Chapter 104
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 104
Chapter Title: 31. Nest (1)
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“Fine meal. I'm off.”
Flying Tiger slurred his words after drinking like a madman all through the night. It came out almost like a mutter to himself, and sure enough, no one paid it any mind. He waved his hand around wildly anyway, then staggered out of the tavern on wobbly legs.
The spot he'd left behind was littered with empty bottles. Ye Dok-du, Namok, and Dan-geum had long since passed out from the booze and were sprawled everywhere in a heap.
And with that, the Face Pursuit Unit Jeong's banquet came to an end.
On the morning the unit arrived back at Face Pursuit Squad headquarters, Sa Myo asked for leave and parted ways with the group. He was handing back his temporary spot in the unit and returning to his original post among the Ten Tombs.
They'd flushed red in the face a few times along the way, but how could the bond forged in battle be taken lightly?
“How's that arm wound of yours?”
“Healing up decently enough.”
“Take care of yourself. You did good work.”
“Yes, sir. Farewell.”
Sa Myo bowed to Jin Ga-yong and turned to leave. Flying Tiger called after his back.
“Hey, if you ever get cut loose, come join the unit. You'd always be welcome.”
Was that a curse or a blessing?
Sa Myo turned back with a look of utter disbelief, and Flying Tiger just grinned and waved.
Sa Myo departed just like that.
No Song-seo parted ways in front of Face Pursuit Squad headquarters. He'd flawlessly completed his bounty hunter guide duties. The bonded team members who'd grown fond of him even invited him to drop by headquarters briefly and grab a drink together, but he turned them down flat with a regretful expression, saying he needed to hurry home to his wife and kids.
Of course, it was a bald-faced lie.
But who besides Flying Tiger knew?
That the mousy-looking middle-aged man was actually a rather pretty woman in disguise.
It was some astonishing disguise work, and U-i, disguised as No Song-seo, apparently mistook the way Flying Tiger was staring at her. She shot him a sweet little smile and sent a transmission.
-A drink alone with my little brother does sound tempting... How about it? Meet up later?
-Farewell, Master No.
When the unit entered headquarters proper, they were greeted by Yi Yang-jo, one of the two vice commanders known as Traceless Step.
(For reference, the other vice commander, Iron Mountain Hermit Jeong Sa-jeong, was currently staying at Full Blossom Manor with Commander Gwak Nan-hoe.)
Jin Ga-yong gave his report, and Yi Yang-jo listened with keen interest, exclaiming in admiration several times. They'd already sent a pigeon post with a rough summary, but hearing the details straight from him in person was worlds apart.
His reaction seemed a bit over the top, though?
While listening, Yi Yang-jo kept grilling Jin Ga-yong and the other members on every little detail, eyeing them up and down as if to say, 'You lot really pulled all that off by yourselves?' He could hardly believe it. And no wonder—he was that impressed.
It was the kind of achievement that warranted it, after all.
They'd dealt the infamous Yellow Bug Company a blow close to annihilation. Sure, Wang Baek-gun was dead, but every single member of Face Pursuit Unit Jeong had made it back alive.
Not one of the unit's members was anything less than exceptionally skilled in martial arts, and aside from Namok, they were all seasoned veterans with years in the field. But in brutal operations like that, could skill alone save you from death every time?
They'd gotten lucky.
Lucky, and they'd had the preparation and ability to seize that luck. That's what made it possible.
Anyway.
When the team leader finished his report, the vice commander clapped in satisfaction. He praised their hard work, handed over a pouch of silver for the weary subordinates to wet their whistles with somewhere, and just like that, under the august vice commander's orders, Face Pursuit Unit Jeong's official banquet was set for that very day.
As the saying goes, strike while the iron is hot.
The six of them headed up to the capital, and Vice Team Leader Flying Tiger—who'd received the full pouch of silver from the team leader to manage—picked an 'adequate' tavern for the feast.
How adequate? Cheap prices, but booze that tasted out of this world. They could rent a whole room, drink all day on the vice commander's funds, and even satisfy a boozehound like the team leader.
“To Honorary Protector Wang.”
The first round was poured for the late Wang Baek-gun.
After that, they really cut loose. They were thrilled to be alive, even more thrilled at the solid haul they'd made. And with all those excuses to pound the drinks, the mood was electric.
It was practically a riot.
Most of them were such rough characters that it came naturally, but surprisingly, Jin Ga-yong joined in without holding back, and even Namok, awkward at first, loosened up after a few rounds.
Then A Jeok-gang and Jin Ga-yong were the first to leave. It was nearing the end of ha hour (9-11 PM).
More precisely, A Jeok-gang stuffed himself full on snacks as usual and stood, with Jin Ga-yong following. It was his team leader instincts. He figured if he stuck around without a clue, the others would feel awkward and suffer for it.
Jin Ga-yong said as much, but he seemed a bit reluctant, buying a whole jug of liquor to take with him. Looked like solo drinking back at the inn.
That was roughly how the night before had gone.
Staggering.
