Episode 6
“Hoo-ha! Hoo-ha!”
The pale blue moon still hung in the dawn sky.
Ian sat by the window, gazing quietly outside. His mind was restless, and he had barely slept, only to be woken by some noise.
“Left, align!”
“Left, align!”
“Forward, march!”
The soldiers of Bratz were heading out for their early morning training. Ian propped his chin on his hand, carefully observing their formation.
‘That’s quite a number for just foot soldiers.’
They poured out of the main gate in a steady stream.
Judging by the usual ratio between the garrison troops stationed at the manor and the soldiers deployed throughout the territory, Derga seemed to be maintaining an excessive military force.
‘It’s tricky to reduce the number of soldiers. That would give them a headache too.’
In other border regions, peace treaties meant cutting down on troops.
Unemployed soldiers would return to their original trades—tilling the land, selling goods, and paying taxes to their lord. Peace brought economic benefits as well as calm.
But Count Derga, despite having maintained peace since his predecessor’s time, never reduced his forces. It was a half-hearted, distrustful peace treaty at best.
The count’s second brother had been killed in an ambush crossing the border, and Ian himself was sent off as a sacrificial pawn, presumed dead.
‘At this rate, breaking the peace treaty might be better.’
A territory’s economy must support its army. Right now, the number of soldiers was far too high for the population.
So frequent battles would actually restore balance. If fighting continued, the burden on the people would lessen, and a successful conquest would bring new labor and capital.
Of course, defeat was another matter entirely, but the outcome of a head swollen with pride was predictable. This needed to be resolved before it got worse.
‘War or peace. One or the other.’
If neither could be secured, everyone would only suffer more.
Even Hana was proof of that. A servant working in the count’s own household, yet starving without Ian’s errands to pay her wages.
Creak.
Ian straightened his clothes and stepped out of his room. In the hallway, a servant was dozing off—likely the night watch assigned to keep an eye on him.
“Hey.”
“I-Ian-nim?”
“The air’s cold. Come inside.”
Was this a dream or reality? The servant blinked, wiping at his mouth. It was the first time Ian had come out at dawn. Until now, the servant had only checked on him by bringing breakfast trays, confirming all was well overnight…
“W-where are you going?”
“Just taking a walk.”
At this early hour? Was there some hidden agenda?
The servant’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Ian smiled and nodded, his gaze sharp as ice.
“What are you staring at?”
It was a clear warning to look away.
The servant snapped to attention and bowed, though his expression remained uneasy. The manor was too quiet to let Ian roam freely without worry, yet there was no good reason to stop him.
“Um, Ian-nim…”
“You may follow if you wish.”
Ian gave permission as if there was nothing more to say, then led the way down the corridor. Even if told not to follow, the servant wouldn’t listen. Besides, the manor was full of secrets. It would be better to have him along to learn a few things.
“Is that annex locked?”
“It’s for guests, so it’s cleaned daily.”
“So you’re avoiding a direct answer. What about over there?”
“The armory’s security is paramount.”
They were careful with their words.
The servant glanced nervously at Ian but didn’t answer outright. He seemed ready to dash off and report as soon as his watch ended. Ian saw through it but didn’t care much. He wouldn’t do anything problematic.
The real problem lay elsewhere.
“Sigh.”
He exhaled deeply and straightened his back. He had been trying to gather information, but the first issue he noticed was the child’s stamina.
An untrained body. He had guessed, but it was worse than expected. Just walking around the manor was exhausting. Before meeting the Cheonryeo tribe, he would have been dead tired near the border.
And the second problem.
‘There doesn’t seem to be any Gula.’
He checked the well-kept garden and the rarely used backyard but saw no sign of the Gula plant.
Since it was a hardy species, they must have uprooted and burned every last one. Outside deep mountains, it was probably impossible to find. Not being able to go outside was another problem.
“Ian-nim, dawn has come. Shall we eat?”
The servant yawned widely, signaling the end of his night watch. His behavior was rude for a servant, but given Ian’s situation, it was understandable. Ian nodded and followed obediently.
“All right. Let’s go to the main dining hall.”
“Huh? The main dining hall?”
Ian understood the question behind the servant’s words.
Hadn’t he been receiving meals on trays in his room every night? Probably every meal so far.
But Ian had no intention of continuing that. He was hungry, and more importantly, he needed to confront the people holding his life in their hands—the count’s family.
“Oh my, Ian-nim? Hello.”
“What brings you here…?”
The servants bustling near the dining hall froze when they saw Ian. Judging by the number of dishes, two people were already inside.
“I came to eat.”
“The countess and young Chel are here.”
“And Derga? Father?”
“He went out yesterday and hasn’t returned yet.”
Tsk. Ian clicked his tongue but, all things considered, it wasn’t a bad situation. With Derga absent, dealing with the two would be easier.
“Open the door.”
Ian ordered, and the servant reluctantly turned the handle. The lavish dining room was revealed.
The two inside reacted differently: Chel’s eyes widened in surprise, while Lady Mary’s narrowed with displeasure.
“What’s going on?”
Her tone was sharp.
Ian responded nonchalantly.
“Good morning, Mother.”
He greeted lightly and sat opposite them.
