Dan Mujin Detective Agency, Central Plains Branch

A delicate fragrance of fine tea drifted softly through the chamber.

The noble beauty, who had been stirring her cup, paused and looked up with a faint start of surprise.

"The young hero who saved you—his name was Dan Mujin, you say?"

Lord Hwangbo bowed his head with respectful care before answering.

"Yes, Your Highness. A youthful fellow overflowing with chivalrous spirit. And he made the strangest claim—that he was already acquainted with Princess Dohwa…"

"Heh. Of course I know him. How could I forget that bold young man?"

Princess Dohwa's lips curved in a faint smile.

The youth who had stood before a princess of the realm and declared that he possessed many talents, so she should summon him whenever she needed help. That impudent yet strangely endearing figure flickered through her mind once more.

"It seems I have received his aid again without intending to. Would you not agree, Cheon Su-gong?"

"Indeed so… Last time as well, while we were tracking the remnants of the Hidden Sun Society, he lent us his strength. A most peculiar connection."

Truth be told, the name Dan Mujin had been appearing with increasing frequency in the Eastern Depot's reports. From the distant Murim Alliance headquarters in Shaanxi all the way to the Imperial Palace here in Beijing, the youth known as the Dog-Beating Dragon was making quite a name for himself.

"And seeing how he wiped out the Haomu Gate's core fighters in a single stroke, it appears his martial prowess has advanced considerably since then, Your Highness."

After the incident, the Eastern Depot had thoroughly investigated both the pleasure house and the affair itself. From that inquiry they had managed to gauge the young man's current level.

Hard as it was to believe, the reports suggested he had reached the Peak Realm at the age of fifteen. Eyewitnesses even claimed to have seen pure white staff qi blooming around him.

"…The Peak Realm. I know little of the Murim, yet I am told it is not a stage one reaches easily, is that so, Cheon Su-gong?"

"Correct. It is a considerable height. Considering his age, the talent borders on the unbelievable."

Experts of that caliber were coveted by every faction within the palace. Especially now, with the silent struggle for power raging through the court.

"Is that so… Might we bring him to my side?"

"Well, Your Highness. I could extend an invitation, however…"

"However?"

"…I have serious doubts the brat would listen."

Cheon Su-gong cast his mind back to the journey they had shared toward White Sheep Village. Even after learning his true identity midway, the insolent whelp had still talked back without the slightest restraint.

Impressed by the boy's uncanny ability to instantly replicate any martial art he witnessed—and by that instinctive talent for sensing killing intent—Cheon Su-gong had once tried to recruit him. The reply? The boy had rejected him while making crude jokes about eunuchs right to his face, then had the gall to declare that even his own manhood was nothing small in the face of a greater cause. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

The fellow clearly was not right in the head. In the end Cheon Su-gong had given up on the idea.

"There's no telling what sort of disaster he might cause. I advise against keeping him close, Your Highness."

"Mm. That severe… Very well. I shall heed your counsel."

Princess Dohwa nodded, looking faintly disappointed, as though she truly regretted losing such a promising talent.

"Still, hiring him as a free agent whenever the need arises should be fine."

Personality aside, his capabilities were exceptional. That killing-intent detection of his, sharper than a hound's nose—stationing him near the princess whenever spies or assassins might be about would prove immensely useful.

"A free agent… Now that you mention it, I heard he was planning to open some sort of troubleshooter office in Beijing."

Lord Hwangbo murmured the thought aloud, the memory suddenly surfacing as he listened to their exchange.

"A troubleshooter office?"

"Yes, Your Highness. A place that will resolve anything at all, so long as one pays."

"Resolve anything… the way he revived the dying sericulture industry, you mean…"

Martial skill, knowledge, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the sheer audacity to look an imperial princess straight in the eyes and offer his services. Though Cheon Su-gong had warned her not to keep the man close, Princess Dohwa found her interest stirred despite herself by that very uniqueness.

"How truly fascinating."

I had managed to secure a substantial loan from Sister Eun Hwaran.

Interest-free, and with no repayment deadline whatsoever. In this Central Plains, where vicious loan-sharking was the norm, no less. A privilege available only to a sworn little brother.

Even after fighting the Blood Cult at the Murim Alliance I had never received this much money.

"What do I do… She's been so generous I actually feel indebted now."

I needed to pay it back as soon as possible and clear the slate. Otherwise, the next time I helped her I would feel like I was merely settling a debt instead of performing a good deed.

With that thought in mind I kicked open the front door of Broker Madam Jang's office.

Bang!

"…Oh my, a customer?"

Madam Jang looked up from her book, startled by my dramatic entrance, eyes widening.

Before answering I first heaved a heavy chest full of gold onto her desk with a solid thud.

I flipped the lid open. A sickly yellow gleam spilled out, and greed instantly flooded Madam Jang's gaze.

