Surviving as a Maid of the Sichuan Tang Clan Chapter 6: The Old Monster Who Turned Back His Years

When I stupidly echoed him, he smiled.

“Martial arts,” he said. “I’ll teach you.”

I had no idea what he ant by that. Just a little while ago he’d been pressing down, suspecting of being a spy.

Was he testing how I’d react? Or was this so childish whim?

The Sichuan Tang Clan was not the kind of easygoing place that let a re maid learn the clan’s martial arts. Taking a disciple before you even hit twenty was absurd to begin with.

Maybe I’d misunderstood sothing.

As I ran the possibilities in my head, my martial-arts-boor manager’s voice floated through my ears.

“Only after thirty, and only when you’ve raised your own disciple, do you have any business taking disciples yourself. What’s a kid without a beard doing teaching anyone? That’s betraying your master and spitting on your ancestors, that’s what it is. Betraying your master and spitting on your ancestors.”

Right?

Maybe he just ant he’d show how to throw a knife for fun. Maybe it was just an offhand comnt and I was overreacting by myself.

When I didn’t answer, the Little Young Master let out a dry laugh.

“You think too much.”

“Well, I...”

I opened my mouth and closed it again.

What answer wouldn’t rub him the wrong way? My throat felt parched with tension.

I’d just gotten a very clear reminder. At his core, he was a martial artist. Cute appearance aside, the boy in front of could kill at any ti.

As easily as you crush an ant with your thumb.

My breathing grew ragged under the taut, stretched-out tension. Just as I was about to force my lips to move, soone cut in between us.

“By any chance, did a throwing knife fly this way...? What brings you all the way over here, Elder?”

It was a martial artist in green robes. He cupped his fists politely, clearly acquainted with the Little Young Master.

From the deep voice I’d heard over the wall, I guessed this was the one they’d called “Unit Captain.”

“What. You don’t like seeing an old man walk around?”

“N-no. Of course not. Greetings, Elder.”

“Seems you’ve gotten bolder while I wasn’t around, Bugyeong.”

“I beg your pardon, Elder. I didn’t an to disturb you.”

But sothing about the conversation was off.

This big guy had to be well over six feet tall, and he was flusteredly calling “Elder” to a Little Young Master a full head shorter than him.

...Elder?

What Elder?

“How old are you now?”

“I’ve passed forty.”

“Already? Kids really do grow up fast. How’s Sookgyeong doing? Haven’t seen him lately.”

“Is that so? I suppose my brother’s busy with Head Steward duties. I’ll co visit with him soon. Please don’t be offended.”

They sounded like an older relative and a nephew catching up at a holiday gathering.

At this point, unless I’d checked my common sense at the pawnshop, there was no way to miss it.

The Little Young Master in front of was not so sheltered young master. He was older than . By at least a factor of five.

mories of treating him like a kid and fussing over how cute he was flashed before my eyes. It felt like all the blood drained right out of my body.

How the hell was I supposed to fix this?

I chewed the soft inside of my cheek and ducked my head.

“That’s enough. No need to bother coming over; just do your job. I can’t stand noise.”

“Yes, Elder Tang Jung.”

...Tang Jung?

The Tang Jung I knew?

The Tang Jung who was the Grand Elder of the Sichuan Tang Clan? The Poison King Tang Jung who’d taken a liking to Namgung Hwi and gifted him a precious spiritual pill?

The familiar na snapped back to myself. I stared stupidly at Tang Jung.

Only now did I understand where I was.

Namgung Under Heaven.

I had possessed my way into the very first martial arts novel my manager had ever pushed on .

****

I was too stunned to speak.

It was outrageous enough that in a novel where the Namgung Clan’s young clan head was the protagonist, I’d been dropped on the complete opposite side of the continent with no connection to him.

Finding out who Tang Jung really was on top of that was just absurd.

In the novel, Tang Jung’s age easily surpassed one hundred and fifty.

They said the three things you had to be careful of in the martial world were won, old people, and children. Turned out that was true.

I’d heard about things like shedding an old shell or turning your age back, but I’d never imagined it would be to this degree. No one told “turning your age back” ant you could full-on revert to a child.

Is the whole martial world like this? If so, do you have to check whether the kid in front of you is a hundred fifty-year-old fossil or an actual fifteen-year-old brat just to stay alive? I really should just go ho.

Even as I reflected bitterly on how complacent I’d been, part of still felt wronged.

How many people would realistically assu that a clan’s top expert was the “Little Young Master” watching a maid do laundry?

Who on earth would think the boy pulling snacks out of his sleeves and handing them to you was the Grand Elder?

As I blanched and opened and closed my mouth, Tang Jung looked at with a playful grin. He seed to find my reaction entertaining.

Of course he did. From his perspective, so young thing had been calling him “Young Master” and acting like his equal. Hilarious. Damn it.

When I lost the ability to form words, Tang Jung spoke gently.

“Hey, kid. No need to be so shocked. I didn’t hide it just to tease you.”

“Uh... Yes, Elder.”

My changed form of address seed to amuse him; the corners of his mouth curled even higher. Tang Bugyeong glanced between us and trailed off.

“Elder... But this maid is...”

“I’m thinking of taking her in as a foster daughter.”

“...Sir?”

“Then again, if you consider my age, she’d be more like a great-granddaughter. Let’s say granddaughter.”

“Excuse ?”

Tang Bugyeong’s voice cracked in disbelief. I felt much the sa.

Excuse ?

?

“What. You think this old man’s being ridiculous?”

“N-no, it’s just that it’s so sudden. That girl doesn’t have Tang Clan blood, and she’s only an ordinary maid.”

