Episode 8: They Might Take Offense
When Chae-hyang saw blood-tears dribbling down Cha Seong-tae’s face, her eyes welled up.
In this brothel, he was the scariest man around— second only to the house mistress.
Now that very man was bleeding from the eye and kneeling on the floor.
Of course she was terrified.
I held out my empty cup. Her hands trembled as she filled it with Dugang wine.
“Chae-hyang.”
“…Yes.”
I gave her a warm smile on purpose.
“Even a busboy can have pure feelings, you know.”
Cha Seong-tae glared at her like he was telling her, Give the right answer.
Trusting that everything would be solved once the house mistress arrived, Chae-hyang nodded.
“Yes.”
My smile vanished.
“But none of that ‘pure feeling’ has ever been for you. That clear enough now?”
“You’re killing my mood. Get lost.”
Her eyes went wide. She looked from me to Seong-tae, as if asking whether she was really allowed to leave.
He jerked his chin toward the door.
When she still didn’t move, I repeated myself.
“Leave.”
Only then did she jump up and hurry out into the corridor. For the first time in her life, someone had talked to her like that.
She managed to hold back her tears until she turned the corner— then she broke.
Her sobs echoed faintly through the hallway.
I looked at Seong-tae and said,
“That’s the problem with girls who live off their faces. They really think crying fixes everything.”
“Am I wrong?”
“You’re not wrong,”
he admitted.
“Also,”
“don’t talk down to me anymore.”
He blinked.
“…What?”
“Your squinty eyes annoy me. Makes it hard to accept you speaking casually.”
He stumbled over his words for the first time.
“Ah… y-yes. I understand. Please, speak as you wish.”
“You think everything gets fixed when the house mistress shows up?”
“Or do you think she might end up kneeling next to you?”
He shook his head slowly.
“I’m not sure. The mistress and her two brothers are all quite skilled in martial arts. Still, since this incident happened in Maehwa-ru, Madam Jo Yi-gyeol should be the only one to come.”
“The Jo siblings have been busy lately, entertaining experts from Heukmyobang, the Black Hare Gang, over at Ihwa-ru.”
“You’re very polite for someone I just stabbed in the eye,”
I said.
“Thank you,”
he replied automatically.
“You’ve been entertaining the Black Hare Gang?”
“Yes. A new branch sect will be established in Ilyang soon, with Heukmyobang’s blessing. If word of this mess reaches them right as the branch opens…”
“Well, they might be very displeased. Extremely displeased, in fact. These relationships are… complicated.”
“Displeased, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t have that. So what you’re really saying is, even if I beat your mistress, all the fallout gets handled at the Black Hare Gang level.”
He nodded honestly.
“That’s correct. Heukmyobang is not a group that the rough men of Ilyang could handle, even all together.”
“So what do you want me to do, you bastard?”
“Share a friendly drink with your mistress and settle it nicely?”
“That how these things usually go?”
“I doubt it,”
he admitted. Then, cautiously:
“So what are you going to do?”
“The Jo family can just come under me.”
He hesitated.
“That seems… impossible, doesn’t it? They might take offense.”
I smirked.
“I’m going to create a sect in Ilyang.”
“You lot from the brothels can all join.”
“I’ll call it the Gate of Renewal, Gengsaengmun— or just Saengmun for short.”
“Because all the lunatics in this town could stand to ‘start over,’ like me.”
To my surprise, Seong-tae nodded along.
“I like it. Some rehabilitation would be good for this town. And congratulations on your own… renewal.”
“Seong-tae.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Your mistress is taking her time.”
“As I said, if she’s busy entertaining Heukmyobang guests at Ihwa-ru, she won’t be able to come right away. Very important visitors.”
I took another sip of Dugang, then rose to my feet and looked down at him.
“Then here’s what you tell the Jo siblings:”
“If they come under me, I’ll let them keep their lives. They’ll be able to walk away in one piece.”
“If that sounds like nonsense—and it probably will— that’s fine. I’m still giving them a chance.”
“Whenever they want to talk, they can come to Jaha Inn.”
