Daylight at Heoksongru
When morning came to Heoksongru, the color of the road changed. The dirt path that had been pressed black at night regained its yellowish hue as the sun rose. Seoryeong, who had been leaning against the stone pagoda, slowly opened her eyes. She had not fallen into a deep sleep. She still did not know how to sleep deeply on an unfamiliar road.
At the Cheongseong annex, there had been a ceiling when she slept, Hwarin’s presence outside the door, and the sound of disciples’ footsteps in the distance. Near Uiyak Hall, there had been the sound of medicinal decoctions boiling. Near the dining hall, there had been the sound of water being drawn at dawn and someone splitting firewood. But on the road, none of those things existed. Instead, there were the sounds of insects and beasts, footsteps of passing people, someone laughing lowly in the distance, and branches striking each other in the wind. All of those sounds were unfamiliar.
The unfamiliar could be dangerous, or it could simply be unknown. When she was at Cheongseong, she had often failed to distinguish between the two. She had treated the unknown and the dangerous as the same thing and reached for Mokgeuk first. But now it was a little different. If she did not know, she looked first. If it was dangerous, she blocked it. If blocking was not enough, she pressed down. She did not strike until there was a reason to strike. It was not an easy thing.
Seoryeong had woken several times during the night. Because it felt like something was approaching. Or because nothing was approaching and it was too quiet. Each time, she touched Mokgeuk. The cloth wrapped around the handle met her palm. The deep blue cloth Elder Ungak had given her. The red-black cord Cheongmu had grumblingly wrapped. Hands do not lie well, he had said. Seoryeong tried to see her own heart whenever strength entered her hands. Was this truly dangerous? Or was she simply afraid? Or had her hand moved first out of anticipation that a fight might occur? Most of it was fear. A very small part was anticipation. And it took time to admit that the two were mixed.
Once dawn passed and morning arrived, the road became a road for people again. The sound of cart wheels could be heard, oxen lowed, and from afar came the sound of a merchant arguing over prices. Still leaning against the stone pagoda, Seoryeong opened her hand. The imprint of Mokgeuk’s handle remained on her palm. She had gripped and released it several times throughout the night. She unfolded her fingers one by one.
“Still all right.”
It was a murmur to herself. Bulssi was quiet. It had settled very low inside the vessel. She had not gone straight to Heoksongru last night. There had been a warning not to enter at night, and there had been no reason to enter an unknown place after dark. She had considered that strong people might be there. The words about Heoksongru’s night being a board had also bothered her. A board where money, blades, people, and rumors mixed together. Her chest had stirred a little when she heard that. But it had been closer to a reason to strike than a reason to go. So she had stopped. That choice still remained in her hand.
Seoryeong ate a little of the rice cake Cheongmyeong had given her. It was hard. She also tore off a bit of the dried meat the child had brought last night. It was salty. It was delicious. The mere fact that there was meat made the morning a little better. Seoryeong tied her bundle again. Then she found a water’s edge and washed her hands and face. A small stream lay a little way down behind the stone pagoda. The water was cold. Seoryeong scooped water in her hands and splashed it on her face. Droplets clung to her eyebrows and eyelashes. She looked at her reflection on the water. White silver hair. Red eyes. The hairstyle Hwarin had tied. Even though she had not lain down properly all night, the knot had not come undone. Seoryeong touched the hair string with her hand. It was firm. Hwarin had said not to tie it in a hurry if it came loose outside. She had said to undo it once and tie it again. Hair, heart, and string alike. If they tangle, undo and tie again. Seoryeong lowered her hand as she recalled those words. It had not come undone yet. So for now, she would leave it as it was.
When she returned from the stream and picked up Mokgeuk, the road was already filling with people. The signpost carved with a black pine tree looked even clearer in the morning light. The drawing was black as if freshly painted. Beneath the signpost were traces of someone having stepped on it. Traces of many people passing. And traces of several people deliberately stopping in front of the signpost. Seoryeong stood before it for a moment. Heoksongru. They said Marenson was dead. Discovered with all his fingers cut off and his mouth sewn shut. That death could have been a silencing, a warning, or a trap. She had also heard the name Heaven Society on the road. A name resembling the character for heaven. It was not certain. What was uncertain, she did not strike. She looked first.
