Senior, Show Me the Soul of a Gambler -1
Gamblers thrived at night.
Considering that most forms of entertainment unfolded after dark, this was hardly surprising. Pleasure houses typically opened only once evening fell, and the bulk of gambling took place within their walls.
Even so, places existed where one could gamble during the day.
The gambling dens.
These were spaces not for those who treated gambling as a mere accompaniment to drink and song, but for those who sought the pure thrill of the wager itself.
“Hmph.”
Sajeok tossed his tiles and clicked his tongue. Not long ago, a great many of the dens’ most formidable gamblers had been rounded up all at once.
Unlike the modern world, gambling itself was not illegal in this Murim Cheonha. Yet almost no gambler could stand wholly clean before the law. The act of gambling might be permitted, but the life of a professional gambler was a perfect invitation for charges of fraud.
In any case, those who had been arrested were released a few days later without incident.
Every last one of them had returned with the look of men whose souls had been ripped out, and they kept their mouths tightly shut.
“Hyung-nim! How long are you going to sit there like that!”
Sajeok roared at Cheongseo, who looked as though half his spirit had already fled, yet Cheongseo offered no reply.
“Aigoo! Did the authorities actually torture you? What crime is there in just handling a few tiles that they would reduce a man to this state! Ever since that day Hakjo-hyung has locked himself indoors and won’t show his face, and Heukjeo-hyung has abandoned the tables entirely to sit rotting in a tavern…!”
Hakjo kept his lips sealed. What had happened at Cheonsangru was something that could never be spoken of to anyone. The Eastern Depot itself had issued the warning; even a whisper of Cheonsangru’s “heaven” would see a man’s throat cut before mouse or bird ever knew of it.
Even without the Eastern Depot’s threat, Cheongseo had no intention of opening his mouth.
The famous gamblers of Luoyang—fully a hundred of them—had put their heads together and coordinated their play. Cheonsangru had provided the venue, the Eastern Depot had lent its cooperation, and they had faced a single opponent…
Only to be stripped of a fortune amounting to three hundred taels.
How could anyone possibly speak of such a crushing defeat?
The memory of that day rose unbidden in Cheongseo’s mind.
Merely thinking of it made his hands tremble. The image of those eyes—casual posture, yet radiating a chill that cut to the bone—rose with perfect clarity, and the moment those eyes appeared in his mind his spine turned to ice and cold sweat beaded on his skin.
Sajeok saw Cheongseo’s shaking hands and closed his mouth. He was curious about what had happened that day, but he had no desire to press a man who was already trembling like a leaf.
“Fine. I won’t ask.”
Sajeok rose from the table to give Cheongseo a moment’s rest. He cast about the den for another game he might join, but nothing suitable presented itself.
He smacked his lips. Nearly a hundred gamblers had been taken in a single sweep, and after their release every one of them had turned strange. Whether they had truly been tortured by the authorities or not, none of them would speak of that day, and more than a few wore the vacant faces of men whose souls had fled.
Because of that, Sajeok could find no one in the dens worth playing against.
Unlike the pleasure houses, casual gamblers almost never visited the dens. The games in the pleasure houses were far more stimulating. There one could drink, which made the wagering all the more electric, and there were always spectators. Above all, the odds of walking away richer were better in a pleasure house than in a den.
Those who came to the dens instead of waiting for night and the pleasure houses—those who forwent both drink and an audience—were the ones truly devoted to gambling. As professionals, their average skill far surpassed that of the pleasure-house tables.
The dens were the gathering place of gamblers. And even among them, Sajeok was a player who rarely found a worthy opponent.
That bastard isn’t here either… and the hyungs are all in terrible shape… Looks like I’ll have to focus on fleecing marks in the pleasure houses for a while.
The fact that every opponent of matching caliber had gone strange left a bitter taste, yet looked at another way it meant Luoyang’s gambling world had become ownerless territory. Perhaps this was the perfect chance to pull off one big score.
I’ll sleep well, clear my head, and work hard tonight.
With no suitable table to join, Sajeok decided to smoke a pipe and head home. He was just lighting up when a stir at the entrance made him lift his head.
Three people were walking into the den.
“Whoa.”
An ordinary-looking martial artist. A refined young master who looked as though he had stepped out of a wealthy household. And…
A peerless beauty stood there.
She wore a face veil, yet it could not fully conceal her looks. Just as wrapping musk in paper could never completely hide its fragrance, even with everything but her eyes covered, beauty seemed to radiate straight through the silk.
As a gambler who drifted from one pleasure house to another, Sajeok had seen any number of flower-like courtesans, yet this woman made every one of them look instantly ordinary.
To think such thoughts even with her face covered… What an astonishing beauty.
The ordinary man in the center—Ho Cheon-an—opened his mouth.
“Instead of a stuffy gambling den, why don’t we stop by Pungjeonggak and enjoy the scenery of Luoyang while we take the air…”
“I need to see Senior’s gambling skill, so sit down quickly. I trust you’ll show your true ability.”
Ho Cheon-an swallowed dryly under Heukmyo’s chilly gaze. Her eyes burned with an absolute determination to watch him gamble, leaving him in a thoroughly awkward position.
What the hell is going on?
Having no idea what conversation Heukmyo and Hyeok Gi-rin had shared, Ho Cheon-an felt as though a bolt of lightning had struck from a clear sky.
Whether he thought anything of it or not, Heukmyo seized the hesitant Ho Cheon-an by the shoulder and planted him in an empty chair at a vacant table. Then she drew out her money pouch and upended it.
Clatter-clatter-clatter!
“Hah!”
