Chapter 33
“I didn’t expect you to come in person.”
When I arrived at the reception room, two familiar figures were waiting for me.
Yeonhwa and Sogeom.
Two people who were hardly likely to feel positively toward me had come to Geumga in person.
“Once again, I apologize for yesterday’s mistake. My body is like this, so please understand that I can’t bow my head to apologize properly.”
A cloth was wrapped around Yeonhwa’s shoulder.
As I’d suspected, her arm was attached.
‘So the Shin-ui really is the Shin-ui.’
Since I’d seen her cross Geumga’s threshold yesterday, it was certainly the work of Jegalmyeong. He may be called the Miracle Worker, but it was still an astonishing result.
‘Movement must be restricted, but to be able to reattach a severed arm and have her walking around in just one day…’
I couldn’t shorten the ten years we’d agreed on, but with that kind of ability he deserved better treatment. I resolved to someday tinker with the treasured life-and-death acupuncture case he treasured.
Honestly, I was surprised.
‘At least outwardly she shows no hint of resentment.’
Sogeom was young and inexperienced; his face didn’t show irritation, but you could tell he was trying hard not to look displeased. Yeonhwa, on the other hand, looked genuinely apologetic—her words matched her expression. Her eyes when she looked at me were no different from yesterday.
My response to Yeonhwa’s demeanor was this.
“I don’t care if you’re not entirely honest with yourself, but any information you give me must be without the slightest lie.”
Yeonhwa’s gaze wavered briefly.
But she quickly nodded calmly, not because she intended to manipulate information but because I’d called out her attitude.
“I swear on everything I have that there will be not a grain of fabrication or trickery in the information.”
“You’ll stake everything on that? May I keep that promise in mind?”
“Of course.”
No hesitation. A fairly satisfying exchange. It even lifted the corner of my mouth. In that spirit, I decided to be a little generous.
“All right. Then from now on I’ll let you try one trick on me — once.”
“Eh?”
“Why not?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just a bit sudden…”
“Of course, if such a situation arises, you’ll be responsible for what you promised.”
Saying I’d let it slide was effectively saying I’d spare her life. It didn’t mean I’d cover up the mistake itself.
‘She said she’d stake everything.’
Then I’d take it all when the time came — even if it was her life.
“As long as you don’t deceive me, it’s not a problem, right?”
“That’s right.”
She answered without hesitation again. I let go of my suspicion and nodded. Further suspicion would just waste energy for no reason — there was no need. If problems arose, I’d handle them then; that was what we’d agreed.
“Sit.”
They had been standing until then. Before getting down to business I invited them to sit.
Their reaction to that small remark was amusing.
Whoosh.
Yeonhwa exhaled the breath she’d been holding.
Ah.
“S-sorry.”
Her voice came out louder than she’d expected; she looked embarrassed. Seeing such a spirited woman act like that made me wonder if I’d been too tense. I waved my hand lightly to show it was fine; Yeonhwa, cheeks flushed, sat down in front of me, and Sogeom took up a position a few steps back like a bodyguard.
It seemed Sogeom’s role today was indeed as an escort.
I hesitated for a moment — whether to tell them what I saw right before my eyes. Because I had seen it clearly: the day that boy would die.
‘It’s not that I’m unmoved.’
I’ll be frank: I can’t be involved in every death, nor have I ever thought I should be. The psychopomp didn’t open the divine eye for that purpose. If it were one of my people, that’d be different, but the child before me was a passing connection, nothing more. Unless there was a righteous cause like with Baekho, or some contrived excuse, I decided to let it pass and spoke instead.
“Do you have the materials prepared?”
Yeonhwa nodded and answered.
“Could you prepare brush and paper, please?”
“If needed, sure.”
It wasn’t a difficult request. There were brushes and paper in the reception room, no need for special summoning. I pointed to a drawer and Sogeom fetched a brush and paper inside. Yeonhwa took the brush and produced a small vial from her bosom.
A dark liquid gleamed inside; at first glance it looked like ink. In fact, that was what it was for.
“It’s a special solution that makes the characters disappear within two shijin after use.”
She didn’t need to explain further.
“So you’re saying: look, memorize, then destroy.”
“Yes. Both pieces of information we’ll give you are not something we want leaked. I recommend you store them in your head, then either destroy this paper or keep it somewhere no one will see.”
“Understood.”
It wasn’t a difficult task and I had no intention of complicating things. The jianghu was dangerous no matter how careful one was; I wasn’t foolish enough to think I was free from that danger — at least not now.
“I asked for information because I intend to be cautious and prudent, so don’t worry too much.”
