Chapter 155: Undercover Infiltration
“Sothing feels... off.”
Jo Harang muttered those words out of the blue while staying behind at the office.
“What feels off?”
Ilhong, who had been staring blankly out the window, turned her head.
She seed to have picked up on the subtle emotion hidden in Jo Harang’s voice.
“Seeing Mujin disappear with that woman again… Sothing about this place feels strange.”
Jo Harang swept her hand across her chest, saying that so inexplicable emotion had lodged itself there and refused to be washed away.
Was that why she'd been swinging around that broadsword in the courtyard since morning? Even so, it seed like the knot in her chest hadn’t unraveled.
“What should I do? Maybe the inner demon has co for
again.”
“No, it’s not the inner demon...”
Ilhong seed to realize what that emotion truly was, but she clamped her mouth shut. There was no reason to spell it out and give rise to a new rival.
Her opponent was a master with overwhelming martial prowess, soone who had fought in countless battles alongside the Captain, standing shoulder-to-shoulder through life and death.
A relationship where they could entrust their backs to one another in monts of crisis.
In contrast, she herself had been thrown out onto the streets, barely surviving thanks to the Captain’s rcy. All she had was a vague claim to succession—a re speck of a right.
So, if her pitiful and unimpressive self was to do anything, it was better that Jo Harang remained oblivious to her own feelings.
“Yeah, maybe… maybe it is the inner demon.”
But honestly, there was no way that was it.
The Captain had already helped her break through that barrier by guiding her to confront those very emotions directly, leading her to achieve a higher state of enlightennt.
Claiming she was repaying that favor, she had ended up staying at this office—which originally only housed the Captain and herself.
Thinking back on it, it had truly been a disaster, Ilhong thought.
“But the inner demon I faced back at Mount Sung… it felt different sohow. How should I put it, it’s like…”
“It's called ‘Center-of-the-World Syndro.’”
As Jo Harang seed on the verge of so realization, Ilhong panicked and blurted out a na of so condition she vaguely rembered skimming in a dical text.
A terrifying illness said to cause tightness and sudden pain in the chest, leading to sudden collapses.
“Really? But this feels more like an emotional issue than a physical one… I an, could it be… don’t tell
I’m… about Mujin…”
From within the heart of a woman who had lived her entire life cultivating martial arts deep in the mountains, sothing was beginning to stir.
“W-Would you like so Hongshaorou?! We've been eating too poorly lately!”
Ilhong suddenly shouted about eating the soy-sauce-braised pork dish tenderly cooked with sugar syrup. The awkward tone in her voice made it obvious she was trying to change the subject.
And as Jo Harang, who had been swinging her broadsword all day, was feeling hungry, her eyes sparkled.
“Really? But didn’t Mujin say we had to be frugal until he brought back money from the palace?”
That’s why she’d been eating dry, empty dumplings for a while now.
“…Co on, a tiger needs at. How can you chew on flour? My treat.”
“Wow, really?! Thanks, Ilhong!”
Good thing she had an appetite like the Captain.
Though their coin pouch would grow thinner, seeing the bright smile blossom on Jo Harang’s face made Ilhong let out a breath of relief.
But it was only a temporary fix.
Just like she had, Jo Harang would one day co to understand those feelings. It was only a matter of ti—sothing Ilhong sensed with quiet resignation.
From a distance, it hadn’t felt real, but now that I was walking inside, I could feel the grandeur and vastness of the Imperial Palace with my entire being.
The red walls, cinnabar pillars, the dramatically curved rooftops, and golden tiles all blended together to form an overwhelming presence.
The buildings arranged in perfect symtry according to strict hierarchy seed to exude the Emperor’s supre and unmatched authority.
The palace grounds stretched endlessly, housing over a thousand buildings and countless palace attendants, displaying the overwhelming might of the current Imperial Household at a glance.
And among them, a strictly restricted and heavily guarded forbidden zone.
That was where I was currently headed.
“So, what do you think? The Princess’s Palace you’ve only heard of until now.”
As I looked around curiously, the Head Maid slowed her steps and asked.
Pride for the palace she had lovingly tended to was evident in her voice.
“It’s elegant… and beautiful.”
