo Guild first.”
“Very well. Still, meet the Gu boy once more. Propriety demands at least two meetings.”
“I will.”
At my compliant answer, Dang Jung blinked, as though taken aback.
“After all that fussing about not wanting to marry, you’ve grown quite docile now that it’s upon you?”
“What choice do I have? If you can’t swim against an onrushing tide, you might as well ride it. I’ve decided to simply enjoy myself.”
In that moment, Dang Jung’s voice dropped low.
“……Say that again, would you?”
“What? That I have no choice?”
“No, not that.”
“That you ride the current you cannot resist?”
“Yes.”
Dang Jung straightened in his seat, and his blue-green eyes trembled faintly.
‘Did I say something strange? Why is he like this?’
“Child.”
“Yes, I’m listening.”
“This old man has faced a wall he could not breach for decades. Yet now—now I see a thread by which that wall might be overcome.”
Dang Jung murmured the words and rose abruptly from his seat.
In that instant, a fierce wind tore through the pavilion. Every window and door rattled violently.
One door panel, unable to withstand the gale, snapped free and flew out into the air beyond.
‘Had a typhoon struck without warning? The weather was beautiful just moments ago.’
I braced myself against the wind, gripping my legs with force, when I felt something amiss.
The wind was not coming from outside the pavilion.
It was coming from within.
Precisely from Dang Jung’s vicinity, a maelstrom was swirling.

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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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