Puberty and Menopause (3)
Jin Yeo-rip shot him a glare, but Jin Ha-seong paid it no mind and turned to Jang Il instead.
"Two bowls of noodles, please."
"Pardon? Oh—yes, sir! Right away, Clan Head."
"Heh, much obliged."
Jin Ha-seong let out a hearty chuckle toward Jang Il. He seemed so warm and kind, like a completely different person. To outsiders, he was practically an angel. He should save that treatment for his own kid.
Once the noodles arrived and chopsticks were set down, Jin Ha-seong stared straight at him. Jang Il stared too.
Damn it... It felt like backing down now would mean defeat, so Jin Yeo-rip had no choice but to sit. He couldn't exactly throw a tantrum. Who knew what gossip that blabbermouth Jang Il would spread?
'Turns out the young master has no manners.'
'Saw it myself—he's got no class at all...'
That was exactly the kind of talk that would circulate. He'd worked so hard on his reputation up to now... Endure it. For the future. Rumors of bad blood between father and son wouldn't do him any favors.
His thoughts were resolute, but Jin Yeo-rip still didn't want to sit close. He perched on the far end of the long wooden bench, maximizing the distance.
"Ha! What a flavor! You're something else, aren't you? I had no idea there was a gem like this in the Outer Market."
"I'm glad it suits your taste. It's nothing special, really—just thoroughly boiled radish water, and..."
Thrilled by the praise, Jang Il launched into a full explanation of his noodle-making process. Jin Ha-seong nodded along enthusiastically, savoring every bite until he'd slurped up even the last of the broth. Then he reached into his robe.
"That hit the spot. It's been years since I had food this good, so of course I should pay up properly..."
But his hand froze midway.
"Hm?"
"......"
"Uh?"
Frantically patting himself down everywhere, his flustered expression told the whole story. He was broke.
"Oh, Clan Head! No need at all. Just your visit is an honor, and you enjoyed my humble noodles—that's payment enough. The young master already overpaid last time, so this one's on the house."
"Nonsense. How could I eat and run? Hold on, I'll fetch someone from Cheongeumbang. It's just noodle money—what's the big deal?"
Jin Ha-seong waved him off and fixed Jin Yeo-rip with a stare.
"Yeo-rip."
"Yes."
"You pay."
...Me? Sure, father and son, but since when were they close enough for him to foot the bill?
"Pay for me. I rushed over without bringing money."
"You..."
He nearly let a curse slip. What kind of clan head shows up without a single coin in his pouch? And to say it with that stern face and deep, resonant voice!
Endure. The merchants are watching. Mind your reputation. This patience was the foundation for becoming Cheongeumbang's future head.
Fine. Noodle money—what was a few coins?
Grinding his teeth into a smile, Jin Yeo-rip slapped down payment for two bowls on the table. He'd paid reluctantly, but he had to get one thing straight.
"Since it's my money, pay me back."
"Your money?"
"Pardon?"
"What a ridiculous thing to say."
"What's so ridiculous?"
"Where does a son like you get 'your' money around here?"
"Pardon?"
"The clothes you wear, the food you eat, the money you spend."
"......"
"I provide it all. And yet here you are, leeching off your father and calling it 'your' money."
Jin Yeo-rip's blood boiled at the furrowed-brow lecture. This, this...!
Once again outmaneuvered by words, he clenched his teeth and glared, but Jin Ha-seong acted like it was his own money, handing the coins to Jang Il.
"Thanks for the meal."
"My pleasure, Clan Head."
"Could you give us a moment alone?"
"Pardon?"
"It's our first time like this with my son."
"......?"
"Eating together so cozily."
"Ah!"
Jang Il took the money with both hands, exclaiming in delight and bowing deeply.
"Of course! Father-son talk after a meal—perfect. I was meaning to head home anyway; totally slipped my mind. Ha ha ha! Enjoy your time."
He poured steaming yeopcha leaf tea and scampered off.
Father-son talk my ass. Post-meal smoke break is what it is. Damn, now he was craving a smoke something fierce. Maybe buy a pipe?
With Jang Il gone, silence blanketed the noodle shop. It was outdoors, usually buzzing with noise, but now it was eerily still. When had all the dawn-preparing merchants vanished? Not a soul in sight.
Alone with Jin Ha-seong in the quiet space, Jin Yeo-rip felt awkward enough to die. His patience teetered on the edge of explosion when his father called in a low voice.
"Yeo-rip."
Ah, what?! He wanted to yell, but couldn't open his mouth.
What was this? His father wasn't even looking at him. He cradled the yeopcha cup in both hands, gaze soft yet laced with something complex. Worry? Hesitation? What was he about to say?
Moments ago, he'd seemed playfully mischievous; now he looked solemn and serious. The air grew heavy, suffocating.
"I just thought you were young. That living only at Shaolin, you knew nothing of the world. With so many ears listening and eyes watching, I held my tongue and endured in silence."
"......"
"But you're different from what I thought. That's why I came to ask you myself."
"Pardon?"
Maybe it was the mood—Jin Yeo-rip answered plainly.
"What do you dream of?"
"Dreams?"
"When you first returned, I told you clearly: do nothing."
"......You did."
"Yet you've already shown your ambitions."
