Chapter 4
Originally, Geum Jamun had been a diligent man.
But after a long battle with illness, he began entrusting much to Dongchil, relying on him more and more.
Among those responsibilities was the management of the estate’s household affairs.
At the time, it was no small sum of money that Geum Jamun handed over without hesitation.
This showed how deeply he trusted Dongchil—more than a blood relative.
At the same time, it showed how irresponsible Geum Jamun had been.
“This isn’t Dongchil’s fault.”
Dongchil was certainly a trustworthy person.
The very fact that he never ran away despite handling such a fortune proved that much.
But managing money was a completely different matter.
Dongchil had neither experience in handling large sums nor the means to manage such finances.
After all, not only did Geum Jamun require significant funds for his treatments, but he was also a man with extravagant spending habits.
It seemed he had used money as a way to ease his suffering, decorating the estate with all manner of flashy luxuries.
That was the situation I managed to piece together.
But there seemed to be an even bigger problem hidden underneath.
“Why don’t you ask? Or do you simply not want to answer my question?”
“N-no, that’s not it.”
“Then speak honestly.”
Even so, Dongchil’s lips did not open easily.
It was only after further pressing that he finally spoke.
“…This month, it’s been a little difficult to pay the interest.”
He spoke haltingly.
I, on the other hand, tilted my head in puzzlement.
“Interest?”
That was the first I’d heard of such a thing.
Interest meant debt.
But nothing in Geum Jamun’s memories that I’d seen had suggested such a thing.
“When exactly did we take on debt—”
I stopped mid-sentence.
Then, with a sudden thought, I carefully searched deeper through the memories.
And yes… there was a faint, half-broken recollection of something like that from about a year ago, when things were at their very worst.
“Money… even if… we must borrow… bring more…”
So that’s what he had meant.
It wasn’t certain, but it couldn’t be anything else.
At that time, Geum Jamun had been barely able to remain conscious, ravaged both by illness and demonic energy.
On top of that, he had turned to drugs and alcohol to numb the pain.
Much of his memory had been lost, fragmented into pieces that no matter how hard I tried, would only resurface like that—bits and pieces, disconnected.
I didn’t even know why he had borrowed money in the first place.
But one thing was certain: all that time, Dongchil had been running around desperately, managing everything on his own.
“Don’t worry, young master. I’ll find a way to keep things going with what we have.”
Somewhere in those broken memories, I clearly recalled Dongchil saying that.
And he had lived up to that promise unwaveringly.
“You’ve worked hard all this time.”
The words slipped out on their own.
What servant worries about their master’s debt and works to cover it?
“Hard work? That’s ridiculous, young master, I—wh-woah!”
Flustered by my words, Dongchil nearly lost his balance.
He had tried to bow while carrying both hands full of luggage.
I quickly supported him.
“Forget that, just hand me the luggage.”
“I-it’s fine, young master.”
“Just give it here.”
I snatched the bags from him.
Then, glancing toward the Chwiseon Guesthouse, I continued.
“Let’s eat here, as planned. Order whatever you want.”
From Dongchil’s earlier reaction, I already knew this was quite a pricey establishment.
But for now, this was all I could do for him after the hardships he had endured.
It wasn’t reckless spending—I would never again force Dongchil to dig into his own purse for my sake.
Not now, not ever.
“Pay with this.”
I handed him something I had been holding, which had been cumbersome to carry around—an ornamental, gold-plated fan.
Dongchil looked shocked.
“Isn’t this something you cherished, young master? Please, let me just use the silver I brought.”
“After carrying it for a day, I’m already sick of it. Use that to pay.”
The fan was only the beginning.
I planned to clear out all the unnecessary, ostentatious items cluttering the estate.
I didn’t know the exact amount of debt, but surely selling those would cover much of it.
“Go inside and place the order. I’ll return these items and get back as much money as I can.”
It might be embarrassing, but it was the right thing to do.
Dongchil insisted on coming along, but I refused firmly.
It had been my doing; it was only right that I resolve it myself.
“Money…”
Even as I walked to return the items, I muttered the word.
Even on the way back to the estate after dinner, I repeated it.
By late evening, I finally reached an answer.
“Not too much… but not too little either.”
With money, life becomes easier.
It lets you eat what you want, buy what you desire without worry.
Even if not for now, having a certain amount would undoubtedly help for the things I had to accomplish in the future.
I needed it—not for anyone else, but for myself.
So, I decided.
I would earn money.
* * *
“I’ll check the market prices a bit more.”
It took about a month to sell off the household’s excess.
Part of it was because there had been so many things to dispose of, but also because Dongchil had been insistent that everything be sold at a fair price.
Thanks to his efforts, the debts—which had been heavier than expected—were mostly settled.
The estate, however, had become quite bare.
But that wasn’t a problem.
