The Ruthless Haggle and the Bathhouse Shock
The rip-off inn boy—known as a jeomsói in this line of work—is actually a pretty high-class position. The inn's entire revenue depends on the jeomsói's skills.
First off, an inn is basically a restaurant at its core. But in this uncivilized medieval murim world, there were no menus.
That's because ingredient supplies were unstable, unlike today, so the available dishes changed every day. It meant the restaurant ran like an omakase every single night.
And that's where the jeomsói came in clutch. They had to gauge the kitchen's situation and recommend the right dishes—it was all on them.
Poor customers needed cost-effective grub, while rich ones got the fancy stuff. Mess up judging their wallet? The inn's earnings plummeted that day. That's why jeomsóis were the core of the operation.
It applied to lodging too, not just food. The first thing an attendant checked was how much money the guest had.
The Cheongpung Inn's jeomsói did the same when he first met Namgoong Juhee.
He sized her up slowly and came to this conclusion.
Drop-dead gorgeous face, decently high-end clothes. Sword at her side meant she was a swordswoman, and around here, that pointed to the Namgoong family. Namgoong types weren't too vicious with the righteous sects, so no worries about backlash. In short: ripe for the plucking.
Spot-on assessment. The only issue? He'd picked the wrong mark.
"Silver ten nyang is kinda steep."
Well, well. The jeomsói's smiling eyes narrowed a fraction. This rich kid daring to haggle? Time to teach her the ways of the world. That's what his gaze said.
"Ahaha. This is already a huge loss for us. Check elsewhere—good luck finding cheaper."
A veiled threat that prices would be the same anywhere. From experience, guests preferred buying from the first place they hit. Once they walked in, chatted, and asked prices, they were emotionally hooked. Subconsciously, they hated disappointing the seller.
So the jeomsói was confident. Way more likely she'd swallow her complaints and open her pouch than walk out.
"Hmm..."
"Young lady, what're you hesitating for? It's late. Why waste time when staying here's the best bet?"
"...You asked what I'm pondering?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Whether to lop off your head now or slice your tongue and grill it."
Instantly, goosebumps exploded across the jeomsói's skin.
"Y-you're... joking, right?"
"I hate jokes and Chinese people more than anything. Oh, look—jeomsói here, you hit both."
"N-no..."
"Staying in this dump for silver ten nyang? Greedy much. Greed's the fast track to an early grave, y'know."
Cold sweat trickled down the jeomsói's back. No way this was a joke—Namgoong Juhee looked dead serious.
"Alright, decided. Tongue it is..."
"W-wait, young hero? Hear me out?"
"Spit it."
His brain spun. He always preached money over life, but faced with it? Nah. People first, cash second. He'd give the room at standard rate. Decision made.
"Uh... silver one nyang. One nyang gets you dinner and breakfast."
"Hmm?"
Juhee still looked grumpy, unsatisfied. Lower it more, he vowed.
"Copper... seven hundred mun..."
"Hmm?"
"Six hundred mun..."
"Hmmm..."
But no matter how low he went, she stayed silent. The jeomsói was losing it.
That's exactly how customers felt dealing with him usually. Empathy was key—you never knew till you walked in their shoes, hence the loose tongue.
"Old man."
"Yes! What is it...?"
"You've fleeced plenty of guests for fat profits, right?"
"Y-yes... yes!"
"Then you gotta know losses too, yeah?"
"Exactly!"
"Four hundred mun, clean. Breakfast included. Deal?"
"F-four hundred's impossible! We barely break even!"
"Hmmm..."
Again! That hum. Rage and injustice churned in his chest. But what could he do against blatant threats?
Tears in his eyes, the jeomsói caved.
"Yes! Four hundred it is. Hehe, right away."
"Ho, the young lady scored a room for just four hundred mun?"
"Yes. Breakfast included, she said."
"Breakfast too? For real?"
"Yes."
Namgoong Sihoon's eyes gleamed. Four hundred mun—four pun—was fair for a dingy room with dinner and breakfast. Felt like a steal, even.