While the other palaces I passed flaunted splendor and opulence, this place had a tidy, cozy, and dignified air.
Perhaps one could call it the art of subtraction.
“They say a palace reflects its master. The Princess you’ll be serving, Princess Peach Blossom, is even more beautiful.”
She spoke with pride, describing her mistress as soone possessing both exceptional beauty and virtue.
“Is that so.”
Judging by the attendants’ deanor, I could guess her character sowhat, but I had never seen her face, so I couldn’t speak to her beauty.
Back at the silkworm chamber, we had only t once—and even then, she wore a white veil.
Strangely, that single piece of cloth sparked the imagination in a curious way.
“If you have any questions before we reach the eunuch’s quarters, feel free to ask.”
Perhaps complinting the palace earlier had been the right move, as the Head Maid’s voice grew noticeably softer.
From what Cheon Sugong had told , she was supposed to be a strict and ticulous woman, but it didn’t seem entirely true.
“I don’t usually do this, but… I’ll make an exception because I feel sorry for you.”
She said that while giving
a sympathetic look after seeing my face, which had been altered using a human-skin mask.
“……”
I paused, dumbfounded—but whatever. I had no issues, so there was nothing to feel guilty about.
So I calmly threw a question her way.
“The palace seems tense, and the Princess’s Palace in particular is under heavy security. Did sothing happen?”
There was a faint trace of malice and killing intent behind the glamorous exterior—sothing subtle yet lingering in the air.
Perhaps it was just that I had heightened my senses as the Heaven-Slaying Star to detect signs of poisoning.
“…Of all things, that’s what you’re curious about? From experience, I’ll say this: in the Imperial Palace, silence is a virtue, and guarding your tongue ensures long life.”
But… you’re the one who said I could ask anything?
I’d only asked in hopes that knowing more about the inner workings of the palace might help
identify the poisoner.
“But ignorance leads to mistakes… so I’ll tell you briefly. It’s all because of the Crown Prince, who lies bedridden.”
The Head Maid glanced around, then lowered her voice.
“The Crown Prince?”
“You didn’t know? It’s been six years since he fell ill. There’s been no improvent, and even the royal physicians can do nothing but shake their heads.”
“…I see.”
The Crown Prince was the one ant to inherit all of the Central Plains.
And now, after such a long illness, it seed his end was near?
That ant the Emperor would have to appoint a new Crown Prince among his other children.
And the upheaval that would bring explained the unrest throughout the palace.
“Ah, so that’s why all the princes and princesses haven’t been sent away—they’re being kept here in the palace?”
“Yes, exactly. And to complicate things further, His Majesty declared that he would not use any traditional standards in making his decision. That’s why everyone is anxious, unsure of who will be chosen.”
My master, Hwang Geolgae, had warned
never to et the Son of Heaven—and now, that very man was whimsically changing the rules.
By tradition, the rightful heir should be the eldest legitimate son, yet here he was sowing the seeds of discord himself.
What could he possibly be thinking?
“And the current leading candidates are the Second Prince and the exceptionally bright Third Prince.”
The Second Prince—I was quite familiar with that na. Never t him in person, but I’d been entangled in a few matters related to him.
But the Third Prince? That was soone I’d never heard of.
“The Third Prince is the younger brother of the Third Princess—Princess Peach Blossom.”
Both were children born of the Imperial Consort, who was said to be deeply favored by the Son of Heaven.
The Second Prince, however, was the son of the Empress—aning he and the Third Prince were half-brothers.
And apparently, the Empress did not think highly of this Third Prince in the slightest.
“Princess Peach Blossom, too, is quite pitiful. In order to protect her younger brother, she had to live with impeccable dignity from a very young age...”
There was a tinge of sympathy in the Head Maid’s voice.
“How old is Princess Peach Blossom?”
“…She’s just past her pri age. It’s all because of the Crown Prince.”
The Head Maid shut her eyes tight, as if lanting.
So, around twenty-three or twenty-four. In this era, she would’ve long been married.
But it seed she was stuck here in the palace due to the Crown Prince's succession issue. Serving as a buffer for her younger brother, unable to even step outside—like a bird in a gilded cage.
“Younger than I expected.”