"......"
"Where have you set your sights?"
The intent was murky. Why ask that?
"Do you want to succeed me, perhaps?"
"That's..."
"No, not that. Everyone knows by now. That you've set your heart on succeeding me."
Jin Ha-seong murmured like to himself.
"It's a hard path."
"......"
"If you'd done nothing, you could've lived leisurely in the haven I've secretly prepared."
His voice brimmed with regret... Huh? Hold on—what?
"Father, what do you mean?"
"Exactly that."
"Pardon?"
"I didn't want you fighting to succeed me. I know how grueling that battle is. I just wanted you free from the shackles of Cheongeumbang."
Jin Yeo-rip blinked. Uh? What...?
"Sigh... Where to even start?"
Jin Ha-seong wet his throat with yeopcha and spoke slowly.
After sending away his wife, he'd had no choice but to marry Yang Sojin. He missed his departed wife and child, but couldn't abandon the retainers who'd staked their lives on Cheongeumbang against its enemies. Through political maneuvering, he'd allied with Saihai Money House, sharing the clan. He'd ceded them one wing of the vast merchant house, securing his position while ensuring his people's survival—even if the master changed.
And for his son, he'd prepared a life of abundance separately.
"I wanted you to take the tonsure."
"Take the tonsure?"
"As a Shaolin disciple, at least your heart would know peace."
No, that wasn't it. He was glad for this new life, but shaving his head to become a monk? No thanks.
"When you returned, I gave you five years."
"......"
"If you'd done nothing, I'd have finished preparations for you to settle on the southern coast of Guangdong, the farthest edge of the Central Plains. Their reach wouldn't extend there."
It was the dream he'd harbored since reviving: a leisurely life, free from strife.
"W-Wait a second!"
Unable to hold back, Jin Yeo-rip's eyes widened as he shouted. A few words had unraveled everything, but he needed confirmation.
"So what you're saying is...?"
"......"
"You've been telling me to do nothing all this time, preparing a separate place for me to live?"
"Yes."
"Pardon?"
"But now it's too late. You've shown your talent at the academy and proven your martial prowess during the raid."
"......"
"They've seen it. They'll be convinced you're a threat. If you'd stayed idle, maybe you'd escape—but now, no."
He blinked faster.
"They'll bare their fangs for real now and come after you."
"......"
His mind went blank. His face twisted. It felt like swallowing hundreds of sweet potatoes without water—pure frustration.
What kind of sweet-potato-farming father is this! Why spill it now? If he'd explained from the start, none of this mess!
Just "do nothing," expecting him to get it? If he'd understood, would he have bothered? Would he have run for class rep?
Irresponsible old man... He hadn't asked for much—just enough money for a comfy, idle life.
"Yet, for some reason, this father feels glad."
"......"
"I planned to send you away, but you're choosing to protect the Cheongeumbang handed down through generations."
A faint smile touched Jin Ha-seong's lips.
Never thought that. Cheongeumbang could crumble for all he cared—as long as he thrived.
"I know why you roamed the Outer Market daily. And why you trained spear arts with Pil-saeng. You needed the strength to protect yourself."
That was just for health; martial arts happened to be fun.
"So I'll help you."
Jin Ha-seong turned, meeting his eyes. He didn't want to look. Better if he hadn't offered. Better to do nothing. Alone.
"Become the master of Cheongeumbang."
Words that should swell the chest, yet only a sigh escaped.
...No thanks.
"But talent alone won't suffice. Their power is vast, and all you have is being my son."
His father's eyes burned hotter with zeal.
That's even worse. This is all because of you.
"The merchant alliance summit is soon."
"......"
"Win their hearts, and even Saihai Money House's capital won't matter—you'll have a shot."
Not thrilling in the least.
"Father."
"Speak."
"Can't we avoid this? Even now...?"
"No."
"......"
"Sojin went to Yongsan Citadel."
"Yongsan Citadel?"
"That's what they call Saihai Money House."
"......"
"She'll have asked Geuman Yang Taek for help. To kill you."
"K-Kill me?"
"Yes. Now that she knows your ambitions lie with Cheongeumbang's leadership, she won't back down. They'll see you as an enemy and hunt you to the ends of the earth. No more peace."
As resolve lit his father's eyes, strength drained from Jin Yeo-rip's body. No energy left to reply.
My ambitions? Misunderstanding. Total misunderstanding. If you'd said upfront about the setup, he wouldn't have stirred this shitstorm.
Head bowed, Jin Yeo-rip agonized. Fuck... He'd fallen deep, tangled bad. No escape?
Should've become a monk. Bald, but no murder worries.
Irritation at his father's silence morphed to rage, stirring the Twelve Flows within. This damn life—gonna live it right, and why so many obstacles?
Im Pilsaeng's words echoed. Conviction. My conviction is to live. To survive. New life's goal.
Then crush every obstacle. They want him dead? Fine. Life's short—might as well try.
Saihai Money House? Whatever. He'd died once already. If living, dream big!
Menopausal dad offers help; what can't a pubescent son do?
Vague goals solidified. Better him than them profiting.
"Haa..."
Jin Yeo-rip sighed deeply and lifted his head.
"Fine. Screw it—I'll give Cheongeumbang's leadership a shot."