Cornmeal, Red Beans, and Sugar
"Guh—!"
Namgung Yullyeong writhed on the floor, her slack jowls quivering. The Baekjao were the highest-tier bodyguards in service to the Namgung Family Patriarch alone. They moved in lockstep with their lord's emotions, becoming not merely his shield but his hands and his blade. It was no exaggeration to say that every blow they struck carried Namgung Hwiyul's own fury.
"Ah… uugh…"
The sight of Namgung Yullyeong being beaten like a dog and dragged away was itself the patriarch's will made flesh. Even for a family head, the severity might have been called excessive—yet in that moment, not a single member of the clan dared part their lips to say so. Every head stayed bowed, waiting for the storm of his rage to pass.
"The particulars can wait. When Namgung Sogyo—when my daughter—has fully recovered, we will discuss everything again."
Namgung Hwiyul had always valued the collective voice of the household over his own private judgment. Under that custom, even with power concentrated in the patriarch as in any great family, the people of the Namgung had long spoken their minds freely. For years they had resisted recognizing his adopted daughter as a proper child of the house.
"Y-yes, understood."
But here, now, with the head of the Namgung Family openly calling Namgung Sogyo his daughter—a word heavy with consequence—not one person raised an objection. Everyone felt it. In this moment, with the patriarch beyond reason, a single step forward meant ending up like Namgung Yullyeong.
"F-for now, Sogyo's health is what matters most!"
Someone shouted it, and that cry lit the fuse.
"Quite right!"
"Good heavens, I ought to go pay a sick visit!"
"The physician who just left to treat her—I brought him up from Hebei myself, my lord! His skill is beyond question!"
"What nonsense! Who was the one who told you about him first?!"
Patriarch Namgung Hwiyul raised a hand. The clamor died at once.
"Furthermore, the girl's residence will be moved. We will build new quarters among those of my own sons in the main house, and she will leave the place she has been living. There will be no debate on this. Is that clear?"
"We receive your command."
Namgung Hwiyul waved them off.
"Then all of you, withdraw."
It was like a hawk dropping into a flock of chicks. At his gesture the Namgung kin scattered in a hurry. Only I remained in the open yard—reduced to little more than rags—along with the Baekjao escorting me, and Patriarch Namgung Hwiyul himself.
He spoke to the Baekjao.
"I have something important to say. Fall back."
"My lord. Even so, a conversation at such close range with an outsider may not be wise."
The Baekjao eyed me uneasily. They clearly disliked leaving their patriarch face-to-face with a man whose whole body still bore the marks of having brushed death only moments before.
"No. This is the benefactor who staked his life to protect my daughter while this wretched father looked the other way."
Namgung Hwiyul cut them off without hesitation. The Baekjao flinched.
"Enough talk. Get back. I will not say it twice."
"We receive your command."
The Baekjao bowed and withdrew. My eyes met one of them. Beneath the white mask, that crow's gaze was unmistakably familiar. He eased the cloth down from his mouth just enough to mouth the words.
You protected her.
It was Jin—the black-crow Jao who had been assigned to guard Namgung Sogyo. Once one of Namgung Hwiyul's personal Baekjao, he had lowered his rank to ordinary Jao in order to watch over her.
…
I let out a short breath of a laugh. My hands shook as I rested them on my knees; even that much took effort. Where only he could see, I lifted a thumb. I managed a crooked lift of the corner of my mouth. Jin snorted a quiet laugh of his own, turned away, fixed his mask, and melted back into the ranks of the Baekjao.
Patriarch Namgung Hwiyul came toward me.
"I do not know how I am to repay this debt."
"As a bodyguard, it was only what I was—"
I could not finish a single sentence in one breath. I dragged air into my lungs, wheezing, and forced the rest out.
"—obliged to provide."
"No. Living to this age has taught me one thing again and again."
Namgung Hwiyul bent his knees.
"In this world there is no profession, no duty, that simply ought to be given or received as a matter of course. All of this was not because you were a bodyguard."