"Goodness gracious, young master. You gathered this much already? You're more capable than you look."

She laughed like a neighborhood real-estate auntie, repeatedly smacking my arm.

I cut straight to the point and demanded the finest plot of land in Beijing that this money could buy.

"Madam Jang—the absolute best location."

"…Ah, with this amount the very best is a bit difficult."

Damn it. So Beijing's equivalent of Gangnam or Seongsu was still out of reach.

"Then the second-best!"

"Hmm, that one's also a stretch."

"…Fine. Third-best!"

"Ah, that should be doable."

Without the funds from Eun Hwaran, doing business inside the inner city would have been pure fantasy.

And so, by pouring every last bit of wealth I had accumulated until now, I acquired a piece of Beijing land. I was able to open my establishment in the third-best commercial district the capital had to offer.

"What do you think, Ilhong? This is our office."

A somewhat old and modest two-story commercial building came into view, though it still possessed a certain charm. Compared to the prime location she had shown me last time, the visibility and foot traffic were inferior in every way, yet it was not a bad place to begin business.

After all, you couldn't fill your belly with the first spoonful in life. Once we made serious money we could gradually move up to better spots.

"But isn't the building a little run-down?"

She had grown up in the heart of Beijing, so her standards were quietly high.

"We'll slap on some paint and decorate. We don't have the cash left to rebuild."

Given the construction techniques and costs of this era, most buildings were roughly the same height and number of floors. We could use the lower floor for receiving clients and the upper floor as our living quarters.

I explained the plan to Ilhong. Her expression grew faintly complicated.

"Boss… then…"

"Yeah? What?"

"The two of us… we're living in the same building now? Sort of like a bridal chamber?"

"…Hmm."

Correction.

The lower floor would serve as both the client reception area and my personal quarters. The upper floor would be Ilhong's private residence.

When I re-explained it that way, she pouted slightly.

"I was joking, seriously. You usually treat me like some tomboy, but the moment it gets like this…"

"You're complaining even when I hand you a whole floor?"

I had changed the arrangement because she seemed worried, and now this. That was the kind of reaction you got from someone who had never spent tearful orphanage nights crammed eight to a room.

"All right then—shall we prepare for the grand opening?"

At last, my own nest on this vast Central Plains soil. After years of wandering with nowhere to call home, the moment had finally arrived for this drifter to become a proper Beijing resident.

Before long, opening day dawned.

In a commercial building on the outskirts a short distance from Beijing's bustling thoroughfares, the renovations were complete and a brand-new signboard was being hung.

"Dan Mujin Detective Agency, Central Plains Branch…? Boss, what's a detective agency?"

Ilhong asked with a puzzled face as she studied the shop name a calligrapher had written in one bold stroke.

"Detective Agency. You raise something up, and whatever was hidden beneath it is revealed. Something like that."

We were different from mere sword-for-hire free agents. A modern detective agency provided quality information and, if the client desired, every possible form of labor.

"And there are a lot of weird slogans too…"

She pointed with a dubious look at the shameless promotional banners I had hung at the entrance.

Huge lettering with the inconvenient truths written in tiny print underneath. Ilhong looked at me with pitying eyes, as if to ask what kind of shameless advertising that was supposed to be.

"Hey now, that's marketing. Marketing. You don't know?"

"Of course I don't. What is it?"

A subordinate who couldn't even grasp her boss's profound intentions. We still had a long way to go.

While we were bickering in front of the office, the banquet specialists sent by Merchant Leader Eun Hwaran began arriving one after another. The moment they appeared they expertly set up tables and stalls along the main road, rolled wine barrels into place, and started cooking with the tools they had brought.

The savory aroma of stir-fried meat and the fragrance of liquor wafted out as if a festival were underway, drawing curious onlookers from the surroundings.

"Come on over! Have a bite of delicious meat before you go! Dan Mujin Detective Agency—grand opening today!"

When you opened a shop you had to spend a little money. You threw a feast, gathered people, burned the name into their minds, and advertised all at once. Shops that opened without a sound usually closed without a sound later on.

"We've also prepared fire liquor that hits the throat just right! Have a cup before you leave!"

Who in all the Central Plains would refuse free meat and free liquor?

I gathered the crowd like a street hawker. A dancing balloon mascot and a booming woofer blasting music would have been the cherry on top, but since we lacked those, I simply had to shout at the top of my lungs.

"Looking for a husband who ran off? Want to find the bastard who took your money and vanished? Come right here! This Dan Mujin will solve it all for you!"

There was no lively music, but one apprentice courtesan sent from Cheonhwaru added melody and rhythm with her instrument. As the banquet atmosphere heated up, feast-goers flocked in from every direction.

"Troubleshooters? You mean those unorthodox types who'll do anything without picking and choosing?"

"The Dog-Beating Dragon is supposed to be an orthodox martial artist, though. That kid's a strange one."