I decided to give him a chance as well.
“As for you—think hard. If you think the Black Hare Gang will win, you can take their side and come after me again.”
“If not, then you can ‘start over’ with me.”
“Thanks for the real first-grade Dugang. Put it on my tab.”
“If you wait just a bit longer—”
“You think I’m going to run?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
I kicked him in the face and sent him flying into the corner.
“You’re good at earning a beating.”
I pointed at him.
“A man should know how to earn one sometimes. See you later.”
He rubbed his face and muttered,
“Take care on your way out. I’ll… add it to your tab.”
“Do whatever you want.”
Once all of Ilyang was under me, why would I care if my name was on some debt ledger?
“Move, Riffraff.”
As I walked down the corridor, people pressed themselves to the walls.
They were already out of my way, but there was something I’d always wanted to say at least once.
“Move. Trash.”
On the first floor, the doorman I’d knocked out earlier had just woken up.
Still dazed, he spotted me and reflexively shouted,
“Hey, you son of a—!”
I slapped him as I walked past. He slammed into the wall and collapsed again.
“Explain things to him properly,”
I told the others.
“He gets hit, wakes up, and immediately gets hit again. Show a little humanity, will you?”
I paused at the entrance and swept my gaze over the entire first floor.
Maehwa-ru fell silent.
I gave a small wave.
“The busboy had fun. I’ll be going now.”
I turned my back on them.
Behind me, hand gestures and mouthed curses flew like hidden weapons, a combined assault of silent profanity.
If you throw out insults, you get them back. That’s how the world works.
Ignoring them, I stepped out of Maehwa-ru and stretched my arms.
My mood wasn’t bad.
Cursing is one thing. Jokes are jokes. Truths are truths.
Mountains are mountains. Rivers are rivers.
If you don’t distinguish meanings properly, you get nights like this.
Of course, the Jo brothers of Maehwa-ru, Ihwa-ru, and Sihwa-ru still wouldn’t be able to tell a joke from a serious declaration.
The brothels weren’t their original trade, either.
They’d seized them by force in the past. Ilyang is a mess of a town— they just happened to be the ones holding the leash.
Which meant they were always wary of challengers.
To their ears, the reports from their men would probably sound like this:
“There was trouble at Maehwa-ru.”
“And?”
“Well… the busboy caused a huge uproar. On his own.”
“Busboy who?”
“The one from Jaha Inn.”
“Jaha Inn? Are you joking with me right now?”
Something along those lines.
On my way back, I drew the sickle from my belt.
The Jo brothers, I could handle with this shabby thing just fine.
But the Black Hare Gang?
Trying to deal with them using only this sickle would be inefficient.
Time to visit Dragon-Head Armory.
They’re a smithy famous for making handles shaped like dragon heads. For some reason, they care more about the dragon heads than the blades.
A place where the handles are better than the weapons.
Form over function— that’s Dragon-Head Armory in a nutshell.
Their weapons are all named ridiculously grand things:
- White Dragon Sword
- Blue Dragon Saber
- Black Dragon Whip
- Twin Dragon Sickle
Everything’s got a “dragon” in it somewhere.
Just from the names, you’d think top ten experts of the jianghu used them exclusively.
So whenever a fight breaks out around Ilyang, dragons are flying everywhere.
White Dragon Swords splitting the wind, Blue Dragon Sabers flashing in the moonlight, Black Dragon Whips flaying flesh from bone.
And yet, once you really look at them— they’re just idiots playing dress-up.
I stopped by the stove at Jaha Inn first to pull out the money I’d hidden nearby, then headed to Dragon-Head Armory.
Even if your martial arts are strong, you pay fair coin for fair work.
That’s what we call basic decency.
See? I’m actually pretty normal.
Dragon-Head Armory
“Welcome t—oh. Jaha Inn?”
“You here to collect what we owe you? We don’t have any outstanding tabs, do we?”
Every worker stared at me like they couldn’t fathom why a busboy would walk into a smithy.
“I’m here to buy weapons,”
I said.
