The Life of a Celebrity Is Bound to Be Hard
As always, Gong Ryun was having a meal at the inn.
Today’s menu was Red Ox-Head Soup.
The piping-hot white broth and the chewy ox-head meat were superb, and the glossy rice that melted on the tongue rounded it out perfectly. A cup of sake would have been the finishing touch, but it was still lunchtime, so he held himself back.
He was in the middle of polishing off the soup when low voices drifted from the table behind him.
“Look over there! It’s the San-gong-dok Goe-in!”
“Black hair and the face of an orthodox young master. Hard to believe that look belongs to a terrorist.”
“He’s definitely putting San-gong-dok powder in his soup instead of salt right this second!”
“Martial God above! That a man like him can stroll around so calmly… the Namgung Clan’s prestige really has fallen!”
It was the mercenaries at the rear table muttering among themselves.
For the record, “the Namgung Clan’s prestige has fallen” was not a literal claim that the clan had declined. It was an idiom, something like “the world’s gone to hell.” A kind of exclamation. Those Namgung people never actually declined.
“Even if Nam Yong-mun owes him a favor, I still don’t want to get close.”
“I hear he free-shares San-gong-dok with people he’s friendly with.”
Whisper whisper.
His ears itched something fierce.
“Damn it all.”
Gong Ryun muttered under his breath.
It had been like this ever since the fight with the Poison Single-Sword Lady.
As for the San-gong-dok bomb going off, no one had pressed charges against him. The inn was packed with high-definition CCTV from every angle in case of life-and-death duel insurance claims, and after review it was quickly established that Gong Ryun bore no fault.
Spectators had been hurt, true, but poison arts themselves were orthodox martial arts and therefore not illegal, and no one had deliberately committed biochemical terrorism, so dragging it into court was awkward at best. Besides, the baseline assumption when watching a life-and-death duel was that you accepted the risk. If a sword bounced off mid-fight and hit a spectator, that was the spectator’s problem. The galactic martial world was that wild.
The inn’s insurance had apparently paid out without issue. The only minor snag was that the waiter had developed PTSD and went pale the moment he saw Gong Ryun, so for the time being there would be no more carbonara visits.
Carbonara could be replaced with tteokbokki for a while; that was fine. The real problem was bigger.
His face had gone public.
Until now most people had not known what Gong Ryun looked like. His moniker, San-gong-dok Goe-in, had no visual connection to his appearance.
Three-Sword Style walked around with three blades. Jason had two arms on one side. The Poison Single-Sword Lady jingled with single-edged poison swords. Nickname and look lined up intuitively.
But “San-gong-dok Goe-in” gave you nothing to go on. There was no “Ah! He looks just like a San-gong-dok Goe-in!” element about Gong Ryun. So even when he stood right in front of people, most of them never realized who he was.
Now everyone knew.
Before, only those already in the know had gradually learned his face. After that last sparring match he had become far too famous.
People recognized him on the street now.
Just yesterday something like this had happened.
He was walking along when a group of students called out to him.
“Eek!! It’s the San-gong-dok Goe-in!!!”
“How do students even know my face?”
“We saw you on SNS! You’re actually properly handsome! So orthodox!”
“‘Properly handsome’… what’s that supposed to mean…?”
“Can we film a Reel?”
“No.”
“Awww~~ why nooot~~~”
“No means no.”
“Even the firmness is so orthodox!”
“???”
That, at least, had been pure student curiosity, so it had not soured his mood.
And somehow it had become official that he was from the Sichuan Tang Clan.
A bizarre frame had been hung on him: “the tragic young master of the Sichuan Tang Clan, driven mad by cruel poison training and banished to a rural planet.”
It was not only on the street. Even while he ate at the inn, the whispering had grown frequent.
Some people had even started walking right up to him.
Just the other day it had happened again.
He was eating when someone suddenly spoke to him.
“San-gong-dok Goe-in… no… Young Master of the Frighten family… you know me, don’t you? My name is Shu. I run a modest little pizza place.”
“I do not.”
“A man who uses poison arts doesn’t know Shu’s Pizza, one of only two secret illegal poison-arts dealerships in the whole city? Keh-keh-keh… so the rumor was true after all…! The rumor that you handcraft San-gong-dok!!! That you built a secret factory in your basement was real!!! That’s why you’ve never needed to buy poison until now!!!”
“My place is a monthly rental.”
“I came here about San-gong-dok trade! The San-gong-dok coming out of your basement factory! Interested in dealing!?”
“I do not sell San-gong-dok.”
“Keh-keh-keh… so that’s how it is… the rumor that you twist both arms off any idiot who asks to trade San-gong-dok and kill them must be true… Fine, then. I’ll be going. But remember this. Just as you don’t sell to our shop, don’t sell to any other shop either. Then there’s no problem. But if you supply only one side and wreck the market balance… our boys will definitely come bury you!!! Kil-kil-kil!!!”
“Ugh, what a lunatic.”
And with that the man had spun on his heel and left.
Even granting a hundred points of charity, that sort of case was still tolerable: the man said his piece and vanished.
The truly awkward case was unfolding right this moment.
He was in the middle of his ox-head soup when a woman slipped silently into the seat at the neighboring table.
She looked like an elegantly aging noblewoman, yet she was wearing a hoodie. Makeup, earrings, and a hoodie—an utterly contradictory combination. Someone who wanted to hide her identity but could not hide the wealth.
She sat perfectly still for a long while, then finally turned her head toward Gong Ryun and spoke in a low voice.
