The Art of the Con
At Seoryeong's words, both Myeong-do and the innkeeper's wife froze, their expressions hardening.
"What on earth are you saying…"
Trembling, the woman's face flooded with rage.
Myeong-do set the spoon he was holding down on the table with a loud clang.
"Pray pay no heed to my wife's words, and calm your heart—"
"For a village of this size, there are far too few travelers coming and going. And I've noticed several guests stealing glances at us since we arrived."
Seoryeong leaned back casually, meeting the eyes of the men around the room one by one.
Several who locked gazes with her coughed awkwardly and melted away into the background.
"A village far too insular for its tavern to be thriving, in other words. Now that this place has soured on us, where else would we go to make inquiries? Hm. We'll need to reach a decision before the weather turns warm, I suppose. Hmmm."
There was something in Seoryeong's words that made people curious in spite of themselves. Before the innkeeper's wife even realized it, the anger that had been burning red across her face had given way to intrigue.
"What do you mean, sir?"
"I've been searching for a village where my beloved younger sister might convalesce. Clean water, fresh air—and safety would be even better. And this place fits the bill perfectly, wouldn't you say? Coming here on a scouting trip with my brother-in-law was well worth the effort."
"Oh my goodness! Is that really true?"
"Of course it is. You've no idea how dearly my sister is cherished in our household. Do you know what my father said to me?"
Seoryeong beckoned the woman closer. At that sly, knowing expression, the innkeeper's wife found herself leaning in without thinking, bringing her ear close to Seoryeong's lips.
"He told me, firmly and without room for argument—no matter how remote the mountain village, I was to make absolutely certain the environment was well suited to her comfort!"
"If it's about creating the right environment…"
She was only speaking, but these guests were, at a glance, wealthy gentry in expensive clothes.
The mere fact that people of such means had set foot in this village deep in the mountains was enough to change the look in the innkeeper's wife's eyes entirely.
"Well, I'll come out with it. My father is a merchant who finds even Yeomhoguk too cramped for his ambitions—he travels from country to country multiplying his fortune. If only his daughter can be comfortable, he would not hesitate to establish an entirely new market here."
"Goodness gracious! Why, I never…!"
It stood to reason that the more merchants frequented a place, the more its tavern flourished. Somewhere along the way, the innkeeper's wife had begun to see the slender man before her as a noble benefactor who would bring money flooding to her doorstep.
Seoryeong puffed herself up like a man who loved to sing his own praises, and carried on.
"Silk for my sister's gowns, of course. Books to amuse her idle hours. Precious jewels brought from across the sea, and medicinal herbs good for the body besides."
By now the innkeeper's wife had drawn so close she was practically pressed against Seoryeong. Seoryeong reached out and patted her shoulder.
"But if we're bringing all that anyway, what kind of man would I be to fetch only a whisker's worth for my sister's share? The merchants will need guards traveling alongside them, so loading up entire wagonloads is only sensible, is it not!"
"Of course, of course it is!"
"So the business talks with my father are all wrapped up, and all that remains is to settle on a location, and yet… Hmmm."
Seoryeong let the words hang for a moment, then slowly shook her head.
"The people here are just far too wary of outsiders, it seems. No choice but to pass, then. The gukbap here was truly superb and it tugs at my heart, but what can one do."
Seoryeong slipped her feet back into the shoes she'd kicked off, as though her business here were finished.
"The water's good and the air is clean, so the villages nearby should be much the same. Yes. It would be best to settle there instead."
It was the innkeeper's wife whose heart churned at that breezy air of having no regrets whatsoever.
"Let's go, brother-in-law."
Seoryeong clapped Myeong-do's shoulder with perfunctory pats.
"…"
Myeong-do stared blankly at the woman before him, utterly transfixed by a con job flowing as smoothly as water, leaving no opening to intercede.
Perhaps his dazed look irritated her—Seoryeong pressed her palm firmly into his shoulder, digging in.
"No, wait, young master! Don't be hasty now—just think it over a little longer, hm?"
"I had hoped to let my sister taste this exceptional gukbap as well, but what a shame it turned out this way. Well then, stay well."
"Our villagers were never this closed-off by nature, I assure you! And things will return to normal before long, truly. So then—of course they will!"
"Back to normal? Which is to say, things were markedly different before?"
The innkeeper's wife walked straight into Seoryeong's guided questioning. She glanced around briefly, confirmed only the three of them were present, and opened her mouth hesitantly.
"Well, yes. You see, the eldest son of Tutor Choi's household has finally come to his senses."
The first thread in the strange affair enveloping this village had begun to unravel.
Just as Myeong-do's eyes sharpened with intent—
"This sounds like it may take some time. Bring another bowl. I intend to hear this story out in full."
Seoryeong, who had risen to her feet facing the woman, settled back into her seat.
"…What?"
Myeong-do's brow furrowed, as if to ask whether he'd heard correctly. The innkeeper's wife clapped her palms together with a bright, cheerful slap.
"Oh my, look at my head! Of course, of course!"
Watching her hurry off toward the kitchen, Seoryeong allowed the corners of her mouth to curl upward. One way or another, she'd succeeded in getting a second bowl.
The shoot continued. Today they would film all the tavern scenes in one go, sneak into Tutor Choi's house at nightfall, and tomorrow they'd pull a scene forward to shoot the move to his residence.
No wonder everyone's heads are spinning—yet they're all doing brilliantly.
A contented warmth spread across Director Jjang's face as he held the megaphone. Kwon Jun-hyeok, playing Myeong-do, was keeping pace with particular dedication.
Ever since the acting retreat, Myeong-do's vividness had transformed.
