The Scorpion Candy
Geukseon was in a terribly foul mood.
Of course, anyone could have a bad day now and then; there was nothing especially remarkable about that.
But when someone like Geukseon got angry, it tended to cause serious problems.
The atmosphere around her was so cold it had turned almost murderous.
No matter how I looked at it, Ice Soul Divine Art should have been Geukseon’s to learn. If she had been the one to master it, the effect probably would’ve been twice as good.
Maybe she would’ve become the strongest person under heaven.
How could a person’s presence be that intimidating?
The reason for Geukseon’s bad mood was simple.
The Murim Alliance had ordered Geukseon, Geumran, Baek Jin-ah, Dang Yeong-young, and Hong Si-yeon to remain under confinement within the Alliance headquarters.
In other words, until the situation was resolved, they weren’t allowed to leave.
The cause, naturally, was the Green Forest.
A massacre at three of the Seventy-Two Strongholds. An investigation to determine the truth of it.
Until that investigation was over, they were to stay in the Murim Alliance.
For Geukseon, who had always done exactly as she pleased, it was an absurd restriction.
That was why she had nearly stormed out with sword in hand, only to be barely calmed down after the Alliance Lord repeatedly talked her out of it.
But that didn’t mean the order had been lifted.
So here she was, sitting in the lodging and radiating cold enough to make the room itself feel chilled.
Honestly, it was surprising.
With Geukseon’s personality, I would’ve thought she’d kick down the gate of the Alliance and go straight for the Green Forest’s other strongholds—and maybe even that so-called chief stronghold leader’s neck.
And yet, somehow, she had forced herself to hold back and listen to the Alliance Lord.
Probably because she was from Zhongnan.
If she hadn’t belonged to any school at all, she’d have ignored the Murim Alliance’s advice and gone out already.
Responsibilities and rights.
They were two sides of the same coin, weren’t they? If you enjoyed the rights, you had to shoulder the corresponding responsibility.
Geukseon had a fiery temperament, but she wasn’t the sort of person who would recklessly ignore duty.
“Don’t worry too much, Senior. Everyone knows you and the rest of us had nothing to do with it.”
“It’s not that!” Geukseon snapped. “What bothers me is the fact that the fools in the Alliance are humoring a bunch of mountain bandits!”
“That part does seem a little odd to me too. Why is the Murim Alliance listening to the Green Forest at all? Like Senior said, they’re criminals, aren’t they?”
That was why I hadn’t hesitated, nor felt any guilt, when I cut down the bandits in the mountain stronghold in the Dabie Mountains.
Criminals. Sinners. People who deserved punishment. Bastards who could die for all I cared.
Reform? Redemption? This wasn’t an age that had room for such luxurious words.
This was an era where if you were caught stealing, they could cut off your wrist, brand your forehead, and turn you into a slave.
So, in a way, taking their lives cleanly might even be considered merciful.
As someone who had lived in the twenty-first century, I couldn’t easily relate to that kind of world.
“That’s exactly why I’m furious! I don’t care one whit about some investigation! If we did nothing wrong, what’s there to fear? It’s just that the Alliance’s dignity and discipline have been dragged through the mud! How am I supposed not to worry about that?”
Geukseon really was a strange one.
Sharp-tongued and willful, yes, but in the end she still held fast to the framework of the righteous sects.
In that sense, she wasn’t a bad person. Just awkward and clumsy in her own way.
A truly reckless person would have ignored all of that.
“The Alliance Lord must have his reasons. From what I can see, he takes very good care of you.”
“Hmph. He’s always been like that. If someone incompetent did the same thing, I’d call it ridiculous.”
It sounded like an insult, but in the end it was praise.
If Geukseon was willing to give that kind of evaluation, then the Murim Alliance Lord’s ability was probably genuine.
“So please don’t stay angry. Should I go to the market and buy some dagwa? Sweet things tend to calm people down in times like this. Or maybe something spicy.”
Maybe women really were alike, no matter the era or the country.
I could certainly say the same for myself. Maybe because my body had become female, there were times when I just craved sweets and spicy food out of nowhere.
“Isn’t that just because you want some for yourself?”
“Hehe. That’s part of it too. But it’s nicer if we share it, isn’t it?”
“Hmph. Do as you please.”
That was as good as permission. In my highly refined Geukseon-speech Level 1 reading, that kind of line was basically the same as saying, Go buy it already.
“Then I’ll be back soon. It won’t take long.”
With that, I stood up.
“Child.”
At the sound of her calling me, I turned my head. Geukseon reached into her robes, pulled something out, and set it on the table.
A small piece of silver ingot.
After placing it down, Geukseon turned her face away and said, almost grudgingly, “Buy it with that.”
“Aww, Senior. I can afford dagwa myself.”
“Enough. Once you’re old enough, you ought to give out more than you take. Stop talking nonsense and take it.”
Honestly, she was adorable.
Seeing that side of her, it was hard to believe the reputation she had out there in the world.
She just looked like a shut-in who’d had very few chances to express her feelings.
Anyway, I took the silver and left the Murim Alliance.
The funny thing was that even though everyone else was under confinement, I wasn’t.
