Chapter 45
To be honest, from the perspective of prospective recruits, the Golden Coin Trading Company wasn’t a particularly attractive option.
The phrase “one of the hundred great trading houses of the realm” implied there were a hundred such merchant houses — and places overflowing with wealth weren’t limited to just those hundred. So even if the Golden Coin Company used its money to try to attract hangers-on, only riffraff would probably show up.
They needed a different strategy.
Warriors.
Among them, what would those called masters value most when considering becoming hangers-on? Each person seeks different things, but roughly speaking the answers would be money, honor, and safety.
Money was out of the question, so skip that.
Honor? What honor is there in joining the Golden Coin Company as a hanger-on? No point there either.
That left only one answer.
Safety.
A significant number of hangers-on choose a faction to attach themselves to because they want someone who can protect them. In the world of martial artists there are inevitable grudges and debts; in short, a symbiotic relationship forms where each side protects the other. At present, though, the Golden Coin Company could not offer that choice.
They couldn’t even protect themselves — how could they look after hangers-on too? Impossible.
But interestingly, the only angle by which the Golden Coin Company could appeal to masters was through safety — not by providing direct protection, but by offering the means to preserve one’s life.
That method was this:
“Provide a treasure that helps someone survive in the jianghu.”
People commonly called such treasures “an extra life.”
It was one of the most prized kinds of treasure — everyone coveted it. Wouldn’t a hundred top masters, or even the greatest in the land, rush over if you offered an extra life? Of course, they might intend to seize power by force rather than become hangers-on, but still.
Providing such treasure wasn’t difficult. They could offer it right away. The special artifacts weren’t complete yet—but there was something in the Golden Coin Company that could substitute.
A divine healer.
Even if not literally restoring the dead, a divine physician capable of healing those near-death could practically count as an “extra life.” Moreover, that healer was known to demand a fortune for services and to be selective about whom they would treat.
So what if that divine physician became a hanger-on of the Golden Coin Company, and being affiliated with the Company meant anyone could be healed? Wouldn’t that be persuasive? People would be tempted.
Of course, it would be limited. Nothing material appears immediately, and one must be wounded or sick to receive help. But that limitation was also an advantage. Those willing to come despite knowing the conditions would likely be desperate enough. In the translator’s judgement, this offered a good chance of recruiting decent hangers-on. The true outcome would only be known when tried, but it was certainly worth attempting.
“Do it,” he decided. There was nothing to lose; not doing it would be foolish.
As the plan took shape in his head, he thought, “First get Jegal Myung’s approval, then visit Haomun.”
He intended to spread the rumor through Haomun. They excelled at that sort of thing, so before long the word would spread across the realm: the Golden Coin Company has the divine healer Geummyung (or Geum Myung-shin-ui).
But then a problem occurred to him.
“If I do this wrong, far more people than expected might come to the Golden Coin Company.”
Not only masters but also the sick and injured might flock there. If he’d planned a medical office from the start, that would be fine — but he hadn’t. So he altered the method: instead of making a general announcement across the realm, they would privately tip off or propose to the masters likely to become hangers-on.
“This will give Haomun more work,” he mused.
Since it was already this far along, they would approach candidate selection carefully. Ideally they wanted capable, healthy people. He felt a little guilty about using Haomun — since they were receiving information for free, he was already asking a lot — but what could he do? Haomun had presented the contract in the first place. If they were aggrieved, they could always strike his cheek — he joked. In truth, Haomun was no mere gossip mill; as the domain’s information network and public institution, meeting such a request would be nothing to them.
“One more thing I might ask of them,” he thought.
There was another reason to mobilize Haomun’s intelligence: to search for the mark of Jincheon.
“Could Jincheon’s mark remain elsewhere?” he wondered.
They wouldn’t know until they looked, but working alone had limits. He thought of Haomun and then shook his head. The possibility that someone within Haomun could interpret Jincheon’s mark and keep it to themselves was not negligible. They might find the mark and not inform him, preferring to monopolize it.
“I’d rather not find it than have them take it,” he decided.
He didn’t want to see that happen. The matter wasn’t urgent, so he shelved the search for Jincheon’s mark for now.