"Um, Director…?"
"What is it, Jun-hyeok? Something on your mind?"
"I've tried interpreting the character in my own way, and I was hoping you might hear me out…."
Jun-hyeok's ingrained diligence, bred from his long trainee days, played its part too.
Before his scenes were to be shot, Kwon Jun-hyeok had sought out Director Jjang. The script clutched in his scarred, callused hands was tattered at the edges from being thumbed through so many times.
"I was thinking—instead of facial expressions, what if I used the angle of my head…?"
"Head angle?"
"Yes. Rather than widening my eyes or biting my lip, I'd keep my head tilted down as a baseline, then, matching my scene partner's movements, turn my head to the side, lift only my eyes, or bow it even deeper…"
Somewhere along the way, Jun-hyeok's Myeong-do had edged toward perfection.
"Myeong-do serves a lord he reveres, and as a royal inspector, his fundamental posture leans far more toward a bowed head, I think. Portrayal through action might suit him better than portrayal through expression…"
"Yes! Jun-hyeok, that's brilliant! That's exactly what I've been thinking—Myeong-do is all about the action!"
He had spoken hesitantly, unsure of himself, but Jun-hyeok's judgment was sound. Even without working a single facial muscle, the audience would grasp precisely what kind of man Myeong-do was.
In Myeong-do's gestures leaked the faintest trace of his inner feeling—that he had no wish to associate with a swindler who so expertly fleeced the innkeeper's wife.
Myeong-do angled his body and head slightly to the side opposite Seoryeong.
Seoryeong paid him no mind whatsoever, lifting her spoon again and devoting herself to her gukbap. Thanks to the con, jokpyeon—the boiled beef—had appeared on the table unbidden this time.
"So. What happened at Tutor Choi's house? For a man holding no high office, he clearly commanded the village's reverence—he must have earned considerable respect."
"Ah, he did indeed. He even taught us lowborn folk to write our own names. Heaven is cruel, taking such a man from us so soon…"
Myeong-do's gaze slowly fixed on the innkeeper's wife. Whatever else might be said, Seoryeong's methods were always the shortest path. The reason behind the strange atmosphere shrouding this village was coming to light.
"So Tutor Choi was that exemplary a man, was he. And the eldest son—what of him?"
Seoryeong carried the conversation on with the calm of someone who had no aim at all. The innkeeper's wife shook her head softly.
"You know the saying—a father's son, after all. He neglected his studies, and no matter how he was taught, his naturally violent temperament would never soften."
Perhaps even mentioning the eldest son was uncomfortable; the woman rested her forehead against one hand for a moment. He must truly have been a burden on her mind.
"With Tutor Choi passing so early, the boy lorded his wickedness not only over the servants but even over the mistress herself—our worry was no small thing. Every one of us owed the tutor kindnesses great and small, so the madam's sorrow was our own."
Without anyone noticing, the conversation had turned heavy. What had begun as lighthearted village talk had shifted into Tutor Choi's family affairs.
Yet Seoryeong merely nodded along vaguely, picking up pieces of jokpyeon and eating them.
"I thought it only right to protect the tutor's honor, you see. Fail the civil examination once, twice, again and again—and then the tutor's eldest son, forever off drinking in the pleasure houses—such rumors spreading far and wide would do no one any good…"
Only now did the village's closed-off air make sense. In the world of the gentry, word of Tutor Choi's household would have traveled even faster—which was why they had eyed Seoryeong and Myeong-do with such suspicion.
"But things have truly changed now, it seems. If you can open up to me like this."
"Of course! He's become an entirely new person, I tell you!"
An entirely new person.
At those words, Seoryeong smiled, holding the woman's gaze.
"How so?"
"There's no one kinder to the madam than he is now. There's nothing he doesn't know about the running of the household! I suppose even when he was living like a wastrel, some part of him cared deep down?"
As the innkeeper's wife chattered away, laughing brightly, Seoryeong's expression turned grave. It was the look of a cat watching a mouse caught fast in its trap.
"And he works so hard, too—up before dawn to sweep the grounds, and he used to overturn the table day after day complaining the food ruined his appetite, but now he eats anything set before him without complaint…"
"If he's become such a fine man, then before, he must have been staggeringly lazy instead."
Seoryeong pretended to consider for a moment, then tossed out a question.
"Perhaps he didn't even trim his own nails?"
"That's right! Gorging on rich meat and wine and sleeping the days away, he'd grown so fat his belly hid his feet. When he passed out drunk, the madam herself would trim his nails for him. How on earth did you know?"
"I've seen my fill of pathetic men like that. Traveling from country to country, I've learned that useless sons of nobles can't do a single thing with their own two hands! And what cowards they all are—one look at a cat and they shake like leaves."
By now Seoryeong had abandoned her meal entirely, absorbed in the woman's story. Pretending to sympathize, she began to burrow toward the heart of the matter.
"Is Tutor Choi's eldest son the same way?"
"If he merely feared beasts, we'd count ourselves lucky. Dogs, cats, it made no difference—the moment anything crossed his eyes wrong, he'd go around kicking them, hard as he could."
Waving her hand at Seoryeong's question, the innkeeper's wife burst into laughter. Then, somehow, her eyes had gone damp, and she pressed them dry against the ties of her jacket.
"It's such a blessing he's come to his senses now. Truly…"
Her care for Tutor Choi's household rang with genuine feeling.
"Tutor Choi must be watching over you all from heaven."
Seoryeong didn't answer right away, instead meeting Myeong-do's eyes. He too sensed at once that the situation was far from ordinary.
It wasn't any divine insight like Seoryeong's—it was the cold reason of a royal inspector that told him so.