Episode 6: Jokes and Truth
Side dishes I hadn’t ordered started arriving one after another. Last of all came a bottle of liquor, sealed with a red ribbon.
“What’s that?”
A woman in her late twenties, wearing a bright smile, answered politely.
“It’s first-grade Dugang wine, sir.”
“First-grade, huh? You sure about that?”
“Of course. I’ll pour you your first cup.”
As she broke the seal and poured, I lifted the cup to my nose.
“You’re not trying to prank a busboy with cheap booze, are you? Smells pretty harsh for something ‘first-grade.’”
Her expression stiffened ever so slightly at the word busboy. She forced a calm tone.
“Why would we play tricks with wine, sir? Never. Are you perhaps looking for a particular girl?”
“I am. Chae-hyang. She’s here, right?”
She almost certainly was.
“She is, but she’s very in demand. I’ll have to check whether she’s free.”
“I won’t keep her long.”
“That may be, but she really is our busiest girl. If she’s not available, would another girl be acceptable?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll stay and pour your drinks for now, and if her schedule opens up, I’ll bring her in. There are many customers who come just to hear her sing.”
“I’m not here for the song. I just need to see her for a moment. You really don’t know who I am, do you?”
“Should I?” she asked. “I mostly stay upstairs, so…”
I pointed at my bruised eye.
“You don’t see this?”
“You’re bruised.”
“I’m the busboy from Jaha Inn—the one they say’s hoarding money like a miser just to sleep with Chae-hyang once. That’s me.”
“Ah…”
Her gaze sharpened; amusement flickered in her eyes.
“So today is the famous day, then. But are you sure you really want to see her?”
“Why? Not allowed?”
“I have a feeling the house mistress will be… displeased. I heard you were beaten a few days ago. That was probably their way of telling you not to come looking for her here. That never crossed your mind?”
Her tone was gentle; her words were not.
“Nope. Haven’t thought about that at all. By the way, our dignified ‘auntie’ here sure talks smoothly.”
“Auntie? I’m not even thirty yet. And didn’t you mean it as a joke back then? I thought it was a joke, personally. I’ll go ask and let you know. Please wait.”
“Wait. You knew it was a joke?”
She studied me and nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then why did I get beaten up?”
“Maybe… for telling jokes in the wrong place?”
She smiled, a deep dimple forming in one cheek.
“Try not to hate me too much. That was a joke.”
So the joke that was treated like truth… now I was hearing it might’ve been taken as a joke all along.
Meanings slip. Words twist. That’s why words are frightening.
Fake Wine, Real Prices
After the talkative madam left, I sniffed the Dugang wine again.
First-grade, my ass. It wasn’t even third-grade.
And yet they’d charge me first-grade prices.
Jokes treated as truth. Fakes passed off as the real thing.
That’s how people like this always live— bending the world in ways that suit them.
“You start with a lie on the very first drink, huh?”
This was definitely not first-grade Dugang wine.
Trying to fool the busboy of an inn about liquor… The moral code of the jianghu had fallen far indeed.
I tilted the bottle and filled my cup with the so-called “first-grade” wine. Third cup down my throat, I heard heavy footsteps in the hallway.
The rumor had finally reached the men who’d beaten me last time:
The busboy from Jaha Inn went to Maehwa-ru.
Their footsteps were full of hostility.
The door slid open with a bang.
“You little bastard. You know where you are? You got a death wish coming in here?”
I sighed.
Apparently an inn busboy walking into a pleasure house was a capital offense now.
Why did I always end up downgraded to “bastard” instead of my actual name?
Still, at least they didn’t drag my parents into it. Compared to the Demonic Cult’s monkeys, they were practically gentlemen.
I recognized the man immediately.
I’d always made a habit of remembering the faces and names of those who hit me. His name was Dong-gwak.
I gestured to the seat across from me.
“I’m just here to drink with my own money. Sit. I’ll pour you one.”
He was too stunned to speak at first.
Can’t blame him.
A guy he’d beaten senseless days ago was now speaking informally, waving him over, and offering to buy him a drink.
Dong-gwak eventually sat down with a heavy thud.
“What, did you eat something weird today?”
“Bibimbap.”
“What?”
I poured him a cup of Dugang wine. He grabbed it with a scowl.
“Fine. Drink this and then get lost. Before things get ugly.”
I smiled and said,
“Dong-gwak, you bastard.”
The mix of insult and casual tone made him jerk up from his seat. His right hand flew toward my face.
I caught his wrist with my left hand, slammed it down on the table, and with my free hand, snatched up a chopstick and drove it through the back of his hand.
THUNK.
“Urk—!”
“Ah, my bad. These chopsticks are sharper than I thought.”
I hadn’t planned to go this far.
Years of living as a martial artist had just decided for me.
Dong-gwak needed a moment to even understand what had happened. Face twisted in pain, he stared at his pinned hand in disbelief.
I drew the sickle I’d brought and tapped the chopstick with it.
Tuk. Tuk.
“A hole in your hand will heal. But if your wrist gets cut? That’s harder to fix. Want me to help you test that?”
“D-don’t.”
“Don’t?”
“I said don’t!”
I pointed the sickle at him.
“I’m just trying to have a quiet drink and see Chae-hyang for a moment. Why are you barking like a dog in heat? Is Maehwa-ru going to collapse if I talk to her?”
Just then, the door opened again.
Chae-hyang herself stepped in and took in the scene around the table.
“Dong-gwak, get out. I’m here.”
I looked at her.
Been a while.
