That's How It Happened
My whole body felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton.
I didn't even have the strength left to twitch a finger.
I was only still standing upright out of pure, spiteful grit.
Blood from my split forehead had soaked both eyes, so the entire world looked dyed a deep, bloody red.
"Did I finish him off…?"
A technique with no pedigree and no mercy—Groin Frenzy.
No one gets back up after their balls explode. So I had the gall to chant that line you should never say out loud.
But maybe I had underestimated just how durable these Murim freaks who had transcended ordinary humanity really were.
"Ghhhk…"
With a pained groan, Beomcheon Eumjeok was wriggling, trying to force himself upright.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing even as I watched it. Were a martial artist's balls made of cast iron or something?
This was bad. I needed to do something—anything—before he fully came to his senses, but on my end I could barely take a single step.
And then it happened.
Thwack!
Ilhong brought the club he was holding down hard on Beomcheon Eumjeok's skull.
The worm-like thrashing froze solid. The rise and fall of his chest stopped completely.
It looked like the life had been snuffed out of him for good.
"…Did we actually finish him?"
Looks like I got robbed of the last hit. I decided to take it with humility. Not like there was any experience points to gain from it anyway.
"H-he's dead, I think. He's not breathing. What do we do?"
Ilhong set the club down and spoke in a voice that shook violently.
The club itself was trembling in his hands like an aspen leaf.
It had been a kill-or-be-killed situation. But even knowing that, of course the shock would still hit a kid this hard.
I fought to hold onto my fading consciousness and tried to calm him down. How terrified must the little guy have been?
"W-we should've grilled him a bit more before we killed him."
"…"
Apparently he hadn't been that shocked after all.
This really was Murim for you. Nothing was easy to predict with a modern person's flimsy common sense.
People here were pretty used to death. Especially this one—being from a Murim sect probably made it even more so.
"Ugh."
Anyway, once the crisis was fully over, the tension drained out of me all at once and a crushing wave of exhaustion crashed over my body.
My consciousness started to blur again. My body staggered like a drunk's.
"Boss, are you okay?"
Ilhong asked, eyes full of worry.
"I'm fine. Something like this won't kill me."
Detective work is basically freelancing that doubles as self-promotion.
The second you look soft or incompetent in front of a client, the jobs dry up, so I'd gotten into the habit of putting on a tough front and bluffing without even realizing it.
"It's just a scratch."
"…But the sword went clean through your stomach?"
Ilhong looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
It wasn't like this was the first or second time I'd been stabbed.
And as long as the Killing Star was burning like this, this body of mine wasn't going to die from anything ordinary…
Psssh.
"Huh?"
Blood gushed from my abdomen again. The crimson aura that had been rising over my skin had already grown faint.
The moment the threat of getting my throat cut was gone, the Killing Star reclaimed that bizarre power that had kept my body moving even in a half-dead state.
"This time I might actually die…"
My head spun. The world began to tilt.
Or maybe it was just my vision that was tilting.
"B-Boss? Boss! Stay with me! No!"
I saw Ilhong rush toward me in panic.
And then my consciousness flickered out into pure black.
Thud.
The medical room of the Eunseong Merchant Group reeked of bitter medicinal herbs.
On a pure white bed, a boy lay snoring loudly.
"…After scaring the life out of everyone, he's sleeping like nothing happened."
Ilhong muttered in a grumbling tone from beside the bed, watching the boy toss and turn as if talking in his sleep.
At first he'd said something chilling like, "Huh? I might die," and then coughed up a mouthful of blood, so Ilhong had truly thought he was dying.
In a complete panic and not knowing what to do, he'd been lucky enough to find trauma powder in Beomcheon Eumjeok's pouch.
On the way here he'd also found a medicinal herb that, when chewed and spread on a wound, had a special viscosity that helped stop bleeding. After applying that too, he'd dragged him all the way to this clinic.
Of course, he'd been too heavy to carry alone, so he'd gotten help from Ohchil's group as well.
After that ordeal of blood and sweat, Ilhong had managed to keep him breathing and bring him this far.
"Nngh."
Dan Mujin seemed to have come around at some point; his eyes were opening.
And the first words out of his mouth were:
"…See? I didn't die."
Ilhong narrowed his eyes in sheer disbelief.
"You almost died. What kind of bravado is that?"
"But I didn't die, did I?"
"You barely kept breathing… The wounds were so deep you'd need at least half a year of recovery to— Wait, what?"
Mid-sentence, Ilhong's eyes flew wide as he discovered that the once-critical wounds had already closed.
There were still some scattered bruises, but most of the life-threatening sword cuts had healed, leaving only faint marks behind.
"Boss… what the hell are you…?"
Ilhong asked in a low voice.
"What am I? Just a neighborhood beggar who shared the same pot of rice with you."
Looks like he had no intention of explaining just yet.
