Buying the Dip
The warehouse was steeped in cold and silence.
When sight is cut off, a person naturally pours every scrap of attention into their hearing.
A world blacked out by a blindfold. Hands and feet bound tight. Kidnapped. Rough adult voices all around.
Ilhong was the only one whose blindfold had come free, and in her eyes the children were trembling like leaves.
The moment one of them started to sob, the rest caught it at once and burst into tears.
"Hey. You gonna shut those mouths or what?"
A Black Path thug with a memorable bald head snarled at them, making it clear they'd better stop that instant.
The children choked off their sniffling at that vicious tone. Their bodies, though, wouldn't stop shaking.
"Boss, we collected all their belongings and sent them up to Big Boss."
A younger Black Path man reported to the bald one that he'd gone through every kid's pockets one by one.
"Anything good?"
"Bone dry. Nothing but junk—except for that one brat who looks a little high-class."
"High-class? I told you to only grab kids with no one to come looking."
"That's why we only took the ones from the beggar dens. But why does Big Boss even want a pile of kids like this?"
"How the hell should I know. Maybe the little beggars stole something important."
Pickpocketing was one of a beggar's income streams. Every so often, someone lifted something of real value.
Listening to the exchange, Ilhong hurriedly patted down her own clothes—and realized her inner pocket was empty.
…It's gone!
They must have taken it while she was unconscious and being hauled off.
Her father's memento—the one thing that could reclaim Haoman for her—the official seal of the Haoman Master, stolen in the most humiliating way imaginable.
Ilhong shuddered with self-loathing at her own helplessness.
What good was it that she had once been called the Mind of Haoman? In the end she was just a powerless brat who couldn't even stand up to third-rate street trash.
"So you never managed to grab that Dan Mujin kid? I heard his skin's pale and he doesn't look like a beggar either."
"Ah, that one? Some other pervert got to him first."
The younger man described an old deviant who moved like a ghost.
"Huh. Never thought there'd be another man in Beijing like Big Boss—the one they call the Heaven-Defiling Yin Thief."
Disaster for any man, that. The bald thug clicked his tongue as if the world really was going to hell.
"I've always wondered—how did Big Boss end up with a title like that?"
Murim epithets usually came from a man's techniques or deeds.
"Because under the banner of 'defiling all under heaven,' he doesn't care whether his prey is man or woman. That's the fallout."
"…"
Not your ordinary lunatic, then.
The younger thug's face went pale; clearly he hadn't known his leader's tastes when he signed on.
"Anyway, load the kids into the cart and take them to Big Boss."
"My stomach's suddenly not feeling so good… Can't you go instead, Boss?"
"…You little shit, trying to pull one over on me? I'm scared of that bastard too."
The bald man gave the children sprawled on the floor a few prods with his foot, telling them to quit the drama and get the cart loaded already.
One by one the children were hauled up and piled into the cart, bound for who knew where.
The bald man watching the scene suddenly locked eyes with Ilhong, who was staring back at him, eyes round and wide open.
"…?"
An awkward silence dropped between them.
Startled, Ilhong sucked in a sharp breath and tried to yank the blindfold back into place—
"Kid. You're made."
No point.
Ilhong screwed her eyes shut, the look of pure disaster written across her face.
"…Well now. The ropes on your hands and feet are gone too? What the hell are you?"
They'd bound her tight, and somehow she'd worked free of every knot.
From the way her eyes had been darting around earlier, she'd been waiting for a gap so she could run.
The bald man decided to make an example of her and half-wreck her for the others to see. He started stomping over.
And in that exact moment—
"Dan Mujin, breaching—!"
The shabby warehouse door exploded inward with a thunderous crash.
Dust billowed at the entrance. Through the haze, a single kid strode in like he owned the place.
"…Who the hell is this little shit now?!"
The sudden intrusion left the younger Black Path man and the bald one, both coated in dust, shouting in pure shock.
Ilhong answered for them, her face frozen in astonishment.
"C-Captain?!"
It was their captured captain's glorious, glittering return.
What unfolded next made Ilhong doubt her own eyes.
"This crazy bastard just barged into Gwanghae Faction turf alone?"
"…Kid's not right in the head."
Even the Black Path men were stunned by the sheer deranged nerve of the brat.
Dan Mujin took in the scene—children trussed up like animals at a kidnapping site—and spoke in a hard, flat voice.
"The ones not right in the head are you lot."
The boy's feet slid forward like a ghost's.
His right arm and left leg blurred, and two sharp cracks of impact rang out back to back.
Thud! Thud!
"Ghk—!"
The bald man's jaw was wrenched violently sideways; the younger thug's gut took a spear-point of a kick. Grown men the size of furniture crumpled with short screams and rolled across the cold warehouse floor, dropped by a surprise first strike before they could even counter.
The remaining Black Path men who rushed him in shock never got the chance to do a thing—their cheeks burst and they went down just the same.
Ilhong let out a short gasp at the whole thing, which had happened almost before she could blink.
"Whoa."
It looked like those uncanny movements the martial artists of Muyeonggak sometimes showed.
Especially that ghost-smooth footwork just now—she'd definitely seen it somewhere before.
"Ah—that pervert old man's…!"
Ilhong cried out as the realization hit.
Had he become the man's disciple and learned formal martial arts?
From what Ilhong could tell, that old martial artist was at least First-class Realm—experts of that level didn't hand out teachings to just anyone. How had he talked his way into it?
And looking at him now, Dan Mujin had clearly been eating well; his frame had filled out, and his face was bright with life. His clothes, whoever had dressed him, were decent quality too.
"…Captain. Don't tell me that old man actually took a liking to you?"
Washed and cleaned up, he looked so sharp you could almost believe he was a young master from the Namgung Clan or the Moyong Clan.
"You too with that nonsense."
Dan Mujin snorted, the idea so absurd it was almost funny.
Took a liking? He got death threats every time the old man was in a bad mood.
And the daily "training" was just violence with a nicer name.
Still rubbing his throbbing crown, Dan Mujin casually held out his free hand to Ilhong.
"Th-thank you."
Dust-covered Ilhong grabbed it and pulled herself up in one motion.
"Look at those bruises. They really worked you over."
Between the fight with Eom Baek's crew and resisting the kidnapping, Ilhong's body was covered in the marks of struggle.
Dan Mujin brushed the dirt and dust from her clothes with a few firm pats, then grinned and said kids her age were supposed to grow up with a few bloody noses along the way.
"Captain, how did you even end up at a Gwanghae Faction warehouse?"
This wasn't some ragtag beggar den. It was Black Path territory. Most people wouldn't so much as set a toe here without serious guts.
"How? I came to get you. You ran in for me back then too, didn't you?"
Dan Mujin shrugged as if the question itself were ridiculous.
He'd clearly carved out a decent life for himself outside—and still he'd stepped back into these filthy back alleys just to save her.
Most people, once they escaped beggar life, wanted nothing to do with the old crowd. They were too busy looking the other way in case someone came begging.
She'd felt it ever since the days he'd split the alms fairly: he was a strange person who treated things that weren't ordinary as if they were the most natural thing in the world.
"Man, how much good karma is this even worth?"
And there was Dan Mujin, grinning like he'd found free money, untying the kidnapped children one by one.
These were street beggars—hardly the type who could pay a reward for being saved. And still he was smiling like that.
The more she looked, the stranger he seemed.
"Alright, alright. All of you head back to your dens. Don't get mixed up with Black Path scum like this again."
Unbelievable toughness and monstrous strength—and now he'd even learned no ordinary martial arts.
On top of that, a kind of upright character you almost never saw in these alleys.
"I-I thought we were about to be sold off."
"Big brother, whoever you are—thank you so much!"
"Name's Dan Mujin. Profession: troubleshooter. Spread the word around, would you?"
Watching him, Ilhong sank into thought.
Betrayed by someone she'd thought of as family, she had sworn never to trust another person again.
And yet even she found herself thinking, Maybe just one more time?
"Understood, wandering warrior big brother!"
"Not a wanderer. Troubleshooter."
Dan Mujin was working the free advertising for the day he'd eventually go independent from the merchant group.
They said the people who reached out a hand when you were in trouble were the ones you could really trust.
Maybe… just maybe, she could tell him who she really was and ask for help.
"…"
That conflict wouldn't settle. Ilhong's eyes, fixed on Dan Mujin, kept wavering without rest.
The little ones filed out of the warehouse one after another, faces raw with relief.
A boy with a faintly refined air offered a formal clasped-fist salute and his thanks.
"That pattern on your clothes—that's definitely the Eunseong Merchant Group…! Thank you, Young Hero. I will repay this debt without fail!"
The plain clothes Sis Eun Hwaran had put on me had the Eunseong Merchant Group's crest on them. He'd seen it and guessed my affiliation.
"Uh, yeah. Sure."
Live long enough and you even get called Young Hero.
Expecting a mountain of good karma and the inner energy boost that came with it, I turned every last kid they'd dragged in from across Beijing loose.
Whether they'd been hunting someone specific or not, the kidnapped children all had pale skin and similar builds, and every one of them reeked of a backstory.
But what orphan didn't? And no matter what sob story any of them had, I doubted a single one of them could hold a candle to the brat standing in front of me.
"…Wait. So you're saying you're the only child of the purged Haoman Master?"
The confession came out of nowhere.
I scratched the side of my head and asked, face full of surprise. The kid I'd shared a pot of rice with was actually a key figure from a shadowy organization?
It hit about as hard as finding out the drunk old beggar who flicked my forehead every day was actually the Beggar Sect's chief.
So that was why the Black Path thugs had hit the beggar dens—they'd been hunting for her.
"…Yes. That's right."
Ilhong nodded carefully, as if it really had been a heavy secret.
Looking back, this kid had been suspicious in more ways than one even during the gang days.
Knowing Eom Baek was connected to the Black Path. Spotting a constable from the yamen at a glance. Having the Oh Family Manor's dirty laundry—the musk smuggling—down cold.
For a child, her information network was hard to believe.
Under the Dan Mujin Rule of never prying into how an orphan got that way, I'd looked the other way, but I'd always figured she had an unusual past.
I just never figured it'd be Haoman.
In the wuxia novels, they usually ranked right under the Beggar Sect as the number-two information brokers.
Even Moyong Cheongjin's knowledge barely covered Haoman. That alone told you how much of a secret society they were.
"Captain, you said earlier you were going to open an office? Taking commissions and solving things like a wandering martial artist…"
"Not a wanderer. A troubleshooter."
"The work's basically the same either way."
Of course I was also going to steal every job the wanderers had. The wider the demand, the better.
But the real goal was to rebuild, right here, the detective agency I'd once run back on Earth.
I wanted the people of the Central Plains to open their eyes to this excellent service—pay the fee, and I solve whatever you've got.
"Anyway, I want to hire you as a troubleshooter."
Ilhong met my eyes and said she wanted to place a commission.
For a boy, her lashes were long; behind them, those big eyes were soaked in an urgency I couldn't quite name.
"To find that seal you mentioned? The one that can command the upper-and-lower whatever?"
"…The Upper and Lower Commanders. That seal is my father's memento—and the only way I can take revenge on Heuk Jin-jo."
Because of a pact with the first generation Master, the seal's owner could make three wishes. Only one was left.
Ilhong meant to use it to purge the traitor and reclaim her place as Haoman Master.
"So you want me to recover the seal that Heaven-Defiling whatever-his-name took, and also find those experts, the Upper and Lower Commanders?"
"Yes. That's the commission."
Recovering lost property and tracking missing persons were the bread and butter of a detective agency, true enough.
I knocked the bald man and the other Black Path thug—who were starting to come around with groggy groans—cold again with a couple of solid thuds, then asked,
"Okay, but even if you're hiring me… a troubleshooter isn't the kind of creature that moves for free."
This had been an emergency, so I'd made an exception. Normally, I got paid for the work I did.
Take no money and you're not a professional—you're just an errand boy.
I'd fought more people than I could count who sneered, You're charging for this? and treated my time and effort like nothing.
As a troubleshooter, it was a principle I wouldn't bend. The amount could be small—I just had to be paid for the job.
"If it's money, Haoman makes a ridiculous amount. Once I manage to reclaim the Master's seat, I can pay however much—"
I'd heard about Haoman's massive income from Eun Hwaran myself.
