The Coming-of-Age Robe
The people of the manor welcomed Song Jain and her son with open arms.
If it was an invitation from Ja Gangcheon, they trusted it without question.
Their warm hospitality was a warmth Song Jain had not felt in a very long time.
Poison arts were a form of martial skill everyone shunned. Worse still, she was the woman who had driven first her husband and then her own child into a living death; to most of the world she was a figure of revulsion.
Yet here they held a welcoming feast, shared a fine dinner with her, and spoke without the slightest distance. It was a comfort she had almost forgotten—and with it came a new unease.
Am I allowed to feel this at ease?
The only reason she still clung to life was to save her son. She had never believed she had any right to happiness.
She was standing outside her sleeping son’s room, watching a waning crescent moon so thin it looked ready to vanish, when a voice spoke behind her.
“How do you find the manor?”
It was Ja Gangcheon.
“So good I almost wonder whether I deserve such luxury.”
“Don’t say that. Pilseng hyung will feel it too. Children aren’t blind to their mother’s pain. They may not suffer the same way she does, but the guilt and the sorrow still cut deep.”
“You’re a good son, Lord of the Manor.”
“Then would you care to strike a bargain with this good son?”
When Song Jain looked at him without understanding, he went on.
“Pilseng hyung doesn’t have much time left. So tell me the greatest secret you carry. In return, I’ll share a secret of equal weight.”
She understood at once that he desperately wanted to give her something. This was less a bargain than a request for the right to offer a gift.
“If my son’s life is the stake, there’s nothing I wouldn’t hand over.”
She tore a strip from her sleeve, pricked her fingertip with a slender needle, and wrote something out in the blood that welled up.
“What is this?”
“The antidote to the poison arts I practice.”
It was a far greater secret than he had asked for. With this formula, no one would ever need to fear her martial skill again.
And yet something felt wrong.
“If you have this, how did Pilseng hyung end up poisoned? And your husband…?”
Song Jain gave a desolate little smile and shook her head.
“I almost wish that had been the cause. Then I could have cured them.”
“Then it’s something else?”
“Yes. A hereditary illness. My husband was already in poor health before he ever met me. He treated me in that condition. And unfortunately, our son inherited the same disease.”
The thought of a fate that forced someone to watch their family waste away tore at Ja Gangcheon’s heart as well.
“Take this. I’m sorry it took me so long to give it to you.”
To the mother who had staked everything on her child, he held out a single book.
“It’s the Chosan Medical Canon.”
The medical text of Ok Chosan of the Ten Absolute Hands.
Song Jain’s hands trembled as she accepted it.
Bang!
Hwangbo Taeseong could no longer contain his fury and smashed his fist down on the drinking table.
Neither the lavish banquet prepared solely for him nor the eight courtesans in attendance could soothe his rage.
“How dare they! Do they even know who I am?!”
First the young lord of Deungmyeong Manor, and now Song Jain as well. He had run into two people in a single day for whom the name of the Hwangbo Clan meant nothing.
Not since the day he abandoned the succession struggle had he suffered such thorough humiliation.
The real problem was Song Jain herself.
A woman with nothing left to lose.
Countless people had sought her out, yet not one had ever gained anything from her through coercion or threats. The fate of the Bloodblade Guild—once counted among the two great unorthodox factions of Sichuan—was still infamous: overnight, the entire guild had become a mass grave.
What everyone had wanted was the formula for the Poison Valley Sacred Pill known as the Myriad Poison Detoxifying Pill. A secret art of Poison Valley said to neutralize ten thousand toxins; rumor held that even the Sichuan Tang Clan had conducted covert dealings over it.
The fact that she’s still alive means she’s the real thing.
Some even ranked her among the Ten Great Masters of the martial world.
“I can’t let this stand!”
Hwangbo Taeseong had a pathological hatred of eyes that looked down on him.
On the day he finally accepted the gulf in talent and surrendered the succession, the retainers closest to him had worn exactly that expression. After watching the relatives and acquaintances who had once followed him switch sides to his elder brother without a shred of hesitation, he had stopped trusting anyone. Hating people, on the other hand, had become effortless.
“Third Young Master. It appears the Poison Witch has entered Deungmyeong Manor. She left the inn and settled her luggage there.”
“What?”
Gu Donggu carefully funneled the young master’s rage toward a single target, as if stoking a fire.
Fighting Song Jain gains me nothing. We need to pick a fight with Deungmyeong Manor.
Bowing and flattering all the while, Gu Donggu shaped the situation into the form he wanted.
