Spinster Tastes!
Early morning. Unlike what I'd expected—waking to a rooster's crow or birdsong—it was the resounding shouts of burly men that roused me.
Hup!Hah!
"Ugh."
I force my aching body upright, sore from yesterday's training. The ondol floor had been nicely toasty, but midway it got too hot; I thought my back might actually blister.
Stepping outside, there's Kim Yang perched on the eaves in front of the door, watching the training.
"A-Awake?"
"Yeah. Ah, I'm beat. Weekend, and I can't even sleep in."
Grumbling, I take a swig from the canteen she hands me. One essential when heading to the ancient martial world: a canteen. No water dispensers here, no packaged bottled water for sale.
"Oh, training today. N-Not joining?"
"Can't. Gotta brush Namgoong Paecheon's collar—no slacking."
I'm regretting yesterday's session a little. He said any means necessary, but really?
I'd agonized late into the night and still had no solid plan come morning.
'Just grit my teeth and use Law...'
Entirely doable. Not taking him down—just brushing his collar.
But with the 7th Floor's threats constantly prickling my spine, I couldn't use it recklessly. Who knew what backlash might hit? Besides, I desperately needed power besidesLaw. If I ever got down from the 7th Floor, I couldn't match those with the Law book in a Law fight.
As my worries deepened, the morning training wrapped up. The warriors headed off to wash or eat.
"I'll wash up and join you—go ahead and eat."
"S-Seat saved."
Leaving Kim Yang shuffling toward the dining hall, I head to wash.
No showers, of course—just scooping water from tubs. I'd bought a portable shower pouch specifically for the ancient martial world.
The sight of buff men ladling water over themselves in massive tubs. The essence of gu murim, in a way?
"Hey! Trainee using shampoo?!"
"S-Sorry!"
"Thought it was bubble soap! Sorry!"
"Headbutt the ground!"
Punishment in the corner. I get the discipline, but the reason's random.
'Shampoo?'
I'd figured they'd just rinse with water and mask odors with incense in gu murim.
"Training uniforms for laundry! Using peach-scented detergent today!"
"Hey! How much conditioner?! Bought it expensive from the peddler!"
Like an army bathhouse. Everyone with their own shower caddy.
"Ha...."
True, no electricity—but goods could be imported. I'd wondered about laundry; hand-washing with detergent, apparently. In the corner, someone stomped uniforms in a huge tub, dumping in soap.
'Slightly shattered my illusions.'
More surprising that Namgoong Paecheon allowed it. Open-minded in spots?
While roughly shampooing and toweling my hair, an unfamiliar warrior approaches cautiously.
"Um, Young Master Juseon."
"Call me casually."
"Ah, yes. I, uh, got this yesterday."
He slyly hands me a Meracle business card.
I drop the towel and beam.
"Yes, you got it! Haha, I secretly told Kim Yang to give them only to handsome guys. She did great."
"Ah ha! Haha! R-Really? I've been sprucing up lately!"
Shoulders puffing with innocent delight at the praise.
(For reference, I'd told her to target inner sect disciples—officially recognized warriors of the clan. Easy to spot by the emblem on their uniforms.)
With the vibe flowing nicely, other inner disciples sidle up.
"Ahem, Young Master Juseon. Are 3rd Floor women really that refined?"
"Skin all pale, don't wield swords, pamper their husbands with delicate hands like ferns—is that true?"
"S-So open-minded they kiss right on meeting?"
"Aigoo, it varies by person. But yeah, some like that exist."
I affirm vaguely on purpose, but they react like it's gospel.
"Wowww."
"I've been saving hard for the 3rd Floor descent fee."
"Hawon warriors who went up to the 6th Floor with the young lord said it's a whole new world-!"
Like country boys in the big city, they're buzzing. I raise my hands to calm them.
"Easy, easy. Beautiful women? Check. Somewhat open-minded ones? Check. I can match you perfectly."
"Ooooh-!"
"As expected of Young Master Kim Juseon!"
"From yesterday's martial arts assessment, your neat looks and keen eyes were already impressive—truly admirable!"
I nod to the bootlickers, but one asks worriedly.
"But Young Master, would such beauties even meet us? We only wear uniforms and train."
"Aigoo, look at those bodies. 3rd Floor ladies love fit guys. Self-disciplined is a big plus from the start."
