Do I Have to Write My Name on the Application Form? (2)
“Can I just use my title?”
“You can’t use a title.”
“Why not?”
In response to my question, Hye-ryeong waved her arms around and kindly explained.
“Aren’t there hardly any people who share the same title?”
I had rarely seen overlapping titles, so I thought it wouldn’t matter. Or was I wrong? A title did signal a person’s reputation, but maybe it still couldn’t compare to a real name.
“But there are plenty of people in the world who shove forward titles that only they know about. Claiming to be the Sword Emperor or the Sword King… so many people impersonate cool-sounding titles that you can’t verify identity with one.
“Impressive titles like that basically exist in every region. The Gansu Sword King, the Henan Sword King, that sort of thing…”
How could anyone make the title of Sword King sound so pathetic?
Exactly. A title like Sword King should only ever belong to the one true Sword King. That’s the only way it carries any weight.
Still… hearing about self-proclaimed titles made me think of martial arts novels. Come to think of it, there were always plenty of extras like that. Guys who burst onto the scene loudly announcing their own made-up titles. Most of them were third-rate martial artists, weren’t they?
In any case, it was rare to find anyone decent who announced their own title out loud. After all, giving yourself a title just looked pathetic and weak. Even more so if you were the one who came up with it.
A title only meant something when others gave it to you and it passed from mouth to mouth.
“My lord, wouldn’t phonetic transcription work?”
“Phonetic transcription?”
“You simply take the pronunciation and convert it into suitable characters to create a name.”
Mok-gyeong was right. When making a name that fit the local customs, that was the easiest way. The problem was what to actually use. I was hopeless at this sort of thing.
I glanced at Hye-ryeong, asking for help. Maybe because I had been looking at Mok-gyeong, her slightly pouty expression brightened in an instant.
“Hye-ryeong, help me come up with a name.”
“Hehe, I’ll make you a really cool one!”
“…Let’s start with the surname Wi. Everyone already calls me that anyway.”
“Then I’ll think about it! Hmm…”
“I will consider it as well.”
The surname would be Wi.
No need to complicate things. We’d stick with Wi and decide on a given name.
How should I transcribe William Marshall so that it would sound impressive?
…Should I just go with Wi Ri-eom? The characters could be adjusted to fit.
While I was pondering, Hye-ryeong suddenly lifted her head.
“Use the ‘Wi’ that means to guard! It suits you, and it’s a famous surname!”
“A famous surname?”
“It belonged to a famous general in the old days!”
“Wouldn’t a famous general have descendants? Is it really okay to use it?”
What if some descendant shows up later and tells me to stop using it?
Hye-ryeong rested her chin on her hand, tilted her head, and after a moment spoke again.
“It should be fine, right? Plenty of people forge their family registers… How many claim to be descendants of Liu Bei and use the surname Liu? Some just pick common local surnames…”
“I see.”
Since the concept of a proper household register didn’t really exist here, using a name that way apparently wasn’t a problem. Of course famous surnames like Namgung or Peng would be off-limits, but taking the name of some long-buried figure from the distant past seemed harmless enough.
“It still feels a bit off, though.”
“It’s not that common! Unless someone needs to change their surname, people usually stick with their family’s. I’ve been using a surname passed down for a thousand years…”
“A thousand years… that’s impressive.”
The surname of a martial family that had protected Hainan Island for so long. It had a certain romantic charm.
“My Dan family also continues the original ancestor’s surname exactly as it is.”
I see.
“All right, we’ll go with that surname… Now how should we decide the given name?”
“Since your name is Wi Ri-eom…”
“William.”
“Wi Ri-eom.”
“Wil-li-am.”
“Wil…li…am?”
Was my name really that hard to pronounce? It wasn’t as if they were failing to handle the ending sounds like someone pronouncing “milk” as “miruku.”
I understood that a Western name might not roll off the tongue easily, but I didn’t think saying “William” was that difficult.
“Try it again. William.”
“Wi Ri-eom.”
“William.”
Huh?
I whipped my head around to stare at Mok-gyeong. She had just succeeded in pronouncing my name correctly for the first time in the Central Plains.
