Strange Visitors
People love luxury goods.
More precisely, they revel in the feeling of being superior—different from everyone else.
And silk robes are among the Central Plains' most iconic luxuries.
Imagine walking alone down a street crowded with rags and tatters, clad in a robe of dazzling, multicolored silk.
You'd draw stares thick with envy and resentment. The way people treated you would change completely. There's a reason the saying "return home in brocade robes" exists.
Where I used to live, industrialization had made clothing cheap. Here, though, it was still a means of flaunting one's station and power.
Wealthy merchants therefore spared no expense on silk textiles, and sericulture naturally became a business that generated enormous added value—much like the semiconductor industry in the modern world.
And just as a semiconductor wafer begins as a humble grain of sand—silicon—this entire silk industry ran on the foundation of a humble worm: the silkworm.
"Guys."
So managing the silkworms was what decided the fate of the whole enterprise.
In a cocoonery bathed in morning sunlight, a little kid had gathered a bunch of grown adults together.
That kid was me.
"Let's keep nine-tenths of these cute little silkworms alive."
An absolute order dropped from on high.
"Eeeh?"
The laborers made sounds like air leaking from their lungs.
Seems the physiological reaction to an unreasonable demand is the same in any world.
"And one silk robe, while you're at it."
To lock in the win, you need a finishing blow. If the cocoon yield held up, it was worth attempting.
"Uuuuh?"
This time the sound came from the weavers in the workshop. They'd been apologizing for the lack of work, and now they were about to be buried in it.
"In exchange, the pay is triple the usual rate."
"...Eeek?"
The last gasp of surprise belonged to Eun Hwaran.
It was a conversation that hadn't been coordinated in advance, so her eyes went round.
Who tries to drive people with only the stick and no carrot? I wasn't about to allow that kind of toxic management.
"...All right. Let's do it that way."
Asking forgiveness is easier than asking permission—so post-facto approval came through.
A sudden triple-pay event.
Fail, and they'd lose their jobs; succeed, and the compensation was locked in. Motivation was guaranteed.
How guaranteed? They threw themselves at it day and night until the silkworm survival rate climbed past the original target of seven-tenths all the way to eight-tenths.
It happened in less than a month.
The silk-robe side also saw rapid progress, thanks to workshop staff who'd been saving their strength.
"We're running out of time! Everyone, put your backs into it!"
Before long the weavers were sporting the same dark circles under their eyes as Eun Hwaran.
Weaving silk can be broadly divided into three stages.
First, finding the end of the filament on a cocoon and winding it onto a reel into a skein—reeling. Then winding that raw silk onto a warp beam and setting it on the loom—warping.
Finally, you push and pull the raw silk on the loom back and forth to open the shed, and the silk fabric we all know takes shape.
"What are you doing? If you've set the warp, get the loom moving!"
"Listen, man, you've got to beat the weft in tight if you want proper silk! How do you call yourself a weaver like this?"
The boiled silk—whitened and smoothed by lye—whipped busily through various tools.
The long white thread gradually bulked up. Craftsmen in sync, each diligently playing their part.
Whirr.
I found the filament end on a cocoon and immediately wound it onto the spinning wheel, drawing it out in a smooth stream.
The thread is so fine that people usually fumble for minutes finding it, but I was starting to feel like I could do it with my eyes closed.
"It really just keeps coming."
I muttered, watching the wheel turn.
They say a single cocoon, with the silkworm's careful wrapping, yields about thirteen hundred meters of thread.
One silk robe takes five bolts of silk, so hitting the deadline might be tight.
"I know you're tired, but hang in there. Your jobs are on the line too."
Silk-mill, cocoon-mill—grind people into the product. Our cocoonery had entered crunch mode like a game company a month from launch.
And as more time passed, the fruit of our labor finally began to take the form of clothing.
The next core business of the Eunseong Merchant Group—the silk robe—was complete.