“Forgive me. Because of my own worthlessness I could only stand by and watch while the Third Young Master was disgraced.”
“Shut your mouth! Do you think a wretch like you has any right to comfort me?!”
“Forgive me!”
“Anyone who treats me with disrespect will be punished. You need only do exactly as I order. Understood?”
“Your words are more than just, Young Master. I await only your command.”
The Third Young Master drained his cup in a rough gulp, then spoke to Gu Donggu.
“I want to see Deungmyeong Manor ruined. What’s the fastest way?”
“Would simple ruin really be enough?”
“You have a better idea?”
“We should take the manor for ourselves. They have an ice storehouse there.”
“An ice storehouse?”
“Like the Ice Palace of the north, it produces fine ice year-round. That’s their greatest source of income—and the storehouse is built inside the manor grounds. Seize the manor and the storehouse comes with it.”
The Third Young Master’s greed for wealth was not especially great; the position of third son alone had always freed him from money worries. But Gu Donggu knew how to kindle desire where it slept.
“In truth, I worry how long the clan will continue to leave you alone like this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Might not the other young masters try to keep you in check? If they ever applied financial pressure, I fear the Third Young Master’s standing would suffer badly.”
It was a concern the Third Young Master himself occasionally entertained. The clan already looked unfavorably on his conduct, and talk of cutting him off from the family fortune had surfaced more than once. The clan head had not yet permitted it—but if his elder brothers continued to build their power, there was no guarantee it would never happen.
“Wouldn’t this be the perfect chance to build assets that belong to you alone? Deungmyeong Manor produces not only ice but the Deungmyeong Medicines that have been making such noise of late. With those two, you’d never have to worry about money again. I can make it happen.”
Gu Donggu was already angling to swallow the manor’s entire business whole.
“Thinking it over, that does sound best. Even if those bastards lick my boots and beg, I will never forgive them.”
“Of course. Now that the Third Young Master has made up his mind, those dogs are already dead men. So for tonight—please enjoy yourself to the fullest.”
At his signal the courtesans who had withdrawn hurried back to fill the Third Young Master’s side once more.
“I’m sorry. I never imagined taking over the Gyounam Escort Agency would give them something to seize on.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. But were you planning to run an escort business?”
“No. I acquired it for cargo transport, not for escorting valuables. As production of Deungmyeong Medicines has grown, sourcing the necessary herbs has become no small problem. So besides the Gyounam Escort Agency, I’ve been gathering people well-versed in distribution.”
Having tasted success through talent recruitment, Jo Pilsung threw even more energy into acquiring companies and seeking out capable hands.
This is the power that grows a merchant house.
That was the realization he had reached. There were far too many people of real ability who never received the treatment they deserved.
I’ll scrape up every talented trader in the country.
He said such things openly. The rumor itself drew ambitious men who came seeking him of their own accord.
“I’ll handle the rest of the problems. You just push forward according to plan, Uncle.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Once Jo Pilsung had left, Ja Gangcheon went to the Bing-okgo, the Ice Jade Chamber where ice was made.
In winter, drawing ice twice in the morning was usually enough to leave the place quiet—but recently one person had all but taken up residence there.
“Hyung.”
Han Pilseng’s lips were blue and his body was shaking, yet he still managed a wave in answer to Ja Gangcheon’s greeting.
“Wow. Your complexion looks fantastic.”
“Pfft!”
With a face white as a corpse, Han Pilseng burst out laughing.
“Pilseng. Let’s rest a moment.”
Song Jain scooped up her son—who looked half-frozen solid—and carried him out of the Bing-okgo training chamber. Outside was still cold, but it was nothing compared to the chamber itself.
“How’s your body?”
“It’s definitely working.”
Ten days had passed since their arrival at the manor. After analyzing the Chosan Medical Canon, they had grasped something and launched into a series of experiments. In the end they had even put the Bing-okgo to use—and it seemed they had found a method.
“When I’m better, I’ll repay you for sure.”
“Let’s talk about that after you’re healthy. For now don’t think about anything else—just focus on the treatment. All right?”
“Yeah. Thank you.”
Ja Gangcheon turned his gaze to Song Jain. She brought over a bowl she had set to one side.
Ordinary vegetable porridge.
Still warm, it passed through Song Jain’s hands into Han Pilseng’s mouth.
“Huh?”
He accepted the porridge and ate without hesitation.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
The young man who had suffered agonizing pain at every meal now swallowed his food with an expression of pure ease. Ja Gangcheon grinned from ear to ear, and Song Jain’s eyes filled with tears.
