No Ordinary Waiter
He was no ordinary waiter.
Noh Sangwon, owner of the Sangwon Fabric Shop, was groaning under his enormous bulk as he clambered over the wall of Seongun Inn.
All he had meant to do was bring over a bowl of noodles. But the door had been locked. When he asked the merchants nearby, they said the Prosperity Association's men had gone into the inn and hadn't come out since.
He agonized over it like never before. The ghosts of the inn were terrifying, and so were the Prosperity Association's thugs. And yet he couldn't help feeling fond of Jin Seongun, a young man who had worked so hard to build his own inn at such an early age. His skills were hopeless, but even watching him boil noodles had been a pleasant sight. Above all, he was so strikingly handsome that it reminded Noh Sangwon of himself in his younger days.
Right. He had run his business here for twenty years and knew the Prosperity Association's faces well. Surely they wouldn't go so far as to swing a blade around.
Having made up his mind, Noh Sangwon finally climbed over the fence.
The untended lot was thick with grass. He pushed his way through it, and worn out, rested a hand against the wall of a small storage shed to catch his breath.
"So the inn had a shed like this back here."
Gazing at the shed for a moment, Noh Sangwon urged himself onward. Having finally steeled his resolve, he was just about to open the door leading into the inn—
KRAKAANG!
The wooden door exploded to splinters. Something came flying out and barreled straight into him.
Noh Sangwon toppled over backward, his vision spinning in dizzy circles.
"Aigoo, I'm dead!"
A cold, chilling sensation pressed against his round belly. Forcing his head down to look, he found one of the Prosperity Association's martial artists sprawled on top of him, still clutching a sword snapped clean in half.
Startled out of his wits, Noh Sangwon twisted his body frantically until the man slid off to the side.
"Wh-what in the world is this……"
Something had already gone terribly wrong. He hurried into the inn—and an even more astonishing scene met his eyes.
A familiar Prosperity Association thug, the type who roamed the merchant district shaking people down for association dues. That thug was standing face to face with the waiter.
The waiter Jin Seongun's face was perfectly calm. The thug, on the other hand, was trembling so badly that even Noh Sangwon, who knew nothing of martial arts, could see it. The man had a keen-edged sword pointed at Jin Seongun.
"H-hey there! Wait, wait! What do you think you're doing to a young lad! Let's talk this out first, shall we—"
Noh Sangwon rushed toward the thug. What he had failed to grasp was that the man was in a state of extreme agitation and terror. Like a herbivore so paralyzed with fear before a beast of prey that it lashes out at random, the thug swung his sword at Noh Sangwon.
"Ugh!"
A gleaming black blade shot straight for the space between his eyes. Noh Sangwon squeezed his eyes shut in terror.
"……"
A brief silence. Carefully, he opened his eyes.
The waiter Jin Seongun had caught the blade with his bare hand. He was staring at the thug with that dry, indifferent expression of his.
"Swinging a sword around at anyone and everyone, I see."
Jin Seongun clicked his tongue. In an instant, he channeled the Yeowol Mind Art and tightened his grip—and the blade snapped off with a crack. He drove the broken shard straight into the thug's shoulder.
THUNK!
"HURK!"
Noh Sangwon, whose nerves were frail by nature, jolted violently. The thug staggered back, clutching his shoulder. Faster than that, Jin Seongun closed the distance and struck the man's solar plexus, then his jaw, one after the other.
CRACK!
The man's head snapped back as if it had been launched skyward. His body toppled over—
WHUMP!
—and silence followed. Jin Seongun tossed the blade shard carelessly onto the floor and walked over to the fallen man.
"S-so. What exactly are you doing right now?"
Noh Sangwon asked carefully. His tone was subtly different from how he had spoken to the waiter next door until now.
Jin Seongun answered as if it were nothing.
"They smashed my signboard and my tables. Ah, and the back door's broken too. I'll have to collect for the damages, of course."
Jin Seongun rifled through the men's clothes, pocketing anything of value, then shattered their dantians one by one. Their lives were not in danger, but their days of living as martial artists were over. And all of it—the work of the waiter at a lonely little inn.
Only after gathering what there was to gather did Jin Seongun ask.
"Why did you go to the trouble of climbing over the wall?"
"W-well, the door was locked, so……"
"Ah, right. I'm not scolding you, just asking."
Jin Seongun opened the door again. The cool autumn breeze swept into the inn, washing away the stuffy stench of the fallen men.
"So. Do you know who those ruffians were?"
