Black Cat, White Cat (3)
Sim Miho kept her mouth wisely shut beside him.
Hanbin chuckled at their reactions.
"What do you think is So Daeseop's reason for handing over that divine relic meant for the successor competition?"
"……"
"To let us wear a sword made of darksteel as some fancy accessory?"
"……"
"Or to give us the power to claim the family head position with it as a divine relic? Which is it, the former or the latter?"
"I think it's the latter."
"Right. