Chapter 13
Four days later, Pung walked through the bustling Hanyang market and noticed a crowd gathered around a royal poster.
A guard stood nearby shouting the news as people murmured in mixed reactions—some relieved, others terrified.
As Pung stepped closer to read the ink on the parchment, a heavy arm suddenly dropped across his shoulders.
He turned, his gaze instant ice.
“You again?” Pung asked.
“Yes, me again, my friend!” Chae-woo replied with a wide grin.
“I already told you to stop calling me your friend,” Pung said, shoving the arm off his shoulder.
“Friends are hard to come by these days,” Chae-woo insisted, walking alongside him.
“Besides, both of us came to Hanyang from the countryside. That means we ought to stick together in this cruel world of city elites.”
“What are you on about?” Pung asked without slowing his stride.
“Look around you,” Chae-woo gestured to the surrounding streets.
“You see these Hanyang noblemen? You see how arrogant they are? We are noblemen too, yet they look at us like we’re dirt beneath their boots.”
“There is no ‘we’ here, Master Min,” Pung replied coldly.
“Think about it!” Chae-woo called after him.
“Look around—a lot of these guys thought joining the military would be easy. Others know it’s hell, but the guaranteed rice and coin make everyone desperate to sign their lives away.”
Before Pung could respond, his stomach let out a loud, traitorous grumble.
Chae-woo’s grin widened instantly.
“Young master, come with me,” Chae-woo chuckled.
“I know a great tavern right down this alley. My treat.”
Pung stopped, cleared his throat awkwardly, and quietly followed Chae-woo down the street.
Meanwhile, the two princesses and their trusted court lady had once again disguised themselves as young noblemen to sneak out of the palace.
As they walked down the tavern row, a cheerful, booming voice caught their attention.
Turning, they saw Chae-woo sitting at an open-air table with Pung.
The princesses approached the table, their eyes widening as they stared straight into Pung’s face.
“Shocking, isn’t it?” Chae-woo asked, noticing their bewildered expressions.
“He looks identical to the hunter who saved us, but it’s not him. This is my friend from the countryside.”
“Oh… hello,” the first princess greeted, still staring in disbelief.
“Hello,” Pung muttered faintly, taking a quiet sip of his rice wine.
“Come, have a seat!” Chae-woo offered, motioning to the bench.
Seeing the princesses hesitate, Chae-woo leaned in with a smirk.
“Don’t tell me young masters like you don’t know how to handle a cup of wine?”
Without missing a beat, the court lady picked up her cup and downed it in one smooth gulped breath.
“Now that is how it’s done!” Chae-woo cheered.
The princesses traded wide-eyed, stunned looks with their court lady before picking up their own cups and gulping the wine down.
Chae-woo clapped loudly in approval.
At the outer edge of Hanyang, around the Hour of the Monkey (5:00 PM), Woon returned from checking his mountain snares, entering the small wooden hut he shared with the old tiger hunter.
“Any catch?” the old man asked from his seat near the hearth.
“Nothing. I think someone cleared my traps,” Woon grumbled, tossing his hunting gear into the corner.
“Stolen? Hardly,” the old hunter chuckled, shaking his head.
“It’s just a bad season, boy.”
“Which is why I’ve been telling you for five years that we need to change our trade!” Woon retorted sharply.
“Change trade to what? A peddler? A blacksmith?”
“What about your so-called noble lineage?” Woon pressed, leaning against the doorframe.
“Can’t you take out a loan against it so we can open a food stall in the market?”
“Not happening,” the old man snorted.
“Oh, and by the way—the King issued an emergency decree. Every able-bodied young man must report to the state military exams in a few days. I already registered your name.”
“My name?!” Woon glared at him.
“Why would you do that?! Who said I was joining the military?!”
“Listen to me, son,” the old man’s tone softened, grounded in quiet gravity.
“You’re still young, but we are mountain hunters, not outlaws hiding from the crown. Besides, the decree states that any family who fails to present an eligible son will be executed for high treason.”
Woon scoffed.
“Since when did you care so much about living? You’re already an old man—you’ll probably die of old age before the King ever gets around to executing you!”
“Why, you insolent little chestnut!” the old man barked, snatching up a wooden broom and chasing Woon right out the front door.
Around the Hour of the Rooster (7:00 PM), dusk fell over the tavern.
The princesses were completely drunk, giggling endlessly and telling each other how remarkably handsome they looked in men’s robes, while their court lady desperately tried to sober them up.
“This is getting out of hand,” Chae-woo said, standing up.
“Where do you young masters live? Let me give you a piggyback ride home.”
Chae-woo looked up to see the Chief Royal Guard standing over him, accompanied by an officer—both dressed in fine civilian silk.
“Thank you, young master,” the Chief Guard said calmly, his grip unyielding.
“We will take them from here.”
As the Chief Guard turned to gather the princesses, his eyes brushed across the quiet corner of the table—and stopped dead in his tracks.
Sitting there in silence, completely unbothered by the commotion, was Pung.
The Chief Guard stared directly into Pung’s face for several long, breathless seconds, his pulse quickening at the unmistakable twin likeness.
Snapping back to reality before drawing attention, he masked his shock, lifted the intoxicated princesses, and led the group away into the night.
Once in a secluded alleyway, the Chief Guard had the court lady place the princesses into two waiting palanquins.
The court lady stood trembling, her knees practically knocking together.
“N-Nari…” she squeaked out, her voice trembling.
“Will… will I lose my head for this?”
The Chief Guard offered a warm, reassuring smile.
“Rest easy. The King has always known that you and the princesses sneak out of the palace.”
“He… he has?” she gasped, clutching her chest in relief.
“You did a fine job keeping them safe tonight. You will be fine.”
Upon returning to the inner court, the Chief Guard went straight to the King’s private quarters to report.
“The princesses have been safely returned to their pavilion, Jeonha,” he bowed.
“Good work,” the King replied, laying down his book.
“Let me go check on them.”
“Ah… Jeonha,” the Chief Guard paused, coughing softly into his fist.
“They are… heavily intoxicated.”
“Drunk?!” The King stared at him for a moment before bursting into a deep, booming laugh that echoed through the residence.
A few days later, the state examination grounds were overflowing with life.
The old tiger hunter personally dragged Woon to the gates, ensuring his name was called at the commoner registration desks.
The vast courtyard was packed with thousands of young men—wealthy noble heirs in custom armor, rugged provincial warriors, and hardened commoners—all awaiting the opening horn.
High above in the pavilion seats, the King sat disguised as an elite nobleman, flanked quietly by his Chief Royal Guard, the Chief Royal Secretary, his head eunuch, and ten elite guards clad in plain silk.
Watching the vast crowd below, the King waited silently for the precise moment to reveal his presence.
Suddenly, the heavy ceremonial drums thundered across the grounds, signaling the official start of the Seohonbu selection trials.
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