"Well, yes. They said something about a Prosperity Association."
"No ordinary prosperity association, I'd wager."
"And I'm no ordinary waiter, either."
Jin Seongun shrugged.
"I have a rough idea what they're about. Their conduct is pure Black Dao, through and through."
"Hoah. Even knowing that…… Whatever made you think you could handle what comes after?"
Noh Sangwon was genuinely worried. He had no wish to see a promising young man walk into disaster.
At the question of consequences, Jin Seongun glanced toward the small shed where the Martial Gods dwelled.
"I'll manage somehow."
He wasn't afraid. This was a world he had always carved his way through alone; now that he had powerful pillars standing behind him, what was there to fear?
With that thought, Jin Seongun abruptly dragged the two men out by their collars. Noh Sangwon scrambled after him in alarm.
"Where are you going?"
"To the yamen."
"……Why?"
"They're Black Dao types, so I thought there might be a bounty on their heads. I poured nearly everything I had into buying this inn anyway, so money has been a real worry. This works out nicely."
Noh Sangwon's mouth fell open, dumbfounded. Only now did he understand—the outrageous, terrifying waiter next door was someone who simply thought on a different wavelength altogether.
"Is that what martial artists are like?"
"I'm a waiter, though."
"……Right, of course. A waiter."
Noh Sangwon nodded along with an effort.
Jin Seongun headed straight for the yamen. When a young man appeared dragging two grown men along by their collars, quite a commotion broke out.
"Wh-who goes there?"
Jin Seongun had always had a striking presence for a waiter, and now he had two burly men clutched in either hand—deference spilled out of the gatekeepers' mouths unbidden.
"I've brought you some Black Dao scum."
"Ah……"
The gatekeepers exchanged glances, and one of them slipped inside at once. The one who remained asked carefully, "Those men, could they be……"
"That's right. Apparently they're with something called the Prosperity Association."
The gatekeeper's face went pale. Jin Seongun did not miss it.
After some time had passed, a gatekeeper came hurrying out to escort him in.
The magistrate's office of the Yichang Yamen.
Head Constable Hwang Myeongseok stared down at the two fallen Prosperity Association martial artists, his expression a tangle of conflicting emotions. Jin Seongun caught every flicker of it—the constable's face, his breathing, even the shifts in his heartbeat. Since learning martial arts, the range of what he could see and hear had widened beyond all measure. It would be no exaggeration to say an entirely new world had unfolded before him.
Are they in league?
Having thought as much, Jin Seongun had been about to ask whether there was a bounty on the men's heads, then reconsidered. If they were indeed in league, the man would hardly answer so candidly.
"How much for the two of them?"
Jin Seongun cut straight to the point, in a tone of perfect ease. Head Constable Hwang's eyes went wide. His mind raced furiously. A young martial artist who had beaten Prosperity Association fighters into this state, bold enough to stroll into the yamen and speak so freely to the Head Constable himself. His opponent's martial prowess was beyond estimation. Every piece of evidence stacked together, and Hwang Myeongseok arrived at a single conclusion.
A master from another land!
He might well be the scion of a great martial family, out traveling the Jianghu. No matter how sacrosanct the rule of non-interference between officials and martial artists, crossing such a person would spell real trouble. The great martial families kept deep ties with high officials the likes of which a mere constable could not even compare to.
"One is worth ten nyang, the other six!"
"Gold?"
"……"
Apparently silver. Jin Seongun let his disappointment show, plain as day. Even at that slight shift of expression, sweat beaded up and trickled down Head Constable Hwang's face.
"Then take them and have it."
"Y-yes, of course."
At a word from the constable, one of his runners promptly brought out a coin pouch holding thirteen nyang of silver. It was no small sum by any measure, and Jin Seongun pocketed the pouch with satisfaction. He was just turning to leave when Head Constable Hwang asked, in his most careful tone:
"M-might I ask the great hero's name?"
Jin Seongun fixed the constable with a level stare. Head Constable Hwang instantly regretted the question.
"Jin Seongun."
"Hoah, what a splendid name indeed! If it isn't too great an imposition, might I ask which school you belong to?"
"No school in particular. I run a small inn nearby—owner and waiter both."
"Hoah, is that so. An inn nearby, you say……"
Head Constable Hwang blinked rapidly. Whether he did or not, Jin Seongun gave a shallow bow and went on his way.
Watching his retreating figure, Head Constable Hwang turned to the subordinate beside him.
"Did he just say waiter?"
"To be precise, he said the owner and waiter of an inn."
