The Girl of Soyang River (3)
A mature couple was not made of people who never got angry at each other, but of people who held onto tolerance and understanding even when they did.
So it was true that Taesu was angry.
He simply had no intention of taking that anger out on Cha Un-hong. This wasn’t something she had caused.
But if anyone thought he would just swallow it down inside, they clearly didn’t know Park Dokki. Of course he wasn’t that kind of man.
That very evening, Taesu went to the shaman’s house on Bonguisan that Late-deok had told him about.
Bonguisan was Chuncheon’s main mountain.
Along with Soyang River, it was one of the city’s defining landmarks.
In a twenty-first-century children’s adaptation, the dutiful daughter U-rye would find wild ginseng on Bonguisan and get her happy ending without ever needing to go near some tomb mound.
And Taesu intended to give this story an axe ending.
Tell the mountain spirit to close his eyes for a bit.
After hearing the situation, the mountain deity answered cheerfully.
He doesn’t have any divine backing. Even the Bonguisan spirit gave him up, so go ahead and beat him senseless.
Taesu did exactly that.
The military boot of stern, unsanctioned-medical enforcement shattered the door to the shrine into splinters.
“W-who are you!”
The Bonguisan shaman, who had been counting money, jerked her head up in a panic. She was the stereotype made flesh: an old woman through and through.
Beating up the visibly weak ran against Taesu’s policy, but people occasionally got angry enough to do things they normally wouldn’t.
He kicked over the low table in the middle of the shrine. It flew into her face, and the shaman instantly spat blood and went sprawling.
He had held back hard enough to avoid killing her on the spot; if he hit with full force, she would die for sure. Taesu grabbed her by the head and hauled her up.
“How many. Who are they?”
It was a question with almost all its flesh stripped away, down to the bones.
Cha Un-hong thought the shaman could never answer. Honestly, it almost seemed like he had asked just so he could hit her once more.
But Cha Un-hong was wrong.
“T-three of them! They said they’d send quick-footed men who’d done some tracking in Seoul. Each of them’s carrying a blade!”
It was enough to make the mountain god’s claim that he had no divine backing sound doubtful.
“How were they going to know?”
Again, it was an out-of-nowhere, toneless question, and Cha Un-hong had to think for a moment.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to think long.
The swordsmen couldn’t simply wait on Bonguisan forever like hermits living off the mountain. There had to be some way to let them know when Late-deok came climbing up.
It couldn’t be complicated. However they handled it, this shaman would just meet them and pass the message along. Now that she’s been turned into that much of a mess, what then?
Even if the shaman clammed up under Taesu’s threat, the trackers would sense that something was wrong and take action.
That was when Cha Un-hong felt it: a strange dissonance.
The shaman was not answering quickly enough.
And just as Taesu raised his fist, the painted image of the deity at the back of the shrine suddenly exploded into pieces.
“Of course we were planning to leave here after waiting, you bastard!”
Along with the shout, a man burst out holding a hwando.
Taesu was still gripping the shaman with one hand.
And the swordsman had come from Taesu’s left rear.
It was a perfect ambush. By the time Taesu turned, the blade was already at his throat.
* * *
Even as he stamped down in a burst for the leap, Ikkyu could not shake the feeling that something had become something he no longer possessed.
As a seasoned martial artist, Ikkyu knew it. Before he could throw himself in, Park Dokki would clearly be stabbed first.
Unless he had known in advance, it could only happen that way.
Fortunately, there was someone here who had known in advance.
“Yaaah!”
Cha Un-hong had already picked up a candlestick from the moment the shaman failed to answer.
So the candlestick she hurled struck the swordsman at a truly hair’s-breadth moment.
“Y-you insolent—!”
The blade grazed Taesu.
And at the same instant, the stone-chapter strike Ikkyu sent stabbing out pierced the swordsman through and through.
“Daewangsaeng—!”
That lightning-fast straight line was the very road of the Buddha, with no forks in it.
The swordsman died a daewangsaeng death on the spot. When a hole big enough for two human fists opened in a man’s chest, there was nowhere for him to go but paradise.
Taesu looked at the blood running from his shoulder.
He had no choice but to say a line he had heard somewhere before.
So you’ve wounded me?
But it was true.
Until now, the only thing that had ever injured Taesu had been the aftereffects of the French frigate Erigon’s cannon fire.
Beyond that, the only person who had ever made him feel death breathing down his neck was Ikkyu beside him. As for sashimi, Taesu thought the issue there had been more about equipment compatibility.
Taesu had let his guard down, yes, but that only meant these men were no pushovers.
First, he looked back at Ikkyu and Cha Un-hong.
“Thanks.”
“Hmph! Good thing I brought you along, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. Good call.”
Taesu smiled faintly at that, then lifted the still-gripped shaman and smashed her head-first into the floor.
CRACK! The floor split open, and the shaman convulsed as she was driven down into it, her limbs twitching.
He says it’s fine if they’re moonlighting?
He says that as long as someone occasionally passes along the words he needs to say to the mortal world, it’s enough. Come to think of it, for that to work, he figures it’d be better to have someone with a bit of standing among humans, so Lee Jin-hong would be a good companion. What a worldly bastard.
