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chapter 39
“Lord San!”
The king, seeing San appear in the grand banquet hall, hurried out in a fluster.
“Please, come in.”
A few steps away, the king bowed his head.
San twisted his lips as if uncomfortable with the close distance.
“This is excessive. Stop it.”
“Pardon?”
San gestured to the king, signaling him to step back.
“Stop the formalities. Who even knows who the king of this country is?”
Though intended to spare the king some dignity, San seemed unaware that doing this in front of many ministers and royal family members would make things even more awkward.
“Your Highness.”
Daom, standing just behind San, bowed toward the king. Thanks to her, the king’s tense expression softened.
“Welcome.”
Seeing the two greet each other, San turned his head sharply.
“Hmph, let’s go.”
San entered the wide path in the middle of the banquet hall. Daom, with her head slightly lowered, stuck closely behind him without a gap.
Looking down, she noticed his blue shoes. They fit perfectly—or rather, seemed a bit small. She couldn’t help but smile quietly.
“Please take a seat here.”
A courtier attending the king guided him. In terms of etiquette, this person would play the role Daom was taking.
“Are you telling me to sit here?”
At the end of the wide path were steps leading up to a raised platform. In the center of the ornate platform piled with food was San’s designated seat.
“Shouldn’t you sit here?”
San looked to the right side of the platform.
Only then did Daom realize that Yoonjeong had been standing there all along, quietly observing her.
“Lord San.”
“Enough. We don’t need to exchange formal greetings.”
A murmur ran through the people gathered below the platform. San had essentially refused the crown prince’s greeting.
“Anyway, you should sit here. Isn’t it your banquet?”
“…It is proper to seat the highest-ranking guest at the main seat.”
Yoonjeong spoke quietly.
“The main seat? The seat where you can eat and drink comfortably is the main seat.”
San glanced around the banquet hall.
“If I sit here and eat, I’d get indigestion from all the food.”
Then he descended the steps and took a seat among the ministers on either side, choosing one of the seats at the far end, not near the platform.
“I’ll sit here.”
The king watched, breaking into a nervous sweat.
“Your Highness, this is unheard of. How can we seat Lord San below?”
“Why not? If I want to sit here, I’ll sit here.”
He turned his head toward Daom standing beside him.
“Go get some food. I’m feeling hungry.”
Daom, just as uneasy as the king, bowed slightly.
“Lord San, wouldn’t it be better to sit on the platform?”
He raised his thick eyebrows sharply.
“Are you suggesting that because you don’t want to carry food from the platform?”
Daom shook her head firmly, lowering her voice.
“If Lord San sits here, Your Highness and the ministers will line up on either side centered around this spot.”
In other words, this spot would effectively become another main seat.
“Please enjoy the banquet comfortably in the prepared seat. It’s too narrow here to bring much food.”
Daom whispered into his ear. Hearing her, San suddenly shrugged his shoulders.
“Fine then.”
He leaned back and cleared his throat once.
“The crown prince might feel slighted.”
His eyes, bright like yellow lanterns, scanned Yoonjeong on the platform. His gaze carried the weight of the ministers and the king.
“Isn’t that right, Crown Prince? Though I claim I should sit in the main seat for etiquette, in reality, you probably hope I’d move, don’t you?”
He maintained a pretense of respect for the king, but toward Yoonjeong, he was openly defiant.
Yoonjeong’s expression stiffened, but in an instant, it softened again so that no one nearby could notice.
“That is not so.”
He clasped his hands and bowed politely.
“I am grateful you came to my birthday banquet. If you sit in the main seat, Yoonjeong will consider it a once-in-a-lifetime honor.”
His words were as smooth as a silk snake. The more Yoonjeong maintained her courtesy, the colder San became.
“Whose seat is this?”
Yoonjeong slowly raised his head and glanced at Daom. San didn’t like it one bit.
He decided to make the rightful owner of the seat sit in the main seat, so that the courtier sitting there would be properly embarrassed.
“It is mine.”
It was a voice San had never heard before, yet it felt oddly familiar. Turning to see, he found him there.
“I am Yeonho Saja.”
Daom’s father.
“Hmm.”
San was momentarily speechless; he hadn’t expected this. Meanwhile, Daom’s face brightened as she quietly watched her father step forward among the ministers.
San didn’t miss her smile.
“Hmm, so you use the character ‘Ho’?”
He threw out a random comment.
“Yes. My father gave me this name to inherit the spirit of Hodam and dedicate myself to great deeds.”
“Hmm, I quite like the name.”
Seeing the father and daughter exchange a secret, restrained smile, San could do nothing. He rubbed his chin and stood abruptly.
“Now that I think of it, the main seat is too small here.”
The king finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Daom worried that if the king delayed longer, San might collapse right there in the banquet hall.
“But why is Saja’s seat at the end? Bring it forward with a table.”
Yeonho’s face turned pale.
“Even though they say to bring it forward? My family produced a servant of the White Tiger deity. For a member of such a family to sit at the end is absurd.”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I will sit here.”
Yeonho insisted on refusing.
“Even though I said bring it forward?”
San argued, and Daom anxiously leaned close to his ear again.
“My father probably requested this seat, which is why it was assigned.”
As Daom said, considering his shy and introverted nature, the royal family assigned him the end seat. Yeonho had no complaints.
“Hmm.”
San shrugged again.
“Fine, then sit.”
Although he couldn’t understand Yeonho’s insistence on the end seat, seeing Daom beside him made San smile.
The father and daughter were the same.
Polite and obedient, yet stubborn in the little things.
“You sit here.”
The next point of friction arose at the main seat. San wanted to seat Daom to his immediate right.
Daom widened her eyes and shook her head vigorously.
“Why you again?”
San shouted in frustration as if nothing went his way.
“Isn’t this seat for Your Highness?”
Daom whispered, almost tearful, blocking San’s view.
“If we keep arranging seats, the banquet will never start, and we’ll stay up all night.”
Who was all this because of? San alone didn’t realize it was him causing the fuss.
“Whose seat is this?”
San asked, looking to the left of his own seat.
“It is Crown Prince His Highness’s seat.”
The courtier replied.
“Is that so?”
San had an interesting thought.
“Then bring another chair and sit here.”
He pointed to the spot between the crown prince and himself.
“Here?”
Not knowing what to do, Daom stood there. The king ordered a chair to be brought, and soon Daom had a seat between the crown prince and San.
“Let’s begin.”
San finally leaned back comfortably in his chair. Daom and Yoonjeong sat to his left side.
“This will be an interesting banquet.”
Once the king sat to signal the start, musicians began playing on one side of the hall.
“Here.”
Looking at the numerous dishes on the platform, San suddenly extended his chopsticks toward Daom.
“Pardon?”
Daom didn’t understand his intention and asked.
San propped his chin on his hand, grinned, and opened his mouth toward her.
“Ah.”