"……"
He was, after all, a man who had climbed to the post of Head Constable. Even in his bewilderment, he ground his mind into gear and arrived at a conclusion.
How dare that whelp!
It was plain as day what had happened. The Prosperity Association's men had failed to recognize a master from another land, picked a fight, and gotten smashed for it. The master had sauntered off without a second thought, and that rotten little waiter—who had watched the whole thing—hauled the men in here and pocketed the entire bounty for himself.
That was waiters for you. The moment money was involved, they'd chatter away another man's secrets without a second thought. It simply did not occur to him that the waiter himself might be the master—that possibility was far, far less realistic.
Jin Seongun returned to the inn in high spirits. Noh Sangwon was clearing away the wreckage of the broken back door and tables, wiping the bloodstains from the floor.
"I'll take that."
Jin Seongun took the rag from his hand, and Noh Sangwon asked with a sigh folded into his voice:
"You were a martial artist all along, then?"
"No, a waiter—"
"That's not what I mean. Have you trained in martial arts?"
"Yes. Well. It happened by chance, one way or another."
It happened by chance. There was no better way to describe Jin Seongun's circumstances than that.
Noh Sangwon's expression grew all the more grave.
"Everyone has their story, so I won't pry too deeply, but…… just how strong are you, exactly?"
Jin Seongun considered for a moment. Setting the Martial Gods aside, the only opponents he had ever tested himself against were two martial artists of the Second-Rate. And so there was only one way he could put it.
"I'm at least above Second-Rate."
"……"
Noh Sangwon's worry deepened. Even a man outside the martial world knew that Second-Rate was nothing spectacularly high.
"You need to leave this place. Now."
"Why?"
"The men you beat down are the lowliest foot soldiers the Prosperity Association has. The association is a far bigger power than you imagine—I hear it rivals any respectable martial sect out there."
The Prosperity Association would strike back, without question. Noh Sangwon was truly afraid the young man would invite calamity upon himself.
Jin Seongun shrugged.
"I can't leave this place."
Because the Martial Gods he called his masters in his heart were right here—and because his life's longest-held dream, the inn itself, stood right here.
Noh Sangwon thumped his own chest in frustration.
"I understand how you feel. I'm a merchant too, after all. But what in this world is worth more than your life? What on earth possessed you to touch those men?"
"They picked the fight first."
With that, Jin Seongun gestured toward the signboard split clean in half. Noh Sangwon, who had once briefly had the name of his own Sangwon Fabric Shop stolen from him, understood at once.
"Even so……"
"Besides, my masters—the ones who taught me martial arts—were close to the White Dao."
The Sword Immortal, Sangwang, and Daji were unmistakably of the White Dao. Shintu belonged somewhere between orthodox and unorthodox. And as for the Blood Demon…… Jin Seongun smacked his lips. Well, three out of five made them broadly White Dao, didn't it?
"They taught me far more than martial arts. Never tolerate those who draw a blade and radiate killing intent—and above all, when dealing with those who walk the heretical or demonic path, show no mercy in your technique."
And so he had shattered their dantians. He had briefly considered taking their lives, but so long as the true strength of the Prosperity Association remained unknown, that would have been reckless.
"……I see. A master is like a father, so I understand you following their teachings."
Noh Sangwon let out a long, deep sigh. His feelings were terribly tangled. He worried for Jin Seongun, his heart lurched at the sight of blood, and—though it shamed him to admit it—it was also true that he was afraid of suffering for it himself, purely by virtue of being the neighbor.
"Aren't you hungry?"
Noh Sangwon heaved another aiyoo of a sigh. As if food could go down at a time like this.
"You never did eat the noodles I made for you."
"……So you did know."
People truly were shameless creatures. Even that tasteless noodles, just because it was technically food—the memory of it made his stomach growl again. That was Noh Sangwon's hearty appetite for you.
"If it's noodles again, I'll have to decline."
Jin Seongun said it while jingling the coin pouch he'd collected as bounty.
"Let's buy a proper meal. After all, for all your timidity, you climbed over the wall for my sake, didn't you? It's my treat."
The truth was, Jin Seongun was in a rare good mood. A life lived alone from beginning to end. He had built the inn he'd dreamed of, met powerful masters called the Martial Gods, learned martial arts, and earned money besides. And he even had a good-hearted neighbor—grumbling a little, but good-hearted all the same.
"Let's go."
When Jin Seongun said it again, wearing a faint smile that came all too rarely, Noh Sangwon finally nodded.
Right. It was all just a living, after all.