Chapter 29

“Ugh.”

Bukgung Yoon woke, rubbing the stiff, locked muscles at the base of her neck.

Dark shadows hung under her eyes; her head throbbed dully, her eyes were dry, and her throat felt painfully parched.

Her once‑fresh beauty had dimmed from overwork. No wonder people worried about Bukgung Yoon’s health whenever they saw her.

“Phew…”

After dismissing all the women of the household, the manor’s administration had collapsed. Bukgung Yoon had been carrying the practical affairs of the manor alone.

The deputy captain of the External Protection troops had promised help and rolled up his sleeves, but in truth he hadn’t been much help.

This couldn’t continue.

She desperately needed manpower—yet there was no money. Hiring new staff would only drain the already scant operating funds.

Bukgung Yoon steeled herself: she would endure until she could find a sharp solution. That was part of her duty as manor lord.

She forced her aching body up, washed, and changed. There was no time to linger; work piled up like a mountain even this morning.

At an early hour, while dew still clung to the grass, Bukgung Yoon left her chamber for the master’s room and stopped short at a strange sight.

“…?”

A carriage she didn’t recognize stood in front of the master’s room.

Where had it come from? Who had brought it?

By now she knew the manor down to the number of spoons; there had been no notice of any carriage passing through today.

The carriage sat oddly—no coachman, no harnessed horses—suspicious to the extreme.

Curiosity pricked the manor head, and Bukgung Yoon approached.

“What is all this?”

Inside the cargo hold, crates were piled to the roof—not one or two, but enough to fill the vehicle. No locks or latches were fastened. Bukgung Yoon opened one crate carefully.

“…”

Bang!

She snapped it shut and glanced around. The Flying Swallow Manor lay quietly under the cold dawn wind.

Creeeak—.

She opened the crate again, cautiously.

And again.

Crash!

“Could it be…?”

The crate she’d opened was not unique. Grunting, Bukgung Yoon climbed into the hold and opened every crate within reach. This one, that one, even those layered beneath—each contained the same thing.

She could hardly believe her eyes.

Where on earth had this come from?

Bukgung Yoon hopped down from the carriage. No matter how she turned it over in her mind, only one person could be responsible.

She drew a deep breath and called toward the manor, where the dawn mist still lingered.

“Captain Yeon Mujin!”

“It’s an order.”

“…”

“Speak quickly.”

“…”

“If you don’t speak, shall I lock you back in solitary?”

“Lock me up then.”

Bukgung Yoon glared at Yeon Mujin.

“Are you really going to refuse to tell me where this money came from?”

“I found it on the road.”

“Does that even make sense?!”

“It’s safe. Don’t worry—just use it.”

“We can’t recklessly spend money when we don’t even know its source.”

“Goodness, you’re worried about everything.”

Every crate in the carriage was full of money. Not a trivial sum, but an enormous amount—enough to cover several years’ budget for the Flying Swallow Manor.

And, as Bukgung Yoon suspected, it was Yeon Mujin who had procured it.

“Captain Yeon. No matter how much you deny it, I won’t spend a single coin of that money until I know where it came from,” she said firmly.

Yeon Mujin clicked his tongue as he looked at the young manor lord. Whose stubbornness had she inherited? To him, she bore many resemblances to her father, Bukgung Cheon: both perfectionists who insisted on controlling everything around them and trusted only what they saw or thought themselves. Hardly anyone was more finicky to serve as a lord.

Sighing, Yeon Mujin gave up hiding the truth.

“Actually, I stole it.”

“You mean you committed robbery?”

“Yes.”

Bukgung Yoon went dumb with shock.

“What—are you serious? You expect me to use money you got by robbery? More importantly, whose money did you steal to bring such a sum? Return it to its owner. I will never use this money.”

Yeon Mujin answered calmly.

“I stole your brother’s money—the Sixth Young Master’s.”

Yeon Mujin nearly laughed aloud.

Bukgung Yoon, embarrassed, asked again.

“You stole my brother’s money? How?”

“There were slush funds hidden beneath the Wang Family Trading Union. I found them while investigating the union and took them. I didn’t get caught, so don’t worry.”

“…Can I trust you?”

Yeon Mujin smiled.

“If you, the manor lord, don’t trust me, whom would you trust?”

She had no choice but to trust him. Whether she liked it or not, they were in the same boat.

Bukgung Yoon looked at the crates she’d moved into the master’s room and, after a moment’s deliberation, made her decision.

“Very well.”

She needed the money as desperately as anyone. Since she had dismissed the sycophants and taken true control of the manor, she had learned just how vital funds were. Even the Bukgung Family—said to be the wealthiest in the land—relied on careful money management. If one couldn’t manage the manor properly, a fortune would be useless.

“Manor lord.”

Yeon Mujin, watching the piles of money with her, asked, “What do you want to do with it?”

Bukgung Yoon met his gaze with a questioning look.

“It’s more than enough to put out immediate fires. You could hire dozens of stewards and still have money left. It’s far too much to let sit in storage.”

He was right.

“What do you think money is, manor lord?”

“Money?” she repeated at the odd question.

