Chapter 32
Cheonma and the Tavern (1)
From Cheonma’s perspective, the Awakened Ones were like wandering ronin of the martial world.
For the sake of survival, and sometimes for assigned missions, they would throw themselves into battlefields known as dungeons and struggle for their lives.
“You must have felt it too from this incident. A life-and-death struggle strengthens both the body and spirit of a martial artist.”
These were the words Cheonma had spoken a few days ago to Kim Ji-hwan, an 8th-rank Awakened One who had been living as a wandering porter.
Yet, when it came to entering the dungeon where one must face death, it wasn’t Cheonma but Mumyung who had to take the risk.
“C-Cheonma… sir. Could you give me a ride on your shoulder?”
Mumyung, leading the way and searching for the exit, spoke nervously over his shoulder.
“This dungeon is unpredictable. I don’t even know when or where monsters might appear.”
“Walking without lowering your guard is a fundamental quality of a martial artist. Never be careless.”
“I’m just a nanobot, though…”
Ignoring Mumyung’s objection, Cheonma leisurely continued walking.
“Is the exit far?”
“Yes… yes.”
Mumyung’s battery was low, and the exit was still nowhere in sight.
Finally, after wandering frantically in the darkness, Mumyung spotted a white light—the exit.
“I’ve found it. Now that we have the exit, there shouldn’t be any major dangers ahead, Cheonma sir.”
The voice of Mumyung, emerging from the worn-down, thatched-roof dungeon, was thin and weak compared to before.
“Why is your voice so feeble?”
“The computational task of finding the exit this time was as strenuous as analyzing combat data and movement patterns of new monsters.”
The large sensor eye, glowing white on Mumyung’s shoulder, gradually dimmed.
“Battery below 5%. Shall I switch to power-saving mode? In that mode, only emergency alerts will be available.”
Cheonma, looking at Mumyung, nodded indifferently.
“Granted.”
“Thank you.”
With that, the light in Mumyung’s eye vanished with a whirring sound.
Cheonma opened his satchel with a click and carefully placed Mumyung inside.
“You did well.”
Indeed, Mumyung had suffered greatly this time.
To acquire the “Round Balloon Clover,” a key ingredient for future trust-building, Cheonma had ventured into a dungeon in the southeast of the Safe Dungeon called the “Family House.”
The dungeon, shaped like a dilapidated thatched-roof home, was a maze with countless rooms arranged like a real house.
After much effort, Cheonma obtained the Round Balloon Clover at the center of the dungeon. However, the return path suddenly changed.
As a result, Mumyung had to calculate the exit path. After almost a full day, they barely found the exit, but Mumyung’s battery was completely drained.
“What on earth happened?”
As Cheonma returned to the shop, Jang Chae-won stood with a worried expression.
“You were out of contact all day. Have you been in the dungeon this whole time?”
“Yes. We tried to exit, but the path suddenly changed. So…”
After explaining the situation in detail, Jang Chae-won glanced at Cheonma’s satchel.
“I see. You did well.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Since it’s late, go home immediately. When you get back, put Mumyung in the charging station right away.”
“Understood.”
Walking out of the shop toward the subway station, Cheonma suddenly stopped.
Mumyung was asleep. Since no one would complain, Cheonma decided not to take the long way via the subway or bus but to return using martial arts mobility (lightness skill).
“Hmm.”
Entering a quiet alley, Cheonma focused his internal energy.
A faint breeze brushed his toes, then with a whoosh, Cheonma soared over the buildings.
Swoosh. Thud.
Leaping and gliding repeatedly, Cheonma finally paused on the edge of a building.
He had practiced lightness skill countless times, but never with the night cityscape of another world as a backdrop.
Below him stretched countless lights, people in unfamiliar attire, and massive moving metal structures.
The sight was almost dreamlike.
“I see. The strange feeling came from me, huh.”
Cheonma finally realized the sense of alienation: he truly was a foreigner in this world.
“Hmm.”
As he gazed downward, a memory long yearned for surfaced: quietly leaving the mansion at midnight to sip a drink alone.
“Alcohol, huh.”
