03

That’s My Job

The weather in Bukcheon was extremely unpredictable. It was often said that one could experience all four seasons in a single day, and most days leaned toward overcast skies or rain. However, today started off unusually sunny.

Cheol Wi-geok, the third son of the Manbyeong Cheol Clan, closed his book and leaned back in his chair. His sharp features and stubborn gaze exuded authority as he spoke.

“These days, every novel seems to revolve around someone traveling back in time to take revenge on their half-siblings.”

“It’s just a trend,” replied Jin Yeong-chung, standing nearby.

Cheol Wi-geok frowned. “Still, reading them makes me uneasy.” He gestured toward the door. “Isn’t today the day we deal with that old woman up north?”

“Yes. We were instructed to scare her first.”

“Hmph. No matter how much she claims to come from there, she’s still just an old hag. A little intimidation should make her tremble like a leaf. What about the poison?”

“Our people will slip it into the heir’s food once they’re assigned to serve him.”

Cheol Wi-geok smiled in satisfaction at the smooth progression of events. He set the book aside and stretched lazily.

“Father also hopes this goes smoothly. Who knows? If these stories are true, the heir might suddenly go berserk like in those novels.”

Jin Yeong-chung hesitated before responding. *Time travel only happens in books… right?* But he decided against voicing his thoughts aloud. Was Cheol Wi-geok serious, or was he simply annoyed by the heir?

“Understood,” Jin Yeong-chung said finally, maintaining his composure as a loyal guard.

“Good. Then let’s move on to—”

Suddenly, the courtyard gates burst open, and a servant rushed inside, gasping for breath.

“Master! Master! Something terrible has happened!”

Cheol Wi-geok glared sharply at the intruder. “It had better be important.”

The servant flinched under his icy stare but pressed on urgently. “It’s true! The Great Heir… he did something unthinkable.”

Cheol Wi-geok furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t been acting like himself lately… and after Lady Song passed away, things have only gotten worse.”

“I see.” Cheol Wi-geok stood up, a sly smile spreading across his face. “If the heir truly went back in time like those stories say, then it won’t be long before he comes after me.”

He walked toward the door, pleased with the situation unfolding before him. For years, he’d lacked a legitimate reason to eliminate the heir. Now, thanks to some unexpected chaos, he finally had his chance.

However, his satisfaction didn’t last long.

“…This is strange.”

The three arrived at the pavilion where the incident occurred and tilted their heads in confusion. Outside stretched a trail of blood leading away.

Something seemed off, so they opened the door cautiously.

There was no sound, which felt odd. Upon entering, they realized no one was inside. Only the bloodstains hinted at the severity of what had transpired.

“…”

Jin Yeong-chung felt a chill run down his spine at the sight. The scene reminded him of the harsh frontlines he’d left behind. An unsettling thought crossed his mind: perhaps his peaceful life as a bodyguard for the Manbyeong Cheol Clan was coming to an end.

Thud—

Cheol Wi-geok knelt down and examined two pools of blood with his fingers. One was significantly larger than the other. He noticed strange marks near the smaller pool.

“A dagger must have been here…”

The mark fit perfectly for where a dagger would have fallen. The blood had dried into a dark crimson stain, indicating the weapon had likely slipped out before solidifying. Yet the dagger itself was missing.

Cheol Wi-geok now shared Jin Yeong-chung’s unease.

Then—

“M-master!”

Another servant rushed in, panic-stricken. Behind him, members of the Manbyeong Cheol Clan’s security force moved briskly.

Cheol Wi-geok glanced at the trail of blood leading outside and shivered inwardly.

In an instant, the atmosphere within the Manbyeong Cheol Clan shifted.

The trail of blood.
The Great Heir, Cheol Gun-ak.

“Could it really be…”

And thus began the war—

The warm sunlight that had greeted the day suddenly turned sharp and ominous.

Zzzt—

With eerie sounds echoing around him, Cheol Gun-ak walked silently through the narrow paths between pavilions. Fortunately—or unfortunately—there were barely any people around, save for a few scattered individuals.

“My meals caused her to endure this?”

Song Hal-mum nodded weakly.