Seoryeong passed the signpost and entered the road toward Heoksongru. The road was wider than she had expected. It was a road many people traveled. The earth was firmly packed, and low undergrowth and grass stretched along both sides. A little farther on, she saw small taverns, places to tie horses, and what looked like blacksmiths repairing carts. It was not a place that existed only because of Heoksongru. A small market seemed to have formed around Heoksongru. People selling horse feed. People selling cheap liquor. People claiming to sell medicine. People offering to sharpen blades. People whispering as if they knew information. Children selling wooden pieces as lucky charms. An old woman who claimed she could tell by reading palms whether one would die or live today. Porters offering to carry loads in place of others. All of it was by the roadside. It was far noisier than the village at the foot of Cheongseong Mountain. And far murkier.
The smell was different. The village below Cheongseong Mountain had been full of the scent of porridge, firewood, and earth. Here, the smell of liquor, horse dung, old oil, sweat, iron, and something hidden mixed together. Seoryeong wrinkled her nose slightly. She did not like it. But it was interesting. Was this smell also part of the martial world? Probably. The martial world she had seen from Cheongseong had been nothing more than inns and small shrines below the mountain. Those places had already been dirty, but they were still touched by Cheongseong’s shadow. This place was different. Cheongseong’s shadow was faint. Instead, the smell of money and blades was thicker.
As Seoryeong walked along the road, people’s eyes followed her. This time the gazes were more blatant than in the village below Cheongseong Mountain. Silver hair. A girl. Mokgeuk. Alone. And rumors. Some eyes were appraising her worth. She recalled what Cheolgi had said. The people of Heoksongru put prices on names. How much they could sell someone for. How much they could kill someone for. How much they could spread rumors for. Seoryeong decided not to speak her name first. A name was hers. But it seemed that just because something was hers did not mean it was good to leave it lying anywhere. She thought of the empty wooden plaque she had put inside her cloth pouch. A nameless wooden plaque. Dogyeom had said to leave what it would become empty for now. He had said people outside would try to attach names to it. Seoryeong felt she was beginning to understand what that meant. Even now, people were attaching names to her as they looked. They simply had not spoken them aloud yet. That child. Silver hair. From Cheongseong. The one holding Mokgeuk. The one who broke people. The one who saved a child. A frightening child. Might be useful. Might have value. Such names floated in their eyes.
Seoryeong did not press down on each of those eyes. Not every eye should be treated as a blade. But it also seemed she could not treat every eye as merely an eye. She looked as she walked. Looking did not mean she would immediately break them. Heoksongru soon came into view. A tall two-story pavilion with a black pine tree drawn on it. It was larger than she had expected. It looked old yet not shabby. The pillars were thick, and though the railings were worn, they were well maintained. A black signboard hung above the main gate. Seoryeong could not read the characters. But the black pine tree carvings on either side of the signboard were the same as on the signpost. Heoksongru. Even in daytime, there were many people. Merchants entered, martial artists came out, and men reeking of liquor laughed in front of the door. A woman with her face covered went inside. An old man leaning on a cane came out, looked around, and quickly disappeared into an alley. Someone entered through a side door instead of the main gate. In front of that side door was a pile of firewood, and the earth behind the pile was especially well trodden. Seoryeong saw it. It was a path people frequently used. But it was not the main gate. Why would someone who did not enter through the main gate go in through the side? To hide something. Or because they were the kind of person who was supposed to enter that way. She did not know yet.
Several horses were tied in front of the pavilion. Two of them were well-groomed horses. Expensive horses. Their owners would have money. With money, one could buy blades. With money, one could buy horses. With money, could one buy people too? Probably. Seoryeong did not like that thought. She stopped in front of the pavilion and drew in a breath. It was not night. It was day. Cheolgi had told her not to enter at night. So entering now should be fine. But what was the reason to enter? Marenson’s death. Heukmokchae’s money source. The character for heaven. Heoksongru was said to be the first road. There was reason to look. Seoryeong went inside.