“If she had Tang blood, I wouldn’t need to make her a foster daughter.”

“Well, that’s true, but...”

As Tang Bugyeong stamred, Tang Jung waved a hand, unconcerned.

“I’m just lonely, that’s all. Tell that to Muheok.”

“Yes. I’ll pass your words along. But the girl’s na is...”

Tang Bugyeong looked at with a strange expression. I quickly answered.

“Sohae.”

“...Your na is Sohae?”

Tang Jung frowned. Tang Bugyeong tilted his head, like he’d heard it sowhere before.

“I’ve heard that sowhere. Are you from a branch line by any chance?”

“No.”

Pretty sure I’m not. If I were, Simyang’s little gang wouldn’t have been able to lay a finger on .

As I thought that, Tang Jung stroked his chin, deep in thought.

“Do you write it with the characters for ‘bright’ and ‘wise’?”

“Elder, that girl is already...”

“Are you Muheok’s youngest by any chance?”

Tang Jung’s voice rose. I panicked.

First of all, I had no idea who Muheok was, and second, I had no idea who my parents were supposed to be.

“Who is that? I don’t know who my parents are.”

“...No. I must have been mistaken. If that were the case, they wouldn’t have left you like this.”

Relief smoothed Tang Jung’s expression, and his tone turned gruff.

“To have a registered household in the Tang Clan and not even know the Clan Head’s na... What a scoundrel. Have you only just started working?”

“Yes.”

I’ve been here a week, sir.

So Muheok was the Clan Head’s na.

If you go around calling the Clan Head “that brat Muheok, that brat Muheok” like he’s the kid next door, of course no one’s going to realize you an the Clan Head, Elder.

Tang Jung pinched my cheek lightly, my mind still half out of it, and narrowed his eyes.

“All right. I understand. Let’s go back to my pavilion and have so tea.”

“I still have to clean the training grounds.”

“Bugyeong will handle it.”

“Sir? I... Understood, Elder.”

Tang Bugyeong had started to refuse on instinct, but he snapped his mouth shut under Tang Jung’s sharp gaze.

He’d co to retrieve a throwing knife and ended up getting stuck with cleaning duty instead.

“Give the broom to Bugyeong.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tang Bugyeong took my broom, looking utterly pitiful.

I’m so sorry, sir.

I left with the most apologetic face I could muster.

****

Tang Jung’s quarters were a ss.

Dust had accumulated in places like no one had cleaned in ages, and things were scattered all over the place. There was even a faint acrid sll.

As I took in the chaos of the sitting room, Tang Jung scratched his head, embarrassed.

“It may not look it, but there is a system.”

I didn’t say anything, Elder.

The fact that he rushed to defend himself told he was fully aware his quarters were a disaster.

Kicking aside the clutter on the floor /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ to clear a path, Tang Jung slid open a set of doors.

Unlike the sitting room, the corridor beyond was relatively clean. Sunlight poured in through windows on either side, and I could hear birdsong. At the end of the long corridor, he opened another door—into a tearoom.

It was a beautiful space.

Furniture carved from red sandalwood was arranged in harmonious balance, and through a round window, the view of the back garden looked like a painting.

I stared blankly at the red plum blossoms, spilling in profusion until they almost touched the pond.

With patches of thin ice here and there, if I’d fallen in, I probably would’ve been sick for days.

Following my gaze out to the pond, Tang Jung spoke.

“What, you feel like getting in the water? I should’ve let you fall.”

“No.”

Ah. I’d reflexively answered way too sharply.

Flustered, I clapped a hand over my mouth, and Tang Jung chuckled.

“For soone who looks so mild, you’ve got so fire in you, kid. It’s fine. Sit.”

“Yes.”

I obediently sat down on the cushion he indicated.

A soft breeze drifted in through the half-open window. The winter air on my cheek was cold, but I didn’t feel chilly.

Having settled , Tang Jung brought out a tea set and began arranging it on the low table. As he set the kettle on the brazier, he asked,

“Do you know how to brew tea?”

“I don’t.”

“That figures. Still, it’d be good to learn. I’ll give you so leaves.”

He moved his hands slowly, like he wanted to watch and learn.

Why did he want to learn how to brew tea?

As I puzzled over it, I rembered that tea was a luxury item.

It was expensive enough that the poor and lowborn rarely got to taste it; it felt like he was telling to learn while I had the chance.

I quietly watched him pour the tea with elegant motions.

“Drink.”

“Thank you, Elder.”

Bowing my head, I accepted the steaming cup.

The clear, pale-gold tea filled my mouth with a rich, toasty fragrance.

“It’s Dream-Summit Tea.”

“I see.”

“If you saved up your wages for ten years, you might be able to buy a handful.”

I choked.

Did he dust it with gold?

I hurriedly set the cup down, and Tang Jung let out a soft laugh.

“Beco my disciple. If you do, I’ll let you drink this kind of tea by the pound every month.”

“Excuse ? That’s a bit...”

I don’t even like tea that much, Elder.

“You’ll be able to eat properly as well. I’ll see that you get plenty of at. You won’t have to wrestle with other maids. I’ll give you a generous allowance too. How about it?”

He coaxed in a gentle tone, like he was tempting a child.

But I still hesitated to say I’d learn from him.

If I learned martial arts, I knew I’d end up entangled with the Sichuan Tang Clan in the worst possible way.

So I answered vaguely.

“I’m grateful that you think so highly of , Elder. But I’m only a maid.”

“So that ans you’re refusing?”

Tang Jung’s smile deepened.

His mouth was smiling, but his eyes weren’t, and there was sothing faintly dangerous in them.