The Merchant of Death (1)
The merchants who traded back and forth between the Central Plains and Joseon cut a far more splendid figure than I had expected.
They were not composed solely of Joseon folk to begin with; more than a few wore the distinctive dress of the Central Plains. They swept through the village like a storm, buying up every specialty the place had to offer.
Just as Cheong did, the people of this village dealt in fish and seafood of higher quality than most other places. That was why.
Still, Cheong takes first place.
Even the abalone alone looked nearly one and a half times larger; in sheer quality, Cheong’s catch was clearly superior.
Come to think of it, one surefire way to make money would be… dealing directly with the great merchants.
Especially certain seafoods Cheong handled—merchants from the Central Plains went mad for them and bought them up without hesitation.
If I approached them as Cheong’s agent and negotiated properly, their eyes would go round and they would scramble over one another to sign contracts. That much was certain.
The problem was that those very same people could drive Cheong to her death.
Yet something felt off.
No one had come forward to offer Cheong the public offering rice of three hundred seok. Looking at the proper sequence of events, someone should have made that proposal first. They might have met while I was away, but Cheong had never mentioned anything of the sort.
Had the whole affair gone sideways? Or had the order of events been different from the start?
…For now, I headed home.
And the moment I arrived, I noticed Sim Bongsa—Cheong’s father—wearing a thoroughly troubled expression.
…No. Surely not?
"Hm? Is that Sim Cheong…?"
"It is I. Kim Shin-ryong."
"Ah! Young master! You have returned rather early today."
"Cheong chased me off from the shore, so I came straight back."
"Heh heh. The girl must have felt shy."
Shy about what?
I cut straight to the point.
"Why are you wearing that face?"
"F-face? What face am I supposed to have been making…"
"The face of a man who has found something he must accomplish at all costs, only to discover reality will not support it—and so has fallen into despair."
"…! I-is it truly that plain upon my face?"
"Yes. Clear enough that I understood at once why Cheong is your daughter."
Cheong’s expressions were easy to read at times as well; she must have inherited it from him.
"Mmm…"
"If something is weighing on your heart, why not tell me? My mouth is heavier than steel. I give you my word I will speak of it to no one else."
Perhaps because he had realized I was a scholar, Sim Bongsa soon confided the story he had been hiding.
"Well, you see—I went out for a walk earlier and was crossing the bridge over the stream when I nearly tumbled right off it. But a monk happened to catch my hand just in time, so I was spared any injury."
…A monk?
And he had nearly fallen again. Did Sim Bongsa simply have no sense of caution?
"I wished to repay the kindness with an offering of alms, yet the monk refused most firmly. Then, realizing I could not see, he left me with a single remark."
"…And what was that remark?"
"That if I offered a certain amount of rice to the Buddha, my eyes might open."
……That monk.
The one who had made the proposal that set every disaster in motion.
"But I did not know how much would be enough, so I asked. The monk kept giving only vague answers. Before I knew it I blurted out ‘three hundred seok,’ and he said, ‘That should be sufficient,’ and that he would go ahead and speak to the Buddha on my behalf."
"I see."
"So I have been beating my chest alone, never daring to tell Cheong. If I cannot prepare three hundred seok of rice, I will have lied to the Buddha himself."
…Now I understood.
From the very beginning, the one who had been offered the three hundred seok was never Cheong. Even in the original tale, the proposal must have been made to Sim Bongsa, not to her. Cheong had simply heard the story from her father and thrown herself into the fray to restore his sight.
If I had known it would go this way, I should have kept a close watch on both of them.
My half-baked knowledge of the original had produced this blunder. But a blunder was all it was. There was still room to change the situation.
"But ah… just who in the world was that monk?"
"…Pardon? What do you mean?"
"Well! He appeared like the wind, you might say. Ever since I lost my eyes, my ears have grown sharp. Yet until the moment he took my hand, I heard not a single footstep from him—as if he had simply materialized out of thin air!"
"…Out of thin air."
"And more than that—unlike when you saved me last time, young master, I was walking slowly with my staff. Then all of a sudden a gust of wind or something shoved me sideways and I nearly toppled over!"
So that was how it had happened.
My head went cold.
"Do you know the monk’s dharma name and temple?"
"He said he was the Hwajuseung of Mongun Temple."
The Hwajuseung of Mongun Temple…
"Is there a temple called Mongun Temple anywhere near here?"
"I have lived here more than fifty years and never once heard of such a place…"
"It is probably not entirely false. To deceive someone you must mix in a measure of truth. The dharma name is more likely the fabrication."