The inside was brighter than she had expected. There were many windows, and oil lamps were lit. But bright did not mean clean. The wooden floor gleamed with liquor and oil, and old stains lay between the tables. From the kitchen came the smell of roasting meat. That smell was good. The other smells were not. Seoryeong stopped just inside the door. Twelve tables. Twenty-three customers. Four waitstaff. One man by the counter whose eyes followed movement. Two large martial artists standing in front of the second-floor stairs. One old man sitting quietly by the window. The old man held chopsticks but had barely touched his food. His ears were open to people’s conversations. And three people avoiding her gaze. One of them brought a cup to his mouth the moment Seoryeong entered but did not drink. One checked his waist. One moved his foot under the table. Seoryeong counted them. She had not counted because she wanted to. Her eyes simply moved that way now. An unknown place. Do not leave your back exposed. Watch the hands of those carrying blades. Watch those whose feet move first. Listen to breathing rather than words. The things she had learned at Cheongseong moved one by one inside her body.
A waitstaff approached. The smile was quick and thin. “Welcome. Are you alone?”
The innkeeper in the village yesterday had asked the same thing. But the question here was different. A question confirming whether she was alone. A question checking whether there was someone to pay. A question measuring who was behind her. Seoryeong answered. “Yes.”
The waitstaff’s eyes wavered for a very brief moment. He seemed to find her manner of speech strange. But he soon smiled. “I will show you to a seat.”
He tried to guide her to a table in the center. Seoryeong did not move. “A seat by the wall.”
The waitstaff stopped. “Pardon?”
“A seat with my back against the wall.”
The waitstaff smiled again. “Ah, yes. Of course.”
He guided Seoryeong to a seat by the wall near the window. It was not a completely good seat. But the door was visible, the stairs were visible, and the counter was visible. It was not bad. Seoryeong sat down. She stood Mokgeuk beside her. The waitstaff asked, “What would you like?”
Seoryeong smelled the scent from the kitchen. Meat. The smell of real meat. The dried meat yesterday had been good, but this smell was better. “Meat.”
The waitstaff smiled. “We have grilled meat. Seasoned pork, chicken, and a little venison as well.”
Seoryeong’s eyes widened slightly. “All three.”
The waitstaff’s smile stiffened. “Pardon?”
“All three.”
Someone at a nearby table burst out laughing. “The little miss has some nerve.”
Seoryeong did not look that way. The waitstaff looked at Seoryeong again as if calculating. “It will cost a bit.”
Cost. Money. Seoryeong thought of her travel money. Was it enough? She did not know. The money she had received from Cheongseong was not much. Heoksongru could be expensive. She wanted to eat meat. But she could not spend all her money. Preparation was also for not spending. Money might be the same. Without money, she could not eat meat on the road. Without meat, she would be sad. If she was sad, she might get angry. Seoryeong felt this thought was a little strange, but it was important. She pondered for a moment. “One.”
The waitstaff smiled oddly. “Which one would you like?”
“The one that feels most like meat.”
The waitstaff did not understand for a moment. Laughter came from a nearby table again. This time it carried a hint of mockery. Seoryeong heard the laughter. It felt unpleasant, but there was no reason to break it. The waitstaff said, “Then I will bring you pork.”
“Yes.”
“And drink?”
“I do not drink.”
She had no memory of her eyes loosening after drinking. But she did not like the smell of liquor. People drunk on liquor moved their feet strangely. Their words became dirty too. Right now she needed to look and choose. Liquor was unnecessary.
When the waitstaff withdrew, the surrounding conversations returned. But after Seoryeong entered, the sounds inside Heoksongru had changed slightly. Someone deliberately laughed loudly, someone reduced their words. Someone kept watching Seoryeong while pretending not to. Even without speaking her name, eyes clung to her. It seemed silver hair and Mokgeuk alone were enough. Seoryeong drank water. The taste was not good. There was a faint smell of liquor from the wooden cup.
Then the man from the counter approached. He looked about forty. His clothes were neat, and he wore a ring on his hand. He looked like a merchant, but his feet were those of a martial artist. No, not completely a martial artist. A merchant who had learned to fight. Or a martial artist pretending to be a merchant. He stood across from Seoryeong and smiled gently. “A face I have not seen before.”