“All right, my thoughts are sorted,” he said, looking around.
It had become darker and quiet. Even though the night was late, there was work to do: he planned to go to Geumdanmok (the Golden Hall? — a place name) to talk about recent events, then visit the divine healer. Conveniently, the healer was currently treating Songgok and Chief No, so he could check their conditions there.
“Before we depart,” he said, one last thing to do.
From where he stood he shouted toward the bushes in the flowerbed across from him. “I know everything, so stop hiding and come out.”
There was no response. It seemed as if they simply hoped he would go away, but he had questions for them.
“Jaun, Jasung.” He called out his two younger brothers’ names.
Only after he named them did the shrubs stir. Children who looked like younger versions of himself stepped out.
“Brother.” “Brother.”
As if by agreement, both said the same thing at once. Hearing their voices, he suddenly realized what having blood siblings meant — and that those siblings were in terrible sorrow and pain.
“Did you treat the household as expendable to save your own lives?” he asked.
Their faces — heavy and sad though they were glad to see him — widened. That alone was enough confirmation. He had already been pretty sure.
“People don’t change overnight,” he thought.
Being housed in a den of beasts didn’t mean one turned into a beast. Some might, but at least these two hadn’t. The Jaun and Jasung he remembered had good natures.
“You probably had their necks in your sights like you did mine,” he said.
They had attacked him without warning and aimed for his throat. If his life had been so easily disdained, how much more would they have looked at the household as nothing? When one acts, family may die; if I act, family might only be injured — knowing that I might have made that choice myself, he had no intention of blaming them.
“…I’m sorry, brother.” “Sob… I’m sorry, brother.”
As they choked back tears, he shook his head. The ones who should apologize weren’t Jaun and Jasung; it was him.
“If I had not left my post, you would not have had to go through that. I’m the one who should be sorry.”
The two who had been holding back their tears finally let them fall. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to soothe them. But that wasn’t a problem.
“Brother!” “We missed you, brother!”
For their inadequate elder, the two brothers opened up and approached first. He hugged them wordlessly. In that first embrace he learned something new.
“People can be this warm.”
Jaun and Jasung, in his arms, sobbed openly. It must have been hard — effectively held as hostages at such young ages.
“They’re admirable for still trying to protect the family,” he thought.
He noticed the bundles tied to their backs. Seeing those, he understood why they had been hiding.
“They tried to leave.”
He had known they’d been hiding from the beginning. He knew they had disappeared briefly after he dealt with the Goojunghoe warriors and then returned. He hadn’t known why — but now he did. He understood even the reason they’d tried to leave.
“Did you intend to bear all burdens and leave, like those bundles?” he asked.
Perhaps his dealing with the Goojunghoe had frightened them — they would know the Goojunghoe’s strength and so fear their revenge. Would they run out of fear? No: if they had meant to run, they wouldn’t have returned to him.
“Why do you both try to take all the responsibility?” he asked bluntly.
That was exactly what they were doing. They considered his action against Goojunghoe their own doing and intended to distance themselves from the Golden Coin Company. They wanted to turn the arrows toward themselves to protect the main family. The brothers trembled in his arms; he hugged them tighter and made a promise.
“Now that I’ve returned, I won’t make you carry my burdens anymore.”
A fierce fire rose in his chest. To be honest, before meeting his brothers he had simply thought of them as hostages and didn’t know what it meant to feel as an older brother. Now he roughly understood.
“It’s awful,” he thought — it makes you feel rotten. And an uncontrollable fury rose in him. In this moment he could not contain his anger. He decided to handle the trash immediately. If left, it would only attract stench and vermin. There was nothing to be gained from keeping it; he didn’t want anything from it.
“Now that you’re calmer, listen carefully to what I’m going to say,” he told Jaun and Jasung after they had settled some.
“You’ve seen me fight — I became a master while overcoming a terminal limit. I’m much stronger than you think.”
What he began telling them to ease their fear slowly turned into something else. Originally they had borne the sacrifice in his place because he, the eldest, should have borne it. But because his days were numbered then, his two brothers had ended up sacrificing themselves. How could he ignore that, even if it wasn’t solely his fault?
So he said, “Will you learn real martial arts, not the fake kind?”