"Who cares, just drink! When are we ever getting another chance like this?"

They say the most pitiful thing in the world is a feast table with no guests. At least our detective agency had managed to imprint its face properly amid the lively crowd.

And of course a feast would not be complete without Beijing's beggars; they too had claimed seats and were enjoying the leftover food and drink. Well, the more beggars that flocked to a feast day, the more prosperous it was said to be, so there was no need to stop them. Besides, it reminded me of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my own days as a beggar drifting through the back alleys.

"…Hmm?"

Yet among the beggars I spotted an extremely familiar face. An old man with a long, streaked white beard was gulping down fire liquor at the mere mention of free booze.

"What's that old geezer doing over there…?"

The instant I discovered him, a headache began to form. The man had a supernatural talent for appearing whenever the scent of meat and liquor was in the air.

"Boss, is that… by any chance Master Hw—"

"Let's pretend we don't know him."

"Yes, sir."

Strictly speaking the fellow was a beggar, after all. Even if he insisted he was a Taoist immortal.

"I wish the Beggar Sect would hurry up and collect him already."

I had definitely sent word through Ma Jungcheon. Perhaps they were being cautious for fear he would run away the moment they approached. The Beggar Sect's silence felt slightly disappointing today.

"Heh heh, the liquor tastes fine…!"

A week had passed since the opening ceremony.

The proprietor of Cheonhwaru, Ju Wolay, Eun Hwaran, and various other acquaintances had taken turns visiting the office, so the place had been fairly lively for a while. The flowers, orchids, folding screens, and porcelain they left behind now filled the reception area.

But once another week went by, the stream of visitors dried up as if by magic. There were no more acquaintances left to come, and for all the noise of the opening day, actual clients simply were not appearing.

"What the hell? How can there be this few customers…?"

Fifteen years as a troubleshooter. Dan Mujin, human being, facing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the greatest crisis of his life. On top of everything, businesses like this had to pay taxes to the court every quarter, so we needed to make money.

I asked our office's financial brain, Ilhong, what the problem was.

"Being a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠troubleshooter is actually the kind of work half-baked unorthodox martial artists do."

In other words, the prejudice that we took on anything because we lacked real skill had probably been plastered onto our shop as well. That meant a formidable barrier to entry had formed.

"And any wealthy person who can afford to hire a Peak Realm expert would just go to a reliable free-agent association in the first place…"

Another cutting observation from her. So no one was going to risk coming here with a request. Prejudice plus distrust, then. The fastest way to fix that would be to prove ourselves with actual results and outcomes.

"Problem is, we have no clients to prove anything with. Damn it."

Back in Korea my name had been enough that customers thronged the door every time I moved offices.

Jingle-jingle.

At that very moment the metal pieces I had hung by the door began clanging vigorously. A clear signal that a customer had arrived.

"Welcome!"

I sprang to my feet to greet the visitor. Looking closer, though, I saw a familiar height, sharp eyes, and face.

"Ah, it's just you, Sister Dang Yeohye."

I let out a deflated sigh and flopped back into my seat.

"Ha, are you kidding me? Why do you look so disappointed the second you see a person's face?"

Dang Yeohye, who had merely walked in, let out a hollow laugh as if she could not believe my reaction.

"I thought you were a customer."

"I am a customer, you know?"

Saying so, she plopped down in the chair opposite me.

"Ah, a customer? Ilhong, bring a cup of tea."

There were some old, bitter tea leaves in the corner I had prepared for when annoying visitors showed up.

"So, do you actually have money?"

She had run away from home, received no support, and was always scraping by. Hard to trust her solvency.

Thud.

This time, for some reason, she plunked a heavy money pouch right onto the desk.

"Ilhong, bring some snacks too."

A real customer after all. I rubbed my hands together and leaned toward her.

"So then, client, what business brings you to our office?"

A customer deserved proper treatment. Who cared if it was networking? My own nose was already three feet under water.

"You said back then you'd do anything. Anything, right?"

"Yes, that's right."

If there was demand, we supplied it for a reasonable fee. That was the detective agency's motto. From collecting evidence of adultery to playing the terrifying uncle for a kid being bullied at school. In that role there were no sacred cows or restrictions.

"Wait a second. Human experiments with poison are off-limits, okay?"

I wrapped both arms around myself as I said it. In her case she already had a record of slipping things into my meals.

"It's not that… It's something involving my family."

Her family—that would be the Sichuan Tang Family. Come to think of it, I remembered how desperately she had been avoiding the Tang Clan elders' gazes back at the Murim Alliance.

"…Hey, you."

"Yes? What is it?"

What kind of request made her hesitate with that expression? Her pomegranate-red lips kept parting and closing.

"Marry me for a bit…"

"…?"

What the hell did she just say?

From the corner came the clatter of Ilhong, who had been bringing tea and snacks, tripping and falling flat.