Once emptied, all that was left was to fill it again.
And so, little by little, various items began entering the estate once more—things I personally went out and bought.
After another month, the quantity had grown considerable, almost making the estate feel fuller than before.
Some of those items were even quite valuable.
Today, too, I had returned from purchasing a life-sized stone statue for no small sum.
Since it seemed better suited outdoors than inside, I was just setting it down in the courtyard when Dongchil cautiously asked:
“Young master… did you buy something again today?”
I smiled at him.
“It’s different this time, so don’t worry.”
On days I spent large sums, Dongchil’s eyes always wavered slightly.
But I wanted to assure him it was needless worry.
In the past, Geum Jamun had bought things impulsively for self-indulgence.
But my reasons were entirely different.
For I had a power that Geum Jamun never possessed—
The ability to observe the essence of objects.
Not as grand as it might sound.
I could simply… hear them.
The souls within things.
Their voices.
“I’m sleepy.”
“I miss it…”
“I’m hungry.”
“I’m bored.”
That sort of thing.
Of course, not every object could speak.
Just as a well-crafted sword might hold a spirit, other finely made things sometimes gained souls.
But only a rare few could actually voice themselves like this.
It was extraordinary, but unfortunately, I alone could hear them.
Which meant I couldn’t prove an item’s special nature to anyone.
So as it stood, they had no monetary value.
Unless…
Unless I imbued them with divine energy, transforming them into objects so extraordinary that no one could deny their worth.
That was my plan.
I had no delusions of creating divine swords, but if I could forge even treasures of the lower tier—artifacts just below true relics—their value would be beyond measure.
Of course, that was easier said than done.
The greatest problem was that most of the items I’d collected simply weren’t qualified vessels.
Even with a soul, the capacity of each vessel varied.
If it wasn’t up to a certain standard, it simply couldn’t accept divine energy.
But I had still bought so many because I believed their “capacity” could be cultivated, enlarged—or diminished.
That was the task ahead of me.
And I wouldn’t do it alone.
“Dongchil.”
“Yes, young master.”
“You’ve been keeping up with the training I taught you?”
“Yes, I’ve been practicing diligently.”
“Good. Even if you’re busy, don’t neglect the items I bring home. It’s a necessary task.”
“I understand, young master.”
About a month ago, after our first outing, I had taught Dongchil a single cultivation method.
Not some supreme divine art, but something sufficient to protect himself.
The Heart of Creation Technique (造化心功).
It was less martial arts and more Taoist internal cultivation.
Its progress was slow, but in nurturing pure natural energy, nothing excelled beyond it.
That natural energy would serve as the soil to enlarge the vessels.
Not only for the objects with souls, but also for Dongchil himself.
“Well then, shall we check on how our little ones are doing today?”
Since I had begun buying these items, I had developed a new hobby—observing them.
Watching them was like watching grandchildren play.
What began as a means to earn money had become something I truly enjoyed.
It had become one of the most delightful parts of my daily routine.
“Let’s start with the armory.”
My first stop was the armory.
Compared to other storage rooms, it was smaller, holding only a handful of items.
That was due to the nature of weapons themselves.
Made to harm people, most weapon-spirits were violent and feral.
Though I had started this endeavor, I had no intention of carelessly producing things that would harm the world.
So I had been very selective, acquiring no more than five weapons.
Still, the armory had recently become one of the most interesting places to visit—because of one particular newcomer.
“Bored.”
The moment I entered, its voice reached me.
The others, in contrast, remained silent.
It was as though an unspoken hierarchy had been established.
I stepped before a sword with a dull gray blade among the neatly arranged five.
“Bored.”
Again, the same voice as before.
Why was it so bored, I wondered?
I channeled a thread of celestial energy into the sword and asked:
“Why are you so bored?”
…
The gray sword did not respond.
Unbothered, I continued speaking.
“Is it blood you long for?”
Again, the sword gave no reply, as if such things didn’t interest it.
“Very well. I hope next time you’ll answer me. And if you desire anything, speak.”
That ended our exchange.
It felt a bit empty, but not fruitless.
For I could see it—
The gray sword listening, lost in thought.
This was the process of forming will.
And this was also one of my ways to nurture vessels.
“The others are still silent.”
I muttered as I left the armory.
Though I had spoken to the gray sword, I had intended the words for all of them.
Unfortunately, none of the other weapons had shown any response yet.
But that didn’t disappoint me.
The future was unpredictable.
It wouldn’t be strange at all if one of them suddenly awakened tomorrow.
In fact, I was secretly hoping for it.
“Now then, where next?”
After some thought, I decided on the herb storage.
There, too, awaited a fascinating little one, no less intriguing than the gray sword.
But just as I was about to take a step—
“Aaaaahhhh!”
A sudden scream from Dongchil.
By the time the sound reached my ears, my body was already moving.