“You… pronounced my name properly?”
“Is that really so moving?”
Mok-gyeong tilted her head as if she genuinely didn’t understand. Calling someone’s name correctly wasn’t exactly a grand achievement, but being called properly for the first time still felt strangely touching.
“Wil!li!am! I can do it properly too!”
“Want to try saying it together?”
“Wi Ri-eom…”
What was the problem? We were both from the Central Plains, so why could Mok-gyeong do it but not Hye-ryeong?
“…Let’s set the pronunciation issue aside for now and just decide on the name.”
“Okay…”
“Don’t get sulky over something like that.”
I thought for a moment, then placed my hand on Hye-ryeong’s head and ruffled it. Fortunately she seemed to cheer up and began moving her head under my palm on her own.
She really is like a penguin.
…Though I should be careful since penguins are curious enough to peck at eyes.
“Anyway, what should the name be…”
“Can’t we just keep it as Wi Ri-eom?”
“What would ‘Ri’ and ‘Eom’ mean, then?”
“Wouldn’t ‘Ri’ from order and ‘Eom’ from immerse work?” Mok-gyeong suggested.
“Wi that means to guard, Ri that means order, Eom that means to immerse.”
It could be interpreted as ‘guarding the old order.’ Not a bad feeling. The meanings were all positive, too.
Then the name was decided: Wi Ri-eom.
I had been called that for several months already, so it no longer felt awkward.
“Now you’re really Wi Ri-eom. Hehe…”
“Come to think of it, you were the first one to call me that.”
“Right?”
I felt like pinching her cheek. I reached out toward Hye-ryeong, who was looking up at me with a smug little face, but stopped when I noticed the line ahead had shortened considerably while we were chatting.
“It’s moving faster than I expected.”
“Maybe the Wuxia Alliance only gathers talented people, so the clerks are incredibly fast?”
“It looks like they handle each person in less time than it takes to drink a cup of tea.”
That level of speed would be considered outstanding even in the twenty-first century. I doubted even a computer could process things that quickly. From what I could see, there were no unnecessary arguments breaking out either.
“The sooner the better for us.”
“True.”
“If it ends quickly, we can eat sooner. That’s good.”
We passed the time with light conversation until our turn finally arrived right in front of us.
When it was my turn, I lifted my bamboo hat slightly and stepped up to the receptionist.
“A foreigner…?”
“I’m here to register for the martial tournament.”
The scholarly-looking man gave me a quick once-over, then spoke with a smile.
“By any chance, are you the esteemed Blue-Eyed Lion Hero?”
“You know me.”
“Foreign masters are extremely rare in the Central Plains. Among them, the recently famous Blue-Eyed Lion is known as a giant foreigner with blue eyes, so recognizing you isn’t that difficult.”
“Are there other foreign masters besides me?”
“The people of the North Sea Ice Palace have appearances that are half foreign. They rarely come down to the Central Plains, so it’s hard to see them, but the only one known is the Ice King, Baek Seol-gi.”
That name sounds like it would be chewy and delicious if eaten fresh.
Whoever he was, if he had lived on the Korean peninsula he would have been teased his entire life. No question about it.
“Interesting.”
“Still, the only high-level expert whose name is widely known is you, Lord Blue-Eyed Lion.”
“Let’s stop the small talk. I’d like to register for the martial tournament. There are people waiting behind me…”
“Please tell me your three characters.”
“Wi Ri-eom. Wi from ‘to guard,’ Ri from ‘order,’ Eom from ‘to immerse.’”
“Wi… Ri-eom… That’s a good name. You’re registering for the preliminary rounds, correct?”
“Is it possible to enter the main bracket directly?”
“That would require an invitation, but…”
There was no way I would have an invitation. The one the Hainan Sword Gate received had to be used by one of their own martial artists. As an outsider, I naturally had none.
“I’ll register for the preliminaries.”
The receptionist pulled out the leftmost ledger from the two placed beside him, opened it, and wrote down my name. The motion was as smooth as flowing water and so fast it drew genuine admiration.
“Thank you for your hard work.”
“I hope the same for you, Supreme.”
I returned the fist salute and left the area.