Seoryeong did not answer. He maintained his smile. “Is this your first time at Heoksongru?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask where you came from?”
Seoryeong looked at him. Where. Cheongseong. But was there a need to say it? There was not. He was asking. His eyes were looking at Mokgeuk, her hair, and her hands. He was trying to measure her name. Trying to measure her worth. Seoryeong said, “From the road.”
The man’s smile stiffened for a very brief moment. It soon softened further. “There is no one who did not come from the road.”
“Yes.”
“Are you perhaps looking for someone?”
Seoryeong took a sip of water. Someone she was looking for. Marenson. But he was dead. Cheolgi had said so. She needed to confirm whether that was true. Seoryeong looked at the man. “Marenson.”
The surrounding sounds grew very slightly quieter. The man’s smile remained the same, but his gaze changed. “Why are you looking for that name?”
“Because he is a hand.”
“Pardon?”
“He was in the middle of the string.”
The man was silent for a moment. He tried to understand Seoryeong’s answer. It seemed he could not. But he was wary. “Marenson died yesterday.”
Seoryeong asked, “Here?”
“Nearby.”
“Where.”
“It is difficult to tell a young guest such things.”
Young. Seoryeong did not dislike the word. But she did not like what hid behind it. Because she was young, she could remain ignorant. Because she was young, she should not ask. Because she was young, it was easy to measure her worth. Seoryeong looked at the man’s hands. Hands wearing a ring. His fingernails were clean. But there were calluses beside his fingers. Hands that had not held brushes much, nor only blades. Hands that existed between the counter and blades. Seoryeong asked, “I cannot be told?”
“It is a dangerous matter.”
“For whom.”
The man’s smile thinned. “For everyone.”
At that moment, Seoryeong’s meat arrived. It was seasoned pork. A sweet and salty smell rose with the hot steam. Seoryeong’s gaze went to the meat for a moment. The man did not miss that opening. “Please eat first. Heoksongru does not keep hungry guests talking for long.”
He tried to withdraw. Seoryeong picked up her chopsticks and said, “I will ask again after I eat.”
The man stopped. And smiled. “As you wish.”
He turned away. Seoryeong ate the meat. It was delicious. Very delicious. It was different from the vegetables, tofu, and porridge she ate at Cheongseong. It was far richer than the soup and rice at the village inn. The seasoning was a little strong, and there was a lot of oil. But it was meat. Seoryeong ate two pieces, then three. Even while eating, her ears remained open. Words flowed.
“She is openly talking about Marenson.”
“Whose child is she?”
“Calling her a child, but her eyes are a bit……”
“They say she is the silver-haired one who came down from Cheongseong.”
“Then is it that child?”
“Shh.”
Rumors were fast. Truly fast. Even though Seoryeong had not spoken her name, people were already attaching a nameless name to her. That child. Silver hair. From Cheongseong. Mokgeuk. The child who broke people. The child who saved a child. Seoryeong chewed the meat. It tasted good. Yet it had cooled a little. It seemed words could change even the taste of meat. Strange.
At that moment, another small commotion arose from the counter. An old porter stood before the counter. His back was bent, and he carried an old cloth bag on his shoulder. The cloth bag was empty. No, nearly empty. Seoryeong turned her head at the sound. The man at the counter was speaking with a smile. “The promised amount is short.”
The old porter rubbed his hands together. “I definitely heard three nyang. You said you would give three nyang if I moved the load.”
“Three nyang is the daytime rate.”
“Daytime rate?”
“Since the load was a nighttime item, a nighttime rate applies.”
The old porter looked at him blankly. “I did not hear such words.”
The man at the counter was still smiling. “Not knowing is not a sin. However, one must pay the price.”
One of the large martial artists who had been in front of the stairs approached quietly. The old porter’s shoulders shrank further. Seoryeong saw that sight. Shoulders. Hands. Feet. The martial artist had not struck yet. The old porter had not been hurt yet. But the air was already being pressed. Was there reason to lift Mokgeuk? Not yet. But there was reason to look. Seoryeong did not rise from her seat. Instead, she said, “How much is short.”