"Unexpected. Thought she'd blow all three nyang."
"Is the young lady ordinary? She played dumb for nine whole years."
"Honestly, I half-doubted till she crushed the Hwangbo punks. Seemed like the wild filly from rumors."
"Ahahaha! Must've been hyped for her murim debut. Kids that age, y'know."
"Probably. No real worries, but we should calm her down a bit."
Sihoon and the escorts couldn't hide their surprise. Not just top-tier martial prowess, but haggling skills too?
A prodigy in arts and arms. Hid her ambitions nine years. True savior of the declining Namgoong house.
Reality? She'd just shoved her sword at the jeomsói's throat. Blackmail, not negotiation. But Sihoon and crew wouldn't know.
"Time we head out too. What's the inn she booked?"
"Cheongpung Inn."
"Cheongpung? The shittiest in Wuhu, no?"
"Exactly. Worried if the young lady can handle it."
"Yeah. Hmm..."
She was delicately raised. Coddled in a clean home. That faint fragrance meant daily baths.
But Cheongpung? Bugs, rats crawling everywhere. Cramped tent-like rooms. More ruin than inn.
Even a private room would shock her. Sihoon figured.
"Maybe book her somewhere nicer separately?"
"Good idea. But tonight, same inn's best."
"True. Roughing it builds character."
"Oh! She's bathing first. Told us to rest in the room."
"Got it. Let's go. After her bath, we clean up too."
Sihoon replied without a second thought. No clue what awaited.
"Fuu..."
A satisfied sigh escaped Namgoong Juhee as she soaked in the bath.
The inn's bath was surprisingly decent. Silky water, solid privacy. Worth shaking down the jeomsói. She flipped a page in the manual while thinking that.
"Fun stuff."
To Juhee, the Je Wang Geom Hyeong was intriguing swordsmanship. Totally different from the Luk Hap Sword she'd trained five years.
Luk Hap Sword focused on feints and illusions—flashy tricks to deceive foes.
But Je Wang Geom Hyeong's essence was in onslaught and weight. Relentless pressure, heavy strikes. Endless barrage.
Juhee quickly realized it didn't suit her.
Big attacks needed power and qi, sustained by stamina. She lacked all three. Reading the manual a thousand times wouldn't help without the chops.
Infuriating. First decent technique in nine years, and useless.
Yet she'd mimicked it against Hwangbo Rin. Not the forms exactly—the essence.
Pressuring with movement was her specialty. She layered on Je Wang Geom Hyeong's relentless momentum and looming heavy blow.
No swing needed; the vibe alone choked the foe. Why Hwangbo Rin got pummeled without moving.
"...Fuu. Still a bit off. Eh, practice dummies are plentiful anyway."
The escorts would've shuddered hearing that. Not Juhee's problem.
She dunked her head, rinsed off, and strolled out. Meeting the escort folks tomorrow? Better sleep early.
Her room: Cheongpung Inn, Room 200. With Sihoon and the escorts.
"No...! No! What the hell is this?!"
"Fuu, refreshing. Mu dangju, not washing up?"
"No! More importantly, cover yourself properly!"
"Ah... this? Guys together, what's the big deal? Key bits are covered."
"No! No no no! No!"
Sihoon kept yelling "no," palm over his eyes.
Understandable. The family head's daughter, barely draped in cloth over privates, waltzing in. Head would roll if the patriarch saw.
Does the young lady lack shame?
If she were a properly raised daughter—or hell, a woman!—she wouldn't parade like that before six dudes.
Fragile legs that'd snap at a tap. Birthing hips perfect for kids. Slim waist, perky breasts...
Slap!
Sihoon smacked both cheeks hard. Daring to ogle the head's daughter sexually? Unforgivable for a Namgoong warrior.
"Put on proper clothes! Aren't you embarrassed in front of men?!"
"Kukuku. Mu dangju looks all worldly but so innocent. Know why?"
"Ha... shut it!"
Sihoon's shout echoed through Cheongpung Inn.