Chapter 9: The Price of Resistance

After Han-wol left, Ahnok stared at the neatly prepared table once more. His appetite remained nonexistent. He forced down a few slow spoonfuls, but ultimately, he lowered his utensils with more than half the meal remaining.

He opened the door as quietly as possible and stepped outside, carrying the cleared table. He made sure to tread lightly as he passed the side room where Han-wol was likely resting.

A cool shadow stretched beneath an evergreen tree whose branches were sturdy enough to support a choir of chirping birds. Even though it was still morning, the sun was unusually intense, as if threatening a sweltering noon.

The King of Baekya’s estate didn’t have just one kitchen. From the secluded building where Ahnok stayed, a smaller, secondary kitchen was much closer. This was likely where Han-wol had prepared the meal.

As he stepped over the threshold of the small kitchen, the servants—who were busy eating the leftovers from the master family’s breakfast—jumped up in surprise.

“Oh, what brings you… Why did you carry that all the way here yourself?”

The eldest servant in the small kitchen widened his eyes. Ahnok offered a faint, gentle smile to the man, who was shorter but more sturdily built than himself.

“I ate well. Thank you.”

“But it looks like you barely touched it…”

The aging servant, wearing a white cotton bandana, seemed to be the head of this particular kitchen. Sensing his gaze, a younger man sitting further away scrambled to his feet, took the table from Ahnok, and moved it aside.

“I will be going now. My stomach feels a bit unsettled, so you needn’t prepare lunch for me.”

Between his lack of appetite and a persistent feeling of bloating, he didn’t feel like eating. The servant in the bandana scanned him up and down. Like most in this house, this man was a native of Baekya-bu and had worked here since before Ahnok was born. He knew the truth of Ahnok’s birth, and a certain discomfort flickered in his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to linger in conversation with an “ill-omened bastard.”

Sensing the dismissal, Ahnok turned quickly and left the kitchen. He let out a long sigh as he recalled the gazes—a mixture of hostility and bewildered question as to why he was “causing a scene” by coming there.

Those unkind looks had left deep scars on his soul in the past, and they still made him tremble.

The path along the wall circled the outer perimeter of the estate. He walked slowly back toward his quarters. Because he felt a slight indigestion, he wanted to move as much as possible.

However, he couldn’t just wander the estate at will. He had absolutely no desire to catch the eye of the King’s immediate family. Seol Ham-hyeon, Seol Ga-hyo, and the Queen of Baekya generally ignored him as if he were a ghost, which was fine. The problem was Seol Ga-muk.

Just thinking about the first day he entered the Baekya residence made his skin crawl. The memory of Ga-muk’s spiteful face, desperate to belittle him with vulgar words about brothels, was revolting.

Since he’d cancelled lunch, Han-wol wouldn’t bother him unless something happened. He planned to spend the afternoon calmly organizing what he needed to do in the capital—specifically, the words he needed to say to Yeo Jae Won.

He was just about to pass through the narrow gate leading to his quarters when a booming voice rang out across the small yard. A large man was grabbing a small boy by the shoulders, threatening him.

“You’re telling me you don’t know where Ahnok is? Does that mean the bastard ran away?”

“I truly don’t know, sir!”

The man violently shoved the boy’s shoulders before grabbing him by the collar and practically lifting him off the ground.

“Ah, now that I think about it, you’re an Eumin too. That’s right. An Eumin.”

“M-Master Ga-muk… please, let go of me first. I truly don’t know where Master Ahnok went…”

The terrified boy was Han-wol, and the man holding him was Seol Ga-muk.

Ahnok searched his memories quickly. Did this happen in my previous life?

It hadn’t. Originally, Seol Ga-muk would merely throw insults whenever they crossed paths. Usually, he would call Ahnok an idiot for being too scared to talk back, spit on the ground, and leave.

The only reason he would be looking for him now…

Ahnok recalled the incident in the main courtyard where he had actually talked back to Ga-muk. It was clear that his change in behavior had triggered an unprecedented situation.

But the immediate crisis came first. There was no telling what Ga-muk would do to Han-wol. Mentioning the boy’s status as an Eumin, Ga-muk was now sliding a hand around Han-wol’s waist.

Ahnok wasn’t sure what he could actually do. He was terrified. He wondered if he was being a fool for stepping in when he had no power. But if his actions had changed the timeline, he had to take responsibility.

“What do you think you are doing?”

His hands shook with fear, but Ahnok balled them into fists and stepped through the gate.

Ga-muk’s hand, which had been groping Han-wol’s waist, stopped. He spotted Ahnok standing in the doorway and pulled his lips into a crooked smirk.

Ahnok’s attempt to sound angry had been successful in terms of timing, but even he knew his voice had trembled pathetically.

“What am I doing?”

Ga-muk threw Han-wol aside. The boy, who was more frail than sturdy, stumbled backward, gasping.

“This brat was originally my servant. Whether I lay a hand on him or not is none of your business.”

Ga-muk, who was heavily built and naturally intimidating, furrowed his brow, radiating a suffocating pressure. Ahnok wanted to turn and run that very second, but he forced more strength into his clenched fists. Hidden by his sleeves, his knuckles were white.

Ahnok knew Han-wol had been one of Ga-muk’s servants. But now, the boy was his attendant.

Furthermore, given the context, Ga-muk was clearly taking liberties with Han-wol simply because the boy was an Eumin. The comment “You’re an Eumin too” weighed heavily on him—it was a direct comparison to Ahnok.

If the Ahnok of seven years ago had lived in total ignorance of the world’s malice, the current Ahnok was different.

In the capital, it was daily life to carry a “one-inch dagger” beneath the tongue to tear others apart. Judging Ga-muk’s intentions from a few sentences was easy.

A thin breeze blew, fluttering Ahnok’s hair. When he didn’t answer immediately, Ga-muk, thinking he had won the psychological battle, took a confident step forward.

Ahnok pulled Han-wol—who was standing frozen between the two—behind his back and tightened his grip once more.

“That may have been true before, but Han-wol is my attendant now. Therefore…”

Ahnok paused. He didn’t realize how hard he was squeezing Han-wol’s wrist. With his eyes fixed steadily on his half-brother, Ahnok continued firmly.

“That means you are not permitted to touch this child as you please or raise your voice in a threatening manner.”

Ga-muk’s face hardened. He had been stewing over the way Ahnok had talked back to him in the courtyard days ago.

“He’s just an Eumin. Aren’t you all a lewd, vulgar lot who don’t know what to do with yourselves if someone touches you?”

Instead of shouting, Ga-muk lowered his voice to a menacing growl. He stepped closer and, just as he had done to Han-wol, he reached out and jerked Ahnok’s waist toward him.

Ahnok was momentarily paralyzed by shock. Even during seven years of marriage to Yeo Jae Won, physical contact like this had been rare. At the same time, a wave of misery washed over him. The combination of the derogatory slurs against Eumins and the filthy, forced touch that treated his body like trash made him feel sick.

Even the Yeo Jae Won of his past life hadn’t treated him like this. His mind went completely blank. Even though he knew this was an intentional attempt to shame him, his body froze stiff.

Exhaling a sharp, ragged breath, Ahnok squeezed his eyes shut and then snapped them open. Ga-muk’s face was inches away. Then, his clenched fist moved.

Thwack.

With a dull, heavy sound, Ga-muk’s head snapped to the side.