Several gazes inside Heoksongru turned toward Seoryeong. The man at the counter also turned his head. “This is not something a guest needs to concern themselves with.”
“I asked.”
His smile thinned slightly. “Two nyang.”
The old porter hurriedly said, “No, young lady. It is fine. I will manage somehow tomorrow……”
Seoryeong touched her cloth pouch. Travel money. Not much. She also had to pay for the meat. She did not know what else might happen at Heoksongru. Money was preparation. Preparation was also for not spending. Then was spending it here correct? Why spend it. Because the old porter seemed about to be hit? He had not been hit yet. Because he might have been tricked? It was not certain yet. Yet her heart felt uncomfortable. Was this discomfort anger? Or reason? Seoryeong thought for a moment. Cheongseong’s rules existed to protect people. Heoksongru’s rules seemed to exist to protect prices. When those prices stood before people, someone would be pressed. Right now the old porter was being pressed. Seoryeong took out two nyang from her cloth pouch. She was a little worried about the cost of the meat. But she took it out. She did not throw it onto the counter. She quietly placed it there. “Is this enough?”
The man at the counter looked at the coins. Then he looked at Seoryeong. “Will the guest pay in his stead?”
“Yes.”
Seoryeong paused for a moment and added, “This is not ‘yes,’ it is ‘yes’ as in agreement.”
The man at the counter did not understand those words. The old porter did not understand either. But Seoryeong knew. This was not something to answer with courtesy. It was something she had chosen. The man at the counter slowly cleared the coins. “Very well. Heoksongru does not ask further once it receives payment.”
The old porter turned his body toward Seoryeong. “Thank you, young lady. Truly, thank you. This kindness……”
“It is not kindness.”
“Pardon?”
“I was simply uncomfortable.”
The old porter opened his mouth, not knowing what to say. Seoryeong returned to her seat. The meat had cooled a little. Her money had decreased. It was a little regrettable. But strangely, her hand felt light. She could use weight without breaking people. It had been the same when she pushed the cart. Just now had been a little like that too. But it was the first time she had used weight with money. Using strength was not the only way to press. Sometimes money pressed, words pressed, and rules pressed. Then where should strength be used? That question was tougher than the meat. Seoryeong picked up her chopsticks again. Even cold meat was still meat.
At that moment, the old man by the window spoke for the first time. “Has the taste changed?”
Seoryeong looked at the old man. The old man held chopsticks, but his food had barely decreased. His eyes were small and deep. He did not look like a martial artist. But he was not an ordinary old man either. “What has.”
“The taste of the meat.”
Seoryeong looked at the meat for a moment. “A little.”
The old man chuckled. “Words change even the taste of food. That is why merchants speak good words, and swindlers spread bad words.”
Seoryeong blinked. “Are words seasoning?”
“Sometimes they are poison as well.”
Difficult words. But she felt she understood a little. Seoryeong looked at the old man. “Are you measuring worth too?”
The old man laughed. “There are already plenty of people measuring worth. I am old, so my eyes are clouded.”
It was a lie. His eyes were not clouded. Seoryeong thought so. The old man looked at Seoryeong’s Mokgeuk and said, “Heoksongru’s daytime is bright. That is why those who come for the first time feel at ease. But what is seen in daytime is merely the time to choose goods to sell at night.”
Seoryeong stopped her chopsticks. “Sell at night?”
“People, rumors, blades, secrets.”
The old man picked up a small cup. “And names as well.”
Seoryeong thought of the empty wooden plaque. “If I sell my name, does it disappear?”
“It does not disappear. However, your name moves before you in places you do not know.”
Seoryeong disliked those words. Her name moving before her. It felt as if the name became a string. Seoryeong spoke lowly. “My name is mine.”
The old man nodded. “It is so while you think that way.”
Those words were strange too. Seoryeong wanted to ask more, but at that moment other guests entered through Heoksongru’s door. This time it was not a group of merchants. It was three young martial artists. All three wore sashes of the same color, and red cords hung from their scabbards. As soon as they entered, they swept their gazes across Heoksongru. And their eyes stopped on Seoryeong. Silver hair. Mokgeuk. Small frame. The tallest among them raised the corner of his mouth. “Well, rumors are walking around.”