Flying Tiger lurched out of the tavern, barely staying upright. By the time the dimly lit corner of the city was bathed in light, he slipped into a dim alley, where his drunken steps suddenly halted.
Deeper in the alley stood a middle-aged man who'd been waiting for him.
“It's been a while, Warrior Flying Tiger. You seem quite drunk. You all right?”
“Good to see you again. No need to worry—it's not that bad. So, any tails?”
“Nothing. Looks like today wasn't our day.”
“Too bad.”
Flying Tiger's voice was crisp and clear now, as if he'd never been drunk, and his hazy eyes were sharp.
Just as he'd said—pure pity.
He'd even let himself look disheveled while waiting, but not a single one of the fish he'd hoped for had sniffed around.
'Tch. What a missed chance. Did they lose my trail, or are they tied up with something...?'
The fish Flying Tiger had been waiting for were people from the Superficial Sword faction.
On the first night back in the capital after the mission, staggering around dead drunk—wouldn't they take the bait and approach? Given their reckless behavior lately, he'd figured they'd come at him one way or another: threats, persuasion, abduction, elimination.
So Flying Tiger had wrapped up his two-week outing and resumed the activities he'd put on hold.
And though the first step had come up empty, it wasn't enough to disappoint him.
It was only the first step, after all.
Incidentally, as one could guess from Flying Tiger's conversation, this operation was a collaboration with the Western Bureau.
And that someone was none other than A Rok—the Western Bureau's dedicated liaison to Flying Tiger, who'd recently gotten swept up and badly burned when Superficial Sword warriors targeted him.
'What can you do? If they won't come to me, I'll have to go to them.'
Making up his mind, Flying Tiger looked at A Rok.
A Rok had lost men because of Flying Tiger, but also saved his own skin thanks to him. His feelings must have been a tangled mess. Yet he showed no sign of it as he stuck by Flying Tiger's side.
Catching Flying Tiger's gaze, A Rok gave a wry smile.
“I got an earful that day. I'd be lying if I said there were no hard feelings, but I know I owe you my life. And...”
A Rok swallowed and continued. Flying Tiger listened intently.
“Beyond personal grudges, I'm not the type to let emotions botch organizational business. You've probably heard from U-i already, but our master, Hidden Moon, has deemed you a friend of the Western Bureau. So rest easy.”
“Grateful for the words alone.”
“As if he'd stop at words. Now, we've confirmed no tails, so let's get moving. I'll lead.”
A Rok took the lead, Flying Tiger followed. Their destination was Flying Tiger's new temporary hideout. Gong Won-yeong was already staying there.
The day before yesterday, Flying Tiger had asked A Rok four favors upon contact. After twists and turns, U-i had relayed Hidden Moon's acceptance of all of them.
The second request had been Gong Won-yeong's safety and lodgings—and the Western Bureau had responded accordingly.
When Namok clutched his pounding head and cracked open bleary eyes, the only one left besides him was Ye Dok-du, flat on his back snoring like a buzzsaw.
Everyone else had gone ahead.
'Ugh... Last thing I remember from yesterday is... Damn it.'
Shame burned in Namok's chest; he wanted to kick off the blanket. Instead, he shoved the memories aside. Better for his peace of mind.
Namok sighed heavily, shook Ye Dok-du awake several times to no avail, grumbled as he straightened his clothes, and stepped out of the tavern. He planned to find some hot soup for a hangover cure somewhere.
Basking in the bright morning sun, Namok trudged along, watching people bustle through the streets. It stirred complicated feelings.
The esteemed Elder Wang Baek-gun from Dance Melody Manor, who'd told him to serve them with utmost care, was dead. The lifeline he'd grasped had snapped, cutting short what could've been his big break. Back to the nobody life of scraping by.
And now his surroundings crawled with lowborn scum he'd scorned and shunned just two weeks ago.
Did he hate them? Maybe at first, but not anymore. They'd shared life and death, after all.
If anything, he was getting hooked.
That's what troubled him.
No Elder Wang to anchor him anymore—if he fell in too deep with them, he'd be forever cut off from the organization he truly belonged to.
Of course, last night—with all that booze and the vibe—he'd played right along like he was the greatest Face Pursuit Unit Jeong member ever.
But he couldn't keep that up forever. Strictly speaking, he was just a temp. And even without that, rumors swirled that Face Pursuit Squad itself would disband soon. When that happened, they'd all scatter back to their old worlds.
So he was an outsider, positionally speaking.
'Tch, lone wild goose, huh? Fits me to a T.'
Namok grumbled miserably as he stopped at a street stall for a spicy bowl of rice noodles and some bean water. To soothe his sour gut.
He'd gulped down the bean water and slurped a big bite of noodles when—
“Well, if it isn't... Aren't you Flat-Nose Namok?”
Someone laughed cheerfully and approached. But that smile was the classic wolf in sheep's clothing.
In that sense, Flying Tiger's hunch wasn't entirely off. He'd just never figured they'd target those around him first instead of him directly.