Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang

I’m no expert on furred mammals or birds, but I do know that birds are supposed to be born wet.

No—actually, not just reptiles or amphibians; every creature is born wet.

An egg is functionally similar to a mammal’s womb: the only difference is whether the offspring continues receiving nutrients from the mother, or grows using nutrients already prepared inside. The basic function is the same.

Which is why, due to that shared “womb” environment, all fetuses develop within a membrane and fluid; eggs are no exception.

Inside the mother’s womb, the amniotic sac is typically filled with fluid like the sea, so every baby is born wet.

But perhaps because Jayo was a spirit creature, she was a fluffy, dry little puffball.

The egg itself had been translucent enough to see the baby within, so I’d suspected something might be different—but I hadn’t imagined she’d hatch soft and downy like this.

She didn’t have the golden crest on her head like her mother, Zihwa, but that little puff of purplish-black fluff was Jayo.

An exquisitely adorable baby bird with a refined kind of cuteness.

While we all stared as if spellbound, Zihwa stroked Jayo’s head gently with her beak, and the little one chirped again.

- Peep.

My wives cried out all at once.

“So, so cute!”

“Kyarrrk. She’s too cute!”

“Immensely cute.”

She looked like a purple chick, which made her unbearably cute.

At their fussing voices, Jayo hid behind her mother’s foot.

But Zihwa’s ankle was too slender to conceal her.

A bird’s ankle is thin, after all.

Flustered and at a loss, the little one didn’t know what to do—so Zihwa nudged her rump with her long beak, pushing Jayo toward me, and said,

[ Do not be afraid. These are your other mothers, and this is your father. You—why are you standing there blankly? Your daughter has been born. Hold her. She looks exactly like you. ]

“A daughter?”

[ Yes. ]

Only Zihwa could tell the sex of a newborn like this.

I was still reeling from the word daughter when the little one, pushed in front of me, looked up and began to tremble.

She seemed frightened.

“So-ryong, what are you doing?”

“Master, why do you hesitate? The child is shaking. Hold her.”

“Hurry, my lord.”

Pressed by my wives, I instinctively held out my palm and spoke.

“H-hi. Jayo, I’m y-your d—dad.”

To be honest, it still didn’t feel real that this child was mine.

I couldn’t even say I saw the resemblance.

But since she was my daughter—and because the trembling baby bird looked so pitiful—I held out my palm. She flinched and backed away.

While inside the egg, she must have heard my voice plenty, and through the translucent shell she should have gotten used to my silhouette, but she seemed afraid of my wives and me.

I knew birds “imprint”: if you often let them hear your voice while they’re in the egg, they’ll accept the voice’s owner as a parent.

Maybe we hadn’t done enough?

At that, Zihwa spoke in a troubled tone.

[ She has excellent qualities, but perhaps she is timid? That is a problem for a child of mine. ]

As if to say that her own offspring shouldn’t be timid.

I asked carefully,

“Will the child also feed on poison?”

[ Of course. ]

As expected.

We’d needed to {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} infuse venom even while brooding the egg, so I figured she would need venom to grow as well.

“Can I give her something now? If her belly’s full, she might feel better.”

[ Not a bad idea. ]

I quickly kindled a small, white flame of venom at my fingertip.

A newborn’s stomach would be empty—she had to be hungry.

With young animals, the best way to befriend them is food.

“Here, want to try?”

The moment a tiny clot of venom formed at my fingertip, Jayo’s trembling stopped.

Her gaze fixed on my fingertip.

I moved my finger left and right, and her eyes tracked it.

Then, forgetting to tremble, she stepped forward as if entranced.

Seeing food must have made her brave.

Or it pushed everything else out of her mind for the moment.

Unlike earlier, she strode right up to my fingertip, glanced up at me once, then began to swallow the venom.

She pressed her beak to the venom, worked her mouth quickly, then tilted her head back to the ceiling.

Just like other chicks.

After I let her fill her belly for a bit, she must have felt safe; having drunk down all the venom, she started rubbing her cheek against my finger.

I cautiously offered my other palm, and she promptly stepped onto it.

Her slender little legs climbed up one by one.

A tiny weight on my palm.

She looked like a chick, but size-wise... perhaps about that of a cygnet—one of those big swan babies people call “mute swans.”

I lifted my hand to my chest, and the little one looked up at me—then flung herself against my chest.

’I still don’t feel like she’s really mine... but wow, she’s cute.’

It reminded me of a scene from an old drama or movie.

A father returns from years of overseas work; the once-infant child is now a preschooler.

When the kid says, “Mom, a strange man’s here,” the mom says, “That’s your dad,” and the child shouts “Dad!” and rushes into his arms.

Right now, after being fed, she seemed to realize, Ah, this really is my dad.

Good thing I fed her.

As she looked up with those bright, sparkling eyes, I smiled and said,

“Uh... yes, Jayo, good girl.”

Her eyes were so brilliantly clear it was almost overwhelming. At the sight of us, Zihwa spoke in a satisfied voice.

[ Then should we call her Princess Jayo? ]

Ah—right. I’d meant to refuse earlier, but Zihwa showed up and derailed me, and then Jayo hatched, so we never finished that conversation.

“Ah! Right, I never said it!”

I raised my voice as the thought struck me—then heard a chirp.

- Peep?

Looking down, I saw Jayo staring up at me with round eyes.

As if to ask, Are you angry?

“N-no. Daddy’s not mad.”

She seemed a little startled, so I quickly waved my hand, and she burrowed her face back into my chest.

***

Since we couldn’t raise our voices because of Jayo, we fed her a good dose of venom and put her to sleep.

Then we tried discussing things via our shared mind-space, but my plan to persuade my wives fell apart.

Because Zihwa dismantled my strongest argument and left me with no leverage.

[ From what I’ve heard, there is something strange. You keep saying you cannot show your wives’ naked bodies—but if you are the king, you can change royal custom.

Make it so no one sees them naked. Is this not pointless fuss? And who could possibly assassinate someone at your level? ]

She smashed my reasoning—that I valued my wives too much to let others see them unclothed.

If I were king, I could change national law at will; abolish such absurd customs. Besides, the whole point of inspecting the Empress naked was to check for concealed weapons or poison, but harming someone who’d reached the Life-and-Death Stage like me was absurd.

She was, admittedly, right.

The Emperor is an ordinary man; even a woman could theoretically carry poison or weapons in and attempt an assassination, hence the protocol. But I’m at the Life-and-Death Stage.

To assassinate me, you’d need at least my level of cultivation.

On top of that, I’m a master of poison arts who has accepted the venoms of the Ten Great Venoms—my so-called dream-state immunity: Invulnerable to Ten Thousand Poisons.

No one could harm me with poison.

“Still...”

“So-ryong, you’ve adventured enough, haven’t you?”

“Right, Master. Now it’s time to care for clan and home. We want to have children, too.”

In the end, I decided to use my last resort.

The method used by married men in my previous life when they wanted to buy a game console or a graphics card.

What is it?

Permission is hard. Forgiveness is easy.

Yes—just do it first.

Even if permission is difficult, once the deed is done, spouses are often forced to forgive—such is marriage.

Back then, divorce existed; if forgiveness didn’t come, you split up. But in this ancient world, while a husband might cast out a wife, a wife cannot demand separation.

So I decided to make a scene.

’Do it first, think later.’

I kept my head down until the next day. When all the martial artists and government soldiers had gathered, Vice Minister So Pung-baek spoke in a solemn voice before the crowd—and the roar erupted.

“His Majesty decrees that the Imperial Son-in-Law, So-ryong, who rendered great merit in this affair, is to be invested as King of Dai Viet.”

“Waaaaaaah! Long live, long live! Long live Lord So!”

“A hero of the martial world becomes a king!”

“Woooaaaah!”

When the cheers finally died down, I knelt and bowed low.

“This humble subject, So-ryong, is but a mere mortal and unworthy to receive His Majesty’s vast grace. I beg that the decree be withdrawn.”

“Imperial Son-in-Law?”

“So-ryong!”

“Ryong!”

Grandfather Mandok Shingun, my adoptive father, my elder sister, and my wives all stared wide-eyed.

Their gazes burned like needles, but I really, really didn’t want to be king.

***

Clatter.

My wives threw open the door to our quarters.

What greeted them was Jayo nodding off and Zihwa sitting beside her.

As the three of them looked around the room, Zihwa asked,

[ You seem to be in a hurry. What is it? ]

They looked flustered.

The three of us had gone to receive the imperial investiture making me king, but Zihwa hadn’t gone; in a crowd, sudden shouts might break out, and Jayo could be startled.

That was why she’d stayed behind. The three spoke in urgent voices.

“So-ryong didn’t come back?”

“Master isn’t here?”

[ No, he has not. Was the investiture completed? ]

“No. He refused and ran away!”

“Our lord refused—and fled!”

[ What!? ]

Zihwa sprang to her feet in shock.

He’d kept acting like he wanted to refuse, but she hadn’t expected he’d actually do it.

She addressed the three.

[ Find where his energy can be felt. You are connected to him as well; surely you can tell where he is? ]

She referred to the Beast-Heart Technique—once linked, we could sense So-ryong’s location.

But the three shook their heads.

“We know that, but... we can’t feel him.”

“It seems he’s found some method to hide his energy.”

“Our master—he’s reached a new realm and can do all sorts of things now. This is truly troublesome.”

Zihwa closed her eyes and tried to trace his energy, but it was as they’d said.

The presence that had always been clear could not be felt.

Nowhere, in any direction.

[ Tch. This is a problem. What shall we do? ]

She had congratulated him for becoming king—only for him to refuse.

They’d have to catch him and talk it out.

He needed to be made to recognize his position properly, as her mate.

Just then—

So-ryong’s three human wives tried calling out through the mind-space, but there was no answer.

“Master! Master!”

“So-ryong!”

“My lord, where are you?”

With frustrated expressions, they settled down and sat in a circle.

“We’ll have to pull him in through the mind-space.”

“Let’s do that!”

“Quickly—let’s go find him!”

By “mind-space,” they surely meant that same place as before.

Zihwa rose and made a request.

[ Take me with you. ]

“Zihwa too?”

[ I am also a wife. I should add a scolding word or two. To refuse a king’s seat and run away—unforgivable. I will not tolerate such a petty act from the man I chose. ]

“Understood! We’ll tell you how to enter the mind-space! Though we don’t know if it’ll work—it’s like a kind of soul arts.”

[ Do not worry. There is no such thing in the lower world that I cannot master. ]

A moment later—

The four of them drew up the energy of the Beast-Heart Technique and attempted to enter the mind-space.