Chapter – 07.
Enemies Meet Before the Apple Tree
What is a Sentence Completion Test?
It’s a test where the client completes the blanks in unfinished sentences to reveal their psychological state.
_’I’ve already been tested enough, I suppose.’
If anything else was lacking, she was confident in her ability to interpret tests.
She had studied her bones to the marrow for it!
She had managed to conduct the test somehow through quick-witted improvisation…
Now she had to combine this well and explain it in a way that would please Mujae.
‘No! Tests are meant to be taken honestly, why should I lie?’
If it were a general counseling session, she would have spoken without holding back.
But only if it were a ‘general’ counseling session.
‘To think I ended up counseling a tyrant.’
A-mang rubbed her face with her palms.
If any other counselor had fallen into this place, it would have been different.
At the very least, they would have been more skilled than a rookie counselor.
But A-mang was a mere rookie counselor with just a week of experience.
Her theory was solid, but she had almost no practical experience.
Especially interpreting sentence completion tests relied solely on memory.
‘Let’s just do it. Whether I die this way or that way, it’s all the same!’
Fortunately, A-mang had a rather resilient side to her.
Even if she fell, she would get back up! Like the protagonist of an old animation, she rolled up her sleeves.
‘Now, let’s think back.’
A-mang pondered deeply over Mujae’s answers.
Two questions in total, and two answers.
Additionally, she fumbled through her memory of Episode 1 of [That Tyrant’s Youngest Daughter is a Delinquent].
She calmly repeated the briefly mentioned background knowledge.
‘He avoided questions about the late Emperor.’
If her current thoughts were correct, it was probably this.
Mujae had bad memories of his father, the late Emperor, or held some kind of grudge.
That thing, which had persisted from his childhood until now, had taken root as a deficiency.
As a result, he avoids answering when reminded of his father.
‘The Concealing Type.’
Literally, the type that hides their own stories.
They avoid answering with phrases like “It’s a secret.” or “I can’t tell you.”
Mujae had shown a self-defensive attitude towards A-mang.
‘Why?’
A-mang rested her chin on her small palm.
With her other hand, she pressed down on her trembling thigh on its own accord.
To others, A-mang now looked like a ten-year-old engrossed in her studies.
‘Ah. That’s it.’
While pressing her temples and searching for the reason, A-mang remembered.
What the description of Mujae in the novel was like!
The tyrant of the age, he killed his own mother and slaughtered all his brothers.
Surprisingly, that was the end of it.
“Your Highness. Please have some refreshments while you work.”
Nan brought in a heap of delicious-looking refreshments.
Yakgwa, hangwa, rice gangjeong, dasik, etc.
They were so glossy that just looking at them made her mouth water.
“No, Nan. I…”
Originally, A-mang didn’t eat sweets.
To be precise, the spirit possessing A-mang didn’t.
Under the pretext of caring for her health, she checked her sugar intake and stubbornly resisted snacks.
The days of only slurping iced americanos at the café were about to crumble.
Because drool was already streaming from the corner of A-mang’s mouth!
“I’ll have some.”
“Please speak up if it’s not enough.”
Well, holding back in life makes you sick, right?
A-mang picked up a rice gangjeong and took a bite.
The crunchy, popping gangjeong melted away softly as soon as it touched her tongue.
It felt like her stalled brain was starting to spin rapidly.
“Hey, Nan.”
“Yes?”
“How long has it been since you entered the palace?”
Nan wiped the corner of A-mang’s mouth with a damp handkerchief.
Crumbs of rice gangjeong came off.
At a glance, Nan, who looked to be in her early 30s, seemed to have quite some seniority.
That meant she had entered the palace a long time ago!
‘If I can’t find evidence, I’ll just make it.’
She would extract information from Nan!
No matter what kind it was.
“This servant entered the palace along with Her Highness Hwanyeongbi. It’s been about 15 years.”
“What was Father like back then?”
“Your Highness! How dare we speak of His Majesty’s affairs? That is a matter for the historians, not for us!”
Nan looked around, horrified.
She was nothing like her usual calm self.
‘Even the palace maids have so many rules to follow.’
It must be exhausting.
A-mang thought to herself.
If only that one word hadn’t flashed through her mind at that moment.
‘Butterfly.’
The only question Mujae had answered.
It was the item about A-mang’s birth mother, Hwanyeongbi.
‘The Fantasy Reaction Type.’
A-mang hurriedly wrote it down, afraid she might forget.
The crooked brush handwriting was probably illegible to anyone.
Maybe.
“Then, is it okay to ask about my mother?”
“Of course.”
Nan gently stroked A-mang’s head.
The tears shimmering in Nan’s slightly visible eyes must have been a trick of the mood.
A-mang carefully scrutinized Nan’s face.
“Did mother like butterflies?”
“Butterflies?”
It was a very one-dimensional question.
Surely the reason Mujae said she was like a butterfly wasn’t simply because she liked butterflies.
But still, just in case.
“She enjoyed flower viewing, but she didn’t particularly like butterflies.”
Nan tilted her head.
Phew, what a relief. A-mang sighed in relief.
It seemed Mujae wasn’t as simple a person as she thought.
