Chapter 43
Even though Sahun and Geumchosan had bought them some time, it wasn’t as if they had much to spare.
Still, he couldn’t give up the conversation with Beopun.
There was something he needed to ask of him—but more importantly, something he had to hear.
“I remember, sir, that until the day you left Cheonmun Temple, you never once lost your smile.”
That was what Beopun had told him when he’d gone back and asked about Jincheon.
He hadn’t even known Jincheon’s name back then, so he’d just called him the elder.
He hadn’t remembered that Jincheon had ever been ill, either.
Part of that was because Jincheon hadn’t told anyone—but more than that, it had simply been too long.
Centuries of time had passed; no one could remember everything.
And yet, there was one thing Beopun had remembered clearly—and kept faithfully.
“He asked me to take good care of Cheonunjang. And he said, if someday it seems like someone is looking for him, tell them to take their time finding him. That was the message he left me.”
It was about the birdhouse.
At the time, Beopun had been only five years old.
He really asked a kid to do that?
And to make it worse, he’d given the birdhouse a ridiculous name like Cheonunjang—“The Estate Where Heaven and Clouds Rest.”
What nonsense. No wonder people thought he was crazy.
He’d really gone all out to make himself look insane.
It was nothing but trouble for everyone around him.
When he apologized on Jincheon’s behalf, Beopun laughed heartily.
“Haha, not at all. Thanks to him, my life wasn’t boring. I should be the one grateful to the elder.”
To him, Beopun seemed nothing short of extraordinary.
It sounded simple, but it had been a hundred years.
It was a small favor—something easy to forget.
Yet Beopun had remembered and honored it for a full century.
“Are you curious about what was inside that birdhouse—no, in Cheonunjang? If you wish, I can tell you.”
Anyone else, and he might not have bothered.
But this was the man who had guarded it for a hundred years.
If Beopun wanted to know, he’d gladly tell him what he had found in that cursedly named “Cheonunjang.”
But Beopun slowly shook his head.
“It’s all right. If I’d truly been curious, I would have gotten a ladder long ago and checked for myself. Truth be told, I almost did.”
He smiled again, a bright, unburdened smile that lit up his wrinkled face.
“But just as I was about to climb, a thought came to me.
If I confirm what’s in that birdhouse—what comes after that?”
If there had been some treasure inside, he said, he would’ve given it up anyway.
But he admitted honestly that the greater the treasure, the more he would’ve regretted not looking sooner.
And if, on the other hand, there had been nothing special inside?
Then he’d have been disappointed—and, at the same time, lost something even more precious.
The joy of wondering, every day for a hundred years, what might be inside Cheonunjang.
“Thanks to that restraint, those hundred years were happy ones.”
Now he understood why he’d once mistaken Beopun for someone with great martial power.
He was a giant, even without martial arts.
Like one who had reached enlightenment through martial mastery, Beopun had attained mastery over the truths of the world itself.
Though come to think of it—hadn’t he, too, almost called Cheonunjang a birdhouse just now?
“So, even in the head monk’s eyes, that thing looks like nothing more than a birdhouse, right?”
Beopun averted his gaze, pretending not to hear, and he couldn’t help laughing.
Thus ended the story of Jincheon and Cheonunjang.
Then, one last thing.
“Please take good care of the Black Cat.”
He took out all the promissory notes from his robe and held them out to Beopun.
He had been ready to force them into his hands if he refused—but surprisingly, Beopun accepted them quietly.
“You’d only insist anyway, so I’ll consider this a donation made in your name. And as for looking after the cat—that’s already part of my duties. So I’ll grant you one more favor in return.”
Perfect. He’d been meaning to make one more request about the cat.
“If someday the Black Cat seems to be looking for me, could you send someone to let me know at the Geumhwa Trading Company?”
“Of course. That much, I can certainly do.”
Beopun nodded readily.
“In that case, would you like to see him once more before you go?”
Beopun pointed up toward the trees.
Apparently, the Black Cat had finished eating and gone back to Cheonunjang.
But he shook his head.
“If I leave quietly, he’ll miss me a little more, don’t you think?”
“Now that you mention it, that’s true.”
They both laughed.
“Then I’ll be going.”
He turned to leave—but Beopun stopped him.
“My goodness, I almost forgot. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
Right—he’d said he’d prepared a meal for him, too.
He had only meant to accept the gesture, not actually eat, since time was short.
But apparently, Beopun had foreseen even that.
“You can eat it on the way.”
The food wasn’t served on plates but wrapped up in a cloth bundle.
Thanks to that, he could satisfy his hunger, at least a little, on the way back to the Geumhwa Trading Company.
And on the way, he heard an amusing story about Beopun from Sahun.
“That head monk’s going to get the reapers scolded by the King of the Underworld again.”
At first, he hadn’t understood. Then he realized—Beopun was already famous in the afterlife.
His recorded lifespan had long expired, but he’d refused to die.
