Walls Have Ears (2)
All eyes turned to him. Without anyone needing to say it, their gazes fixed squarely on Jin Yeo-rip's face.
"What? You will solve it?"
Baekhak's expression started with sheer bewilderment, quickly shifting to mockery.
But Jin Yeo-rip didn't care one bit. He was confident.
"Ha! Have you ever seen such a brazen brat?"
Perhaps spurred by Baekhak's reaction, the upper-class students began murmuring.
"Quiet! Silence!"
Baekhak bellowed, and the children fell still. In that hush, he turned to Jin Yeo-rip.
"You claim you can solve it?"
"Yes, sir."
"You're serious?"
"Of course. I can't tell a lie, you see."
"You can't lie?"
"That's right."
Believe it or not—this moment called for it, after all.
"Very well, then. But know this."
"Know what?"
"I can't lie either."
"......"
"If you fail to get the answer right, I'll march straight to the family head and report you. I'll say your character is so slothful you sleep through lessons, so undisciplined you need the rod to teach you properly."
Baekhak glared with bulging eyes, his threat hanging in the air.
Whatever.
"And if I do get it right, Master? What then?"
"What?"
"I'm a merchant's son, aren't I? You've set the stakes, so there should be a reward."
"A reward?"
"Oh? Are you scared I might actually solve it?"
"What did you say?"
The young student's challenging words shook the pride of the aged scholar.
"Fine! Very well! Suggest a fitting reward, and if it's reasonable, I'll accept."
"Perfect."
Jin Yeo-rip smiled brightly.
"If I get it right, teach me the rest of the lesson."
"What?"
The condition was so out of left field. A reward of more study?
But for Jin Yeo-rip, it was necessary. He needed to learn the basics to show off properly later. No point in academy studies if he couldn't even understand them. Start from the ground up—and get crash-course tutoring from a Cheongeumbang elder who might stay neutral.
After glaring at the boy's bold declaration for a long moment, Baekhak finally decided.
"Agreed! I accept. Now, what is the answer?"
"The answer is ten."
Jin Yeo-rip spoke calmly; the children were silent; Baekhak's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
It was correct.
The Gougu method dealt with solving right-triangle problems, and Baekhak's question was the classic: given two sides, find the third.
And it was the most basic one at that. A squared plus B squared...
"You'll honor the deal, right?"
At Jin Yeo-rip's words, the children's heads swiveled to Baekhak. He swallowed hard and slowly nodded.
But he still couldn't believe it.
"Y-yes, correct. One more! Just one more!"
His eyes wide, Baekhak hurriedly scribbled something new.
"Oh."
"Huh?"
Surprised again, he posed another problem—this time altered.
Such a suspicious man.
But changing the triangle sides didn't matter. It was a formula, after all.
"Four."
"Ack!"
Baekhak couldn't pose any more. He just gaped at Jin Yeo-rip, mouth agape.
His face, which had begun in bewilderment and scorn, progressed to shock, then outright astonishment.
If I showed him sine, cosine, and tangent too, he'd faint dead away.
"H-how do you know the Gougu method...? Don't tell me—you've studied the Gu Zhang Suan Shu before?"
Baekhak muttered in a trembling voice. Jin Yeo-rip winked.
"You'll keep your promise, right?"
"......"
"May I sit now? My legs are killing me."
No permission given. But Baekhak didn't stop him as he returned to his seat, knelt properly, and opened his book.
"What are you doing? No class?"
"Huh? Oh!"
Snapping to, Baekhak stared blankly at his book, looking utterly deflated.
The children's reactions varied wildly as they glanced between Baekhak and Jin Yeo-rip: shock, confusion, suspicion turning to envy and jealousy—what was that about?
Whatever. It was all satisfying.
His goal of dazzling everyone on his first day at the academy? Mission accomplished.
Thanks, Pythagoras. No idea if you're around these days, but I owe you one from way across the world.
See that, genius? This is me. So keep working hard inside me from now on.
The rest of the lesson was a breeze. Baekhak mumbled through it in a daze, asking Jin Yeo-rip nothing more.
The shock must've been huge.
I almost dozed off again just now.
Morning classes ended, and lunchtime sent everyone to the dining hall. Run by Cheongeumbang itself for the students' convenience, it was naturally free.
And the food? Surprisingly good for school grub.
Direct operation makes a difference.
As he scooped another helping of fermented side dishes, the kids swarmed to sit around Jin Yeo-rip.
"Whoa! Young master! That was incredible!"
"How'd you do it?"
"Right? Spitting out answers the second the problem dropped!"
"I was blown away."
Kids these days. Now you get it? I'm Jin Yeo-rip, heir of Cheongeumbang.
Feeling smug, Jin Yeo-rip addressed them.
"You all know my name... Mind introducing yourselves?"
One boy jumped in.
"I'm Young-sik, son of the Nam family clothiers. Pleased to meet you, young master!"
