Chapter 43
Poisoned Wine
Clang—
The wine cup hit the floor, bouncing once before rolling away.
The warmth that had been clinging to Yeoil’s wrist vanished, replaced by an icy chill. Almost at the same moment that everyone’s gaze turned toward them, Namgung Heemyeong’s breath stopped.
“Cough—!”
There was no time even to cover her mouth. With a light cough, scarlet blood sprayed out, scattering in every direction.
The hall fell silent, as if time itself had stopped.
For a moment.
“What in the world—”
“Damn it, Soyo!”
Namgung Heemyeong’s sudden movement overturned her entire table, sending dishes and wine crashing to the ground. She grabbed Yeoil’s limp body and shouted in panic.
“Physician! Call for a physician, now! Brother, hurry! Namgung Soyo, open your mouth—quickly, we have to make her vomit it out—!”
But thick, dark blood welled up again, running down Yeoil’s chin and soaking her clothes.
The onlookers turned pale as death. Guards moved in swift formation, but none of the guests dared leave their seats.
Namgung Jeokmyeong rushed over, panting, and knelt beside Yeoil. He lightly tapped her pale cheek.
“Namgung Soyo.”
When she gave no response, he shook her shoulders.
“Wake up, Namgung Soyo!”
Namgung Chumyeong, who had followed close behind, hurriedly grabbed Jeokmyeong’s arm to stop him.
“Brother, calm yourself! You’ll only make it worse! Where’s the physician? Has anyone been sent?”
Coming to his senses, Namgung Jeokmyeong laid Yeoil flat and cleared her airway.
“I had one prepared in advance just in case. My guard went to fetch him—he should be here any mo—”
He suddenly cut himself off and turned sharply to stare at Namgung Chumyeong.
Their eyes locked in midair.
Something cold flashed in Jeokmyeong’s gaze, as if he had realized something. Without breaking eye contact, he gestured to one of his guards.
“Yes, young master.”
“Go to Giyeonru and bring Cho Hong here with a physician—immediately!”
Giyeonru’s Cho Hong? And a physician?
The guests exchanged puzzled looks. The two had no apparent connection, and yet Jeokmyeong’s tone was urgent, leaving no room for hesitation. The guard, understanding the gravity, vanished from the hall without a word.
“Jeokmyeong!”
At last, Danrimukran, who had been standing far back under guard, found her voice.
“W-What is this? The girl just coughed up blood and collapsed! Don’t tell me she’s… frail by nature—”
Heemyeong shouted, her lips trembling so hard that blood seeped between her teeth.
“Do you really think this happened just because she’s frail, Aunt? Someone did this to her! I don’t know who or how, but this was no accident!”
The atmosphere turned grim, and the people who had followed Danrimukran shrank behind her in fear.
“Madam…”
“Was the food poisoned? What if we also—what if we all start coughing blood like she did—?”
Danrimukran’s eyes widened with fury as she pushed forward.
“This can’t be! Jeokmyeong, summon more physicians—quickly! We can’t waste a moment! Not just for the guests—my girls, the ones I brought—if anything happens to them, how can I face their parents—”
Then—
“Shh.”
A low whisper cut through the noise.
So soft it could barely be heard, yet everyone instinctively turned toward the sound.
It came from Jin Cheongak, standing calmly in the center of the chaos.
“Quiet, old woman. You’re too loud—I can’t tell which wine’s the poisoned one.”
His tone was bored, almost lazy. He picked up the nearest wine bottle and sniffed it.
Danrimukran’s eyes bulged, red with anger.
“How dare that insolent man speak to me so! Jeokmyeong, why do you let such riffraff serve in your household—”
“Please calm yourself, Madam,” whispered Go Sangbaek, leaning close to her ear.
Danrimukran frowned, muttering back,
“…You mean that man is really so skilled? Hah! Skilled or not, he’s still a crude brute with no manners!”
Her sharp words drew no agreement; they vanished into the tense air.
“He’s a warrior who’s survived more than one battlefield,” Go Sangbaek murmured. “He might see something the rest of us can’t.”
Clink—
All eyes followed Jin Cheongak’s every move.
He went from table to table, sniffing the red Shaoxing wine bottles and setting them back down without a word. Each time he moved on, a few guests exhaled in relief.
Finally, he stopped at the last two tables—Namgung Heemyeong’s and Yeoil’s.
He sniffed the two bottles there, and let out a short sigh.
“These two. Yes, unmistakably—these smell different. But if both were poisoned, why did only Namgung Soyo collapse…?”
He stared at the half-full wine cup, its surface gleaming faintly red. Then he smiled faintly.
“Ah, heaven’s been kind, Third Young Master. You haven’t drunk yet, have you?”
“Ridiculous!”
Namgung Chumyeong snapped back instinctively, but then faltered, turning toward Jeokmyeong as if to explain himself.
“I’m not entirely convinced, Brother. How can one tell poison by scent alone? Let’s wait for the physician before we—”
Heemyeong’s lips had gone bone-dry. She gently brushed the cheek of the limp girl in her arms, her face twisted with grief and guilt.
“…If only I hadn’t told you it would be fine, Soyo…”
Her broken whisper was drowned beneath the rising voices around them.
“Poison? You’re saying someone dared to poison a Namgung feast?!”
“Brother Pae, this is no ordinary crime! Before that scoundrel escapes, we must seal the estate gates immediately!”
Amid the wreckage of the ruined banquet, Jeokmyeong strode past the kneeling Heemyeong without a pause.
He stopped beside Jin Cheongak and snatched the suspect wine bottle from his hand.
“Careful now.”
Cups and dishes clattered to the floor and shattered as Jeokmyeong sniffed each of the bottles in turn. His expression hardened with every breath.
“…You’ve crossed the line.”
In a flash, his sword was drawn.
Before anyone could blink, Jeokmyeong leapt forward—his blade cutting through the air straight toward Namgung Chumyeong.
Startled, Chumyeong fell backward, landing hard on his rear.
“B-Brother!”
His face was a mixture of disbelief and fear—How could you turn your sword on me?
Jeokmyeong’s gaze was cold as steel.
“You dared to touch Heemyeong too? Did you think I’d just stand by like before?”
“What are you saying?! Brother, it’s me—your younger brother, Namgung Chumyeong! I’ve lived only to serve the clan and you! How could I ever harm Heemyeong?!”
The desperate cry made the watching elders stir. Swords were drawn.
One by one, the Namgung warriors moved to shield Chumyeong, their expressions grim.
“Jeokmyeong, stand down.”
“Get hold of yourself, boy! Have you lost all reason? You disgrace our house, and now you threaten your own kin?”
“If you strike Young Master Chumyeong, you’ll make us your enemies!”
“…Enemies?”
Jeokmyeong gave a crooked smile and slowly raised his sword, pointing it forward.
“Then open your eyes and see—who the real enemy is.”
Every gaze followed the gleaming sword tip—until it came to rest on Namgung Chumyeong’s face.
A long, thin cut appeared across his forehead and down his chin.
On his pale skin, the crack spread like a fracture through porcelain.