Seoryeong chewed her meat. Rumors were walking. It seemed words now walked like people. He approached close to Seoryeong’s table. The waitstaff tried to stop him but stopped after seeing the man at the counter’s gaze. The tall martial artist looked at Seoryeong’s Mokgeuk and said, “They say you crushed someone’s knee with that?”
Seoryeong did not answer. He came closer. “I wonder if it is true or not. They call you the silver-haired monster of Cheongseong.”
Monster. One name fell onto the table. Seoryeong thought of the empty wooden plaque inside her cloth pouch. Monster. There might be times when that name was correct. There would also be times when it was wrong. But this person was not the one to attach that name. Seoryeong swallowed the meat. “I am eating.”
The martial artist laughed. “A monster that eats. How cute.”
His hand reached for the plate on the table. A hand trying to pick up the meat. Seoryeong’s eyes grew slightly cold. It was meat she had paid for. Her money had already decreased. And meat was important. Just before the martial artist’s fingers touched the meat, Seoryeong’s chopsticks stopped one inch above the back of his hand. They were chopsticks. Not Mokgeuk, not a fist. But that one inch was strangely heavy. The martial artist’s laughter stopped. Seoryeong said, “My meat.”
Someone inside Heoksongru swallowed a laugh. The martial artist’s face reddened. “Who do you think you are.”
“The owner of the meat.”
“That is not what I am asking.”
“I talked about the meat.”
The martial artist’s hand moved toward his blade. Seoryeong put down her chopsticks but did not pick up Mokgeuk. Not yet. His hand headed for the blade but did not draw it. He was simply in a bad mood. He did not intend to kill. Not yet. One of the companions behind the tall martial artist spoke lowly. “Stop. It will be a loss if you cause a commotion before tonight’s board.”
Tonight’s board. Seoryeong’s ears caught those words. The martial artist gritted his teeth but stopped his hand. He glared at Seoryeong and said, “See you at night.”
“Why.”
“You will know if you come to the board.”
“I am not going to the board.”
At those words, the three martial artists laughed simultaneously. “She came all the way here and says that.”
“Once you enter Heoksongru, you are already halfway on the board.”
“There are many who are curious how much your name is worth.”
They laughed and went to another seat. Seoryeong picked up her chopsticks again. She ate one more piece of meat. The taste had cooled a little again. But this time she simply chewed. Meat was not at fault. The old man by the window chuckled lowly. “You held back well.”
“I did not hold back.”
“Then?”
“I protected the meat.”
The old man paused for a moment and then burst into laughter. This time it was a somewhat genuine laugh. “Yes. That must also be an important matter.”
Seoryeong looked at him. “What is the night board.”
The old man’s laughter gradually disappeared. “It might be better not to know.”
“Not knowing is more dangerous.”
The old man put down his cup. “People bet money. People bet people. People bet secrets. Sometimes they even bet their lives. Some fight, some are sold, some gain names, some lose names.”
“Why do it.”
“Because in this place, everything has a price attached.”
“If a price is attached, is everything sold?”
“If there are those who want to sell and those who want to buy.”
Seoryeong did not like it. “People too?”
The old man did not answer. Not answering was the answer. Seoryeong touched Mokgeuk’s handle. A little strength entered her hand. The old man saw it. “Save your strength. Daytime is still only the entrance.”
“Why are you telling me.”
“Old people do not enjoy watching young people break.”
“A lie.”
The old man laughed. “Half of it.”
At that moment, a commotion arose from the second floor. Thud. The sound of something falling. And a short scream. People inside Heoksongru merely raised their heads as if accustomed. The waitstaff did not move. The man at the counter did not move either. Only the two large martial artists in front of the second-floor stairs glanced upward. Seoryeong stopped her chopsticks. A scream. It had been short. A man. It was not the scream of someone drunk. It was a scream of pain. But it was not the sound of dying. Another dull sound rang out. Thud. And someone laughed. “Even in daytime it is like that?”
Seoryeong asked as if talking to herself. A man at a nearby table answered. “It is only this much because it is daytime.”
“What about at night?”