He met the eyes of the man sprawled on the ground.
"It was the result of the utmost effort of the man you are. I know that."
"…"
I had nothing to say.
"Setting money aside, setting the commission aside—I thank you, truly."
No ornate phrasing, no flourishes, no metaphors. That short sentence held everything.
"And I do not often say this sort of thing."
"Yes, my lord."
"Have you any interest in working under me?"
He drew something from his robes.
"I am not speaking idly. Whatever terms you name, I will meet them. Here and now I can even set my seal upon the words I just spoke."
I remembered what the clerk had told me when I first entered the Namgung estate. In the jianghu, to set one's seal for a man meant taking responsibility for everything about him—his conduct, his faults, the whole of him. The head of the Namgung Family was offering me the highest trust he could show.
"I am grateful for the words alone."
Namgung Hwiyul seemed to take my answer another way.
"Well now. A rare talent indeed, in this jianghu of ours."
He slapped his knee and rose.
"The Blood Death Sect's branch lord and I respect each other personally, beyond the standing of our respective powers. Even so."
He nodded, stroking his beard.
"Faced with a talent this covetable, a man must set a little shame aside. Whatever the branch lord promised you—I will give you twice that. How does that sound?"
"…!"
Namgung Hwiyul smiled the smile of a man who believed he had closed the deal.
"Is that enough to make working under me worthwhile?"
He misread the blank look on my face once more. Satisfied, he nodded and gestured to the Baekjao beside him.
"You are badly spent and badly hurt yourself. Rest and treatment first. We can continue this talk once you have recovered. Ah—and one more thing."
With the Baekjao's support I got to my feet. Guided by their patriarch's regard for me, their handling was endlessly careful and deferential.
"For as long as you remain with the Namgung Family, I guarantee—as master of this house—that you will be received and served as our highest honored guest. Is there anything you want beyond treatment?"
I stared blankly at the head of the Namgung Family. My cracked lips parted.
"I am hungry. And separate from that…"
I hesitated, then added one more thing.
"Cornmeal, red beans, and sugar… could those be arranged?"
There was still something I had to protect.
"Out of the way, out of the way! What, that still isn't ready? What is the head cook doing?!"
Chief Maid Yema flipped rapidly through papers at the front, checking her ledgers.
"We've done duck and chicken this round, so poultry is finished, and next is…"
A maid beside her hauled past with an enormous grilled fish and called out,
"Beef, seafood, pork, poultry! That was the order! Poultry's done, so we start over from beef!"
"Right! We've already gone once around the belly cuts on the beef, so is it organ meats this time?"
Everything was over. I ate. I ate. I ate, and ate again. My body was stitched and bandaged wherever it had been torn or cut, movement a labor—but I hoisted plate after plate the size of my own head and shoveled the food into my mouth. Rebuilt on the foundation of the Heavenly Demon's flesh, my body hungered now as it always did after the brink: as if missing this chance to recover would mean certain death the next time, it craved an impossible quantity of food.
"This is happiness," I muttered around a mouthful of meat.
Mumyeong murmured in reply.
[I would like to try some myself.]
The great rectangular table before me was the kind the entire Moyong Family would have sat around together. I sat at it alone. From one end to the other, every dish was different, and each one was fine enough to serve as the centerpiece of any wealthy household's meal.
"It melts the instant it hits the tongue. What have they done to this meat?"
I chewed and tore until my jaw ached.
"Th-this is shrimp? It looks like an insect—like a cicada, almost…. Whoa. What is this flavor?"
I rinsed the richness of beef with seafood, followed it with pork, and layered poultry on top.
A soft clink. The mountain of plates before me was cleared away, and a single bowl of noodles set down in their place. I looked up to find Chief Maid Yema smiling with warm fullness.
"You did order noodles as well, yes?"
"Ah—yes!"
I brightened and took the bowl, piled meat over the noodles, and began sweeping it into my mouth.
"If you need anything at all, please say so. Thank you for saving our young lady."
