<p>Clack.</p>
I wanted to grill him right then and there about the internal situation in the Jegal Family Manor, but blurting out the main issue out of nowhere didn't feel right. So I kept my mouth shut and focused on the game.
Clack.
"How was the game record I lent you?"
Clack.
"Ah, it was definitely a great match. The endgame was a work of art. But if I had one gripe, it's that the opponent was too polite."
Clack.
"If it'd been me, I would've thrown a wrench in their big-picture plans from the early game. They lost easy 'cause they were playing all proper like that."
Clack.
"Ha! Cocky brat. But you're right. Play too clean, and you lose winnable games. With that in mind, time for me to mess things up a bit."
Clack.
The grand design I'd been carefully nurturing, hiding it from prying eyes, got snapped by Jegal Yang's sabotage. The tower I'd slaved over crumbled in a few moves.
"Ack?! You damn old coot!!"
"If you've got the brains to backseat-game someone else's record, clean up your own house first, you arrogant pup."
I swallowed my anger and checked the board. Still okay. Losing that early setup meant minimal damage, in other words. Actually, better this way. Fresh start. Plenty of room to come back.
Lately, I've realized something playing baduk: you improve fastest against someone way better. Situations that used to stump me now show paths bit by bit.
I looked up at Jegal Yang's face. At first, I figured he was just a cranky old man shunned by his family. But with his killer baduk skills and that sharp aura he'd shown before, he wasn't just some grouchy geezer.
His clothes and vibe screamed high status. How high, though? Should I ask him to spill on the Jegal Family Manor drama? Or would that complicate things more?
Lost in thought as we played, someone in ornate robes entered the garden, glanced around, spotted me, and strode over to the pavilion with haughty steps.
Up close, I recognized him—the guy who'd "advised" me to stay out of Jegal Family Manor matters before.
He flicked his eyes over the board and me, a sneer curling his lips.
"Pathetic, wasting your youth on games. Someone wants to meet you. Get ready to go. Now."
Like I'd follow some rando who pops up demanding I tag along. ...But this was the heart of mafia central, no escape routes. As I grudgingly started to stand, the air froze.
More precisely, it crushed down. Lungs collapsing, body locking up. Couldn't even blink. Couldn't breathe.
Jegal Gak, from a branch family, had served the main heir candidates loyally since childhood. Not out of deep devotion, but to get his face known early. The other brats saw him as a fox riding the main house's coattails, but he didn't care. This was Jegal Family Manor. Main house power ruled supreme. Defy them, and you didn't survive.
That mindset had rooted deep in his brain, making him forget one thing: there's always a bigger sky above.
His usual recklessness had summoned not just anger, but disaster.
In his defense, who'd expect this lame kid to be playing baduk with the sky above the skies?
But excuses didn't fly for Jegal Gak. Even the main house of Jegal Family Manor couldn't trifle with this elder. One of the Top 10 Masters, Jegal Goryong—a vein bulging on his forehead.
"...Can't you see I'm playing baduk?"
Jegal Gak's whole body shook. Sweat or piss or who knows poured from him like a waterfall, soaking the ground. Teeth chattering wildly. Pleas for mercy, screams—all crushed by terror, silent.
A fish on the butcher's block, life-and-death in the grip of overwhelming power. That was Jegal Gak now.
"Do I have to tell you to scram before you do?"
Clack! The clear snap of a stone on the board shattered the frozen air.
The signal to GTFO if he wanted to live, and Jegal Gak turned half-man, half-beast, bolting on two legs, crashing to four, fleeing without a backward glance.
I was too stunned by the spectacle to speak, just blinking, when Jegal Yang grilled me.
"What the hell was that? Why are those mutts after you?"
I hadn't planned to play it this way, but with the setup handed to me, I spun a passable tale, padding it out.
"Got it. I'll handle it. Sit tight and have some tea."
"Huh? You're going now?"
"Won't take long. Back before it cools."
Jegal Yang sauntered toward the main house like he was just hitting the john. I watched his retreating back, sipping my tea.
"...It's already cold."
Might be awkward when the old man gets back?
The Jegal Family Manor's main house stood out dazzlingly from the other buildings. But the grand front gate—the face of the main house—lay in splinters from a brutal kick.
"Wh-who the hell?! Who dares smash the main house gate!!"
"Me."
"E-Elder?!"
A dragon in the moniker Jegal Goryong was auspicious. Dragons were titles for those showing exceptional talent in clans or sects.
Young Jegal Yang had been hailed a once-in-a-century genius in the brainy Jegal Family Manor, claiming the dragon seat.
Conversely, "guai" in the title was bad news. As in "strange" or "weird," it went to folks with odd personalities or bizarre martial arts—mostly evil faction warriors.
Righteous sects valued honor, so even eccentrics got respectful titles without "guai."
Thus, a righteous-affiliated "guai" meant the guy was a real pain in the ass.
In short, Jegal Goryong meant "Jegal Family Manor's pain-in-the-ass dragon."
One step. Another. Each crushed auras, fainting servants, splintering furniture. No longer human strides. A massive dragon forcing its way indoors, rampaging.
This'd wreck the whole house—maybe kill someone—so acting head Jegal Sobong rushed out in a panic, cupping his fists.
He wanted to yell, What the fuck's your problem?! But in murim, weakness and low seniority were sins.
"Acting head Jegal Sobong greets the elder!"
Jegal Yang flung a palm strike at the politely bowing Sobong, indifferent.
"Enough. Take a hit first."
Sobong had grown up watching Jegal Yang's assholery. The old man hit for real. No mercy for kin. He'd seen a cocky young uncle shatter six ribs from one palm, shitting himself. Sobong vowed then: if it happened to him, dodge for sure. Live first, right?
Quick call—politeness meant death—and he unleashed Heavenly Mechanism Bewildering Step, barely evading.
Reads upcoming events, the future, heavenly mechanisms to predict foes' moves and execute optimal steps accordingly. A footwork technique.
Jegal Family Manor was mocked for weak martial arts compared to other great families or Nine Great Sects, but Heavenly Mechanism Bewildering Step was universally acclaimed the finest footwork across righteous, evil, and all murim.
Jegal Family Manor's pride. No stance could catch its evasion.
But naturally, Jegal Yang was Jegal too. Mastered it fully. Read Heavenly Mechanism Bewildering Step better than it read itself.
"!!!!!"
Stone-faced, Jegal Yang had palmed the evasion spot in advance. Sobong gritted his teeth, stepping again.
Read again.
Step again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Each reading the other's future, seeking favorable worldlines. Futures clashing, tangling like knotted threads.
"Urk!"
Sobong broke first, collapsing to his knees. Brain overload from overreading futures.
"Can't even hit two digits on heavenly mechanisms? Pathetic. Don't go around claiming you're Jegal Family acting head."
"...Yes."
Head bowed in submission. Jegal Yang stood arms crossed behind. Never threw a real palm—just a feint exploiting Heavenly Mechanism Bewildering Step's future-reading.
Overwhelmed by the gap, Sobong felt fear and awe, kowtowing.
Slurp~
I gazed at the fully cooled tea and blooming flowers, waiting for Jegal Yang. Snack time soon—hope he hurries.
"Jegal Yang's laaate~ Gonna turn into a grandpa at this rate."