Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang

Cheongwol led me into my quarters—my room in the Beast Palace.

— Krrrng. 『Then rest well.』

“Mm. Thanks, Cheongwol.”

— Krrng. 『No need for thanks between us, right?』

“Uh? B-between us? R-right, between us.”

Normally I would’ve taken that as simple friendship, but for some reason my heart skipped a beat.

Anyway, since she told me to rest, I stepped inside.

Maybe because most of my limbs had been melted away and then restored, I was very tired.

No—perhaps the mental exhaustion was even worse.

Yeah, come to think of it, it definitely was mental fatigue.

After sweating buckets trying to explain myself to my wives, and then sweating buckets again explaining to the children, there was no way my mind was intact.

I’d seen it once before in my past life—a stress index chart that quantified how much stress various life events gave to people.

The most stressful was the death of a spouse: 100 points.

The greatest stress a human could experience. Next came divorce at 73, separation at 65, and after that, imprisonment or the death of a family member at 63.

Serious illness or injury was 53, marriage 50, being fired 47, and marital conflict 45.

Judging by that, today I’d experienced “conflict with spouse × 3,” so my stress level was 135.

Since I had three wives, the stress was tripled, right?

Which meant I’d taken on even more stress than if my spouse had died.

’Crazy. My stress is triple by default.’

And that wasn’t even the end.

I’d also suffered stress from the children, which, if we equated it to “conflict with in-laws” at 29 points, then with Cheongwol, Sister Jeokwol, Hwayang, Cho, Hyang, Bini, Ranghu, Yo-hwa, and Young Lady Cheongyu, that made nine.

Multiply by nine.

29 × 9 = 261.

Add to that the 45 × 3 = 135 from the wives, and we get—

261 + 135 = 396.

396. Yes, it was the equivalent of experiencing the death of a spouse four times over.

No wonder I was tired.

’Ha. I really need to rest.’

After being exposed to stress equivalent to my wife dying four times, I absolutely had to rest.

Just as I was about to lie on the bed, my wives followed to check on me and said,

“So-ryong, then rest properly, okay?”

“Thinking about it, since you suffered serious injuries and just recovered, resting makes sense.”

“We’ll go help outside. Sister Seolpyo seems to be busy alone, Master.”

With worried faces, my wives laid me down on the bed.

After gently brushing my forehead, they stood up to leave.

They said they’d help with battlefield cleanup, meals, and sleeping arrangements for the support troops who had come.

Apparently Sister Seolpyo was running herself ragged.

Normally entertaining guests was the wife’s duty, but since my mother wasn’t here, Sister Seol had to take care of it.

So my wives were going to assist her.

They were, after all, daughters-in-law of this household—the second rank in the internal hierarchy.

“Th-then I’ll rest a little and come help later.”

“No, Young Master, please rest properly.”

“Yes, don’t think about anything today, just rest well. We’ll go now.”

“So-ryong, rest, okay?”

When my wives disappeared, I figured I’d survived the day somehow and decided to close my eyes for a bit.

But maybe because I’d been on the brink of life and death, after two hours of sleep I couldn’t sleep anymore.

The Life-and-Death Realm was a state that communicated with the energy of all things.

Even if the body was tired, one could quickly absorb the lacking energy and recover.

Honestly, if it was only fatigue like this, I didn’t need to sleep.

Since I’d advanced in realm, I could sense my condition clearly. Truthfully, it was only the habits of my mortal life that made me sleep at all; one cycle of inner energy would’ve wiped away the fatigue.

Though, mentally, I was still tired and did want to rest.

“Then maybe I should go out and help Sister Seol.”

I got up and was about to step outside—to help my wives, that is.

But as soon as I opened the door, the children were waiting outside.

From Yo-hwa to Cheongwol, Hwayang, Sister Jeokwol, and even Ranghu behind them.

Things had ended peacefully earlier, yet seeing them all gathered made my heart tense again—unconsciously.

— Chii. 『Where are you going, So-ryong?』

— Kishit. 『Where are you trying to go, Brother?』

The moment I appeared at the door, Sister Jeokwol and Yo-hwa questioned me.

I stammered without meaning to.

“Uh, I was just going to help Hwa-eun and the others outside—there are a lot of people around, so I thought they might need an extra hand?”

As I explained and took a step out, Yo-hwa approached and gently pushed me back inside.

— Kishishi. 『No. The sisters told me to make sure you rest in here.』

“The wives? But it’s fine. I’ve rested enough.”

— Kishit. 『Don’t lie. You barely rested at all.』

It seemed Yo-hwa couldn’t sense that I’d advanced in realm.

“No, really, I did. With my current level, just this much rest is enough.”

I tried explaining again, but Yo-hwa gave me a firm look.

— Kishishishi. 『The sisters said if you try to come out, I mustn’t let you. So please rest here for today.

It’s their request—and mine too.』

— Click.

She pushed me back into the room and shut the door at once.

In the end, I was locked inside my quarters.

“Hey, Yo-hwa? Yo-hwa?”

No answer.

At this rate, it seemed I wouldn’t be able to go out all day.

The wives must have asked Yo-hwa to watch me, because she clearly had no intention of letting me leave.

So I had no choice but to spend the day cooped up in boredom.