Namgung Sogyo seemed more beloved among the maids and servants than among the clan itself. As the highest guest of the Namgung house I had little chance to meet them face-to-face, but whenever they crossed my path—carrying dishes, cutting across a courtyard—they would slip me thanks like this, however furtively.
Or else:
"Ah, this—it's truly precious, and I had nothing else to offer, so I thought I should at least give this to you, sir. Wine steeped with seven-spot snakes I went to great trouble to obtain…"
"Ah… th-thank you."
They would set a bottle of snake wine discreetly at the corner of the table and withdraw.
[The Host does not drink.]
"…I'll take it to Moyong Ryu later, I suppose."
I steadied a body stiff with bandages and kept putting food in my mouth.
"Frankly I was more worried about you than the young lady… but watching you eat, I see there was no need at all. A truly formidable constitution."
Across from me sat the physician who had treated Namgung Sogyo, mouth hanging open. He was gathering up the kits he had opened on his house call. Behind him stood a Baekjao.
Our eyes met; the Baekjao bowed. Startled, I returned the courtesy. That done, the Baekjao went back to boring a hole in the back of the physician's head with his stare.
"Doctor."
"Y-yes?!"
The Baekjao spoke in a gravelly voice.
"Might you not examine our benefactor's condition a little more carefully? It seems rather perfunctory."
"N-not at all! I have checked three times already!"
Cold sweat poured down the physician. It occurred to me that the Baekjao was not standing at his back purely for the doctor's protection. The man blurted in a rush,
"Continue resting as you are, and t-take the herbal medicine I left you at the proper times! Do not worry about the young lady. Setting the poisoning aside, you were in the graver state—and yet here you are, this healthy. Yes, yes—health is the thing! Healthy, indeed!"
I could not understand why, while explaining, he kept addressing the Baekjao instead of me, the patient. His detailed account finished, the physician vanished. The Baekjao bowed once more and hurried after him—bound for Namgung Sogyo, no doubt.
Then everyone was gone. In the quiet I remained alone and ate.
A sharp clatter. The seventh bowl shattered.
"…"
The hand gripping the wooden chopsticks trembled hard.
A crack. The chopsticks snapped of their own accord in fingers seized by spasm. I discarded them. Three pairs of broken chopsticks already lay on the floor. I took up a fresh pair.
"Hah… hah…"
My heart hurt. It felt wrung. My skull seemed ready to split. Cold sweat ran.
A rattle. I dropped the chopsticks. Picked them up. Dropped them again. I rested my wrist on the table and held still.
[…]
The shaking stopped. After a short rest I took the chopsticks once more and ate.
[Host?]
"What."
[What is your own name?]
I finished off the noodles as if nothing were wrong.
"Moyong Bi. Of the Moyong Family, assigned to Ha-mu-gwan at Cheonsubaekryeonsa. Your name is Mumyeong. Right?"
[Correct.]
A beat later, Mumyeong murmured quietly,
[…Nothing wrong. Well done, Host.]
A knock at the door, and Chief Maid Yema entered.
"Young Master Biryu."
The unfamiliar name left me blank for a moment before I reacted. That was right. I was still here as Biryu of the Blood Death Sect.
"A visitor requests an audience. Would that be acceptable?"
"A visitor? For me?"
There was no one here who would come looking for me.
"Regarding the prearranged reward discussed with the Blood Death Sect's branch lord—the Chiljong-heukjusa-gap—someone vested with full authority has come in person. It appears the matter has already been settled with the patriarch as well."
"…Someone with delegated authority came separately?"
Chief Maid Yema's reaction was strange. Even before introducing whoever stood beyond the door, her face said she herself did not fully understand the situation.
"Well—I don't quite grasp it either, but… it is certain the patriarch himself gave the order."
The door opened. Beyond it stood a single figure.
"It is rather hard to come in."
I blinked at a situation that made no sense. Now I understood why even Chief Maid Yema had worn that look, if only for an instant.
"You…!"