The man did not answer. Cheolgi’s words came to mind. Daytime was a tavern, nighttime was a board. People might not look like people. Seoryeong put down her chopsticks. Was there reason to rise? Someone was being hit on the second floor. She did not know why. The person being hit might be a bad person. The person being hit might owe a debt. The person being hit might have been tricked. She knew nothing. If she did not know, she did not strike immediately. But there was reason to go look. Seoryeong stood up.
The man at the counter immediately said, “Guest, the second floor is only for reserved guests.”
Seoryeong looked at him. “There was a scream.”
“It is a small commotion.”
“It was a sound of pain.”
“Such things are common at Heoksongru.”
Seoryeong did not like those words. Common. Using children as bait might have been common to someone. Recording people in ledgers too. Cutting off fingers and sewing mouths shut too. Seoryeong picked up Mokgeuk. The man at the counter’s eyes narrowed. The two martial artists in front of the stairs turned their bodies. One inch. There was still no reason to strike. Seoryeong lifted Mokgeuk but did not swing it. “I will go look and come back.”
“That cannot be allowed.”
“Why.”
“It is Heoksongru’s rule.”
Rule. There had been rules at Cheongseong too. Do not make noise while eating. Do not handle weapons carelessly. Think of reasons to stop. Those rules had existed to avoid hurting people. What did Heoksongru’s rules exist to protect? Seoryeong asked, “Who does that rule protect?”
The man at the counter’s smile disappeared. Heoksongru grew quiet. The question was simple, but it went straight in. The man spoke lowly. “It seems the guest still does not know the ways of this place.”
“Yes.”
“If you do not know, it is best to follow.”
“Why.”
“If you want to live.”
Those words were a threat. A threat wrapped very gently. Seoryeong felt strength entering the hand holding Mokgeuk. Hands did not lie well. Strength had entered. She was a little angry. And there was curiosity too. She wanted to see what was on the second floor. She was also curious whether strong people were there. It might be related to Marenson’s death. But if she broke something here, Heoksongru’s daytime would immediately become night. An unprepared board would open. Was there reason to strike? Not yet. There was reason to look. But there was still not enough reason to look by force. Seoryeong lowered Mokgeuk slightly. Then someone rolled down from the second-floor stairs. Thud. Thud. Thud. A person rolled down the stairs and fell onto the first-floor floor. It was a young man. Blood stained the corner of his mouth, and one eye was swollen. He held a piece of paper in his hand. He crawled on the floor while gasping for breath. Someone on the stairs said, “Catch him.”
The two large martial artists moved. Seoryeong looked at the young man’s hand. Paper. He did not want to let it go. One martial artist stepped on his wrist. The man screamed. The paper fell from his hand. One side of the paper slid to Seoryeong’s feet. Seoryeong looked down. A black pine tree seal was stamped on the paper. And beneath it was one character Seoryeong could recognize. . Heaven. Seoryeong’s eyes turned cold. One martial artist reached out his hand. “That is Heoksongru property.”
Seoryeong stepped on the paper. The martial artist’s hand stopped. The air inside Heoksongru froze. The man at the counter spoke lowly. “Remove your foot.”
Seoryeong looked at him. “I do not want to.”
“That paper belongs to this place.”
“Heaven is there.”
At those words, the man at the counter’s expression changed for the first time with certainty. It was very brief, but Seoryeong saw it. He was surprised. And afraid. Of the fact that she knew the character for heaven. Or of the fact that she had spoken that character. Seoryeong felt the paper beneath her foot. It was thin. But heavy. Marenson was dead. The character for heaven had come from the incense burner in the small shrine. And now it had also been in the hand of the man who rolled down from Heoksongru’s second floor. A string. This time she could see it. She did not know whether it was the middle or the end of the string. But it was a string. The two martial artists approached Seoryeong. One loosened his wrists, the other grabbed the club at his waist. It was not a blade. But it was a weapon. Seoryeong raised Mokgeuk. One inch ahead. Reason. Had a reason to strike appeared? The opponent had grabbed a weapon first. The paper beneath her foot was a string. The man on the floor was hurt. They were trying to step on him further. There was reason to block. Reason to break? She did not know yet. Seoryeong laid Mokgeuk sideways. It was not a posture for thrusting or striking down. It was a posture for blocking and pushing. A posture she had learned at Cheongseong. One martial artist approached first. “I told you to remove your foot.”
