The Source of Inspiration
“At first, I felt rather proud, you know. Finally the world was recognizing me? I thought all the hardship and bitterness I’d endured were being repaid in a single stroke.”
The young man who had once leapt into the trade with a swelling painter’s dream was now just another common fellow pickled in reality and liquor, offering us a bitter smile.
“You were the one who arranged the introduction to Eunseong Merchant Group’s leader, weren’t you?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
I had put her vast network of connections to use hunting for a wealthy patron whose tastes matched his. I could still picture her expression—utter bafflement—when she first laid eyes on those beast paintings.
“Thanks to that, I got lines to any number of rich men and started earning sums I’d never seen before. Made me a little full of myself, too. I’d look down on people in the streets for no reason… cough. But what in the world is this tea?”
Ilhong had apparently served the leaves reserved for unwelcome guests. His palate had grown refined enough that the bitter wave flooding his mouth made him scowl.
“The taste of the common folk, Painter Neung Jinsam.”
“Ugh, common folk my foot… This tastes like ten-year-old tea leaves.”
The agency’s finances weren’t exactly flush. In hard times, thrift was the path to survival.
“Anyway, that was the problem. Once greed took root, that clear mind of mine clouded over. At some point I wasn’t painting because I loved beasts—I was painting for the money.”
He turned the brush he had drawn from a lacquered bamboo holder this way and that as he spoke. Once the only beast painter of note, people had sought him out from every quarter. Some because their tastes aligned; others because they wanted to invest in a painting price that was rocketing skyward.
Neung Jinsam had been drunk on the honeyed taste of sweet success. But it did not last. Word that the work paid well spread, and soon every famous painter in Beijing was piling into the trade one after another.
“And they painted beasts just as well as I did… Back then I truly wanted to snap my brush in half.”
The delicate rendering of fur, the beasts’ forms, their claws, even their eyes—not a single aspect fell short of his own. One by one those painters began claiming the demand that should have been his.
“If it had been the old days, sheer spite would have made me work even harder. But the moment I picked up the brush, nothing worth painting came to mind. While I was busy being arrogant, I lost my inspiration.”
That inspiration artists claimed was more precious than life itself. It had something of the same flavor as a martial artist’s enlightenment.
“After that, self-loathing filled my vision. I soothed my life with drink just to forget. And that was how I ran into you at the courtesan house.”
Whether he had needed a conversation partner all along or the dam simply broke, Neung Jinsam poured out his entire story in exhaustive detail. So even a famous name in Beijing who made good money had a hard, messy backstory. In truth, while doing troubleshooter work I had heard this sort of complaint dozens of times. Life was much the same wherever people lived.
“Living isn’t easy. There was a time I thought becoming a famous painter would leave me with no more wishes… Lately fewer people seek me out, and I’ve even been threatened…”
“Hm? Threatened how?”
I stopped savoring the clean fragrance of the tea Ilhong had brewed and turned my gaze on Neung Jinsam.
“Well… I borrowed some money. A money house nearby was offering funds at an unusually low interest rate…”
Aigoo. This man was headed for disaster. One taste of money and he no longer feared it.
“Which money house?”
“Mangeum Money House. Some greasy-looking merchant sweet-talked me into borrowing. One moment he was saying I could repay slowly; the next, the moment beast-painting prices stopped climbing, he came after me for collection like a ghost.”
“Was that merchant the one with the goatee, by any chance?”
“……How did you know?”
I had simply guessed because he said “greasy-looking.” That fellow really did work hard at living.
I let out a short laugh at the strange twist of fate.
“But you were earning plenty. How did you end up borrowing from a place like that?”
“Because the courtesan house I frequented was Cheonhwaru. High officials of the imperial court come and go there—one night’s stay costs a fortune that makes you gasp.”
“Then why not go somewhere cheaper? Why stay in a place that expensive until you’d burned through your fortune?”
My question was pure disbelief. He scratched his cheek with an embarrassed face and answered in a murmur.
“…Other places don’t have Ju Wolay.”
“Mm. That does make sense.”
Hearing it put that way, the story became rather convincing. She had even the lofty personages of the Imperial Palace wrapped around her finger. A man couldn’t help himself.
“Honestly, you men…”
This time Jo Harang looked at the two of us as if we were hopeless. That felt a little unfair. I had only been exercising empathy toward a client.
“Ahem. I keep ending up airing my complaints. So why did you come looking for me?”
“I just heard rumors you’d been having a hard time lately. Old ties, you know—came to help.”
People’s hearts went to those who showed up when times were rough. His face filled with genuine emotion at my words.
“Truly…? I can’t thank you enough. I never thought someone as warm as you still existed in this cold Beijing.”
In truth I had come because of the Gamun Society Master’s commission. Of course, even that man’s “do whatever it takes to revive Neung Jinsam” hadn’t been pure concern for him. More precisely, once the name’s value dropped, the prices of the beast paintings he owned started falling, and he wanted those values restored somehow. Every time I visited the society hall I had watched the number of beast paintings increase one by one. That was why you never put all your eggs in one basket. Even if something looked profitable, you had to diversify.