"Ohh."
Sunlight spilled through the window. A lush, soft luster flowed across the silk's surface.
Those who witnessed that luxury let out short gasps of admiration.
"Noona, isn't it a little small, though? Looks like something a kid would wear."
The dimensions were a bit tight. Too small for an adult; more like middle-school size.
"Well, we didn't have enough time..."
Truth was, we hadn't produced as much silk as we'd hoped. So making it into a garment meant we had no choice.
"Try it on, Mujin."
Eun Hwaran readily handed me the silk robe that held everyone's effort and time.
When I slipped my arms into the sleeves, they slid in with a smooth whisper.
The texture was nothing like the rough, stiff cotton clothes I was used to. Soft as a baby's bottom. Since opening my eyes in this world, it was the first time clothing had felt like this.
"Whoa."
"That sheen is something else."
"With a frame like that, of course..."
As I struck poses like a children's clothing model, murmurs of admiration rose from all sides.
"You people—it's because the clothes are well made that the frame looks good too!"
The weavers, pride in their work, snapped that people should look at the clothes, not the person.
But their gazes stayed fixed on me as I continued to show off.
"Kid's got a handsome face, that's for sure."
"Suddenly life feels unfair."
Unfair? These uncles have no idea what I've been through.
"It suits you remarkably well. You look just like a young noble."
That was Eun Hwaran, surveying me with a pleased expression.
Moyong Cheongjin had been a young master of a prestigious family, after all.
"Noona, how much would a robe like this go for?"
I asked, fluttering the sleeve cuff. It rippled gently like a carp's fin.
"Well, even if it's a bit small, three bolts of silk went into it, so you'd need gold about this size."
Eun Hwaran gauged the required gold with three fingers.
Seems producing brocade really is a business of raking in gold.
No wonder the court controlled the licenses so no one could just jump in.
"Anyway, with this we're fully prepared. It'll be hard for them to find fault."
It seemed I'd accomplished everything she'd asked.
Near nine-tenths survival rate, plus a silk robe woven by our own hands.
"...Yes. At this level, even the Imperial Court that granted the business rights will have no choice but to acknowledge us."
The officials the court was sending would have to declare a pass, unless there was something wrong with their eyes. Unless they harbored genuine malice.
"Leaving the cocoonery to you was the right call."
Her expression said the burden on her shoulders had lightened somewhat. The murky dark circles were gone, and something like hope was beginning to show in her eyes.
"You're too kind."
Still wearing the silk robe, I dipped my head in a little bow.
She was the first client of the Dan Mujin Detective Agency. For future customer acquisition, I had to do this right.
"I hope you'll continue to use our services often."
As long as the pay is solid, I'll solve anything.
That had been an iron rule even on Earth.
A bird in a cage left its nest.
There's always anxiety about whether it can fly.
"My lady, you must not take a single step from my side. And please refrain from anything that draws the eye."
On the road to the Eunseong Merchant Group.
As they entered a bustling marketplace, the man in blue official robes drummed the same warning into the veiled woman's ears for the umpteenth time.
Inside the Imperial Palace he could not have been more reliable, but once outside, he couldn't help treating her like a child left by the water's edge.
The veiled woman answered with a sulky retort.
"Of course, Cheonggong. You take me for a fool. This lady does not lose her dignity even outside the palace."
"...Indeed."
He thought he might trust her for a moment. But that declaration didn't last even a quarter of an hour.
"Cheonggong, look at that. A man is breathing fire."
Her first outing in five years. Beijing on the eve of the Mid-Autumn Festival. Her gaze was captured in an instant.
Things colorful and dazzling enough to bewitch the eyes lay scattered everywhere.
She seemed a little excited at the fact that she was mixed among commoners.
"Cheonggong, what is this shiny, hard thing?"
The veiled woman lifted a stick strung with red berries, one after another.
"It's tanghulu. A snack coated thinly in sugar."