There were two big reasons for that.
One was that I had gone out under orders from the Murim Alliance.
Since they had issued the mission, the Alliance had to bear responsibility for all my actions.
Besides, my mission had been to suppress bandits.
Which meant that even if I had wiped out the bandits of one of the Seventy-Two Strongholds, it still wouldn’t count as my fault.
The problem would be the Murim Alliance for giving the mission in the first place.
Of course, I had gone beyond the mission and done more than necessary, so I probably would’ve faced some kind of punishment too.
But still, the one who had given me the mission was the Murim Alliance. So most of the responsibility would fall on them.
Come to think of it, the Murim Alliance really wasn’t such a strange organization.
The other reason was that I didn’t belong to any sect.
The reason Geukseon and the others were in trouble was their affiliations.
Zhongnan, Mount Hua, the North Sea Ice Palace, the Sichuan Dang Clan.
Their actions didn’t end with themselves.
Responsibility would spread to the places they belonged to, which meant the matter couldn’t be wrapped up so easily.
That was how grudges worked in the jianghu.
Martial artists were extremely sensitive to favors and enmities. Sometimes it felt like they lived only to obsess over those things.
So if part of the Green Forest’s Seventy-Two Strongholds had been annihilated, then the resentment would also extend to Zhongnan, Mount Hua, the Ice Palace, and the Dang Clan.
That was why the Alliance had taken measures like confinement.
I didn’t belong anywhere. So naturally, all the responsibility came back to the Murim Alliance.
In other words, there was no way to pin confinement-level guilt on me.
Which was why I could walk out like this.
What a ridiculous thing. The Murim Alliance was ridiculous, and this whole jianghu was ridiculous too.
They were so picky and sensitive about utterly useless things. It made me wonder why they had to be like that at all.
Right. What was that thing called again? The ritual debates?
Wasn’t that the argument about whether to wear mourning clothes for one year or three years?
That kind of feeling. Clinging so tightly to principles and rules that they became absurdly fussy over things that didn’t really matter.
If it were only to a reasonable degree, it would’ve seemed thorough, even admirable.
But taken too far, it only made people frown.
Anyway, once I was outside, I made my way through the market streets of Kaifeng.
Let’s see. Dagwa. I remembered seeing a place that sold it before.
Dagwa. In modern terms, that would be tanghulu.
I was a little curious, honestly. Even back in my own time, I’d never once tried tanghulu.
Same with mala tang.
To be honest, I hadn’t wanted to eat it much at all. The thought had always been, Why should I have to eat that?
I’d also had a bit of a grudge against Chinese things in general. It had felt vaguely humiliating to eat them.
And yet here I was now, living in medieval China and rubbing shoulders with Chinese people all day long.
Of course, the Chinese of this era were not the same as the ones people complained about in my own time.
To be honest, calling this “China” at all was probably not quite right. It was more like a fictional world with that kind of cultural coloring.
While I was lost in those utterly pointless thoughts, I finally found the dagwa shop.
And there it was at last. So it was here after all. My memory hadn’t failed me.
I slowly looked over the dagwa on display.
But, uh… what the hell is that? Wait—why is that here?!
I could understand fruit skewered on tanghulu.
But what was that skewer with a scorpion on it?! And why was it glazed all glossy like that?!
Don’t tell me people actually eat that? Have they all lost their minds?
I couldn’t help staring in shock. Scorpion tanghulu, seriously… was this for real?
The moment I saw it, all my appetite for dagwa vanished.
Wow. I’d been naive. These people really were the same as the Chinese I’d mocked.
So I stood there for a long time, debating whether I should buy tanghulu from the same place that made scorpion tanghulu.
* * *
Seeing Harin leave the Murim Alliance, Jeokwol felt a chill race down his spine.
Finally, she was out. And this time, Geukseon wasn’t beside her. There was no one else around either.
A lone girl. A perfect opportunity.
But even as that thrill surged through him, Jeokwol also felt an intense conflict rising inside.
Damn it. My arm still isn’t fully healed! Why now of all times?!
She was no easy target. He knew that much for certain, because he had already suffered under her once.
For some reason, her pressure-point strikes hadn’t worked at all.
And whatever trick she had used, she had shattered his arm so thoroughly it had been split apart in no time at all.
So Jeokwol, whose arm had still not fully recovered, was trapped in serious hesitation over this chance that had finally come his way.
Should he try? Or wait for another opportunity?
Looking back on his life, he prided himself on having always made cold, rational choices without hesitation.
But right now, as he watched Harin walking alone, he was agonizing over it.
For the moment, he decided to watch where she was going.
Just watch for now.
So Jeokwol kept his eyes on Harin as she moved.
The girl drifted through the marketplace without any particular caution, looking almost carefree.
Watching that unconcerned attitude, Jeokwol felt a surge of irritation.
He still hadn’t completed his mission because he couldn’t even manage to capture one girl like that.
But even so, there was nothing he could do about it.
His arm was still not healed. And that girl was far from an easy opponent.
So Jeokwol stood in front of the dagwa shop, scowling at Harin for a long while.
Still seriously wondering what he ought to do with this chance.