Taesu thought even the Bonguisan mountain spirit would never be lonely.
Then he looked around.
“You said there were three. Come out.”
The shrine had already become a sort of open café, so there wasn’t much left to hide behind.
Two men revealed themselves.
One was nearly as large as Taesu, and the other had a knife scar across his cheek.
The one with the scar seemed to be the leader. He twitched his brow in surprise and said, “Are you perhaps Park Dokki?”
“You know me?”
“Hah, you really are exactly as the rumors say, a mad dog from the mouth out. We haven’t met before, but I’ve heard your name.”
“You got business with me? You weren’t here to catch this woman?”
“That too, but you don’t think I, Park Seong-ok, came all the way out to this backwater just to grab some lowly maid, do you?”
Under normal circumstances, this would be the point where the story had to shout, What? That Park Seong-ok? But everyone in the shrine just had question marks floating over their heads.
One being was a little different, though.
* * *
CASE NO:[Case Number]
VICTIM:[Name / Unidentified]
LOCATION:[Location]
TIME:[Date/Time]
The opponent in question was Park Seong-ok, servant to Heungin-gun. The rest of the case files are true, except for the facial knife scar and the secret burial on Ganghwa Island’s Namsan.
He had been one of the notorious street thugs of Hanseong.
Filed by: Mountain Spirit
Oh. Is that maybe Park Seong-ok, servant to Heungin-gun, Yi Choe-eung’s brother? A famous Hanseong ruffian, isn’t he?
Heungin-gun? So that’s Heungseon-gun’s brother?
That’s right. You know him too?
Once Taesu realized it really was him, he fell silent.
The Lee brothers are both a pair of lunatics.
In truth, there were four brothers, so they were more like the Lee-eeee brothers.
About three or four years before you showed up. That Park Seong-ok created debt at a gambling den, slapped it onto an official in the Office of the Royal Kitchen, then filed a lawsuit because they wouldn’t pay it back. Since it was an illegal debt, the Ministry of Justice turned around and exiled him instead.
Something felt off. In Joseon justice, there was no way a verdict like that would ever be handed down so cleanly.
Then why is he here? Was he exiled to Chuncheon?
No. An enraged Heungin-gun personally had the two Office of the Royal Kitchen officials who were Park Seong-ok’s opponents seized, beaten, and left half-dead. The Vice Minister of Justice probably even wrote a memorial saying, “Is this a country or what?” Naturally, Park Seong-ok’s exile got swept under the rug too.
Now that was Joseon. Taesu felt reassured.
So Choe-eung is that strong? Judging from the state of Heungseon, it doesn’t seem like Choe-eung would have much power either.
Compared to a power family like Kim Jwa-geun’s, of course not. A swindler who lives at gambling halls or a petty clerk from the Office of the Royal Kitchen wouldn’t even dare lift their heads.
Wait. How do you know Choe-eung so well, then? You didn’t even know Heungseon.
To a modern eye, Yi Ha-eung seemed like the far more famous one, too.
Taesu briefly wondered if it was just a case of birds of a feather, but there was another reason.
Back then, Park Seong-ok and his gang, in revenge for that “wrongful lawsuit,” went around demolishing the homes of low-ranking Ministry of Justice clerks and Office of the Royal Kitchen underlings. And by mistake, they buried one of the people they killed in secret on Ganghwa Island’s Namsan.
You just let that happen?
You haven’t even had a divine punishment fall on you, so what do you think would happen to other people?
The mountain spirit, as always, was itching Taesu for a reaction, then said with a meaningful tone:
If a god appeared before every crime, judged it, and punished it himself, don’t you think the world would fall apart?
That was true. Just as Taesu had thought many times while looking at Joseon, it was obvious what happened when a government with overwhelming power came down to the same level as the people and used that power only to satisfy its own desires.
That makes sense. But what about the king? Didn’t he cover for him because they’re relatives?
No monarch could allow that. The Chief State Councilor pressed the matter hard, and his noble title was stripped away.
Seriously?
Seriously. Ah, right—after about half a month? Before the month was over, he was back to being Heungin-gun by oral royal order.
Now that was Joseon. Taesu felt reassured a second time.
Reassured enough to think he could kill them now.
* * *
Because his conversation with the mountain spirit took place in his head, it was far faster than speech.
So Park Seong-ok had only been able to conclude that Park Dokki had hesitated for a moment at hearing his name.
He wondered if he had revealed himself for nothing.
From Park Seong-ok’s perspective, it would be troublesome if Park Dokki, cowed by his presence, ran away. He’d gone to the trouble of making sure he didn’t have to search all of Gangwon Province after all.
So he launched into an unavoidable explanation. It was to tell them that running would be useless.
“In Central Hanseong, there wasn’t a man who could fail to repay this old man’s gambling debt and keep his hand intact. Don’t go tearing around and throw your life away before your time.”
Then he pointed his chin at the only person here who was genuinely frightened: Late-deok.