"Pardon? But…"
"Elder, every monk who sets out on ascetic pilgrimage carries a certain tool. It is called a khakkhara—a ringed staff used to announce a practitioner’s presence to people and beasts alike. Do you understand what that means?"
"…Then the monk who made no sound of footsteps at all…"
"Was no monk. He approached you disguised as one. That is the only conclusion that fits."
Sim Bongsa was struck silent for a long moment by the shock of having been so thoroughly taken in.
"Th-then who on earth would disguise himself as a monk?! And why approach a penniless blind man…!"
"I cannot say with certainty what the monk truly was. He may have been human, or he may not. But the approach was almost certainly no accident."
Sim Bongsa’s body trembled finely.
I wanted to tell him that Cheong herself might be the target, yet that remained pure conjecture. Knowing the original tale made the silence galling, but I could hardly spill the plot of a story that did not yet exist here.
I spoke to reassure him.
"For the time being, take your walks only with me or with Cheong. The two of you should stay together at the very least."
"Do you truly mean that…?"
"I do. And I will speak to Cheong myself. I will tell her not to go about alone for a while."
"Perhaps we ought to call a shaman…"
"That would only raise a needless clamor just now. Or… is there anyone with whom you might share this matter?"
At my words Sim Bongsa hesitated, then named one person.
"Well… there is Lady Ahn, a widow who lives across the way…"
Yet the atmosphere shifted strangely.
Only moments earlier he had been nothing but grave; the mere mention of Lady Ahn softened his entire bearing. He clearly relied on her a great deal.
"Then for now it would be best to ask her help and move together. Three people split awkwardly into one and two; better to divide into two and two."
"Th-then!"
"…What is it?"
"Ahem. If I were to go about together with Lady Ahn…"
……
"…I will meet her first and then decide."
He seemed thoroughly smitten; I would have to see her for myself before passing judgment.
There was still time before Cheong returned, so I went straight to Lady Ahn’s house across the way.
"Is anyone home?"
"Who is it? That is a voice I have never heard before."
"Well… hm?"
"Is something the matter?"
"No, it is only…"
I could not help staring in surprise at the woman who emerged from the room.
Because… Lady Ahn, like Sim Bongsa, was blind.
No ordinary widow, then.
And the aura she gave off was nothing like that of an ordinary person either.
"…Might you be the scholar Kim Shin-ryong who has come from afar?"
"…You know me?"
"Yes. Long ago I saw that name in a dream."
"A dream…"
A prophetic dream, or something of the sort.
In any case, Lady Ahn was no ordinary blind woman. She had been born with the temperament of a seer—essentially a fortune-teller.
"Then do you also know why I have come to find you?"
"A dream does not reveal details so finely. All I know is that one day a dragon of the Kim clan who will command all of Joseon will bring happiness to the father and daughter next door."
"…Huh? Command?"
What in the world had she seen?
The completely unexpected word left me flustered.
"…Could you tell me that a little more specifically?"
"Is that the business that brought you?"
Her words finally snapped me back to myself. I had come to ask for help.
I recounted the entire sequence of events that had just taken place. And she, born with that mysterious gift, understood my meaning at once.
"In short, you wish me to help so that the four of us may move about in pairs."
"Exactly so. Will you?"
"If it is a matter of saving people, I will gladly comply."
She then groped about with her hands, so I quickly stepped forward and took them in mine.
"May I read your palm for a moment?"
"Go ahead."
"Mmm… I see. Now I understand why I dreamed that dream."
Muttering words I could not follow, Lady Ahn soon turned back into the house and said,
"I will prepare and come over. Please go ahead."
"I can wait."
"Look behind you."
I turned at her words—and saw Cheong, face stricken with shock, racing off into the distance.
"…?"
"A woman’s misunderstanding only grows harder to unravel the longer it is left. Go catch her at once."
Wait—so Cheong had just seen me showing my palm to Lady Ahn and jumped to some wild conclusion?
How big is the age gap, for heaven’s sake? Has she lost her mind?
Even by the most generous count she was fifteen years younger than I. Why she would leap to such a misunderstanding and look so devastated I could not fathom, but I had to go after her.
"Th-then I will go first."
"Go carefully."
I swept my robes behind me and set off after Cheong.
And the place where her footsteps finally stopped was none other than the cliff where we had first met.
Realizing I had followed, Cheong let a few tears slip and cried out:
"…So the way you treated me was only so you could set your sights on Lady Ahn all along!"
"What kind of deranged nonsense is that?"
What on earth are you talking about, Cheong?
It's Sim Cheong!