The Treasure Map - 8

Urrung—KWAANG!

Thunder cracked, lightning split the sky, and the rain came hammering down in sheets, yet Moon Sung-il had raced all the way to Ugok-ri without a single pause.

Droplets of water rolled off the fine silk-and-cashmere suit he was wearing, pattering onto the floor in fat beads.

"Watch your step, sir. The paving stones are slippery."

His driver-cum-secretary, who had chauffeured him all the way here, spoke up as he walked alongside holding an umbrella ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over him.

"Secretary Yoon, see me to the front door, then book yourself a room somewhere and get some rest. You've worked hard."

Moon Sung-il held out his card, and Secretary Yoon accepted it with both hands.

"I'll come back for you tomorrow morning."

"Good."

I had been waiting at the entrance, and now stepped forward to greet him.

"You really didn't have to push through the night to get here."

"It seemed like a matter that required urgent movement, so I could hardly drag my feet. I've had a few glasses of champagne, so I'll probably reek of it—though my head is perfectly clear."

He had evidently been in the middle of an important gathering when my call came, and had bolted straight here afterward.

That was how much he trusted my word—and knowing it made my heart feel that much steadier.

"Shall I make you a strong cup of coffee?"

"Please."

I guided Moon Sung-il to the sofa and headed for the kitchen.

What would suit Moon Sung-il's discerning palate?

I surveyed the coffee beans lined up on the shelf.

"I have some Sumatra Mandheling—would that be acceptable?"

"That happens to be a coffee I'm extremely fond of."

Moon Sung-il's eyebrows shot upward. The look on his face clearly asked, You have that here?

Of course I do. I'm planning to start a coffee business, after all.

As it happened, I had a batch of Sumatra Mandheling freshly roasted. Four days out from the roast—the precise window when it tasted its best.

Beans grown in the Mandheling region of northern Sumatra are hulled while still wet and then dried. Skip that step, and mold takes hold. But hulling them damp like this lets microorganisms flourish, and it is precisely that which gives the coffee its signature earthy aroma and deep, weighty body—along with a whisper of chocolate once roasted.

I ground the dark, umber beans of a dark roast and brewed them as espresso, because that was the only way to draw out the very best of their flavor.

I poured the coffee into an espresso cup and carried it out with a pitcher of warm water. I set a mug on the tray too, in case he preferred to dilute it into an americano.

Moon Sung-il tipped the espresso straight back into his mouth.

"Mmm... ha, honestly. This coffee is incredible."

A man who knew how to appreciate his espresso.

The moment Moon Sung-il took that sip, the fatigue of the mad rush here seemed to melt clean off his face.

"Could I trouble you for another cup?"

I'd anticipated as much, which was why I'd brewed generously.

As I refilled his empty cup, I spoke.

"Don't overdo it, though. The story you're about to hear from me may well cost you several nights of sleep on its own."

"Cost me sleep?"

A flicker of unease crossed Moon Sung-il's face.

"C-could it be... the place where the gold is hidden—did a g-ghost tell you about it? Or some evil spirit, something like that?"

Moon Sung-il, who had once been on the receiving end of Lady Wolyeong's wrath, scooted his seat closer to me as he asked.

"I-it isn't here right now, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is it?"

He turned his head toward the corner where Abe was sitting, found nothing there, and began glancing nervously around the room. He could clearly feel something chilling in the air, but he seemed to be gritting his teeth and holding himself together rather than fly into a panic.

I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

"When I said you might lose sleep, it isn't because of a ghost. It's because of what people did—something so monstrous it will keep you up at night."

"What did someone do?"

Was the caffeine in my lovingly brewed Sumatra Mandheling beginning to work its magic? The champagne haze had lifted from Moon Sung-il's eyes, and now they gleamed bright and sharp.

"Let's begin with Shoichi's letter."

"Shoichi?"

I nodded and pulled up a copy of the letter.

"That's right. Finding the gold means assembling a puzzle."