“She bled despite my hurried attempts to stop it.”

“Lord, didn’t you notice? Lady Song began sleeping excessively after a certain point.”

“I did.”

“She used to stay awake even during the night, but then she started nodding off like a sick chicken. Sometimes, she slept for twelve full hours straight.”

Even though she wasn’t very active outside, she occasionally visited places like the Manbyeong Forge or nearby areas. However, when things worsened, she remained bedridden for days.

“Who prepared her meals during that time?”

“People from the Second Consort’s side. I suspected foul play and couldn’t allow them to handle your meals freely.”

From afar—

Tatatat—

A young maid approached quickly, carrying a bundle of chopsticks. Despite her trembling hands, her round face betrayed determination.

Seeing her, Song Hal-mum continued. “She’s trustworthy, even if she looks timid.”

“That’s good enough if you trust her.”

Before leaving the pavilion, Cheol Gun-ak had asked the maid for new chopsticks since the ones used earlier were already stained. He hadn’t expected her to bring so many.

Cheol Gun-ak smirked faintly.

“Thank you.”

He grabbed a handful of chopsticks and tucked them into his robes.

“If your efforts pay off, show me what you hope to achieve.”

The implication was clear: each chopstick represented retribution for every wrongdoer. The young maid’s round face flushed red upon realizing this.

“Great Heir…”

Song Hal-mum called out worriedly, and Cheol Gun-ak casually turned his head.

Her voice carried both pride and concern as she looked down. There were three issues troubling her:

First, Cheol Gun-ak’s left hand tightly gripped the collar of the goateed warrior.
Zzzt—
Second, the man was being dragged along, leaving a long trail of blood.
Third, his destination was unclear.

“Where are you going, Lord?”

“To hold someone accountable. This man wouldn’t dare harm you without orders.”

“But I’m fi—”

Her voice quivered. She had hoped for change, but never imagined it would come in such a violent form.

“It’s not you who isn’t okay. Remember what you always taught me: A man born in Bukcheon must know how to fight.”

Song Hal-mum closed her eyes tightly. She hadn’t expected him to引用 her words here. In the distance, she saw someone familiar—a shadow reflecting the spirit of Bukcheon’s warriors.

“Hal-mum…”

Cheol Gun-ak’s heart ached slightly. Even though she insisted on accompanying him to the doctor, fresh drops of blood seeped through her wounds.

Her pale skin bore traces of blood, soaking into the fine wrinkles on her face.

“I’ll make sure her suffering is repaid.”

If the boy Cheol Gun-ak couldn’t do it, the man surely could.

Song Hal-mum hesitated before speaking again.

“It feels satisfying, but honestly, I fear what comes next.”

Cheol Gun-ak cut straight to the point.

“That’s my job.”

With that, he resumed walking.

Song Hal-mum and the young maid followed reluctantly, growing increasingly tense as they realized where he was heading.

“No way…”

The Second Consort Geum Myeong-hwa.
And her residence, Youha Pavilion.

After turning a few corners, they found themselves approaching Youha Pavilion. Cheol Gun-ak’s lips curled upward slightly.

“Isn’t settling scores part of being a man in Bukcheon?”

“That’s true, but—”

“You should go see a doctor immediately. Even minor cuts can be dangerous.”

“There’s no point; they won’t treat me anyway.”

She pressed a piece of cloth against the wound, managing to staunch the bleeding somewhat.

“They probably won’t accept me because I’m not aligned with the Second Consort’s faction.”

“So that’s why…”

Cheol Gun-ak understood now. If she had received treatment earlier, her injuries wouldn’t have worsened this much.

In the past, she might not have sought medical help at all, enduring pain alone until her condition deteriorated further.

Such negligence couldn’t continue.

With resolve hardening in his chest, Cheol Gun-ak pulled a chopstick from the goateed warrior’s shoulder and handed it to the young maid. Her eyes widened in shock.

“Take Hal-mum to the doctor. And if they refuse to treat her, show them this.”

“Yes…”

The maid nodded firmly, her determination evident. Perhaps her empathy as a woman fueled her anger even more.

Smirking faintly, Cheol Gun-ak added, “Tell them… If Hal-mum ends up with scars, I’ll personally visit and ensure every hole in their bodies gets filled with these chopsticks.”

Though his tone was menacing, the maid wasn’t afraid. She recognized the ferocity as protective rather than cruel.

Taking Song Hal-mum’s hand gently, she responded confidently.

“We’ll prepare accordingly, Great Heir.”

“Great Heir, what exactly—”

Song Hal-mum found Cheol Gun-ak’s sudden transformation unsettling. Yet, considering how powerless they had been while watching Lady Song’s body decay without proper burial rites, this change seemed justified.

Becoming a man didn’t require much—just a moment of resolve.

“Do you understand?”

Cheol Gun-ak smiled faintly. Without the bloody trail and the captive in tow, he would have appeared as striking as ever.

“If you don’t want trouble, get treated properly.”

“Great Heir…”

The maid and Song Hal-mum stopped in their tracks as Cheol Gun-ak continued toward Youha Pavilion.

Manbyeong Cheol Clan, Youha Pavilion.

Unseasonal flowers bloomed amidst Bukcheon’s perpetually gloomy climate—artificial blooms arranged according to Geum Myeong-hwa’s tastes.

Geum Myeong-hwa herself was tall and robust, embodying the ideal of vitality in Bukcheon culture.

Her sharp features and black lashes framed her elegant yet calculating presence. Under the gentle sunlight, she sipped tea contentedly.

“Finally, I feel at ease now that the toothache is gone.”

She chuckled softly. After all, the late Lady Song held no real power, and her death marked the end of unnecessary complications.

Yesterday’s funeral concluded quietly, leaving Geum Myeong-hwa as the undisputed mistress of the household. Everything felt perfect.

Birdsong filled the air.
The kettle bubbled softly.

Crash!

Except for the sound of shattered wood.

Turning toward the entrance, Geum Myeong-hwa blinked in surprise.

A blood-soaked figure lay sprawled on the floor, his clothes drenched in crimson. Closer inspection revealed him to be one of Cheol Wi-geok’s subordinates.

“Long time no see…”

Thud—

A foot pressed down onto the man’s chest.

Geum Myeong-hwa slowly raised her head to meet the owner of the voice.

“G-Great Heir?”

It was Cheol Gun-ak, smiling faintly.

Both Geum Myeong-hwa and her guards stared in disbelief at the transformed heir.

Cheol Gun-ak ran a hand through his hair.

“No matter how much you dislike someone, showing up at their funeral is basic courtesy, isn’t it?”

Mother’s funeral.

Of course, Geum Myeong-hwa hadn’t attended.

“Well, neither did Father, so it’s not surprising that the ‘second’ consort stayed away too.”

Only he and Hal-mum had conducted the three-day memorial rites.

“Has he gone mad?”

Geum Myeong-hwa was taken aback. Originally, the Great Heir was known for being timid and docile, incapable of raising his voice.

Now, covered in blood, he radiated menace. It was almost surreal.

“Guards!”

Summoning her protectors, Geum Myeong-hwa braced herself for confrontation.

Swordmaster Suduk stepped forward, smirking.

“The Great Heir has lost his mind.”

“I agree.”

“Even as the heir, barging into someone else’s quarters uninvited is unacceptable.”

“Correct.”

“Not enough to kill, but perhaps losing an arm wouldn’t hurt…”

Geum Myeong-hwa raised her left arm, signaling approval.

“An arm should suffice.”

Words a normal woman wouldn’t utter—but fitting for someone like Geum Myeong-hwa, whose family motto was “Always collect debts, even from kings.”

Clang—

Swordmaster Suduk drew his blade.

Meanwhile, Cheol Gun-ak studied his opponents carefully. Earlier, he’d noticed small droplets of black blood pooled near their hearts. Initially dismissing them as insignificant, he now understood.

Thump—

The cold, winter-like sensation of Dark Blood resonated within him.

‘Could it be from biting the Dark Emperor back then?’

Or perhaps it reacted out of familiarity—or fury.

The Dark Blood he consumed during his previous life had traveled through time with him.

Translation: Philia Scans