All because of a promise he’d made—a hundred years ago.
“He refused death?”
Impressive.
Even he hadn’t managed that.
Maybe Beopun really was a saint, as they say in Buddhism.
Well, if he was, then it made sense the reapers couldn’t lay a hand on him.
“Now that his hundred-year promise is fulfilled, I thought he’d finally accept his fate…”
“You thought?”
Sahun hesitated, then continued carefully.
“But didn’t you make a new promise with him just now?”
Ah.
He understood immediately.
“So now, because of his promise about me and the Black Cat, he’ll keep chasing the reapers away?”
“Wouldn’t you say so?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
He said that, but inwardly, he agreed.
The look in Beopun’s eyes at the end had still been full of life.
That was not the face of a man near death.
And if Sahun was right—
“Then the Black Cat won’t be coming to find me anytime soon.”
Would an enlightened spirit like the Black Cat really send away the monk who had cared for him for a hundred years—just for the sake of someone he’d only met once?
Of course not.
A spirit that ungrateful would be one he didn’t want near him anyway.
“Well, I can wait.”
If it were for another reason, he might have felt regret.
But this—this, he could understand.
He even found himself cheering for the Black Cat.
“Take your time coming, all right?”
Actually… not coming at all might be fine.
No—maybe that’s a bit too much.
In any case, if his waiting a little longer meant Beopun could live longer, then surely that was a good thing for the world.
So he decided to forget about it for now.
“I can see it now.”
The Geumhwa Trading Company finally came into view.
Thanks to Sahun’s stories, the journey had passed quickly—but when he looked up, the sun had already set.
And as he arrived, a familiar face was standing by the gate.
“Dongchil?”
It was Dongchil, who’d gone to Jangsaengwon.
“Young master!”
When Dongchil saw him, he called out excitedly.
“When did you arrive?”
“It’s been two days now.”
“And Baekho?”
“He came back with me and is waiting inside for you.”
“I see.”
“Well then, tell me—what’s happened while I was gone?”
Despite his happy tone, Dongchil’s face looked troubled.
And judging from the fact that he was waiting outside for him, it was clear—something had gone wrong.
“Uh, well…”
But strangely, Dongchil didn’t answer right away.
He looked hesitant, cautious.
Ever since pledging loyalty, he’d never acted like this.
He could have pressed him for answers—but didn’t.
He had a good idea what it might be about, and figured this would be a good lesson for Dongchil—to learn when and how to speak.
So he waited.
True to his expectations, Dongchil didn’t keep him waiting long.
“I thought you should know before going inside, so I waited out here.”
He spoke the words he’d been expecting.
“This is about Jaun and Jaseong, isn’t it?”
Geum Jaun and Geum Jaseong—his younger brothers.
If there was trouble at Geumhwa Trading Company right now, it could only involve them.
If it had been anything else, Sahun would have told him already.
Sure enough, Dongchil’s eyes widened.
“You already knew the two of them were back?”
He couldn’t very well say Sahun told me, so he just nodded vaguely.
Dongchil didn’t press further.
“Because of those two, it’s chaos inside.”
He’d expected trouble—but not this.
After all, even if the second and third sons had come back, that shouldn’t have caused chaos.
He had overlooked one thing.
“The two young masters suddenly started beating and arresting the servants! Even Master Song and Chief Noh have been locked up!”
That was it.
He hadn’t considered that his brothers themselves might be the ones causing the chaos.
“Thank you for telling me.”
Without another word, he pushed open the main gate.
He would see the rest with his own eyes.
“The atmosphere really has changed in just a few days.”
Before he’d left, everyone had been doing their work diligently—the whole place alive with energy.
Now, that vitality had been replaced with a heavy, suffocating silence.
Even the darkness of night couldn’t hide the malice that prickled against his skin.
He let out a short laugh.
“It’s funny. The day I first came to the Geumhwa Trading Company… the mood was exactly like this.”
Nothing had changed.
So he would handle it the same way.
“Your big brother is home.”
His voice was quiet, but it carried clearly in all directions.
“Come out, little brothers.”
The still air trembled awake.
Up to this point, everything was just like that first time.
But what happened next was completely different.
“Young master!”
“You’ve returned!”
People poured out from their rooms at the sound of his voice.
In the past, they had stayed hidden—watching in fear, suspicion, and anger.
Now, it was the opposite.
“You’ve all been waiting for me, haven’t you?”
The words thank you almost slipped out, but he swallowed them.
There was still something to do before he could say them.
“From now on, anyone without martial training, fall back behind me. Those who can fight, protect them.”
As soon as he gave the order—
A roar burst out from ahead.
A group rushed forward, weapons in hand, murderous intent thick in the air.
The tension rose instantly.
But instead of tensing, he smiled.
“This part’s just like before.”
The Black Battle Hall had charged at him just like this once.
And every single one of them had died right here.
It had been a most satisfying ending.
So then—
Shhhk!
He would just have to give them the same ending again.