I ate the meal the servants brought, then lazed around on the bed—when suddenly, a thought hit me.

Zimjo’s endlessly awaited venom.

That thick, white stuff.

’Ah, right—when Zimjo comes back, she’ll definitely ask for the venom. I’d better recall how to make it.’

I really didn’t have time to waste.

When Zimjo returned, she would certainly demand it, so I needed to remember the white venom I had created in that no-mind state.

I’d made it, but didn’t quite remember how.

I had to recreate it quickly.

I closed my eyes and tried to recall the process from right before I’d lost consciousness.

That moment when the venoms of Hwayang, Yo-hwa, Cho, Hyang, Bini, Cheongyu, Cheongwol, and Sister Jeokwol—all the children I had registered—merged into one.

I pictured channeling that energy into my open palm, recalling and layering each venom one by one.

Hwayang’s flame-burning venom, Cheongwol’s petrifying venom, Sister Jeokwol’s grinding venom made from powdered scales, and so on.

As I focused on my palm, each venom I envisioned changed the color of the sphere above it.

First, blue—from Hwayang’s venom. Then red added from Sister Jeokwol’s. Then green from Young Lady Cheongyu’s.

Cheongwol’s gray venom joined, then Cho’s sky-blue.

As more colors merged, the orb grew whiter and whiter.

’Ah, so it was light.’

Normally, mixing many colors produces black.

But with light, it’s different.

The more you combine, the whiter it becomes—because adding light makes things brighter.

Before I knew it, a white sphere had formed in my palm.

The exact opposite color of Hongbi’s venom.

’It’s working.’

— Deng. Deng. Deng.

Just as I mastered the method, the distant sound of the midnight bell rang out.

My wives must have been busy, or maybe they wanted me to rest, because they still hadn’t returned.

But my sharpened senses from touching the Life-and-Death Realm detected a huge presence landing a short distance from the door.

— Flap-flap.

Wings.

’She’s here.’

Had she already finished taking care of the Blood Cult bastards?

Then she’d fulfilled that request too—and if she was going to start that “baby” talk again, I’d better hurry and give her the venom before any more misunderstandings arose.

Perfect timing, since the venom was ready.

Otherwise she’d follow me around saying things like, “Beloved, hurry and fill me to the brim with your thick, white essence,” and people would definitely misunderstand.

Just as I was about to open the door, Yo-hwa’s voice came first.

— Kishit. 『Excuse me. Could we have a word with you?』

Her tone held a hint of hostility.

And behind her, I could feel the slightly crooked, sullen air of the other girls.

I’d thought they understood and would welcome Zimjo.

But judging from those expressions... it hit me.

They hadn’t said they understood Zimjo—they’d said they understood me.

’No way.’

Were they actually planning to fight?

In fantasy novels, they call it a “catfight”—when cute, feline women fight over a man.

But my girls couldn’t be compared to mere cats.

So, if I had to name it... Insect King War? Poison [N O V E L I G H T] Queen War?

Yes, a Poison Queen War was about to break out.

Just as I thought I should stop it, Zimjo’s voice reached me.

[ Oh? There are other spirit beasts here? To think the Golden Spider clan would appear in a place like this—how curious. ]

At the words “Golden Spider clan,” my hand froze on the doorknob.

Zimjo’s tone had caught my interest.

***

Zimjo paused, thinking.

All the spirit beasts standing before the door were powerful beings, yet none seemed to bear her goodwill.

Still, they were all of lower rank than her.

Staring at them silently, she asked,

[ What is it? ]

The first to answer was the golden wasp.

— Bwoooong. 『What are you, exactly? Why are you cutting in line?』

[ Cutting in line? ]

— Bwoong. 『Lord So-ryong was desired by me—no, by all of us gathered here—and yet you cut ahead. We don’t accept that.』

Zimjo tilted her head.

He had said he only had three wives, and she had already met and been acknowledged by them.

Yet from what these spirits were saying, they were speaking as though they were wives too.

Then came another voice.

— Sia. 『W-what are you saying, Ranghu? We... we only admire him, not covet him.』

— Krrrng. 『That’s right. We simply like So-ryong.』

— Bwoong! 『That is coveting him!』

At their bickering, Zimjo gave a sly smile.

Now she understood.

Every female here liked him.

And indeed, for a man of such level, it was only natural to desire him.

In the upper realms, such men were rare but not unheard of—but here, he was one of a kind.

With a smirk, Zimjo asked,

[ And if you refuse to accept it? Will you take it back by force? ]

Among the arguing spirits, the golden wasp shouted,

— Bwoooong. 『If we can, we will!』

At that, Zimjo calmly replied,

[ You all seem to like him, but if you deny me, then your own chances will vanish forever. ]

— Bwoong. 『What do you mean?』

— Krrrng. 『Yes, what does that mean?』

The spirits looked surprised.

Passing among them with serene grace, Zimjo spoke,

[ It seems you do not know. Most beings, even when transcending species as he has, find it difficult to accept another race.

It defies the laws of nature.

So if the father of my child were to be rejected, he would think—yes, it truly is difficult to accept those of another kind. ]

The spirits’ eyes widened.

As Zimjo opened the door and stepped inside, she left them with a final, lilting remark.

[ But once it happens once... twice, thrice will not be so hard. Heh-heh. ]