The One Who Knows My Secret
I told you to go have fun, didn’t I? And this is what happens? We charged in with such momentum only to end up paying our New Year’s respects to that Kang Su-yang bastard. And not just us—the entire Evil Sect’s high experts went along with it, bowing deeply like supplicants. But what could we do? He was a prince, after all. Even if he was a fake impersonating royalty, the law of the land demanded we treat him as a superior for the time being.
Whether the prince was real or fake, as long as he claimed the title, the kingdom’s laws required us to honor it without ironclad proof to the contrary. Doubting the bloodline of the imperial family was itself an act of treasonous disrespect. Still, there was no need to feel wronged for falling for the audacity of someone bold enough to impersonate royalty. The authorities would never, ever let someone get away with faking imperial blood. The government might preach non-interference in Murim affairs even when the most notorious killers dyed the rivers red with blood, but anyone who dared impersonate a member of the imperial family would be hunted to the ends of hell and executed. Even if the offender was nothing more than a clueless seven-year-old child.
Yet Yo Hwan-cheol still couldn’t sleep. The reason was a thought that had suddenly occurred to him. When the prince had stepped outside, he should have given Kang Su-yang another bow right then and there! After that bow, he could have declared with perfect confidence, “In the end, I will be the one sending you to the afterlife with my own hands, so consider this a preemptive prayer for your soul.” How stylish and elegant that would have sounded! But of course, the hallmark of someone bad at arguments is coming up with the perfect retort only after returning home and lying in bed.
The Evil Sect experts were likewise gathered in the guest hall, all wearing grim expressions. “It’s definitely a fake. A fake prince, no doubt about it,” declared Jo Gwang-ang, leader of the Baek-ung-dan and self-proclaimed master of military strategy.
Mun Jeong-yeok, leader of the Baekho-dan, sneered. “Would anyone dare impersonate a prince just to get out of an immediate crisis? And would such idiots ever become the representative sect of an entire province? I understand you’re upset about being humiliated so beautifully, but at least make sense when you speak.”
Jo Gwang-ang let out a derisive “Hah!” and wagged his index finger from side to side. “This is exactly why one should never converse with someone who has read Sun Tzu fewer than three times. As it is written in the Thirty-Six Stratagems, in the ‘Stratagem of the Empty Fort’ one should use every available resource. Likewise, in the ‘Stratagems for Defeat,’ the ‘Sacrificial Lamb Strategy’ teaches us to sacrifice a portion in order to deceive the enemy.”
“Looks more like the whole flock is about to get roasted.”
“No, no. Ha. This is why people who don’t read military texts are so exhausting. I have to explain everything one by one.” Jo Gwang-ang clicked his tongue. “Simply have one loyal subordinate impersonate the prince, then cut off the tail later and let him die. Simple, isn’t it? This is precisely what we call the ‘Sacrificial Lamb Strategy.’”
“When your entire clan is about to be exterminated, loyalty can go to hell. Would you actually do it? Risking all your relatives? Try making sense for once.”
“That is why you must use every available resource. This is what is known as the ‘Stratagem of the Empty Fort.’ Please, try using your brain once in a while. When we return, I’ll lend you some military texts. Be sure to read them and take them to heart.”
The veins on Mun Jeong-yeok’s forehead bulged visibly. “Fine. Let’s make a bet. I’ll wager that the prince is real. You bet that he’s fake.”
“Hmph. You think I wouldn’t take that bet? So, what shall we wager? An arm, perhaps?”
“Better yet, let’s wager our titles. If I lose, from that day forward I shall no longer be called the Greatest Sword of Bokju, but the Greatest Idiot of Bokju. If you lose, you will no longer be the Iron Fist of a Hundred Battles, but Jo Gwang-ang the Invariably Flawed Strategist. How about it? Of course, if you think you’ll lose, you don’t have to accept.”
Jo Gwang-ang flared up at that. “Ha! You think I wouldn’t take it? And don’t you dare pretend it never happened if you lose.”
“That goes for you as well. Besides, ‘Invariably Flawed Strategist’ is actually a fitting title, isn’t it? You always babble on about military strategy this and that, yet I’ve never once seen you get anything right.”
“You heard that, Master Bo-yeol, didn’t you? You shall serve as our witness.”