“Gold coins…”
Heukmyo’s funds for sightseeing in Luoyang—thirty gold taels, prepared with all the generous anticipation she had felt for touring the capital with Hyeok Gi-rin and Ho Cheon-an—glittered with a luminous light.
Every gambler’s gaze snapped at once to Ho Cheon-an and Heukmyo.
“I will give every one of these gold coins to whoever sits down with this man and defeats him.”
Ho Cheon-an’s jaw dropped. The gamblers’ eyes lit up as they rose competitively from their seats. The player nearest them practically flung himself into the chair opposite Ho Cheon-an, and sighs of regret echoed from the surrounding tables.
The gambler beamed.
“Hahaha! No take-backs, young lady!”
“I do not say things twice.”
“Very well—what rules shall we use?”
“You may choose the game yourselves. The method as well—whatever the two of you prefer.”
“Then let us each put up chips as stakes, and the first to take the other’s chips wins. How about golpae for the game?”
The gambler swiftly set terms favorable to himself. If real money were on the table, a loss would mean immediate damage; with chips, the worst outcome was simply breaking even. On top of that he named golpae, the game in which he was most confident.
He waited for Ho Cheon-an’s agreement, but Ho Cheon-an was looking at Heukmyo instead.
“Why are you suddenly doing this?”
“I simply wanted to see Senior’s gambling skill.”
Seeing that Heukmyo showed not the slightest intention of backing down, Ho Cheon-an heaved a great sigh and turned to Hyeok Gi-rin in hopes of persuasion.
Yet somehow Hyeok Gi-rin was watching with eyes full of anticipation. Meeting Ho Cheon-an’s look of utter disbelief, she mumbled:
“I… also wanted to see you gamble at least once…”
Hyeok Gi-rin had no more idea than Ho Cheon-an why Heukmyo was acting this way, but the present situation was not unwelcome to her. Even the casual displays of Ho Cheon-an’s sleight of hand were enough to draw involuntary admiration; how spectacular would it be when he truly exerted himself at a gambling table?
A magnificent spectacle tended to lift a person’s spirits… Hyeok Gi-rin clung to the faint hope that watching Ho Cheon-an’s skill might soothe Heukmyo’s anger.
Receiving that earnest gaze, Ho Cheon-an let out a sigh. Fine. Getting up from this table was clearly impossible.
“Let’s make it quick. Twenty-five chips each. Game of your choice. But I have one condition.”
“What is it?”
“Have some shame. You walk away with this money if you win, yet you put nothing on the line? If you lose, a forehead flick.”
“…Agreed.”
It was a condition no opposing gambler would ever refuse. On a table with thirty gold taels at stake, a mere forehead flick for losing was practically free money.
The game began.
Watching from a short distance as the gambler began to shuffle the tiles, Heukmyo thought:
I need to know more about Senior.
What had been only a fleeting intuition when she saw the shell-game hustler at the tea house had, once she sought out a gambling den and put money on the table, settled into something clearer.
Was the martial artist Ho Cheon-an the true Ho Cheon-an? Heukmyo could only shake her head at the question. As a martial artist, Ho Cheon-an’s path had been far too full of twists. An inexplicable constitution had forcibly broken his will; he had stagnated for a long time and only recently begun to stretch his wings.
Even so, the mountains he still had to cross remained steep. Because of that constitution he still struggled simply to circulate his qi; there was no guarantee new obstacles would not appear in the future.
As a martial artist, Senior Ho’s environment is far too harsh for him to project his true nature freely.
He had already consumed one spiritual medicine merely to reach first-rate, and then needed seven more simply to open the path to the Peak Realm. Eight spiritual medicines just to become a Peak expert—what a tortuous road.
But what of gambling?
Heukmyo recalled Ho Cheon-an’s hand techniques. A flamboyant style utterly different from other gamblers. Feints within feints, one might say. His gambling arts, which dazzled the eye and induced illusion, truly belonged to another realm.
Senior Ho’s gambling technique reveals his nature exactly as it is. Therefore his gambling, too, will proceed according to his own disposition.
Until now Heukmyo had simply thought that being together with Ho Cheon-an was enough. That feeling had not changed. Yet that feeling alone was no longer sufficient for them to walk the same path.
Senior understood me, but I never did the same for him.
She remembered the way Ho Cheon-an had been. He had listened with genuine seriousness even to her rambling words in order to understand her, and he had stepped forward to resolve the problems she carried.
Yet Heukmyo herself had never made any special effort to understand Ho Cheon-an.
She was not speaking of secrets that should never be pried into—such as how he came to know enlightenment. She meant the ordinary questions one ought to ask in order to understand the person called Ho Cheon-an. Why he loved martial-arts novels so much. Why he refused to make a name for himself as a gambler. Why he so readily taught others the gambling techniques he had painstakingly mastered.
There had been countless points at which she could have asked, yet she had never dug deeper.
So I must learn now, even if it is late.
Hyeok Gi-rin’s heartfelt confession had stirred her emotions in every direction, yet what finally remained in Heukmyo’s heart was a deep, lingering question.
Why had things turned out this way? Granting enlightenment to Hyeok Gi-rin had been a rather dangerous choice. Even considering the emotional exchange among the three of them that Heukmyo, as a third party, could not fully know, a dangerous act remained dangerous.
The reason.
Heukmyo could not understand why Ho Cheon-an had made that judgment. And only when her thoughts reached that point did she realize: she had never once tried to understand the person called Ho Cheon-an, so how could she possibly grasp his thinking?
That was why she had dragged him into a gambling den. She had entered this place and scattered gold coins so that she might witness with her own eyes the craft in which Ho Cheon-an’s true self was most clearly reflected.
Watching Ho Cheon-an pick up the golpae tiles, Heukmyo murmured softly:
“Show me your true self, Senior.”