When I t her before, her tone had sounded like sothing out of a historical drama, so I assud she was older.
But thinking about it, it was only natural for royalty to speak so formally. A fresh realization.
“In any case, that’s why you’ve been assigned to the Princess’s Palace. Mind your tone, your conduct—don’t take anything lightly.”
The Head Maid warned
sternly, urging
to keep my head down in such a sensitive environnt.
“…I suddenly want to go ho.”
“Too late. This is your ho now.”
“……”
Cheon Sugong, that bastard—if you were going to brief
on the palace, you should’ve told
everything.
It seems he wanted
to identify the poisoner without revealing any of the palace’s inner turmoil, thinking those were secrets I didn’t need to know.
But hearing all this—it felt like I was walking on a frozen lake.
While I was quietly fuming—
Chatter chatter.
From the distance, a group of maids appeared, carrying baskets piled with laundry.
Upon seeing the Head Maid, they bowed respectfully.
And then, noticing
standing nearby, their eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“He’s the new eunuch. Be kind to him.”
As she introduced
as a eunuch, a wave of pity washed over their faces.
“Oh my.”
“Oh dear…”
Their sympathetic gazes pierced into
like needles.
They say you don’t truly understand until you walk in soone else’s shoes. Was this how Cheon Sugong and Weesoo of the Eastern Depot felt? I should be more considerate from now on.
“Where are you all off to?”
“A new maid joined us, so we’re off to train her in laundry duty, Head Maid.”
Then, among the cluster of maids bustling by, I spotted a familiar face.
None other than Tang Yeo-hye, infiltrating the palace disguised as a maid.
Her expression showed clear irritation—likely not expecting to be assigned such nial chores.
Pfft.
I nearly burst out laughing—it was just too funny.
As I barely stifled my snort, she seed to catch my gaze and turned toward .
‘What are you doing there?’
She mouthed silently, sending over a telepathic ssage.
‘Poison—found any traces?’
I gestured with my hand, asking if she’d found any clues. She shrugged as if saying not yet.
“Then, we’ll be off to beat the laundry, Head Maid.”
“Go on, get to work.”
With the Head Maid’s permission, the maids scattered like clouds.
From the corridor beyond, their endless chatter continued to echo. Just what did they have so much to talk about?
I tilted my head slightly. From Tang Yeo-hye’s back, I could almost see faint killing intent rising.
She usually got like that when thoroughly annoyed—but seeing it was my request, she seed to be holding it in.
Thanks to , that woman was having quite the variety of experiences.
Hang in there, Tang Yeo-hye.
And stay strong, Tang Yeo-hye.
After walking endlessly eastward across the vast expanse of the palace—
The Head Maid, claiming she had other matters to attend to, left
to my own devices.
She gestured vaguely, saying I’d almost arrived and should be able to find it easily.
I began walking in the direction she’d last pointed to—but soon found myself completely disoriented.
Large buildings and ticulously maintained flower trees blocked my view, making it hard to tell where I was going.
“Hm. This is a problem.”
It was my first ti here, and the place was far too vast and complex to navigate easily.
In short—I was lost.
“Where the hell am I…”
A grown man getting lost—how humiliating.
Determined to find my way by myself, I moved my legs with purpose.
But with no signs or guides, wandering across this enormous maze only dragged
deeper into unfamiliar territory.
Was this how it felt to be stuck in a labyrinth without a map?
After so ti roaming, I found myself stepping into a garden where a small stream flowed.
It was a beautiful spot where light pink cherry blossoms and pear flowers blood riotously under the spring sun.
As I paused to admire the scene—
Click clack.
A woman appeared atop the stepping stones by the stream, holding a white parasol.
Her black hair swayed elegantly in the spring breeze. The golden silk robe she wore shimred with turquoise floral embroidery, further accentuating her grace.
Walking among the spring blossoms, she stopped—then turned her head as if sensing sothing.
Our eyes t in the air.
“Wow. She’s drop-dead gorgeous.”
Perhaps unaccustod to such blunt language, her eyes widened slightly. Her well-shaped brows lifted, showing a hint of surprise.
But then, perhaps sensing no malice, a faint smile curled on her lips.
“Hoho, thank you. But who might you be, and where are you from?”
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