They ran multiple underground businesses and raked in a fortune through illicit sericulture too.
"But right now you've got zero."
"W-well, yeah."
Whatever her background used to be, right now she was a beggar without a single coin to her name.
That sad truth made Ilhong wilt on the spot. Poverty really did make people small.
"Instead—until we find those secret experts… I'll work beside you and help with the troubleshooter jobs!"
She offered a different form of payment in place of cash on the table.
I looked at her, eyes asking for the pitch.
"I know a lot. I'm not that smart, but my memory and how fast I absorb knowledge are different—they used to call me the Mind of Haoman. So I know I can help with your work!"
Disguise techniques, human-skin mask crafting, the dirty secrets of every sect and noble clan, the hideouts of bounty criminals—Ilhong laid out her usefulness and necessity in full.
She wasn't wrong; that knowledge had already helped me more than once back when we were begging on the street. It had felt like hunting targets with the answer sheet open in front of me.
Back at the detective agency on Earth, I'd run a few assistants too.
I had a decent eye for people and found kids with real talent. Later on, it wouldn't have been an exaggeration to say the office ran on them.
"Ilhong. Before you draw silk thread, why do you boil the cocoons?"
But this body of mine was suspicious by nature.
She'd just said she knew a lot. As a test, I threw her a question related to illicit sericulture.
"…To stop the silkworm from tearing out of the cocoon and ruining the product quality—and to dissolve the clear membrane in lye so the thread takes on a sheen."
What the hell. She really did know everything.
She even knew about the lye, which I hadn't mentioned.
And she had the dirt on every sect and clan on top of that? A walking Murim encyclopedia of a kid.
"Captain. I need that seal for my father's revenge. If you help me… I swear I'll repay this debt."
Desperate tears welled in both eyes. A kid with nothing. Without my help, even her one remaining chance would vanish.
"Repay the debt, huh."
Ilhong. Could this child really climb over every obstacle and take the Haoman Master's seat?
Definitely not a blue-chip stock. But as the director always said—you invest at the bottom.
Pour big money in at the floor, and the returns when it hits the peak jump twice as high.
I pictured not the beggar Ilhong in front of me, but the future Ilhong standing as Master of Haoman.
"To the moon, then."
Information is money. Running a detective agency had burned that truth into me.
And now I might get Haoman—with its information net stretched across the whole Central Plains—as a serious backer.
"To the moon… what?"
Plus, helping without even a guaranteed fee? By my standards, that was a massive good deed.
Which meant a mountain of good karma was as good as banked.
"Fine. This body will get that seal of yours back."
The math checked out.
I was putting my chips on Ilhong's future, not her present. Call it ultra-low-point investing.
"R-really? I don't have anything I can give you right now."
Her eyes went round; clearly she'd asked while half-convinced it was impossible.
"What, you can pay later. With interest. Quadruple."
"Quadru… Captain, you always say things I can't understand."
"Get used to it. We're going to be working together."
We're going to be working together.
The meaning hit, and Ilhong nodded, face suddenly bright.
"…You know something? I'd decided I wasn't going to trust people anymore."
"That so."
Even back in the gang days, I'd seen her hiding things behind that little "hehe" smile.
She'd thought she was covering it well, but how good could a kid's acting be? It showed.
Losing her whole family must have left her with a bad case of human distrust.
"But for real… just one last time. I'm going to try trusting someone once more."
Eyes glittering like stars in the night sky fixed quietly on me.
The look of someone who had found hope again.
And up close, I thought again how damn pretty this kid was. A face that wore the title "beautiful youth" like it was made for it.
"Then, to seal the deal."
I held my right hand out straight to Ilhong.
She was already on her feet, and she stared at it with a baffled face, asking what this was.
"A handshake. It means we trust each other—and it's the ritual for closing a deal."
The second she heard that, Ilhong grabbed my hand in both of hers and pumped it up and down.
"Deal closed! I'll only trust you too, Captain!"
"Good."
I'd thought I wouldn't have another commission for a while after Eun Hwaran's, and already another job had dropped into my lap.
The Dan Mujin Detective Agency's monumental second client.
A foothold for the future—and the moment a useful underling joined the agency.
"Ehehe."