MPNS Ch 51

Chapter 51

Chiriri—chiwawang. The bird perched on Nikiel’s bed hopped onto his knees and rubbed its beak against his chest. Bit by bit, his ragged breathing began to calm.

Nikiel reached out and embraced the bird. Hyperventilating in the middle of sleep—what next? And why were his cheeks soaked with tears?

Rubbing his damp face against the bird’s shoulder, he muttered,

“Ah… it was such a sad dream, but I can’t remember it…”

In that dream, he had been swallowed in despair. He had lost something unspeakably precious, and what tormented him worse was the thought that he had disappointed the one who had vowed to protect that thing with him.

The dream‑voice had condemned him, yes—but Nikiel had realized it wasn’t real blame. Behind the words was a plea: see me, remember me.

And Nikiel—he hadn’t known what to say. He hadn’t known how to comfort. That was the sadness of it.

But the next blink— and the ache of guilt, the tenderness, the desperate sorrow—all of it was gone.

Why was I crying again? He clutched his blank chest, eyes blinking. He felt he’d forgotten something immense—but didn’t know what.

The hawk brushed its beak against him again and again, as if to console him. Its warmth gave him something to cling to, and before he knew it, Nikiel had fallen back asleep.

Thankfully, the dream did not return. Yet all the same, there was still the hard feel of someone’s arms around him. The warmth was so good he nuzzled into it, brow pressed against hard chest muscle, purring a faint sigh.

Toward dawn, the one holding him stirred, as if to leave.

“Don’t go…”

Nikiel whispered without meaning to. And he felt the embrace pause. Seizing the chance, he wrapped his arms tighter, burying his face in that warm chest as if clinging to it.

The stranger flinched, startled—but Nikiel only pressed closer.

This was the first time in his life he had acted so needy. Not even as a boy had he asked such comfort from his parents. Strange, yes—but warmth like that, he never wanted to let go.

The hours waned, and at last light grew. From the accursed east, the sun rose once more.

“Why are your eyes so swollen?”

“…Good question.”

Paul’s puzzled query was only met with a shrug. Nikiel did not—could not—explain that he had cried in his sleep. He didn’t know himself why tears had come.

By morning, the hawk that had nestled at his side was gone. Only a black feather gleamed where it had lain. He thought it beautiful and gave it to Paul, telling him to cut the tip and craft it into a quill.

Paul fussed endlessly, saying those swollen lids must be treated at once. He brought in hot and cold towels, pressing them in turn to Nikiel’s face, massaging brow and nape.

Normally Nikiel would have run out declaring this pampering unbearable, hiding in his exercise. But today his mood was too heavy to resist.

Sensing it, Paul spoke to lift him up.

“At least this afternoon begins your first fencing lesson. A bit of movement will ease the swelling.”

“…Ah, right.”

Fencing class. Nikiel’s blue eyes brightened. He had nearly forgotten in the shadow of his dream, but indeed—today his instruction would begin.

Paul thought he was only cheering him because of his swollen eyes. But the truth was, the thought of learning anew filled Nikiel with joy no dream could dim.

He refreshed himself, ate roasted venison with Bendi the chef’s special sauce, then sorted through his monster‑ecology notes until sunset approached.

At that hour, a message came from Yullan: the prince must use the Guard’s training grounds, as the Prince’s Palace had none.

Nikiel dressed in loose bray trousers and a tunic for ease of movement.

“Are you really going just like that?” Paul fussed.

“What, am I to wrap myself in diamonds for sword practice? Leave it—you’ll only make me late. My teacher waits.”

For the first session, propriety demanded that he not go alone. He must have attendants. So he endured Paul’s nagging, but at last snapped, unusually firm.

To be late for day one—it could not be! Even back in Daechi‑dong cram schools, parents queued before dawn not to miss star lecturers. To be tardy on the first day? Impossible!

Paul tsked at the light blazing in his master’s eyes.

Since that illness… he hurls himself at every lesson as if bewitched by learning itself. Before, he would sabotage his etiquette tutors… shouted the man would be charged with treason to lay a hand on him. History, math, law—all his teachers suffered at least once…

But not now. Now all his spite was gone.

Even toward Yullan Balt. In the past, he would have sneered—I won’t trot over like a dog just because he calls. First run me a bath. I’ll go at my leisure.

Such words came easily to mind when imagining the old Nikiel—because he had said them often.

But today he rushed eagerly.

Paul sighed, but hurried to ready supplies.

“You did remember to pack food?”

“Of course! The chef prepared since morning. Not only for us—there will be late‑night stores sent to the Black Thorns’ barracks as well.”

Nikiel nodded. He checked the large basket Paul hefted, murmuring he should have packed more. In truth, it overflowed.

Inside: apricots and peaches preserved in honey, small cakes topped with quince, bottles of wine from last year’s sweet frost harvest, garlic‑spiced pork belly and bacon wrapped for bread. Bendi’s finest work—smoky, fragrant, made to impress.

Nikiel had even ordered two versions: mild seasoning and heavy, not knowing Yullan’s tastes.

And for the Black Thorns—an entire roast venison haunch, with fruit liquor and beer to follow. The kitchen had been in chaos preparing it all.

Because gifts to teachers—the Korean concept of **chonji (촌지)**¹—were the oil that greased the wheels of learning.

Money? Absurd. The house of Balt was richer by hundreds of times than any treasury Nikiel had known, rich enough to buy kingdoms.

The true strategy was sincerity—the care borne of provision.

With baskets full, there was nothing left to do but go on time.

So Nikiel and Paul left the palace. For formality, they rode the Prince’s carriage across the short kilometer to the Guard’s training yard.

It was ornate: silver fittings, door handles carved of silver capped with great sapphires. And so carried, the “student” went to his first lesson with his terrible teacher.

Notes:

1. Chonji (촌지): In Korea, “gifts” to teachers to smooth relations; usually money in an envelope. Nikiel adapts the idea, believing thoughtful meal‑gifts will win Yullan’s goodwill. 
2. Bray (브레): Local trousers akin to loose breeches described earlier, worn with tunics for training. 
3. Daechi‑dong cram schools: Reference to South Korea’s most competitive tutoring district in Seoul, invoked as comparison for fierce devotion to lessons.