All I had told Moon Sung-il on the phone was to ask whether he had any interest in gold hidden by Japanese invaders during the Imjin War—and that I knew where it was. Now I had to show him a deduction so airtight, so complete, that he would be fully convinced.

Only then would Moon Sung-il step forward actively to clear the names of Yongsoo and the people of Ugok 5-ri who had died so unjustly.

Let's see now.

Would he follow along easily if I walked him through the reasoning from here?

I began reading down the letter.

"'At Hamgyong Province, Lord Kato's adjutant, Tachibana, came down and joined my unit.'"

"Lord Kato?"

"Yes. It's the notorious Kato Kiyomasa, addressed with the honorific tono. That was how samurai of the Sengoku era addressed their liege lord."

Kato Kiyomasa. The thieving wretch who hunted tigers in Hamgyong Province and plundered anything of value, shipping it all back home.

"Why Shoichi singled out Tachibana in particular—I'll explain later."

I cleared my throat and resumed reading.

"'I was garrisoned at Cheollyeong, and I am now heading south to load supplies bound for our homeland onto ships—supplies carried on wagons drawn by six horses, traveling along the river of wolves.'"

"Cheollyeong—that's the pass Kato crossed during his northern advance into Hamgyong Province during the Imjin War, isn't it? I remember seeing it mentioned in historical records."

"You know it precisely."

Cheollyeong lies on North Korean soil today—a pass between Hoeyang in Gangwon Province and Yeonbyeon in South Hamgyong Province.

Moon Sung-il spoke up.

"The ryeong in Cheollyeong simply means 'pass,' but given that it divided Gangwon and Hamgyong Provinces, it must have sat at the spine of a very high mountain range. And it would have been a position of great strategic importance."

I agreed. After all, when we draw administrative borders, we typically follow great rivers or towering mountains.

"In my view, Cheollyeong served as the Japanese army's base camp. It sits more or less at our nation's throat. Kato would have garrisoned his troops there and funneled his plunder home through Tachibana."

I turned my phone's screen so Moon Sung-il could see Shoichi's letter, and recited the passage I had already committed to memory.

"'Wagons drawn by six horses... along the river of wolves... I am heading south to load supplies bound for our homeland onto ships.'"

The vision I had seen when I first touched Shoichi's letter: six warhorses hauling a wagon, and that wagon heaped full of gold. The wheels had been buckling under the sheer weight.

"The Japanese army shipped in all of their supplies by sea, so warhorses were precious. What's more, the moment the Japanese invaded, the Joseon army fled beyond the castle walls, driving off the horses and hauling away every weapon they could carry."

When an enemy invaded Europe, the defenders barred the castle gates and fought a siege. Here, the moment an enemy crossed the border, we burned the grain, grabbed the horses and weapons, and ran first.

The records of the Imjin War noted how utterly bewildered the Japanese soldiers were—the castles had been emptied to the last stone. There was even an account of them celebrating wildly, boasting they had won without spilling a single drop of blood.

Except that wasn't the whole story.

The moment the invaders settled complacently inside the captured fortresses, the righteous armies and the monk-soldiers would gather and strike without warning.

Why fight that way?

Because we were desperately short of supplies and fighting men alike.

Worst of all, during the Imjin War the king himself was the first to flee, so the government army simply bolted after him.

The reason I'm dredging all this up now is precisely because Shoichi wrote six horses.

Joseon's warhorses had already been carried off by the fleeing government army the moment the castles were surrendered, and only the general commanding a unit was permitted to ride a Japanese warhorse. And yet six of those precious animals had been harnessed to pull a single wagon?

Shoichi's younger brother, reading those lines, was hardly going to think his elder brother was bragging about his wagon. No—the only possible meaning was that something of staggering importance was being hauled inside it.

Having heard my explanation, Moon Sung-il spoke.

"So the gold was loaded on that wagon."

"Yes. And then there's this—'along ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the river of wolves.' That's the hint."

"The river of wolves."

"Yes. It refers to the Nangcheon—the Wolf River."