“Beijing needs more fine vagabonds like you…”
“Ah, I’m not a vagabond anymore. I’m doing troubleshooter work.”
I pointed at the office I had won through such hardship and told him I had gone independent.
“Hm. What’s the difference? The work seems similar.”
The work seemed similar, he said. For example, a vagabond would never take a headache-inducing commission to rescue an artist drowning in self-loathing, restore his inspiration, and drive up the price of beast paintings. A troubleshooter, on the other hand, accepted anything if the money was good and simply tried to solve it.
“The important part is that no one skims a fee. Whatever I take, I keep.”
“Oh, that I envy.”
The practical explanation seemed to land harder with him.
“Anyway, is there any way to restore that ‘inspiration’ of yours?”
Brush in hand, blank silk paper blackened with ink before his eyes, and still nothing he wanted to paint would come. Athletes hit the yips; martial artists fell into heart demons. I roughly understood the situation.
“Beasts.”
“Pardon?”
“Like the old days. I want to climb deep into the mountains and observe beasts with these two eyes.”
“Ah…”
He had issued a commission like that before, too. That was why I had had to climb up and down mountains full of dangerous wild animals. And then, exhausted, I had unlocked forbidden knowledge that absolutely should never have been unlocked…
“I want to reclaim my beginner’s heart. That sensation, that feeling from back then. So I’d like you to help me observe mountain beasts. Is that possible?”
“That’s not difficult at all.”
Compared to the chaotic commissions I had handled so far, it was a request as easy as a picnic.
“Thank you. Truly.”
“Aigoo, it’s nothing.”
He didn’t know it, but I was getting paid for all of this.
“Then let’s set out tomorrow. Today I need to clear my head. I’m going back. Back to the Neung Jinsam of the past.”
“That’s exactly the right attitude. Then I’ll see you tomorrow with a clear mind.”
I thought this time, at least, the commission might turn out relatively easy. So I sent the commission target home without much thought, planning to meet the next day.
Then, the following morning, I received word that Painter Neung Jinsam had been kidnapped by loan sharks and dragged off.
“Ha. Damn it all.”
In the dimly lit basement of Honghwaru, where light barely seeped in, Sinbigak Leader Il-hye-hyang flinched hard at the sudden appearance of an outsider who had simply risen behind her back.
“Kidnapping people again?”
I pointed at a man bound on the platform and asked if she was in the middle of another interrogation.
“…Kidnapping? Some bastard was trying to steal our courtesans, so I was just teaching him a lesson.”
Apparently he had been sent from a neighboring courtesan house to recruit Honghwaru’s girls. In this trade, a single talented courtesan could decide a house’s rise or fall. Looking at it that way, it felt a bit like the entertainment industry market.
“Anyway, could you find someone for me? A young painter. Loan sharks kidnapped him.”
“A painter? Barging into the Sinbigak’s secret location without a word over something that trivial…”
“Whoa, ‘trivial’? He’s a famous painter who does beast paintings.”
The Sinbigak Leader looked thoroughly displeased at my demand that she hand over information after I had simply stormed in. But the hilt of the knife was in my hand, so she collated the intelligence of Haomu Gate people scattered everywhere and produced the loan sharks’ identities and the likely place they were holding him.
“Don’t come and go so often. People start getting suspicious… Ah, if you’re paying to see a courtesan, though, you’re always welcome.”
She tossed that after me as I left the basement.
“Come on. If I wanted that, I’d go find Ju Wolay. Why would I come to a place like this?”
“…Honestly, this bastard and that bastard—always that woman.”
Il-hye-hyang ground her teeth. Leaving the furious Honghwaru proprietress behind, we set out to find the commission target.
The back alleys of Beijing had once been our territory, so discovering the thugs’ hideout did not take long.
“Why do these types always like dark, secluded places?”
“It’s the nature of bad people, Boss.”
“Nature? We used to live in places like this too.”
“That was because we had no money.”
With Jo Harang stuck guarding the office, Ilhong seemed a little excited to be out with just the two of us after so long. I walked along with an understanding face until I came to a stop in front of the shabby building the Sinbigak Leader had mentioned.
“Locked, I assume?”
“Just a moment. Let me try.”
Ilhong produced something like a wire from their hand and, with only a few soft clicks, simply unlocked it.
“…How do you even know how to do that?”
“Compared to complex Tang-gate mechanisms or Haomu Gate trap arrays, this is child’s play.”
“Right. Let’s go with that…”
Their various hand skills kept increasing. Well, a capable subordinate was good news for the agency.
I nodded and slipped into the dusty warehouse-like building. A collection thug who looked like a lookout stared at us with glazed eyes as we walked in as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“…Who the hell are you?”
“It’s me. Me.”
An expression that said he had never seen me in his life.
“Who are you supposed to be?”
Whump!
“Sesame oil.”
I unfolded the Baekgyeol Singwon, dropped him cleanly, and went further in. From inside came the sound of someone being beaten.
“When are you gonna pay the money…!”
“Ghk—just a little more time! I’ll win it back and pay you right away!”
