Why Are Your Eyes So Wide? (5)
The entire hall froze solid.
It was a common expression, but in this case, it fit perfectly. Zujung—the gathered assembly—had fallen utterly silent, their faces and bodies stiff as if truly encased in ice. The atmosphere was exactly that tense.
Jin Ha-seong's face twisted in fury as Jin Yeo-rip not only ignored the outstretched hand of Shandong's richest man but slapped it away with both feet. The onlookers rolled their eyes, sneaking glances at Yang Taek's reaction.
The only one smiling in the room was Jin Yeo-rip.
"Hmm, what did I do wrong? I was just asking because I didn't understand..."
He scratched his head, feigning utter confusion despite knowing full well the implications of his words.
Yang Taek stared at him silently before a smile crept onto his lips.
What a brazen kid.
He had been watching since Jin Yeo-rip first entered the banquet hall. The boy had rebuked Gong Yasin—who had greeted him politely—so sharply that even the grand elder looked flustered. It had pleased Yang Taek inwardly; a merchant destined to dominate the world needed that kind of backbone.
Then, when Jin Yeo-rip approached his own father to pay respects despite Tak Sobak summoning him first, Yang Taek thought, Impressive. This wasn't some childish tantrum. It was a direct challenge aimed at him.
A young tiger cub growling and baring its claws at him—how delightfully cute.
Even as the boy pointed out his daughter's misdeeds, Yang Taek's competitive spirit flared. The brat's got guts. No one had dared bare their teeth at him lately.
So he tested him. He deliberately brought up the fallen Ak family, called his daughter the "righteous wife," and insulted the boy's mother.
But there was no reaction. For a kid so young to control his emotions like that was astonishing—and far beyond the rumors. He's the real deal.
Didn't it make him covetous? Compared to the two sons his daughter had borne, overflowing with talent... but they couldn't measure up.
What to do with a boy carrying Jin Ha-seong's blood?
But he was a merchant, a man of money. If it profited him, he'd ally even with enemies.
So he proposed keeping the boy close, under his wing.
The hesitation showed the kid had grasped the hidden meaning.
But the response was unexpected. Ak family? This insolent punk...
Not content with refusal, he mocked and even cursed indirectly.
In the frigid silence, Yang Taek stared at Jin Yeo-rip for a long moment before bursting into laughter.
"Haha, well now. I made a big mistake."
"..."
"You're right. I wanted to get close to you, so I emphasized family ties despite no blood relation, and it only raised suspicions."
"Oh, was that it? I had no idea. If you want, I can call you Grandfather from now on."
"No need. My thinking was shortsighted. On second thought, such a title might cause misunderstandings among others. Just call me 'Branch Lord' from here on."
"If that's easier for you... very well, Branch Lord."
Only the two of them smiled. Outwardly, it seemed cordial—polite responses met with warm approval. But beneath, their words clashed like drawn blades, sharp and hostile.
The rift had deepened, the divide set.
"Here, let me pour you another."
"Yes."
Yang Taek filled Jin Yeo-rip's cup to the brim—then let it overflow.
"Oh dear, getting tipsy? I overdid it."
"Could be. It's fine. I can just wipe it off."
"Haha, that works, but wasn't the cup in your hand rather small?"
"Pardon?"
"It couldn't hold it all, so it spilled onto your clothes... What can you do? You can't remake it to make the cup bigger."
Jin Yeo-rip grinned at Yang Taek's smile. Come on, not even a Zen koan, and you're beating around the bush like this?
If he were a bit less sharp, he might not have caught it. Thanks to devouring Buddhist scriptures at Shaolin, he understood: 'Can Cheongeumbang fit in your vessel?'
Time to reply.
"With so many vessels around, how could there be no cup for one pour of liquor? And if the cup's too small to hold it all, just divide it like this."
He poured similar amounts into two cups.
"Ho? Indeed. They say your talent shines, and I can't help but admire. Your father, the Bangju, must be proud. Isn't that right, Bangju?"
Jin Yeo-rip smiled thinly at the question directed at Jin Ha-seong. Me too. I'm thrilled with my own smarts.How does he come up with these cup metaphors? Perfect lines pop up every time.
"He's still just an immature boy. Forgive any rudeness."
"No, no. In my eyes, he's already a fine young man. The Bangju could name him heir anytime."
Jin Ha-seong only smiled, saying nothing. He must be in a tough spot—I'd yanked out the sleeping tiger's whiskers while barging into its den.
Time to bail him out.
"Oh! Branch Lord."
"Hm?"
"A thousand gold, please."
"...What?"
"The gift you promised earlier. I'll take the thousand gold. I heard heirs have to start businesses from scratch outside with nothing, and you knew that, so offering a thousand gold—how grateful I am."
Yang Taek's eye twitched at the feigned innocence, though he already knew everything.
What? Why? Did I ask? You offered first. Of course I'd take it. Can't join hands, but money? Sure.
"You're different, with such magnanimity. You know about Beksan Village? I worked my tongue hard for profit, but they still owe me twenty nyang. Isn't that too much? Others get 'pocket change' or whatever, but opening the money pouch takes so much effort. Whew."
Like tattling to dad about dad's mistakes, Jin Yeo-rip complained to his father. Yang Taek laughed in disbelief.