“Heh heh. How could I possibly miss out on such an entertaining affair? Now then, what do you plan to do? Shall we simply wait until this prince—or prince impersonator—leaves the manor? According to your claims—”
The three leaders clamped their mouths shut. Of course, Sa Heun of the Heuk-ung-dan had remained silent the entire time. It wasn’t that he was particularly taciturn. The white-uniformed combat units were senior forces while the black-uniformed ones were junior, so Sa Heun simply wasn’t in a position to speak freely.
In any case, including Sa Heun, everyone felt that Bo-yeol’s words had struck bone. If things continued like this, their mission would be completely ruined. The Gyerim Sword Sect had surely already sent a messenger to the Murim Alliance requesting reinforcements. If the prince stayed much longer, the Sadoryeon’s plan to use the Yo Family Salt Gang as a foothold to establish a solid base in Guangxi would vanish like foam. After all, they could hardly go to war with the Murim Alliance over a single barren province like Guangxi.
“And whether the prince leaves or is disposed of, what do you plan to do about the Heavenly Flower Sword? It seems the Murim Alliance has quite the bold strategist after all.”
The Heavenly Flower Sword was a rising dragon. To call her the greatest among the righteous path’s younger generation meant that touching her carelessly would be a stain on the entire righteous Murim’s honor. Yet to send her alone into such dangerous territory was truly a daring scheme.
“Hmm. If Master Bo-yeol would take on the role of sect leader, the three of us will capture the Heavenly Flower Sword. Once we’ve taken control of the manor, we can release her. What could the Heavenly Flower Sword possibly do then? She would simply return home. The Murim Alliance wouldn’t start a war over something like that. And if they get angry, we can just apologize. Problem solved.”
Jo Gwang-ang’s answer was simple: attack first and apologize later. It was the exact same logic as when a certain militaristic nation had suddenly bombed a bay in Cheong’s homeland. The justification was identical too—after all, they don’t want war either, so if we just do it and apologize, surely they’ll pretend not to mind. As the saying goes, all human thought ultimately arrives at the same place. Especially the thoughts of utter scoundrels.
“Yes, well, do as you see fit. I have my own plans, so I shall move separately.”
In other words: you lot do whatever you want. I’ll do things my way and move on my own. If it succeeds, it’ll all be thanks to me, and I won’t be sharing any credit with you.
The three leaders thought to themselves: What a cheap old bastard.
Cheong was currently receiving the most lavish treatment imaginable. They had even assigned the sect’s second senior disciple to serve as her personal attendant. It was hard to imagine more attentive hospitality than that. Of course, the sect leader hadn’t specifically ordered it. The senior disciple had volunteered to play the role of maid. Normally this would have called for a severe scolding, but allowing it without comment was also a form of permission.
From Cheong’s perspective, however, this particular “maid” was excessively loud, burdensome, and above all, loud.
“Hyung-nim! From the very start of the year the weather is so refreshingly clear, isn’t it! On such a fine day! When one speaks of Nanning, one speaks of Cheongsu! When one speaks of Cheongsu, one speaks of Nanning! How about climbing Cheongsu-san to enjoy the scenery!”
“I’m supposed to be recuperating, you know. And you want to go hiking?”
“Ah! Oh no!!! This humble one forgot! Hyung-nim is so robust that I momentarily overlooked it! Then how about the hot springs at Ga-hwa-seong! It has been said since ancient times that bathing in the hot springs of Ga-hwa-seong brings a long and healthy life! Disease retreats! The skin improves! Bedsores vanish! It is the finest hot spring of all!!”
“Oh? Hot springs? There are hot springs?”
Cheong’s eyes sparkled. Soaking in a steaming bath and roasting one’s body was one of the three great pleasures of this harsh Central Plains life. If one asked why three, it was because excluding gourmet food and slaughter would be too sad. And at a hot spring one could float a table of wine and enjoy both gourmet dining and bathing at the same time. Two of the three greatest pleasures in one package! Truly the only legal drug the state permitted. (The only drug banned by law was tobacco.)
“That’s an excellent idea. Let’s go right now.”
Cheong was still beaming with a flower-like smile at the thought of a hot spring bath when—
“Um, Lady Seomun. A letter has arrived for you.”
One of the sword sect’s disciples spoke from outside the door and handed over a single envelope. Seeing the red envelope in Cheong’s hand, U Na-ram became extremely excited.
“That’s! A love letter, isn’t it! As expected! The greatest beauty under heaven! The Flower Among Ten Thousand Flowers! The Reincarnated Seo Si! The Three-Headed Beauty!!”