In Ilyang, she was considered quite the beauty. After seeing the greatest beauties of the central plains, though, she just looked like a provincial girl who’d grown arrogant off her own looks.
Judging by the anger in her face, someone had sent her in to squeeze some money out of me first.
But since Dong-gwak couldn’t exactly get up and leave, I kindly pulled the chopstick out.
“Argh!”
Blood spurted up from the back of his hand. I caught it neatly in an empty cup.
No deep meaning behind it.
But to Dong-gwak, it meant a lot.
He clutched his bleeding hand and stumbled out. As if taking over a shift, Chae-hyang sat down across from me.
I couldn’t help but grin.
“What are you laughing at?”
Her voice was sharp with irritation.
Funny. I never thought I’d end up saying to a courtesan something similar to what I’d once said to the Left Envoy of the Demonic Cult.
“You laugh when you feel like laughing. Or is a busboy not allowed to show his face in a place like this?”
“You think this situation is funny?”
“Yeah. Hilarious.”
“Why did you do that to Dong-gwak’s hand? You think Seong-tae or the house mistress will just let it slide?”
“You think the men of Ilyang will let it go? Of course they won’t.”
She took a breath, then spoke coldly.
“Let me put it simply for your sake. The moment I came in here, your bill went up. The wine is Dugang, so it’s expensive. Add Dong-gwak’s treatment on top of that. Just pay and leave quietly. That’s my advice—for your sake.”
Why was she so angry at me, exactly?
“Don’t snap at me like that. You don’t even know how much money I have.”
“Not much. Everyone knows your noodles taste terrible.”
I let out a laugh.
“I honestly don’t know why you’re so popular. Your face is fine, but your thoughts, your tone, your expression, your eyes… all of it, how should I put this…”
I had no intention of threatening such a fragile girl, but I kept my voice calm and flat as I spoke my mind.
“You’re not as valuable as you think you are.”
Her eyes widened. She bristled like a disciple of the Emei Sect.
“Valuable? Did you just say I ‘don’t have value’?”
“Your way of talking is uglier than any ugly woman I’ve heard of. Hah.”
To my surprise, she actually laughed.
“You were that upset about getting beaten up? You blew all the money you’d saved as a busboy just to say this? Why would I sleep with you? I wouldn’t even if you brought a chest of gold and jewels. I don’t sleep with just anyone. You think every gisaeng is a whore?”
She raised her voice.
Ah. So that was the heart of it. She had her own position in all this too.
“So it’s sell talent, not body, is it?”
She frowned.
“Don’t throw idioms at me.”
“My mistake.”
“Anyway, that’s how I’ve lived. Not every performer here is a prostitute.”
I slid the Dugang cup toward her.
“Fair enough. I’ve never once thought you slept with just anyone. Take this as an apology—have a drink.”
She held out her cup. I filled it as I spoke.
“Let me be clear. I never once said I was saving money to sleep with you. All I said was I wanted to hear you sing one song. You’re a performer, after all. And even that was something I said as a joke to make people laugh at the inn. I never actually planned to do it. Couldn’t afford it anyway.”
“But I heard—”
“Don’t interrupt. Since the joke was funny, it spread. Everyone laughed—except you, I guess. And as it spread, the joke turned into ‘truth.’ That’s the nasty power words have. And I was just some busboy who couldn’t turn that ‘truth’ back into a joke. That’s how words kill people—slowly. Look at my eye. I almost lost my sight over it.”
My words weren’t really for her. They were for the past— for the younger me who’d had to swallow all of it.
She looked confused now, as if seeing a different person in my seat. To her, I must have felt… off. Older somehow.
“Drink,”
I said, as if none of it mattered much anymore.
We each swallowed a cup of Dugang in silence.
“Anyway, that whole ‘sell skill, not body’ line?”
“It’s amusing. If you didn’t want this life, you shouldn’t have entered a gisaeng house to begin with.”
I poured myself another cup and waved her away.
“This is all I called you here for. We’re done. You can go.”
“…What?”
I filled only my own cup this time.
“I said, go. Before I drag you out by the hair.”
Her eyes flicked to the sickle resting on the table, then back to my face.
She was at least smart enough to read a mood.
“Understood. But it wasn’t my choice to come here in the first place.”
“Save the sob story.”
“It’s true.”
As she walked out, I heard other footsteps approaching from the hall— heavier, angrier ones.
Her colleague’s impaled hand must have stirred up the rest of the men who’d joined in last time.
Expecting blood, she slipped away quickly. Soon after, three men arrived and shoved the door open again.
They all looked furious.
Funny. They’d been all smiles when they were hitting me last time.
Won Han-yeol spoke first.
“Jaha, you think one sickle is enough? Look at you—came here to die and couldn’t even afford a proper knife? Oh, I forgot, you’re broke.”
The man beside him snorted.
“Let’s take this outside. If we spill blood in here, it’s a pain to clean up.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I filled my cup with the “third-grade first-grade” Dugang and took a slow sniff.
Suddenly, it smelled like real top-shelf wine.
Flavor depends on mood, after all.
They expected me to flinch or argue. Instead, I just drank.
They were debating with their eyes— Kill me here, or drag me out first?
I spoke in a calm, even voice.
“You’re all confident you can kill one guy like me, right? Good. Then relax. Let me finish the bottle first.”
Gentlemen, there’s absolutely no rush.
Truth be told, I needed to be calm to hit them properly— so things would end with as little ugliness as possible.
These small-time punks weren’t worth dirtying my hands over.
But they’d already done that for me, hadn’t they?
Once, as a joke.
And again, as truth.
Now it was my turn.
To show them which was which.