She bit into it and was a little startled by the crunch.
"Cheonggong, look at this. How can they carve wood so finely? It's adorable."
The stall also had jade crafts and glittering ornaments, but she'd seen her fill of those in the palace, so they didn't interest her.
She praised the carpenter's skill, certain the cute wooden shapes were toys for children.
"That is... a set of bone tiles. A gambling tool."
"..."
The veiled woman set it down without a word.
And these antics continued even after they passed through the main gate of the Eunseong Merchant Group.
The veiled woman pointed at cargo and asked, curious.
"Cheonggong, what are those jars loaded on the cart?"
"Judging by the scent, wine jars."
"And the beggar old man sprawled nearby?"
"A drunk who got into them, no doubt."
Touching the cargo like that—he must have been a drunk with more guts than sense.
"Cheonggong, there are so many unusual trees. Do you know what they are?"
"Mulberry trees. Seeing them planted on this scale, the cocoonery we've been looking for should be nearby."
Wandering about driven by curiosity, they had discovered a mulberry grove.
Without a sericulture officer the cocoonery's condition would be dire, but at least this grove looked as if landscape gardeners had arranged it perfectly.
Tha-tha-thak!
And between the dense trees, a boy was freely running as he trained.
"Who is that child?"
"A boy trained in martial arts."
The man in official robes was certain, seeing the way he glided and the internal energy streaming from his feet.
He let his own aura rise, revealing his presence.
Sensing it, the rather sharp-looking boy came to a sudden stop.
"Boy, do you know where the cocoonery is?"
A kid running through a restricted area as if it were his own backyard. He tossed the question hoping the boy might know something.
"Yes, I do."
The boy answered, then ran right past them.
"..."
The man blanked for a moment at that answer that shattered every preconception, then recovered.
He immediately chased after the boy with footwork. His speed was truly like a storm.
"Whoa, holy shit!"
The boy nearly had a fit as a person suddenly appeared right in front of him.
"...I meant for you to guide us."
The difference in rank was obvious without long thought.
The boy nodded hurriedly, saying he would guide them at once.
As the Art of War says, a strategic retreat is no disgrace.
The moment our eyes met, the man in blue official robes had unleashed a terrifying aura.
I figured it was best not to get involved and tried to bolt—unfortunately, I was caught right away.
"So, what business do you have at the cocoonery?"
At my question, the man glanced down at me.
"None of an outsider's concern."
Outsider? I'm more involved in the sericulture business than anyone.
Anyway, this snot-nosed exterior is the problem.
Glance.
But I felt a strange gaze from behind him.
A woman demonstrating a walk both refined and full of grace.
Through the veil, I could vaguely sense her looking at me with curiosity.
"Avert your eyes."
And every time I turned to look back, the man glared with force in his gaze.
Who is that woman that he guards her so closely?
"It's just up ahead."
Rounding a corner of the security wall, the large cocoonery came into view.
But as we approached the entrance, one of the laborers I'd gotten somewhat friendly with came running in a fluster.
"Mujin! Mujin!"
Waving both arms, looking urgent.
"What is it, Uncle Jang?"
"Come quick! There's chaos in the cocoonery!"
Chaos? Don't tell me, with inspection a week away, another epidemic is spreading.
"Did the silkworms die?"
"No, not that! It's—people from the court are here! They kicked the door in and barged in!"
There was still a little time left until the deadline we'd been notified of. What was this about?
I raced toward the cocoonery following the laborer's gestures.
And I could feel the veiled woman and the man sticking close right behind me.
I yanked the door open—and the interior of the cocoonery filled my eyes.
Crash!
"You swindled them, didn't you! There's no other explanation!"
"...Director Wang Jingong of the Wardrobe Office! You know our circumstances with no sericulture officer assigned, how can you say such a thing!"
"That's exactly why this situation makes no sense!"
The cocoonery had turned into a mess.
Once again.