“I’ve been sending finely encrypted voice transmissions this entire time, and you ignored every single one of them to my face. Are you telling me to drop the courtesy and speak with my actual mouth? Fine. I’m the one who’s desperate, so I’ll do it.”
“…?”
She was sending transmissions…?
Gong Ryun had no idea.
Voice transmission was a martial technique for exchanging something like telepathy. Like light-body arts or inner vision, everyone in the galactic age learned the basics.
Gong Ryun, however, could not send them—just as he could not use light-body arts.
He could at least hear ordinary transmissions, but ultra-advanced things like finely encrypted voice transmissions were beyond him. All because Hunwon-gong did not include transmission techniques. Martial God, honestly. If he was going to make a foundational method, he could have at least thrown in transmission or light-body arts. All it did was make the body sturdy and pure.
Fortunately, using voice transmission in public was considered socially rude. If it had been everyday practice, Gong Ryun would have been in real trouble.
At any rate, the noblewoman whispered to him.
“Help me. At this rate every influential person on this planet is going to go under together.”
“…? Elder, what do you mean by that?”
“You’ve heard the news, haven’t you? Orthodox young masters have come to this city. And from what I can tell, one of them is… a direct descendant of the Namgung Clan… eek… Do you understand what that means!? We’re all completely fucked!!!”
The moment the words “Namgung Clan” left her mouth, the noblewoman’s face went deathly pale. Even a curse that clashed with her decorum slipped out.
“They came under committee status. At least they’re young, which is something… but you can never let your guard down with the Namgung. Even the young ones are monsters. You never know when that family’s special ‘mental illness’ will trigger. And the other orthodox young masters with them are bound to be super-elites! It’s only a matter of time now!”
“A matter of time until what…”
“Until the Mol-la-ren incident!”
“First I’ve heard of it.”
“That’s why I need you to contact that side of the family. Every hour counts. Right now I’d take help from a cat’s paw. I’m poking every possible channel, and you’re one of them.”
With that the noblewoman flicked a scrap of paper toward him with telekinetic object control. At a glance it held a person’s name and some kind of cipher.
“…Why not do it yourself? It’s not as if you lack a phone.”
“Are you joking with me right now? Who knows when I’ll be wiretapped or when a record will be left! Besides, I already have a social position; I’m under their watch! Do you have any idea how meticulous committee pursuit is! Just help me this once! I have a personal acquaintance with that side’s elder! All I need is for the message to reach them! Then they’ll handle the rest! Send my plea for rescue!”
Apparently the name written on the paper belonged to an elder of the Sichuan Tang Clan.
“Even if you were cast out of the family, a poison scion like you must have at least one emergency hotline that can reach core figures in secret, right!?”
“I… have no connection to that side…”
“Ugh… are you going to keep this up? There are almost no people on this rural planet who have a hotline to an orthodox main family! …Fine. I’ll pay any price. So please!”
“No, I’m not from the Sichuan Tang Clan…”
“I’m begging you, all right!? If you refuse one more time I might stop begging and do something else!! Do I have to grab you by the throat and threaten your life?!!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
Gong Ryun’s head ached.
This was the problem. The type that kept expecting something from him.
In their minds Gong Ryun was already the tragic young master of the Sichuan Tang Clan. Trying to persuade them otherwise never worked.
But it was not as if there was no solution. He had been through this more than once or twice.
Gong Ryun had finally learned. He now had a method for dealing with people of this sort.
He shifted the atmosphere to something grave, then opened his mouth.
“Haa… all right. I understand.”
“…!!! R-really?”
“Continuing to refuse was starting to weigh on my conscience…” (Meaning it truly was uncomfortable.)
“Then…!”
“If possible, I will try to make contact…” (“If possible.”)
“Ahh…! Thank you!!”
“Should a positive reply come from the Tang Clan, I will send word to you. But if no word arrives… it means the news is not good…” (There would be no reply, so the news would not be good.)
“That’s more than enough…!! I’m truly grateful…!! You’re a great hero…!”
“Please don’t get your hopes up too high…” (Really, don’t get your hopes up.)
“Thank you again… Now that I’ve received your answer I’ll be going… If my movements are exposed it will be troublesome for both of us… May the Martial God be with you… Farewell…!”
And the noblewoman exited as naturally as a breeze.
Once she was gone, Gong Ryun muttered to himself.
“I didn’t lie…”
That was true.
There had been no lies.
Only a slight distortion.
Still, if he had not handled it this way she would certainly have clung to him forever.
Gong Ryun decided not to feel guilty. He had done his best.
He finished the soup and slurped his drink.
The life of a celebrity is this awkward, he thought idly—and that was when it happened.
“Hey!!!!!!! Gong Ryun!!!!!!!!! Big sis is here!!!!!!!!!!”
A booming voice rolled through the shop.
Gong Ryun turned his head and, sure enough, a majestic feminine figure stood at the inn’s entrance.
Copper-tanned skin. Long wavy auburn hair. Refreshing, open features. A solid frame where slim lines and vivid muscle blended together. And especially thick, powerful thighs and lower body. Tight athletic wear that accentuated her figure and left her abs exposed.
Her name was Brigit.
She was the person Gong Ryun had grown closest to on this planet after Un-rang.
“Fuck yeah, this big sis is back!!! Finished her training on the capital planet of Daylaskos and made a dazzling return, that’s what I’m saying!!!!! Hahahahahaha!!!!!!”
She wore her trademark look of absolute confidence and laughed with pure, hearty delight.
(Illustration: Brigit in combat)