“Weapons? For what? Ah—here for a sickle? Our sickles are a bit pricey.”
I folded my arms, thinking of a short, simple way to explain.
“I’m planning to go to war with the Jo brothers. I need a few good pieces.”
“…All of a sudden?”
The workers exchanged glances, all of them tilting their heads.
Then the deputy master, Gwak Yong-gae, spoke up.
“Hey, young man. Going to war is your business, but can you really handle it alone?”
“I heard you got beaten recently. Don’t go throwing your life away just because you’re upset.”
“I liked your grandfather’s goose-head soup. Yours, not so much, so I haven’t been back.”
“Now’s not the time to critique noodles,”
I said.
He continued to pester me anyway.
“What else am I supposed to talk to a busboy about, if not noodles?”
I pulled out a small money pouch.
“Enough. I’ve got plenty of coin. Just show me the weapons.”
“What exactly are you buying?”
I counted off on my fingers.
“A light sword. A durable whip. A reasonably sharp dagger.”
“Got anything like a Blue Dragon Crescent Blade?”
My main weapon would have to wait. For now, I just needed decent tools.
Deputy Gwak scratched his head.
“You going to use all that yourself?”
“Personal taste. Respect it.”
He snapped his fingers at the workers.
“Bring out the Black Dragon Sword, White Dragon Whip, and Cloud Dragon Dagger. Skip the Blue Dragon Crescent. We don’t have one.”
“Yes, sir!”
As they rushed inside, he turned back to me.
“We didn’t bother making a Blue Dragon Crescent Blade. No one in this backwater town can use one properly.”
“Shame. It’s a beautiful weapon. No long spears? Tiger-fanged halberds?”
“No.”
“Fang-splitting war halberd?”
“I said no. Enough.”
He stroked his beard and looked me over.
“How old are you again?”
“Over twenty.”
“I’m well past thirty, you know. Planning to keep talking to me like that?”
I rolled up my sleeves.
“If you’ve got a problem, we can step outside.”
He quickly waved his hands.
“No thanks. I’m not about to beat up the poor busboy.”
“So you’re a gentleman.”
The workers came back with the weapons and lined up. Deputy Gwak gestured toward them.
“Take a look.”
“I’m in a hurry. I’ll just take them all.”
“That’ll be ninety nyang.”
“Are you insane? That’s way too much.”
“You’re local, so I already gave you a huge discount.”
I crossed my arms again.
“Let’s do it this way. Rent them to me. Fifty nyang for the lot.”
“Rent? What are you talking about?”
“I’ll use them and bring them back.”
“That’s daylight robbery.”
“I’m returning them after the war. How’s that robbery?”
Before the argument could get dumber, a new voice cut in from the back.
“What’s with all the noise out here?”
Geum Cheol-yong, the master of Dragon-Head Armory, appeared.
Sharp eyes, iron-hard presence— his name, Cheol-yong (Iron Dragon), was where the “dragon” and “iron” in the shop’s name came from.
Everyone, including Gwak Yong-gae, bowed their heads slightly.
“Boss, this young man says he’s going to war with the Jo brothers,”
“and wants to take all these weapons. But he’s short on cash, so he wants to rent them.”
Geum Cheol-yong looked me up and down.
“War, huh?”
He squinted, then seemed to remember who I was.
“Aren’t you the grandson from Jaha Inn?”
“Been a while, Uncle Geum,”
I said.
He sighed and his tone turned serious.
“I loved your grandfather’s goose-head soup. Yours, on the other hand, is awful.”
“What did you even learn from him? You lack both skill and sincerity.”
“That’s why Jaha Inn is failing. That’s my conclusion.”
I sighed and folded my arms again.
“Grandfather’s soup was good. I’ll admit that.”
“But I’m not here to talk about soup today. Let’s stay on topic.”
“I already brought up the soup,”
Deputy Gwak muttered.
“Good,”
Geum Cheol-yong said. Then he sniffed the air, eyes narrowing.
“You reek of blood. Already had yourself a brawl, did you?”
I stared back at him.
So this old man has a dog’s nose.