The Yukbak Wager
The clamor of the market square could not drown out the sudden uproar, and all eyes turned toward the sound. I followed the noise as well. There stood a woman who had leapt to her feet, pointing accusingly, and a man seated with arms folded, refusing to yield. The man glanced at the gathering crowd and clicked his tongue. "Tsk. How uncivilized."
"Civilized, my foot! Who could stay calm when someone cheats so openly?"
"It is no cheat. And do not try to mask your defeat with such absurd claims."
"Ha! Fine, then. Let me ask everyone here! Look at this, all of you!"
The woman raised her clear voice, drawing the onlookers closer. In an age starved for entertainment, a quarrel like this was irresistible. People gathered in clusters around the pair.
"Seok, Hyu. Let us take a look as well."
I moved to join the spectacle, but the two men gently held me back.
"My lord, there is no need to concern yourself with such vulgar folk."
"These gambler’s squabbles are hardly rare, are they?"
Though they called the pair gamblers, neither struck me as a true addict. And must one scorn everyone who plays games of chance? In this era, gambling was little more than a board game with stakes. Excessive addiction was certainly a vice worth curbing, but moderate enjoyment seemed harmless enough. I explained my thoughts with a more refined example.
"Have you forgotten how Lord Mengchang survived by taking a swindler into his household? Rank exists, but no one is inherently noble or base."
Where there is above and below, there is still no true distinction of worth. I had always lived by those words. Seok and Hyu, who had witnessed it firsthand, could no longer stop me. Seok led the way, Hyu guarded the rear. Thanks to them, I slipped easily through the crowd and observed the two at close range.
The man was in his early thirties, with thick brows and a square jaw. His clothes were neat, and a sword hung at his waist—he looked like a prosperous commoner, perhaps middle class. The woman opposite him was more modestly dressed, though not in rags; she appeared to be an ordinary commoner. Yet even in such plain attire, her beauty shone. Beneath straight, long brows lay clear gray eyes framed by dark lashes. When she spoke, even white teeth flashed, and a sharp canine stood out. The red-painted corners of her eyes lent her a wild, striking allure. Tall and long-limbed, with a slender waist accentuated by her sash and fingers as graceful as silver fish, she carried herself like a model from my previous life.
Yet her expression, so unlike the cool city woman her looks suggested, was filled with frustration.
"The gentleman is right, it seems."
"The lady must have learned the rules wrong."
"Indeed. Who moves the pieces like that?"
From the murmurs, it seemed the man was correct and the woman mistaken. Her initial confidence had vanished; now flustered, she began to protest desperately.
"No, no! In the places I played, this was how it was done!"
"Heh, where in the world are the rules of Yukbak like that?"
"Quite right! Quite right!"
Even without the man speaking, the spectators pressed the woman. There was a certain pleasure in hounding someone, and some clearly enjoyed watching a beautiful woman in distress. The man smiled faintly and lifted his chin, his face full of triumph. The quarrel seemed unlikely to escalate further under such overwhelming support. It was not the bloody spectacle I had half-expected, but rather a deflating conclusion. I was about to withdraw when Seok muttered something as he watched the woman still moving her hands in protest.
"That move… it is the Yan style."
I turned to him at once. "Truly?"
"Pardon?"
"Is the way she moves the pieces truly the Yan style?"
While Seok hesitated, Hyu answered instead. "Ah, yes. It is called Yukbak. The rules the lady claims are indeed those of Yan."
"I see…"
I watched the scene a moment longer. Just as the man moved to enforce his win, I stepped out from the crowd.
"Hold! The lady is also correct. In Yan, the pieces are moved that way!"
Countless eyes turned to me at this sudden intervention. Yet I was the same man who had faced the glares of Lord Pingyuan’s retainers without flinching. If I cowered at this, I would have no right to face them again. Unlike the hostile man and the crowd’s mix of curiosity and distaste, only one person looked at me with pure delight. The woman’s eyes sparkled at my words, and she quickly echoed me. "See? My words were right!"
"No. How can we know you are not simply inventing excuses for your acquaintance? I cannot accept it."
The man countered with remarkable calm, a stark contrast to the agitated woman.
"What if my status serves as proof?"
"Status? Very well. Let us hear it."
"I am Ji Dan, prince of Yan."
"A prince?"
A crack appeared in the man’s composed expression. Though I hailed from Yan, a state with poor relations, the title of royalty was too lofty for commoners to dismiss outright. In the past, when the King of Zhao had openly slighted me, some might have doubted, but now I carried Lord Pingyuan’s authority as well. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The onlookers glanced at one another, unsure whether to bow. The man wavered briefly, then composed himself and offered a respectful salute with clasped hands.
"I greet the prince of Yan. I beg you to overlook my earlier discourtesy."
"Of course. It would be ill-mannered to fault you for not knowing my rank."
"Now I understand why Lord Pingyuan accepted you."
When I readily forgave the slight, the man offered a quiet note of admiration.
"Yet while your words are correct, I must still ask that you understand why they cannot be accepted. This is Zhao. There is no reason to follow Yan’s rules."
"Hmm… That, too, is fair."
When in Rome, do as the Romans do. It was a timeless truth across ages and lands. As I agreed, the man turned back to the woman.
"Besides, claiming to use Yan’s rules is odd, is it not? You said you were from Wei."
The woman pouted and shrugged. "Wei is my homeland. I simply grew up in Yan."
In an age when people often left their homes to settle elsewhere, the man did not press the matter of origin. Still, his stance remained firm.
"I will not retract. Keep your promise."
"Ha, you expect me to honor a wager when the rules were never agreed upon? I cannot accept that."
"…You are being unreasonable."
The tension thickened. Both glared at each other, their hands tensing as if ready to reach for their swords. My intervention would have been pointless if it came to this. I offered the man a proposal.
"Then how about this?"
"Hmm?"
"My lord?"
"I will play a match as well. If I win, the previous wager is void."
Both the man and the woman looked skeptical at my sudden offer. Their expressions seemed to ask why I would go so far.
"And if you lose, my lord?"
"I had not considered that. What would you like?"
"Your confidence is impressive. Very well. It is said that fine horses are famous in Yan. If I win, I shall claim one of your horses."
I did have horses brought from Yan, though none were legendary steeds. The man likely believed victory was certain, yet wished to avoid offending a prince; he sought only what he could reasonably claim. His calm demeanor, the fierce aura he had shown moments earlier, and this cool calculation all suggested he was no ordinary man. Perhaps he was someone destined to leave his mark on history.
While I pondered this, the woman sidled closer and whispered urgently. "Listen, Prince of Yan. I appreciate the help, but are you sure? That man is No Gu-cheon. No one in these parts plays Yukbak better than he does."
So the man’s name was No Gu-cheon. Was it my imagination, or did the name sound familiar? The thought that he might be a historical figure grew stronger. Even so, I had no reason to back down. Setting aside the woman’s concern, I accepted his condition.
"Well, I am still a prince of Yan. I cannot simply stand by and watch Yan’s rules lead to defeat—it would be a matter of face."
Besides, there was no need for worry. I was certain of victory. After all, I had four years of experience working at a board-game café. Throughout university I had taken shifts there, mastering countless games until I could glance at the pieces and board and instantly grasp how play would unfold. That was not all. My first board games had been Korean chess and Go; I had played them since childhood and reached amateur 4-dan and 2-dan respectively. Though Yukbak was new to me, it bore enough resemblance to Korean chess that the rules seemed simple enough.
This will be easy.
I took the woman’s seat and faced the man across the board.
"However, the match shall be best of five."