Only then did Yeonhwa nod, reassured, and begin to move the brush across the paper.
Swoosh-skr-ssk.
‘She must be used to this — she’s an impressive shorthand writer.’
She wrote as if several people were taking notes at once. Her speed was several times faster than usual.
‘She must have learned a special script technique.’
There hadn’t been anything like this in my day. Haomun hadn’t been idle either, it seemed.
‘Martial arts themselves haven’t really advanced, though.’
Well, that was true for most sects, not just Haomun. Martial arts are hard to transmit and even harder to improve; knowing them intellectually and truly mastering them are entirely different things. Teaching methods had to be developed, and some sects even researched pedagogy specifically.
‘There aren’t many such sects, though.’
But one thing was certain: a sect that cultivated such methods would make a name for itself later.
‘The Gujunghoe went through a similar process.’
But would Haomun manage it? I shook my head inwardly. Even if I handed over Jincheon’s martial arts for fun, it didn’t seem feasible. Jincheon’s techniques weren’t made lightly; itinerants wouldn’t grasp the depth, nor could they properly teach it. In the end, Jincheon’s art would likely become mediocre. I couldn’t bear to see that. So I resolved again: use Haomun, don’t nurture it.
Anyway—
‘She looks talented.’
That was my assessment of Yeonhwa, who was still briskly writing. From our first meeting I’d thought she had the body for martial training — long arms and delicate-looking hands. She was sturdy too; she’d come to me one day after losing an arm. Her basic foundation seemed well-built.
‘Her basics are pretty solid.’
She had already learned some martial arts, though not at a high level — more like someone who had practiced fundamentals but hadn’t gone beyond them. Soon I understood why.
‘She must be looking for proper martial art or a master to teach her.’
Otherwise it made no sense. And I didn’t think that was a bad thing.
‘Even if late, following a sure path is the way of martial learning.’
She sought the straight path regardless of origin. I admired that.
‘If not for the nature of this connection…’
I might have hesitated about teaching. I had no intention of accepting disciples, but perhaps I could offer some words of advice as a senior who’d lived through the jianghu.
‘Looks like she’s finishing up.’
Yeonhwa’s brush slowed. Her handwriting was decent, so the wait hadn’t felt long. When she had filled the page, she finally set the brush down.
“This is all we’ve investigated.”
I glanced at the paper. There was a lot written—enough that memorizing it within two shijin would be tight for an ordinary person. But that didn’t apply to me.
“Good work.”
Almost as soon as I said that I tore the paper in half. I’d already stored the information in my head while watching Yeonhwa write.
‘They investigated more thoroughly than I expected.’
The information I wanted was exactly there. Haomun was generally known for breadth over depth, but this report wasn’t like that at all.
‘So the Gujunghoe really did absorb other merchant bands.’
I’d asked them to check that specifically to clarify Dosanbaek’s motive, and my suspicions were confirmed. That wasn’t good news, but there was an unexpected detail added.
‘The Gujunghoe is currently split between the main leader faction and a deputy-leader faction.’
Apparently they were even fighting bloody battles in secret. For reference, Dosanbaek belonged to the deputy-leader faction. The factions’ poor relations meant heavy scrutiny of Dosanbaek’s current activities. He was pushing things forward forcefully because of the pressure; they were absorbing interference even when noise arose, trying to get things done despite the friction. Yeonhwa added that if Dosanbaek had handled matters perfectly, Haomun wouldn’t have been able to gather information so quickly.
Either way, for Geumhwa Trading House this was not bad news.
‘Green aligns with green — this can be used.’
The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I thought we might be able to handle the Dosanbaek problem more easily than expected. But there was one worrying note.
‘Dosanbaek reached his peak at fifty years and is now a master whose current level is hard to gauge.’
If he hasn’t been idle, strength tends to grow with years. It was possible Dosanbaek was far stronger than we’d thought. I wouldn’t worry before meeting him, though — losing courage means losing the fight in spirit. Still, it was a reminder: the number one cause of death among masters is complacency.
In that spirit—
“We should cut him down cleanly.”
“Eh?”
“Dosanbaek.”
If he’s killed swiftly, there’ll be no complacency and no variables. I liked the plan on second thought and asked Yeonhwa.
“You think that’s the perfect solution?”
“Y-yes.”
Yeonhwa agreed. She looked a bit uneasy, but agreed nonetheless — and that was what mattered. A smile crossed my face. With that, the method for dealing with Dosanbaek was set.
Now the remaining question was:
“What should we do about the Central Court?”