Well, fair enough. He'd been suspicious of Ilhong's identity too, but he'd never pried all the way to the end either.
"That monstrous strength and durability you were born with, and how ridiculously fast you pick up martial arts…"
"I am pretty talented, yeah."
"Are you one of those Heavenly Martial Physiques I've only ever heard about?"
"Nope, not that."
Dan Mujin shrugged and denied it.
Ilhong rattled off every special constitution he'd studied back when he was still an heir—Taiji Physique, Extreme Yin Physique, all of them.
But the boy in front of him said it wasn't any of those either, and smoothly changed the subject.
"So, you secured the Haomu Gate Lord's seal, right?"
That was what they'd bled so much fighting for, after all.
Ilhong nodded and took out the object he'd carefully hidden in an inner pocket, showing it to Dan Mujin.
"This is the sacred treasure of the Haomu Gate? Looks like a cheap wooden stamp to me."
"…Well, back in the founding Lord's time, the Haomu Gate was extremely poor."
Dan Mujin nodded as if that made sense.
An alliance of dirt-poor people in the early days, huh.
These days they were the top information organization in the land, of course.
And that enormous money and power was exactly why the current Haomu Gate had fractured the way it had.
"Ugh, water."
Coming back from the dead left him desperately thirsty.
Dan Mujin forced himself upright from his lying position.
"Ghhhk… uwaaagh…"
Every part of his body immediately started screaming. There might not be any immediately fatal wounds left, but his overall condition was still absolute garbage.
"Ilhong, give me a hand here."
Knowing full well he was the reason Dan Mujin was in this state, Ilhong helped him without a word of complaint.
On the bed, Dan Mujin made dying noises as he got his upper body upright.
"Aigoo, I'm dying. I'm really dying. Take two jobs like this and I'm done for."
"…"
"What are you doing? Water."
Ilhong silently handed the water cup to the man who looked ready to keel over from pain.
Dan Mujin gulped it down greedily.
"Boss."
"Yeah."
Dan Mujin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he answered.
"In the middle of the fight, you gave that swordsman a chance to run."
"Yeah, I did."
Dan Mujin's body had been covered in large and small wounds, and the other side had been thoroughly freaked out by a little kid's toughness and sheer viciousness.
"Why didn't you run then?"
Anyone looking at the situation at the time would have said Dan Mujin was at a clear disadvantage. Even mercenaries who'd taken a fat payout would have fled in that spot.
But instead of running, Dan Mujin had charged in even more recklessly when victory was far from certain.
Ilhong was asking why he'd put his life on the line for him.
"What, abandon my client and run? Do something that humiliating and I'd never get another job again. Completely unacceptable."
"But no one would ever know. It only happened inside there."
If Ilhong had been captured, there wouldn't have been anyone left to talk about it.
And Beomcheon Eumjeok himself would never have mentioned fighting a little kid—he'd have been too embarrassed.
"I'd know."
Dan Mujin thumped his own chest with his fist as he spoke.
That, he said, would have gone against his conscience.
"…"
At that answer, Ilhong's expression grew tight and complicated.
There are people like this in the world.
Maybe it was because he'd grown up in the Haomu Gate, a place overflowing with schemes, betrayal, and internal strife.
To Ilhong, the boy in front of him looked like someone from an entirely different world. Someone who treated things that weren't ordinary as if they were the most natural thing in the world.
And in that moment, Ilhong made up his mind.
I'll trust him. Completely.
The person in front of him was nothing like those who pretended to be family and then stabbed you in the back the second things got dangerous.
Instead, he was the type who was a mischievous pain in normal times, but willingly threw his body on the line when it mattered.
"Boss… this life debt of mine—someday I'll definitely… repay it."
Ilhong clenched both fists as if making a vow and said it firmly.
"Sure. Become the Haomu Gate Lord and pay me back for real. That's a promise."
Dan Mujin nodded approvingly at the debtor-like posture, as if it were excellent.
"Yes, I will. But to do that, I first have to find Sangryeong and Haryeong."
"Those mysterious masters? How strong are they that the whole board flips the moment they show up?"
"From the records of their feats, I'm estimating them at the Transcendent Realm at minimum."
Masters of the Transcendent Realm.
Those human weapons who had achieved the Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown and the Five Energies Returning to the Origin, and could freely draw out Sword Aura.
For the record, Dan Mujin had been guessing that Hwang Geolgae was around that level too. The old man never gave a clear answer about his own realm, of course.
"That's what a 'master' means in the Murim. Especially one of the Transcendent Realm."
"True enough."
Just look at the Eunseong Merchant Group.
One unidentified monster of a person had the entire Top Ten Merchant Groups of the world dancing to his tune.
"No leads means this is going to take a while. A long-term job, then."
Job fees were usually billed on a sliding scale according to difficulty and time required.
"Right. In exchange, while we're looking, I'll help you with the detective work."