Cheonma wasn’t one to enjoy drinking, but whenever sentimental thoughts arose, the “alcohol worms” in his stomach would stir, as they did now.
Thump.
Cheonma descended from the buildings and walked down a side alley slightly away from the main streets, where many drunkards stumbled—evidence of a good tavern nearby.
“This must be it.”
Cheonma’s eyes caught a wooden tavern at the end of the winding alley.
The isolated tavern seemed more intent on keeping people out than inviting them in. Yet Cheonma liked its desolate, lonely atmosphere.
‘A veteran.’
Looking at the sign, he entered.
Creak.
The wooden interior was visible with a creak as the door opened.
The tavern seemed quite spacious, with a wooden bar table inside and seven or so cozy tables between wooden pillars.
“…”
Perhaps it was too early, as the tavern was silent.
Cheonma sat at the bar table.
“Did they just move here?”
An elderly man, presumably the owner, stood behind the bar.
His white hair was stylishly combed back, and he immediately remarked upon seeing Cheonma:
“I don’t recognize you.”
Rather than a greeting, the man looked around like a suspicious thief, checking for potential theft.
Despite the elder’s cold reception, Cheonma calmly seated himself.
“First time here.”
“I see.”
The old man muttered with a chuckle, noting Cheonma’s intimidating aura.
“Looks like you’ve had a hard day.”
“No time to rest.”
Since Mumyung couldn’t easily find the exit, they had smashed through half the doors to escape.
“Work is like that.”
The old man nodded knowingly.
“What’ll you have?”
“What do you have?”
“Anything. Some strong enough to floor you, some light.”
Cheonma’s interest piqued, and he smiled.
“Then something strong.”
“Figured as much.”
The elder’s face creased with a broad smile as he reached under the counter and placed several large bottles containing strange liquids on the bar.
“Since you’re the first customer, I’ll make you a strong drink myself.”
Cheonma frowned at the bizarre liquids, unlike anything found in ordinary stores. Then he noticed a transparent bottle containing a piece of… a giant sweet potato?
‘A giant sweet potato?’
Cheonma raised an eyebrow. Why would a dungeon ingredient appear in a tavern?
“Looks like a small glass won’t do.”
The old man set a large beer mug on the counter. He mixed the ingredients into it and opened a nozzle beneath the counter.
Swoosh.
A clear liquid filled the mug, smelling like strong alcohol.
Thud.
The elder placed it before Cheonma, smiling.
“Drink. This is our special Sam-bok-gu (Three Blessings) liquor.”
“Sam-bok-gu?”
“It means three blessings in one sip—three virtues in a drink.”
Cheonma, intrigued, drank it all at once.
“Gah.”
Even a strong drink couldn’t faze him normally, but the taste burned down his throat like fire.
“Sam-bok-gu.”
Finishing the 1000cc mug, Cheonma set it down with satisfaction.
“I see the first virtue.”
“Already?”
“One sip delivers the impact of twenty strong drinks. No need for multiple cups—that’s the first virtue.”
The elder smiled.
“Shall we see if you get the second?”
“Fine. Another one.”
Thud.
Cheonma drank the second mug quickly.
“Good.”
“Know the second virtue?”
“Yep. One mug gets you tipsy… no drinking companion needed. That’s the second virtue.”
The elder was astonished. Only someone who had lived in solitude could deduce that.
“But the third? I have no clue.”
“Ha. If you had guessed the third, nothing would’ve been more shameful.”
He muttered mysteriously, then went to the kitchen and placed a steaming plate of grilled chicken skin skewers on the table.
“Sam-bok-gu elevates even cheap snacks to heavenly taste. That’s the third virtue.”
Cheonma picked up a skewer.
“Fuu.”
Steam rose as he bit. Simple salt-grilled chicken skin—but exquisitely delicious.
‘This old man’s skill extends to food too.’
Cheonma swallowed, remarking, “Found a good place.”
The elder’s eyes nearly closed in a smile—Cheonma’s highest praise.
Ah, a tavern here too.
At that moment, three young people entered the tavern.
“Order here!”
Despite the tavern’s gloomy atmosphere, the youths were lively.