"Such a thing happened?"
"Ah, well..."
"Bangju, that's too much. If word got out, what gossip there'd be."
"I'm ashamed to hear it."
"You should be. Twenty nyang—what's that amount? Tsk tsk."
Yang Taek clicked his tongue reproachfully, then turned to Jin Yeo-rip.
"So, Young Master of Cheongeumbang, how much do you want?"
"How much can you give?"
"Well, I said I'd give, so I must, but no price was set. Right! How about the twenty nyang you wanted from your father?"
It stung like a knife to the heart. Thousand gold—of course, it was figurative. If hands had joined, any sum would've worked. But now, no turning back.
Jin Yeo-rip accepted cheerfully.
"Oh! Then I'm grateful."
"Since our meeting brings such joy, consider it pocket money for your future."
"Could you make it a bit more...?"
"Hahaha!"
He laughed. Like Father. Merchants dodge money talk with laughter, huh?
Yang Taek summoned a subordinate, handing over the pouch to silence him.
"A little extra inside."
"Thank you. I'm in awe of your magnanimity."
"Heh, you sure know how to talk pretty."
It was a pleasant drinking session. Afterward, only mundane chatter followed.
The banquet ended. Yang Taek, hating his daughter or not, said he'd see her before leaving and headed to the inner quarters.
Jin Ha-seong saw off the guests until the hall emptied, with Jin Yeo-rip at his side.
When alone:
"You went too far."
"I'm sorry."
"Why? You know that choice doesn't help Cheongeumbang."
"...Yeah."
Jin Yeo-rip meekly agreed to the slightly angry tone. Punishment would come. Would Yang Taek—a man ruthless enough to abandon his daughter—forgive him? No, the issue was Cheongeumbang. He might cut funding.
"Will it get tough? If so, even now..."
"Tch!"
Jin Ha-seong scowled at the question.
"Think a merchant who values trust and promises above all would go back on his word?"
"..."
"And am I that soft? You think I haven't prepared for Sahae Exchange choking our funds?"
"I'm sorry. I just..."
"Go rest. It's late."
"But... Sigh, yes."
Jin Yeo-rip sighed, grimacing, about to add more. He'd thought to act decisively once decided. But now it felt like he'd burdened his father's shoulders. Turning with slumped posture:
"Yeo-rip."
"Yes."
"This father isn't old yet."
"Pardon?"
Jin Ha-seong said sternly:
"Whatever mistakes you make, however heavy the burden you place—no matter what, I'm sturdy enough to bear it."
"Ah."
"Don't worry about me. Or Cheongeumbang. Whenever I hand it to you, it'll be far better than now."
"...Yes."
It's fine. Don't worry. At words for his sake, Jin Yeo-rip smiled faintly.
"And... it felt good."
"Pardon?"
"Thanks to you, I see now."
"What do you mean?"
"Ahem! Never mind. Go on. I'm tired; time to rest."
"Father...?"
As Jin Yeo-rip blinked, Jin Ha-seong left for his quarters without waiting. Turning, his face beamed with satisfaction.
Age had crept up. Back when he acted boldly, ignoring external pressures like his son. Jin Ha-seong loved his boy's spirit—it cleared the cobwebs, unlike his own caution worn by worldly trials.
"Seok-ah."
"Yes, Family Head."
"Care for one more drink with me?"
"Just us?"
"Yes."
Wang Seok nodded with a smile at Jin Ha-seong's unusually cheerful demeanor. The reason was obvious. The young master was a tiger, as he'd claimed.
In stark contrast to the warm father-son moment at Da Geumgak, a harsh father-daughter scene unfolded in the inner quarters.
"Stupid bitch."
"..."
"Utterly incompetent wretch!"
Yang Taek glared coldly at Yang Sojin kneeling before him.
"I clearly said if you want that bastard son as Family Head, prepare to abandon everything. Was that so hard?"
"I..."
"Can't even do what I ordered properly."
"Father."
"Still, since you're my daughter, I came for a final farewell."
"Please..."
Yang Sojin clutched his robe hem, eyes brimming with tears. But Yang Taek shook her off brutally, stabbing her heart.
"If you were scheming that poorly, you should've killed a few in advance to make that Jin Yeo-rip's eyes spin!"
"..."
"Useless. You're no longer my daughter. From now on, you're Cheongeumbang's ghost—never call me father again."
"Father!"
As Yang Taek rose coldly, Yang Sojin—now a discarded puppet—screamed throat-tearingly. But like pronouncing a death sentence, he finished and strode out without hesitation.
"Sobak."
"Yes, Branch Lord."
Tak Sobak narrowed his eyes in a sly smile as Yang Taek boarded the departing carriage.
"Handle it."
He knew who.
"Is that wise?"
"Should I be shamed by the hand rejected by that whelp?"
"Cheongeumbang's leader won't sit idle."
"Then it'll be more fun."
"Understood. As long as the pay's generous, like always. The young master won't come cheap."
"Questioning my money? Do it cleanly."
"Of course. No traces."
The carriage door shut.
"Twenty nyang... so that's the price on his head."
Late at night, Tak Sobak giggled, flashing white teeth in the darkness.