“Can we drop the last one, please…”
“Ah! My apologies! Three-Headed Beauty rolls off the tongue so easily! This humble one has committed such rudeness! Hyung-nim! This U Na-ram begs for forgiveness like this!!”
U Na-ram immediately performed a handstand. She seemed ready to perform some grand act of contrition at the slightest rebuke, so Cheong had once jokingly said that if she felt truly sorry she should apologize while standing on her head. When U Na-ram had asked what custom that was, Cheong had vaguely answered that it was the Khitan people’s method of apology called the Khitan bow. Ever since then, this had been the result. Still, it was far better than watching her kneel and beg, so Cheong never bothered to stop her.
“Na-ram, stay like that until you’re properly sorry.”
“This humble one, U Na-ram, feels like apologizing for all twelve months of the year—no, thirteen months this year!!”
U Na-ram shouted from beneath her inverted skirt. Her long, perfectly straight legs had a lovely tanned sheen. Quite beautiful, really. But to Cheong, whose eyes were still recovering, and given that in just three days she could no longer tell whether U Na-ram was a woman or a wild boar, it didn’t matter much.
Cheong held the envelope right up to her face while U Na-ram remained upside down and frowned.
Seomun Cheong, respectfully.
It really is addressed to me.
A red envelope usually meant a love letter. Of course, it wasn’t particularly surprising. Thanks to the saying that the courageous obtain the beauty, or perhaps because it was a low-risk, high-reward petty trick, quite a few love letters found their way to Cheong. She tore it open at once.
Let’s see how ridiculously flowery this one gets.
The love letters written by men of the Central Plains were usually quite poor. They generally followed the same template: complimenting her name and appearance, bragging about their family, boasting about their horse, and generously promising the position of legal wife. They even used the same widespread clichés—my heart races when I see you, I cannot sleep at night, flowers feel ashamed and bow their heads, birds forget to flap their wings while staring at your beauty and fall from the sky, and so on, listing every type of bird imaginable: pigeons, geese, magpies, crows, mandarin ducks, hawks, owls.
Maybe this one will have something original.
Cheong unfolded the paper with a flourish. But there were only a few black characters on the white page. A love letter, merely two lines.
“Oh?”
Cheong brought the letter close to her face like an old man with presbyopia. Then her expression hardened.
I know your secret.
Your origins as well.
At the hour of the rat, I will await you in the Plum Blossom Room at Yonggung-ru.
My secret?
And my origins?
Cheong’s pupils trembled. The secret Cheong guarded most carefully was the strange convenience function visible only to her eyes. And now it mentioned her origins? Her mind grew tangled.
What is this? Could there be someone else who came to this world like me?
Cheong had zero information about the Murim Saengsajeon. If someone far more knowledgeable about this world existed, they might have deduced it simply from her reputation. Or perhaps they had some other means of finding out.
“Na-ram. Do you know where Yonggung-ru is?”
“Yonggung-ru! Is there anyone in Nanning who doesn’t know Yonggung-ru?! When one speaks of Nanning’s greatest inn, one speaks of Yonggung-ru! When one speaks of Nanning’s greatest inn, one speaks of Yonggung-ru! An eight-story pavilion that pierces the heavens! A veritable skyscraper!! The pride of Nanning!!”
U Na-ram answered with only her jet-black hair visible beneath her flipped skirt.
“Are you interested in Yonggung-ru!! But Yonggung-ru is so expensive! No! This humble one, U Na-ram, will empty the allowance I’ve saved for five months! No!! I must go borrow money from the gambling house! May I stand up now?! I must visit the gambling house at once!!”
“No, there’s no need to go into debt. Hmm. So that’s how it is.”
The fact that the meeting place was Nanning’s most famous inn suggested there was no hostile intent. It was a way of saying they didn’t want to cause a disturbance in such a crowded, well-known location—and that Cheong shouldn’t cause one either. Still, she couldn’t let her guard down completely. A preliminary reconnaissance of the site was necessary. She needed to examine the layout, check escape routes, and see whether suspicious individuals had taken control of the area.
“All right. Let’s go. And I have plenty of money. Today we’ll eat until our stomachs—well, no, we shouldn’t actually make our stomachs burst.”
After nearly splitting her side while eating last time, Cheong had become somewhat more restrained. It would be better to recover quickly and eat her fill. Getting too excited over the food in front of her and staying sick longer would be the greater loss. A true culinary deficit, indeed.