How delightful it was simply to feed her child. Song Jain felt as though she were playing the most wonderful game in the world.
It was the second Spring Festival since he had left Guigokdo.
From early morning people began arriving at the manor. Feast tables filled the courtyard, and nearly two hundred guests gathered.
Setting aside those who lived at the manor, the rest were all members of the Donghae Merchant Guild—and they shared one striking trait.
Only those who wish to come need come.
The Donghae Merchant Guild had expanded its business until its ranks numbered five hundred. Anyone who wanted to attend was welcome—and two hundred had chosen to come of their own free will. Counting those who would join a little later, more than half the guild had turned out.
“From next year, bring your whole families. I’ll make sure there’s food and fun enough for everyone.”
At Ja Gangcheon’s words the merchants erupted in cheers and applause.
“You don’t have to clap every time I open my mouth.”
“Waaah!”
Clap, clap, clap!
“I said stop.”
His reaction only set off another wave of laughter.
To them Ja Gangcheon was both the lord they respected and a comrade they held dear. Knowing that full well, he had prepared food and wine in generous abundance.
Then, right in the middle of the feast, Guild Master Jo Pilsung raised his voice.
“All right, everyone—let’s begin!”
Some twenty people who had been given advance notice gathered around him. Among them were Employment Director So Yeondok, Seokho, and Mansik; the elderly steward and the other key figures of the guild formed ranks before Ja Gangcheon.
“We’ve already exchanged greetings, you know.”
Ja Gangcheon looked puzzled—until Jo Pilsung produced something unexpected.
Resting across both of his upraised hands was a long robe of deep blue.
“What is this?”
“We prepared it because we thought it would suit our lord.”
The outer robe was of blue hemp the color of the sea, lined with silk. It resembled the crane cloak favored by Daoist masters, meant to be worn over other clothes. Toward the cuffs and hem the fabric shaded into pure white, so that from a distance it looked like the first light of dawn breaking open the sky. On the left breast the characters for Deungmyeong had been embroidered in gold thread.
“It is late, but we prepared this in the hope of holding our lord’s coming-of-age ceremony.”
The coming-of-age rite—usually observed at fifteen. Ja Gangcheon was a full two years overdue.
“Please accept the hearts of us all.”
The words stirred a strange and powerful feeling in him. Ja Gangcheon did not turn away from the pride swelling in his chest.
“Thank you.”
When he donned the robe, the entire assembly rose as one and applauded. Sometimes attire itself deepens a person’s dignity—and today, that was true of Ja Gangcheon.
Deungmyeong Manor made little distinction of rank, yet even so the lord needed a certain measure of authority. That need, together with the meaning of the coming-of-age rite, found expression in the robe.
Perhaps that was why he finally spoke the words he had carried only in his heart until now.
“Trust me and follow. I’ll take responsibility for all of it.”
Waaaaaah!
A declaration utterly in character for Ja Gangcheon—and the answering roar was like thunder.
“Uncle, how do I look in this?”
“I saw it yesterday, but looking again—it’s magnificent!”
“The guild members gave it to me!”
“Congratulations. It suits you wonderfully.”
This went on for the entire Spring Festival period.
I had my coming-of-age ceremony too!
Isn’t this robe amazing?
Ahem! I’m not a boy anymore.
So eager was he to show off his adulthood that he had become a child again. Ja Gangcheon finally recovered his senses on the fifteenth day of the first month, well after the Spring Festival had ended.
Known as the Yuanxiao Festival, the day was celebrated by writing wishes on lanterns and setting them free into the sky. Crowds thronged the harbor of Gyounam to release their lanterns.
Even the people of Deungmyeong Manor left the walls that day and mingled with the crowd. The brightest faces among them belonged to Song Jain and Han Pilseng. With her son’s health so visibly improved, Song Jain no longer avoided crowded places.
“Mother, let’s make a wish together today. Every year you always went alone.”
Every year, clinging to a thin thread of hope, Song Jain had released a lantern.
Please let my husband recover.
Please don’t let my husband die.
Please don’t let my son suffer.
Please don’t let my son die.
The wishes had changed with time.
“This mother has nothing left to wish for.”
“Why?”
“Because my wish has already come true.”
At her words Han Pilseng quickly set his own lantern free—and spoke his wish loud enough to be heard.
“Please don’t let my mother cry anymore.”
The lantern rose high on the sea wind.
And among the countless lights drifting into the night was Ja Gangcheon’s wish as well.
Please let me meet my parents again.
He made the same wish he had made the year before.