“Money reveals a person’s desires nakedly. To know who someone is, look at what they spend on. Some use it to build military power, some to win a woman’s favor, some to buy safety. Occasionally there are madmen who hoard it for its own sake. How about you? If you had enough money that you no longer had to worry, what would you buy?”

She didn’t know. She had never considered it. While Lady Wang lived she never handled money, and since Lady Wang’s death she’d been consumed by the lack of operating funds. She’d never thought about what money meant or what she’d do if she had plenty of it.

Yeon Mujin watched her think and rose.

“Think about it. It’s a task I’m giving you.”

“Is there a bodyguard who gives homework to his lord?”

“Is there a law against it? Think it over and bring me an answer. If I don’t like it, I’ll take the money back.”

Bukgung Yoon let out a hollow laugh as she watched his retreating back. What kind of man was he? Absurd through and through.

Yeon Mujin headed for the External Protection troop training ground. Unless on special duty, the troops trained here in duels; practical duel training was his command. He had lived as a ronin and learned through actual combat, and at first the warriors had doubted his methods, but now they accepted the relentless, blood‑spattering practice: duel after duel after duel.

Clang!

“Argh! That’s cheating!”

“Cheating? What cheating!”

“Stop, stop it, you bastard!”

“What? You talking back to the deputy captain?”

Of the nine External Protection members, Yang Gwan‑wol and Seo Nak‑il held the highest duel win rates. They had been more skilled from the start and trained more fiercely than the others. As deputy captains, they couldn’t afford to lose to ordinary members, and the rivalry between them pushed them harder.

“Hahahah, die!!”

“The deputy captain has gone mad!”

“This bastard is trying to kill someone!”

On one platform, Yang Gwan‑wol pressed a warrior mercilessly with his blade. On another, Seo Nak‑il, spear in hand, sparred with the young martial artist Yu Se‑gwang.

Yu Se‑gwang admired Yeon Mujin and was the youngest among them. Though his win rate lagged, his growth outpaced the others.

Shh!

In a sudden burst, Seo Nak‑il’s spear aimed for Yu Se‑gwang’s chest. Yu Se‑gwang twisted desperately to avoid the tip, but the motion unbalanced his lower body. Seo Nak‑il seized the opening and struck the shaft against Yu Se‑gwang’s adam’s apple.

Thud!

A red mark bloomed on Yu Se‑gwang’s neck. The watching members jeered.

“Hey! Take it easy, he’s a kid!”

“Look at him, so heartless.”

“Shut up! Duels are like real fights—don’t you remember the captain’s orders?”

Even without orders, Yu Se‑gwang hadn’t expected mercy. Though short and young, he had the fiercest fighting spirit among them.

Coughing, he bowed his closeshorn head in respect to Seo Nak‑il.

“I’ve learned a move, deputy captain.”

Seo Nak‑il scratched the back of his head. “Alright… good job.” In spear‑versus‑martial‑artist matches, the spear had the clear advantage. When they first sparred, Seo Nak‑il wouldn’t allow Yu Se‑gwang within five paces; now, if he lost focus, the distance sometimes closed to three—and each time it chilled him.

Usually Yu Se‑gwang would slump after practice, replaying every exchange in his head. Not today. When he looked up his eyes sparkled.

“Captain!”

Yeon Mujin stood beneath the platform with his arms crossed, watching. He snorted and climbed onto the stage.

“Se‑gwang.”

“Yes!”

“You’re not there yet.”

“I’m sorry!”

Seo Nak‑il bowed briefly; Yeon Mujin waved him off and nodded toward the opposite side.

“Do that again—what you just did.”

“…Yes?”

Yeon Mujin took a fighting stance with bare fists. He mimed a few simple moves and then stepped back—the exact motion Yu Se‑gwang had shown moments before.

Seo Nak‑il slowly thrust his spear.

“This bastard, can’t you do it properly?” Yeon Mujin exploded. “Thrust with everything you’ve got! Do you spar like this? That’s why people call you trash.”

The captain had a habit of picking at people whenever he appeared. Enraged, Seo Nak‑il reset his stance and struck with real force.

Swoosh!

Yeon Mujin twisted and dodged—mirroring Yu Se‑gwang’s earlier motion.

Huff!

Seo Nak‑il swung the shaft to the side aiming for Yeon Mujin’s chest. Yeon Mujin didn’t dodge or parry; from that distance it would require a different stance or far greater agility than Yu Se‑gwang had.

Instead, he caught the spear on his chest.

Wham!

The impact sounded, but Yeon Mujin pressed on. He leaned diagonally to absorb the blow and stepped forward. Seo Nak‑il couldn’t recover his posture from the swing. When Yeon Mujin extended his fist—

Thud!

Seo Nak‑il was struck in the face and toppled to the ground.

Yeon Mujin didn’t look at him; he turned to Yu Se‑gwang.

“If you’re a martial artist, don’t fear getting hit. Parry, deflect, dodge—if you can do all three, fine, but that’s impossible. Sometimes you must learn to give flesh and take the bone.”

Yu Se‑gwang nodded, eyes shining. He clasped his hands sharply and bowed.

“I’ve learned a move, captain!”

“Yes, yes.”

Meanwhile… Seo Nak‑il muttered from the ground, “Damn it, he could’ve just pretended to hit me, that damned captain…”