Eyes light up at "good bodies," and they immediately flex their bare upper halves, showing off muscles.
"Ahem! N-Not trained for women or anything!"
"Compared to those skinny 3rd Floor guys, ours are definitely superior!"
"Hup! Beat an orc in arm-wrestling last time!"
Check out those poses. Moves like they inspect their gains daily.
"Clothes? No worries. Meracle offers styling services too."
I smile and pull out my phone. No signal for internet, but I've got [Styling Service Before, After] photos saved in the gallery.
"Check this. Even sloppy guys turn this sharp, right?"
"Ooooh-!"
"Incredible!"
"That's the same guy? My type!"
"Makeup does that-."
"Remember our employee from yesterday? She handles it. Gotta look good, yeah?"
"Yes! Understood!"
Perfect, customers. Of course, you'll pay—but pay up, and I'll arrange with utmost sincerity.
"Whew, exhausting."
Men unloading their tastes at the first chance—par for the course running a matchmaking agency. Once they start, it pours out: ideal breast size, perfect hips and pelvis, preferred face shape. Like fine-tuning a game character creator, down to the details. I listened through the barrage.
Of course, I firmly said that's impossible but promised to try my best—and took pre-reservations. Advance payments secured.
"Heh."
Martial artist roster in one hand, hefty coin pouch in the other.
Even if Namgoong Paecheon denies permission, I've got gains.
Pre-reserve discount? They couldn't pass it up, dragging out their hoarded savings.
'Exchange this to won... should be decent.' Can't wait to cash it.
"Ahem, shall I count?"
Took amounts matching the list and headcount, but hey—counting money's its own fun. Especially these heavy gu murim coins, different from crisp bills.
"Ahem."
Slipping back into the room, a chill hits. Ondol was warm before, but this overrides it—bone-deep cold.
"You're back, Young Master Juseon."
Arms crossed, white-haired woman. I already know those azure eyes harbor creepy obsession.
"P-Paeng Sorin?"
How's she here? Namgoong sect grounds?
I backpedal in panic, but she strides forward, planting herself in my path.
"Young Master Juseon, what of our agreement?"
"Agreement-."
"Did you not promise to find one for me? Yes?"
I did. Otherwise, you'd never leave.
"Did I ask for something difficult, Young Master?"
Wind gusts with her clenched fist.
"Yes?! Difficult? Younger than me but not flighty, knows etiquette without groveling, upright bearing-!"
Ah, here we go.
"Sword in hand, veins bulging on the back—good. Neckline straight, body slim yet hiding muscle within, neck and collarbone lines sharply defined-!"
Her voice rises, words accelerating.
"Uses honorifics but tosses short words my way now and then, affectionate but not constantly. And naturally tends to little things-!"
At this point, it's gibberish. Same as before.
"Weaker than me, but with clear potential to grow big—I could train him slowly-!"
She inhales sharply, grabs my shoulders, shakes, and bellows.
"Finding one such man so hard?!"
Fuck. Word-for-word identical to last time. Not one syllable off. Can't she forget a few?
Honestly, even I have no clue what man she's after.
"But, but more than that-."
She slumps close, clamps my shoulders hard, and yells.
"At least before that bitch Haryeong, I want to wed first! You promised-!"
Bwoooong-!
The door splits in half as Namgoong Haryeong bursts in, sword leveled at Paeng Sorin.
"Crazy bitch finally crossed the line, smashing another's gate."
Teeth grinding, she glares like she'll cleave her any second.
Paeng Sorin retreats a step, hand on her sword, aura surging.
"Vulgar wench. I pitied Young Master Juseon suffering your filthy tastes, so I came myself."
"Bullshit. Milk-scented pretty boy fanatic."
"Milk-?! I keep lines! Must be adults-! Far better than your flabby, stinking gut-preferring ass!"
Emotionless Sword Fairy Namgoong Haryeong.
Azure Wind Martial Lord Paeng Sorin.
Longtime rivals and nemeses. Dig to the root of these two heroines, and you'd uncover the unexpected truth.
Exactly ten years ago. Friends so close they could be called golden orchids.
What tore them apart? None other than—.
"No matter how I think, your nauseating man tastes are incomprehensible-!"
"Your tail-wagging at spineless pushovers—multiply by ten, still lacking!"
Their tastes in men.