“Anyway, I was looking to grab that maid and maybe find Park Dokki, but now fortune has rolled in like a whole pumpkin vine.”
Originally, chuno was not the name of a profession. It was the name of a job.
There was no such thing as a specialized operator whose only work was hunting runaways, like in the dramas. If a company took on the business of collecting debt, it had to take the work first and sort out the details later, or it would never eat.
Most often, chuno was handled by the family or companions of the fleeing slave, forced into the role by the master, or by shadow-world contractors who handled debt collection along with the pursuit.
Park Seong-ok had come for exactly that reason.
The runaway slave hunt was the side objective.
Finding Park Dokki was the real job.
Cha Un-hong and Ikkyu now understood that this was no longer someone else’s problem.
Park Seong-ok naturally drew his sword. At that, the burly subordinate blocked the retreat.
Of course Taesu had no intention of retreating in the first place, so he didn’t even look back.
But Park Seong-ok seemed to mistake that for fear, for proof that Taesu was frozen in place.
“I hear you’ve been making some noise lately. Since you can’t handle the people of the Jo-gang—no, the confluence of the Imjin and Han Rivers near Ganghwa—you’ve been wandering the outskirts and picking up scraps, huh?”
Cha Un-hong muttered in a low voice.
“So he came on Kang Sang’s money. Your foresight wasn’t wrong, after all.”
Even if they had not met because Taesu was too fast, there was no way Kang Sang would not have gone looking for Park Dokki after the survival-king incident in Gangjin.
And the Namcho guesthouse was one of Kang Sang’s partner firms. It had sent Park Seong-ok on the original client’s request.
Probably Park Seong-ok spent the last three or four years outside the capital, dealing with the Namcho guesthouse on the Han River and handling all sorts of dirty work. He’d also have to offer “tribute money” to Heungin-gun.
The master’s face may have lost some dignity, but that didn’t make life easy for Park Seong-ok either.
It’s kind of like a hitman causing trouble, fleeing to Primorye, laying low by running voice phishing jobs until the heat dies down, then coming back.
I don’t know what that means, but weirdly enough I do understand it. Roughly, yes, it’s similar.
The Namcho guesthouse had passed on Kang Sang’s request to find the Park Dokki who had come to Gangwon Province, and tacked on their own runaway-slave contract for Late-deok as a bonus.
Honestly, as Park Seong-ok had said, mobilizing three grown men just to sell off one maid was poor value for money. That was why chuno could never quite become a truly professional occupation.
But why is Kang Sang looking for me? If he wants to crush me, wouldn’t it be more effective to load a few hundred men onto Kang Sang’s fleet and smash into Ganghwa Island?
That was the sort of thing a warlord like Taesu would think of, not a merchant.
Even if Kang Sang was formidable, he was only formidable compared to the Joseon army. Large-scale battles were not his specialty.
Besides, very few people knew that Ganghwa Island, the Promised Land, and Gaeseong Cha Un-hong were not separate facts at all, but all parts of a single military power.
But the mountain spirit didn’t have time to explain any of that.
Dodge!
Park Seong-ok thrust his hwando forward in a flash.
But this time, Taesu had prepared too.
Compared to sashimi, this guy’s an amateur.
If Katsu Kaishu had heard that, he would have snapped in offense at being compared with some butchered street-sword punk instead of orthodox old-school kenjutsu, but for Taesu it was a welcome development.
He flicked the blade aside with his axe.
The mountain spirit’s voice came at once, sharp with alarm.
Didn’t you say you weren’t going to let your weapons clash because it was dangerous?
Taesu didn’t answer.
He focused everything he had and traded attacks and defenses.
Clack-clack-clack! In the span of only one or two breaths, sword and axe tangled several times over. The light had already faded completely, and in the duel now dependent on moonlight, the sparks of metal added their own illumination.
Park Seong-ok looked thoroughly flustered that Park Dokki was blocking all his sword strikes with an axe.
“You bastard! To take my three moves and still have the nerve to talk big, you’ve got some guts.”
Ikkyu seemed to twitch at Taesu’s back, but Taesu paid that no mind either.
He was bringing every physical ability he had to bear—speed, dynamic vision, everything.
But physical ability was only a safety device.
Before long, technique began to enter Taesu’s movement.
The waste disappeared from the arc of his inefficient arm.
He shifted the axe, which had only been thrown in the general direction of the target, into a sharper angle.
He moved his feet into a more rational position to support it.
Taesu had wandered more than half the way through the roads of the axe, and in Joseon, finding a hidden master of axe-skill was no easy thing.
But from this point on, one might actually begin to appear.
The hand-axe art of Park Dokki style was slowly taking shape.
1. Heungin-gun Yi Choe-eung was originally famous for his greed and oppression. Everything in the incident concerning his subordinate Park Seong-ok is true, except for the facial knife scar and the secret burial on Ganghwa Island.
2. The reason chuno was assigned to the runaway slave’s family was simple: families were the most likely to know where the person had gone. As slavery unraveled, masters’ pursuit became even more brutal, and there are records of fathers capturing their daughters and handing them over.