To reach Cheollyeong from Gangwon Province, one had to pass through Inje, Yanggu, Hwacheon, and Cheolwon—and the only waterway you could call a "river of wolves" was Hwacheon, which in the Joseon era bore the name Nangcheon.

"Notice how he names the pass plainly as Cheollyeong, yet calls Hwacheon 'the river of wolves.' It's a kind of secret code."

Tension crept into Moon Sung-il, who straightened his spine and asked:

"You're saying Hwacheon was called Nangcheon during the Joseon era?"

"That's what my research turned up. It was known as Nangcheon from the days of Taejo, founder of Goryeo, until late in the Joseon dynasty, when King Gojong replaced the character with the hwa meaning 'to shine,' renaming it Hwacheon."

"If your deduction is right, Kim Seonsaeng-nim, then the gold Kato Kiyomasa plundered is hidden in Hwacheon?"

"That's right."

I smiled faintly and added:

"But did you know? Hwacheon is home to the Peace Dam, built during the Chun Doo-hwan regime under the pretext of guarding against North Korean flooding."

"Ah—the great national scam!"

"Exactly. Everyone from snotty-nosed children to elders leaning on canes donated to the fund."

The Peace Dam incident: sensationalized reports claimed North Korea was going to drown South Korea under a flood, whipping the public into a panic. The real aim was to keep the people from opposing the Chun Doo-hwan dictatorship.

Citizens smashed open their piggy banks to give; corporations were forced to pay allotted donations of up to a billion won apiece. Civil servants, treating the money as untraceable, embezzled from the fund, and suspicions arose that the construction costs had been inflated as well.

In any case, the Peace Dam was completed and is used for flood control to this day.

Here's the problem.

"The dam's creation flooded an entire region. They even built an artificial lake called Paroho."

"Then the landscape of Hwacheon changed so much—surely this drawing is useless now?"

He meant the illustration at the very end of Shoichi's letter. No one had ever understood what it depicted. Now, thanks to me, it had been revealed as a treasure map—but with the dam and reservoir transforming Hwacheon's terrain...

"You may worry that the treasure map has been rendered worthless. But even as the waters rose, the mountains never moved."

I continued with an air of easy confidence.

"The answer is right there in the greeting at the very top of the letter."

I scrolled through the album on my phone and brought up the first page of Shoichi's letter.

Up to that point, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠letter carried the bitterness and heartache of a samurai conscripted into a war he never wanted.

And then, on the very next line, came a strange passage of landscape-gazing.

I paused my reading and smiled.

"A pavilion. The Big Dipper. To climb. Put those three together and you arrive at a pavilion called Chilseongru—the Pavilion of the Seven Stars. I have confirmed that a Chilseongru once stood in Hwacheon: a pavilion from which one could watch the Big Dipper."

"H-how is this possible!"

Moon Sung-il was trembling outright, shudders of sheer thrill running through him.

"Kim Seonsaeng-nim, you are without question a genius. To my ears, that passage sounded like mere self-pity—but reading it again now..."

Moon Sung-il all but snatched my phone from my hand, murmuring as he read the passage over and over.

After a moment, he jerked his head up, eyes blazing, and looked straight at me.

"The handwriting changes, too. Here, here, and here!"

You're only just now noticing that?

I laughed and answered.

"Exactly. He seems to have written it in alternating hands on purpose—so that whoever read it would be made to look twice."

"Then tomorrow, first thing, we go to Hwacheon and buy up the land around Chilseongru. These days you can scan the ground with ultrasound, so we'll have the hidden treasure in no time."

"No! That is absolutely not how we'll find it."

What had I said at the very beginning?

I told you, didn't I—there'd be no sleeping tonight.

I took a sip of the mild americano I'd set aside for myself and spoke.

"Onmyoji."

Abe, who had been nodding off, snapped his head up and looked at me.

Feeling that gaze on me, I went on.

"Tachibana—the adjutant of Kato's who joined Shoichi at Cheollyeong—was an onmyoji."