Fabric business, huh.
"Kang Woong."
"Kang Woong?"
"Yes. Son of the Kang butchers... we, uh..."
"Hm?"
"We're a slaughterhouse..."
The chubby Kang Woong mumbled shyly.
"Oh! That's awesome—you get all the meat you want!"
"Pardon?"
"What, no?"
"No, it's not that—'butcher'..."
"Ah! Got it. Don't sweat it."
"Huh?"
"Who cares? Your family's work is vital. No Kang butchers, no easy meat for anyone."
Kang Woong's eyes widened at Jin Yeo-rip's words.
Slaughterhouses doubled as butchers back then, and folks looked down on them.
But he'd come from another world. Butchers raked in cash—and modern meat processors? Sky-high salaries.
"Be proud, Kang Woong."
"Ah!"
Jin Yeo-rip grinned and clapped his shoulder. Kang Woong beamed back.
"Yes! I'm Kang Woong, son of the Kang butchers! This meat? From my family."
He liked that. Treating his scorned home like any other.
"Good, good. Send some prime cuts to Unjeong Pavilion later. Let me mooch some free meat."
"Yes, sir!"
The crowd around Jin Yeo-rip stayed to lesser branch kids—no main lineage.
The Jin-branch collaterals ran external trade caravans or something.
Not worth fussing over anyway.
Glancing around, he spotted another group.
"Hey, kids—introductions? First day, don't know your names."
Just that, and the area went dead quiet.
Shocked faces. Why?
"Gong Cheon-gi."
One boy barely nodded, then the others followed curtly.
"Yuk Wooseon."
"Sang Gwan-yong."
That was it. No family details—just names, then back to eating.
What a bunch.
Kang Woong whispered sidelong.
"Young master."
"Yeah?"
"They're elder council descendants."
So what? He'd sensed factions from day one—separate seating in the hall confirmed it.
The elders were Yang Sojin's crew, no doubt.
But the parents' beef spilling to the kids' open hostility?
Jin Yeo-rip stared, then shook his head.
Ugh, says it all about the family vibe. No wonder they say character education starts at home.
And it gauged his standing. If the brats were this bad, what about their elder parents?
"Anyway, let's eat."
"Yes!"
Minus a few, not a bad table. Questions on his Gougu mastery led to invites home, recent gossip—normal kid chatter.
But hey, looks aside, I'm basically your uncle. Puberty talk with teens is rough.
"Hoo!"
After afternoon classes, Jin Yeo-rip boarded the carriage. Im Pilsaeng greeted him with a warm smile.
"How was the academy?"
"Eh, fun enough."
"Glad to hear."
"But same old there too."
"Same old?"
"Factions split—branches versus elders."
"Sigh, figures. They're the family's elite picks—talent overflowing. You can tell Cheongeumbang's state from the household mood."
Nodding, Im Pilsaeng suddenly lit up.
"No bullies, right?"
"Bullies?"
"Yeah."
"Day one?"
"Stay sharp. Merchant clans train martial arts too—not full murim level, but enough for self-defense on long trips."
"Oh, they train?"
"Yep. Merchants face dangers afar, so families teach basics."
"Father too?"
"To a degree."
To a degree... vague.
"But merchant arts—layman level at best."
"Got it."
"Anyway, careful. Can't enter the academy."
"Sure."
Jin Yeo-rip nodded at Im Pilsaeng's concern. It made sense—the split factions, timid branch kids.
No shared language, but maybe bullies lurked. Teens gonna teen—strength over smarts sometimes.
"Speaking of—once home, straight to training? Academy cut into practice time."
"Haha! Always welcome."
"Go hard."
"No mercy, promise."
Back at Unjeong Pavilion, they dove into Baji training.
Eight spear methods: grip to footwork.
Detailed demos flowed; Jin Yeo-rip followed smoothly, growing familiar bit by bit.
Great teacher, talented student—one lesson, ten insights.
How could master and disciple not thrill?
So Hye and Hwang Ja-su watched contentedly.
"Oh shoot! Time flew!"
So Hye yelped.
"Uncle Pilsaeng! You're training the young master—I'll cook tonight!"
That did it. Hwang Ja-su paled; Im Pilsaeng dropped his spear and lit the stove.
Peaceful evening at Unjeong Pavilion.
"Hoo."
Jin Yeo-rip panted, gazing at the glowing sunset.
Baji. Such an alluring art.
What if infused with Twelve Flows?
Dreaming far ahead with a pleased smile—then, a knock rattled the door.
Bang bang bang!
"Hm? Who?"
Late night, no visitors—everyone puzzled. So Hye dashed over and flung it open.
A pale figure stood there.
"Teacher? What brings you...?"
Baekhak, fuming, clutched a bundle of books and roared at Jin Yeo-rip.
"You brat!"
"......"
"I waited all afternoon after class!"
Ah!
Forgotten. He'd asked for extra lessons post-academy.