Chel fidgeted nervously, glancing at his mother, but Lady Mary didn’t notice, too busy glaring at Ian. It was a far cry from the kind expression Ian had seen in the garden yesterday—now replaced by a cruel scowl.
“If it’s about meals, take it in your room.”
Her voice was cutting, but Ian calmly moved closer to the table.
“You insisted on that last night. But while chewing on a piece of bread, I thought it wasn’t right.”
“What did you say?”
“You were quite shocked when I drank from the finger bowl yesterday, weren’t you? Both children of the count’s family making such mistakes.”
Chel’s face flushed bright red.
Mary slammed her knife down roughly and pressed her lips shut, warning Ian with her eyes to be quiet or face punishment.
“My father also told me to focus on my studies. It’s hard to learn manners eating alone on a tray, so it’s better to eat together.”
He spoke cleverly, making it seem as if it were Derga’s idea, though it wasn’t.
“Mother?”
“…Sit.”
Her expression was full of simmering anger.
Mary nervously picked up her fork and knife and began slicing the frittata. Chel seemed to have lost his appetite, sitting quietly and stealing glances at Ian. Ian smiled warmly and returned the look.
“Eating at the table is definitely better than on a tray. Don’t you agree, brother?”
“Huh? Uh… yeah…”
The portions were much larger. Ian filled his hunger with graceful, diligent movements. At the same time, he studied the countess carefully. Her jewelry, dress, and every item she wore were worthy of praise—even by Emperor Ian’s era standards.
While the lower ranks starved and eyed the bastard’s bowl, the lady of the house indulged in luxury.
This family was a complete mess.
“Mother, I have something to say.”
“Can you just shut up and eat?”
“Please change my room. It would be nice to have candles too.”
“Hah!”
Only then did Mary look at Ian, bursting into a bitter laugh as if exasperated.
“You don’t know your place. Change your room? And candles? You’re so ignorant you can’t even read a single letter, yet you want to waste money on nonsense. You take after your foolish, vain mother.”
Her words went beyond insult—they were pure filth.
Chel visibly stiffened. He was clearly worried Ian might lose his temper, flash those golden eyes, and unleash some unknown power.
“My mother is the countess, so it’s only natural I take after her. Everything you said is correct.”
But Ian smiled brightly and delivered a sharp retort: the foolish, vain woman she described was none other than herself.
His polite tone kept Mary from catching on immediately, but she soon realized the insult and flushed with anger.
“…You!”
“When the Molin envoy arrives next week, they asked to see my room.”
Mary trembled, about to scream in a shrill voice, but Ian cut her off smoothly. It was a lie, but one he could handle and that served a purpose.
“You can’t show such a room to a distinguished guest. Even if we switch rooms just for that day, a sharp observer will notice something’s off. It’s better to give me a proper room now.”
“Open your eyes wide and listen!”
“If I show ignorance and shortcomings, the burden will fall entirely on brother Chel. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Though a formality, the Molin envoy was a central government official sent from the imperial palace. It was natural to keep local nobles in check. If things went wrong, Chel might have to be sent in his place.
“I will do my best, Mother.”
Ian smiled brightly as he chewed on the meat. His expression clearly said: just shut up and support me, both financially and emotionally.
The countess was beyond taken aback—she was downright flabbergasted. How could that lifeless, dull boy from just a day ago suddenly become so bold and cheeky?
Bang!
With a look of utter displeasure, she stormed out of the room. Chel, who had been hesitating awkwardly, stood up as well.
“Brother?”
“Ah? Hmm…?”
Chel, who was quietly slipping out the door, turned back.
“Please don’t worry about what happened yesterday. Everyone makes mistakes, don’t they?”
“W-well, yes, but…”
“Dwelling on the past is something only petty people do.”
On the surface, Chel’s words seemed like comforting reassurance, but beneath it all, he was telling Ian to forget what he had seen yesterday. Without a word, Chel nodded and hurried away.
‘Looks like there will be plenty of leftovers,’ Ian thought, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the abundant spread before him. He took only what he could eat and pushed the rest aside—for the servants.
“Hmm.”
Ian leisurely savored the food while gazing outside. Sitting alone in the spacious dining room felt incredibly peaceful—a kind of ease he had never known in his previous life.
Then, suddenly, he caught sight of his reflection in the windowpane. A small, slight figure with a strange face.
‘I am Ian.’
If Emperor Ian was here, then where was the illegitimate Ian?
Ian propped his chin on his hand, meeting the calm gaze of the child in the glass. Outside, the grand trees in the garden swayed gracefully.
Later that afternoon, the countess, still fuming but resigned, moved Ian’s room to a separate wing. As the servants rummaged through his few belongings to pack them up, they soon found a curious piece of paper.
“What’s this?”
It was a document Ian had written the night before, detailing the history of Bariel. But it had been soaked in water, the ink smeared beyond recognition, and the paper wrinkled and torn. It was impossible to make out any of the contents.
“Did Ian actually study something?”
“But why would he soak it in water?”
“Why, indeed? I’d say he was probably embarrassed.”
The servants, unaware of what the paper contained, tossed it into the trash. Everyone in the mansion assumed the illegitimate Ian was illiterate. No one doubted it.