“Hong-ah.”
The elder called to the kitchen; a sharp-eyed woman tied her hair with a headscarf and came out.
“Your order?”
The youths giggled.
“Oh, cute! Part-timer?”
“My order is your contact info.”
Cheonma glanced over, and the elder smiled.
“Young blood, what can you do? Don’t take it too seriously.”
The woman hissed, telling the youths, “Quiet down, go eat elsewhere.”
Cheonma’s interest piqued. Though attractive, she wouldn’t be able to control these energetic youths.
‘Feels like being back in the martial world.’
In the martial world, disputes are often settled with fists, not words.
“Yes, sorry.”
Surprisingly, the youths obeyed and left.
Cheonma noticed a strange energy from the dilation of the woman’s pupils.
‘Hmm.’
Returning to his calm demeanor, he finished the last of the Sam-bok-gu.
“Check, please.”
“Leaving already?”
“Got work early in the morning.”
Cheonma adjusted his satchel, but the elder shook his head.
“No need to pay. First-time customers don’t pay for drinks.”
Looking at the empty skewer plate, the elder added:
“Come again next time.”
“Are you serious?”
Cheonma narrowed his eyes; the elder smiled.
“Even a hidden alley tavern needs such service to secure regulars.”
Most people would still offer payment, but Cheonma merely nodded, closing his satchel.
“Should’ve ordered more if I knew.”
“Say that before paying.”
Cheonma left the tavern as nonchalantly as he had entered.
“Where did such a guy come from?”
The elder sighed. “With that skill, and yet not registered as an Awakened One.”
The woman in the kitchen remarked: “Just a heavily muscled strength-enhanced Awakened One, I think.”
“Tsk. Didn’t you feel it?”
The elder stared after Cheonma.
“This is the strongest I’ve seen among Awakened Ones. And he drank three Sam-bok-gu without succumbing to my mental intrusion.”
He pointed at the three beer mugs on the table.
Ordinary Awakened Ones lose mental defenses after one cup; Cheonma handled three large mugs with ease.
The woman felt a chill. The elder’s mental abilities were unmatched in the country, yet this unnamed, muscular man rivaled him.
“Could he be a mental master like you, sir?”
“Perhaps.”
The elder sighed, shaking his head.
“If so, he’s a master with skills beyond mine.”
“No way,” the woman whispered, lost in thought.
Then she brightened and said: “Maybe he isn’t even an Awakened One.”
“What do you mean?”
“Could be another species.”
“A… a yokai?”
“Yes.”
Though few knew of them, humans have coexisted with yokai since ancient times. The Awakened Association had learned of these powerful beings and regarded them with caution.
“Hahaha.” The elder smiled faintly.
“Monsters from other worlds appear, so why not yokai?”
“Shouldn’t he be a target too?”
“Why?”
“He’s a potential threat, like monsters from variable dungeons.”
“True. Unknown entities are always frightening.”
Recalling the dangerous figures in the association, the elder shook his head.
“Nobu, you shouldn’t interfere with him, no matter what.”
“Huh?”
“Whether he’s yokai or human, don’t touch him. Keep the association intact.”
Whirrr.
Using his divine techniques, Cheonma returned to his rooftop quickly, licking his lips.
Sam-bok-gu—a drink even Awakened Ones cannot handle—was the strongest, most alluring, and most dangerous liquor he had ever drunk.
“Using dungeon ingredients in a tavern… that’s no ordinary old man.”
Cheonma recalled the elder with his snowy-white hair neatly combed back.
“His skill in mixing drinks rivals Shangliang, the so-called God of Alcohol. Using dungeon ingredients, he must be an expert in illicit brewing.”
In truth, the elder was one of the first Awakened Ones who shook the country, yet Cheonma had merely thought of him as a secretive brewer stealing dungeon ingredients for liquor.
Thinking back, Cheonma recalled the elder occasionally staring intently at him while mixing drinks—a gaze that was not entirely pleasant.
“Perhaps the old man’s eyesight is failing.”
Cheonma clicked his tongue, shaking his head. His cheeks were flushed from the drink.