“You crazy bastard! A painter is supposed to paint to pay, not think about gambling!”
The loan sharks seemed more appalled by the commission target’s remarks than anything else. “Win it back and pay”—was there any less trustworthy line in the world?
“But the inspiration won’t come! The brush won’t move!”
“This insane—beat him!”
After that it was all thuds and smacks, the sound of something being thoroughly pummeled.
“Boss, aren’t you going to go save him?”
“No. I think he needs a few more hits before he comes to his senses.”
Sometimes a good thrashing was more effective than observing beasts. And looking at his mental state, he seemed to need a few more.
“Guh! Argh!”
Under the loan sharks’ continuous kicks, Neung Jinsam performed something like a diving roll and came tumbling end over end toward us. Thanks to that, the thugs’ eyes met ours dead-on. They spotted the lookout lying with his teeth knocked out and jumped in shock.
“Who the hell is that bastard!”
I kicked the biggest one among the rush of men charging us square on.
“Uracha!”
The largest of them went flying a long way and crumpled. Realizing from the unnatural strength that I was a martial artist, the loan sharks froze in place. As always, the finest means of conversation was violence.
“Who the hell are you! You dare pull this kind of stunt in Mangeum Money House’s territory!”
They immediately revealed their backer and threatened that things would get ugly if I caused any more trouble.
“Hand over Neung Jinsam.”
“What? Painter Neung Jinsam?”
“This bastard—who do you think you are, barging in and ordering people to hand things over? You looking for a fight?”
Who I was, with this body, was—
“I know that face. He’s the troubleshooter who smashed the Golden Dragon Academy—the Academy-Smashing Fiend. Just as vicious as we are.”
—that sort of person, apparently.
Damn it all.
“Of all the rumors that could spread, why does only that kind stick?”
“Right?”
Ilhong exercised empathy beside me.
“What? A troubleshooter? Someone who works this side of the street? Then why are you here?”
“There are proper territories! Did you come to collect from this guy too?”
They seemed to have misunderstood something and started criticizing my ethics, saying I had no professional courtesy. Unfazed by the jeers pouring down, I pointed at the bound Neung Jinsam.
“Too much talk. Just hand that gentleman over.”
Tightly trussed and rolled in a straw mat, the man stared this way with round eyes at my sudden visit.
“Hand him over? We’ve got pride too. He hasn’t paid—how do we just let him go?”
“Even if you are the guy who beat up Second-class Realm troubleshooters, we can’t just send him. If we don’t bring the money back, that greasy-looking merchant will thrash us half to death!”
A greasy-looking merchant. Something clicked.
“Would that be the goatee merchant?”
“What? How do you—”
Guessed again. Whenever someone said “ugly,” it always turned out to be that guy.
“Just let him go. I’ll pay.”
I sent a gesture that we finish this peacefully before I started using real force. They knew that fighting me head-on would get them nowhere; cold sweat beaded on their faces, yet they still refused stubbornly.
“And trust you why? I hear that guy can’t even paint properly anymore.”
“He says he’s short on inspiration. It happens sometimes with artists.”
They were delicate creatures. Sometimes they broke down.
“Not our problem. We just need the money we lent paid back on time.”
“That’s why I’m saying let him paint and pay.”
The conversation ran parallel. Then the one who had recognized me earlier pointed this way and continued.
“…Boss, I hear that guy’s backer is the Eunseong Merchant Group’s leader.”
“What…? You sure?”
“Yes. They’re like sister and little brother. So for now, let him go. If he starts using force there’s no answer anyway… Looking at how confident he is, he’s got some angle for getting the money.”
With that, the loan sharks’ gazes bounced back and forth. After whispering among themselves, they seemed to reach the conclusion that they had no way to squeeze money out as things stood. The so-called painter wasn’t painting, after all. And they had even less of a way to drive me out of this place.
“…One week. We can’t wait any longer!”
Leaving only the thoroughly wrecked Neung Jinsam behind, the loan sharks vanished in a rush. I looked down at him—he looked like he had been beaten black and blue—and opened my mouth.
“You look a mess.”
“Haa… Pitiful. Feels like I’m rolling on the bottom of life.”
Neung Jinsam said it with a face of utter misery. People said pain and bitterness were the source of an artist’s inspiration, didn’t they?
“Haa. So this is what my life amounts to in the end. I don’t even have the will left to go to the mountains anymore.”
But we might have beaten him a little too hard and gotten the reverse effect. Neung Jinsam’s face was dark and empty, as if every scrap of will had been broken. Once, even if his face looked shady, it had burned with passion for beasts. If we forcibly dragged him to a mountain and made him look at animals now, would it even work?
“Boss, the Gamun Society Master begged us to resolve this no matter what. What do we do?”
Perhaps she had sensed the aura of a failed commission. With a massive reward on the line and the atmosphere turning sour, Ilhong asked with an uneasy face. The agency hadn’t even been open that long, and already we were about to wear the stigma of failure.
“Hoo.”
Unacceptable.
Perhaps it was time to unlock yet another taboo.