‘A person who makes you want to become a flower just by looking at her.’
She could grasp the nuance, but it was still puzzling.
One thing was certain: that answer was of the Fantasy Reaction type.
Fantasy Reaction type: a pattern of speaking about unrealistic thoughts or fantasies.
‘Calling a person a butterfly… must be a dopamine addict.’
Right now, A-mang was looking through biased lenses.
Trapped by the title ‘Tyrant’, she couldn’t properly see the person named Mujae.
Not that she particularly wanted to, though.
‘A dopamine addict and a severe avoidant type.’
That was the conclusion A-mang reached.
The problem was that saying this outright would get her head chopped off.
She couldn’t just go up to him and say, “Father, face reality!”
Staring blankly at the paper with her answer, A-mang put down the brush.
Such refined actions really didn’t suit a princess aspiring to be a ninja.
She would find out through physical action, no matter what!
“Nan. I want to go out.”
“Already? Won’t you practice your brush writing a little more?”
Nan showed a hint of disappointment.
No wonder, it was quite a spectacle to see the princess, who usually only climbed trees, sitting at a desk.
Perhaps it was the first time she had seen such a sight since A-mang was born.
“This is enough.”
“Truly marvelous, Your Highness!”
“Huh?”
Before A-mang could even answer, Nan scooped the princess up into her arms.
A-mang, held in her embrace, stayed quiet.
A person’s embrace was quite comfortable, after all.
Moreover, perhaps because she had used her head too much, she was feeling a bit drowsy.
‘I mustn’t fall asleep!’
Who knew when that crazy guy, the Emperor, would come barging in again?
A-mang was only given three chances.
If she couldn’t deduce the illness name within that, Nan would disappear.
‘That can’t happen!’
Feeling an excessive sense of responsibility, A-mang flailed violently.
It was a signal to be put down.
Even without her saying it, Nan understood perfectly.
She was truly the person wholly in charge of A-mang’s upbringing.
“Help me get dressed.”
“Your Highness. How about something bright and cheerful like this for today?”
Nan was more excited than ever.
The princess always came back covered in dirt.
So she usually dressed her in cotton clothes that were easy to clean, but not anymore.
A-mang, created from Nan’s fingertips, was draped in yellow silk.
A-mang stared blankly at the sleeves adorned with colorful stripes.
‘It’s like rainbow rice cakes.’
It was definitely Nan’s taste.
Nan spun the princess around and around, exclaiming in admiration repeatedly.
If such a person existed in the modern era, she’d be a booked ‘daughter-doting’ specialist.
“Her hair must be done too!”
“Of course, Your Highness! Please wait a moment.”
It felt like playing along with a doll dress-up game.
As Nan left the quarters to find hair ornaments, A-mang let out a sigh.
She felt a severe sense of disillusionment.
Like an actor from a children’s play slumping in the waiting room.
A-mang poked her own cheeks.
‘They’re like slime.’
No matter how much she poked and stretched a child’s cheeks, it didn’t hurt at all.
People used to hold something soft in their hands to relieve stress.
Of course, A-mang had never held anything like that before.
Was this what it felt like?
While she was in the middle of stretching her cheeks, a thud sound echoed.
The hair ornaments that had arrived from somewhere filled a whole box.
“Your Highness. Which one do you prefer?”
At that moment, A-mang thought.
I’m doomed.
In the garden where spring had arrived, all sorts of flowers were in full bloom.
In the warm weather, the concubines gathered in small groups to chat.
The combination of fragrant flower tea and sweet refreshments was simply fantastic.
A small shadow processing through there.
The hair tied up in a round shape like a dumpling jiggled.
Bells hung from the strings wrapped around her hair.
‘What is this, I’m not a dog.’
The princess, buried in a field of yellow forsythia, was completely invisible.
With every step, the sound of bells rang.
What is this, a game of tag?
Am I supposed to be ‘it’ in this scenario?
The princess walked while earnestly praying not to meet anyone.
Her goal was to find a flower where a butterfly had landed.
Butterflies landed on every flower.
‘But there must be a butterfly hotspot.’
This was the solution A-mang had come up with.
It was simple yet intuitive.
Her small body examined the flowers here and there.
They all looked the same, like forsythia.
Right, they’re all the same.
Let me reiterate, A-mang majored in psychology.
She had absolutely no ability to distinguish between flowers!
“To think Her Highness is out enjoying the flowers! This servant is so happy she could cry.”
Just what kind of person was this A-mang?
For her close aide to shed tears just because she went flower viewing once.
Nan dabbed her tears with her sleeve ribbon.
A-mang kept moving forward without stopping.
Her small body had difficulty maintaining balance.
She walked while barely managing to examine the flowers.
“Your Highness!”
She fell a few times, but it didn’t matter.
Because Nan, who was following behind, endlessly picked her up and brushed her off.
‘Being a princess is really nice, after all.’
It would have been even better if it was a beloved worldview.
A-mang shook her head.
She had to figure out his meaning before the day ended.
While she was rummaging frantically through the garden,
“My, who do we have here?”
She had run into them.
The Empress and Yeol-bin, holding a tea party in the pavilion.