He reached out his hand. Seoryeong did not strike his wrist. She pushed his arm aside with the side of Mokgeuk. Thud. It was a movement that looked light. But the martial artist’s body was pushed greatly to the side. He swallowed a groan as he crashed into a table. The second martial artist drew his club. At that moment, Seoryeong’s Mokgeuk came down one inch in front of his foot. Thud. The floor rang. The martial artist holding the club stopped his foot. Seoryeong said, “If you come closer, I will break you.”
Everyone inside Heoksongru held their breath. That voice was not loud. But it was strangely clear. If you come closer, I will break you. She would not break yet. If a reason appeared, she would strike. That was what it meant. Someone laughed from the stairs. Slow clapping sounds could be heard. Clap. Clap. Clap. Seoryeong raised her head. A man stood at the second-floor railing. He was not young. He was not very old either. His clothes were black. Black pine tree patterns were on his sleeves, and he did not carry a blade at his waist. But Seoryeong now knew a little that people without blades could be more dangerous. That man was laughing. “The silver-haired child from Cheongseong really came.”
Rumors had already gone ahead. Seoryeong looked at the man. “Who are you.”
The man laughed. “The one in charge of Heoksongru’s daytime.”
“Name.”
“Names are expensive.”
Seoryeong frowned. “Is everything expensive here?”
At those words, several people laughed quietly. The man also laughed. “That is right. Very expensive.”
He placed his hand on the railing. “But the paper you are stepping on is more expensive than you think.”
Seoryeong did not remove her foot. “So?”
“If you return it, I will not charge for the meat.”
Seoryeong’s eyes wavered for a very brief moment. The cost of the meat. It had seemed expensive. But no. That was not a reason to strike. That was a word meant to shake her. Seoryeong answered, “I will pay for the meat.”
The man’s laughter deepened slightly. “Then what do you want?”
Seoryeong looked at the paper beneath her foot. The character for heaven. And the young man collapsed on the floor. He was still breathing. His wrist was swollen from being stepped on, but he was not dead. Seoryeong said, “This person.”
The man tilted his head. “That man is a thief.”
The man on the floor spoke in a voice mixed with blood. “No……”
One martial artist tried to kick him. The tip of Seoryeong’s Mokgeuk stopped in front of that martial artist’s knee. The martial artist stopped. The man’s gaze sank slightly. Seoryeong said, “Let him speak.”
“Is there a need to listen to a thief’s words?”
“I will choose.”
The man was silent for a moment. It seemed as if Heoksongru’s daytime had stopped. All eyes in the tavern turned this way. Seoryeong felt those eyes. Eyes measuring worth. Eyes finding amusement. Eyes fearing. Eyes anticipating. Blades had not been drawn yet. But the board was already open. Even in daytime. The man finally said, “Very well. Let him speak.”
When he gestured, the martial artists withdrew. Seoryeong moved her foot slightly to keep the paper beneath her and looked at the young man on the floor. “Speak.”
The young man gasped for breath. Blood from the corner of his mouth fell to the floor. “Marenson…… is not dead.”
Seoryeong’s eyes turned cold. The air inside Heoksongru shook. The man on the second floor also stopped laughing for the first time. The young man spoke in a trembling voice. “What died…… was someone else dressed as Marenson.”
He pointed with his broken-fingered hand at the paper beneath Seoryeong’s foot. “The real Marenson…… will appear at tonight’s board.”
The moment those words fell, Heoksongru’s daytime became completely silent. Seoryeong looked down at the paper beneath her foot. The character for heaven. The black pine tree seal. And night. Do not enter at night. Cheolgi’s warning came to mind again. Daytime was a tavern, nighttime was a board. People might not look like people. Seoryeong felt strength entering the hand holding Mokgeuk. Hands did not lie well. Her hand was speaking now. The board would open. The real hand would appear. And she would choose. Whether to stop. Whether to strike. Or whether to go one inch deeper.