That offer of help he'd mentioned before. Dan Mujin had left his answer hanging at the time.
"Hmm."
"I know a lot of things. I can do a lot of things. I've memorized the features of every wanted criminal. I know so much that I'll definitely be useful."
Last time he'd said it for the sake of the job. This time it felt more like he just wanted to stick by Dan Mujin's side.
"So you want to be my loyal sidekick. That it?"
"Side-what…? Anyway, you even took a sword for me, so I'll put up with that much too."
Part of that had been about stacking good karma, if he was being honest.
But still, gaining a loyal, trustworthy subordinate in this savage Murim was a good thing.
"Alright. Stick right by my side."
"Yes, Boss. I'll work hard."
"Don't just work hard—work well."
In this line of work, results were everything.
"Yes. I'll work hard and well."
Ilhong answered with an eager, bright face. An office always ran better with two people than one.
And so, that was the day a loyal assistant officially joined the Dan Mujin Detective Agency.
"Tsk tsk. Look at the state of you. Completely wrecked. You get into a brawl with some beggars?"
Hwang Geolgae lay sprawled on the raised platform of the training grounds, muttering with a thoroughly pathetic look on his face.
"Who got wrecked? I didn't get wrecked."
"Then what are all those bruises? I teach you high-level fist techniques and footwork, and you come back beaten to a pulp in some beggar street fight?"
He pointed at my body, mottled with bruises, clicking his tongue as he knocked back more liquor.
"Not beggars, Old Man. I fought a Black Path crew. Especially that Beomcheon Eumjeok whatever-his-name-is."
"…What? Beomcheon Eumjeok?"
Apparently he knew the moniker. He was shocked enough that the drink froze halfway to his lips.
Hwang Geolgae scrambled down from the platform and started examining my wounds again.
"You fought that piece of trash? His sword work is pretty vicious. How the hell did you come back alive?"
A disciple he'd only been raising for a short while had already taken down a Second-class martial artist with a sword. Questions poured out of him one after another.
How was I supposed to explain this? A whole lot of things and twists and turns had happened, but if I had to keep it simple…
"Well… that's how it happened."
I just charged in and won. Headbutt, groin kick—I used every dirty trick in the book.
"Haah. What a ridiculous brat."
When I shrugged and answered like that, Hwang Geolgae let out a hollow laugh.
"Why'd you even get mixed up with a dangerous bastard like that in the first place? You said you were only bringing in beggar kids you already knew."
At that question I pointed at Ilhong, who had been following me with quick little steps.
"I fought to save this one."
Ilhong confirmed the old man who'd just come down from the platform, remembered the fight in the alley, and nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Ah! That guy is the pervy old—"
Smack!
A thunderous knuckle-rap crashed down on the top of Ilhong's head.
With a yelp of "Ow!", Ilhong went tumbling across the ground.
Yeah, those hurt like hell.
"What a pretty little thing this one is. What's so special about him that you'd take on an entire Black Path crew and a monster like that?"
Hwang Geolgae's eyes clearly said there was no way I'd go that far just for some good karma.
This old man was surprisingly good at seeing right through people.
"He's the only surviving son of the Haomu Gate Lord from the Beijing branch incident."
Well? Wasn't that worth forcing a bet even if it was a stretch?
A penniless beggar abandoned by his own family, with an old man nearby who kept threatening to kill him on a whim.
If you wanted to strike it rich, you had to place a firm bet on something—especially when the price was at rock bottom.
But after hearing my explanation, Hwang Geolgae made an extremely strange face.
"You little punk. Is that information solid?"
"Why? Is there a problem?"
Come to think of it, Hwang Geolgae was the head of the Beggar Sect, an information organization himself. He probably knew a fair bit about the Haomu Gate Lord.
"You little punk, as far as I know the Haomu Gate Lord…"
"The Gate Lord?"
"…only has one daughter."
What kind of nonsense was this?
I whipped my head around and stared at Ilhong.
"Ah, about that…"
Then, without a word, Ilhong reached into his clothes and started pulling out the cotton padding he'd stuffed inside.
It must have been for body contouring—his frame turned out to be slender. No wonder he'd felt so light for his size when I carried him.
And then came the even bigger shock.
Riiip—
Ilhong tore the skin right off his own face.
At that grotesque sight I let out a strangled "Eek!"
"It's a human-skin mask, you idiot."
Hwang Geolgae snorted a laugh from beside me and explained.
And when all the work was finished, standing in front of me was a girl with a high, elegant nose, bright sparkling eyes, and a short braided ponytail.
"What the hell is…"
They say when a person is truly flustered, the words don't come out right.
Under the force of my demanding stare, she—yes, she—awkwardly scratched her cheek.
"Weeell—"
Her soft pink lips moved hesitantly, as if she couldn't find a good excuse.
"…That's how it happened."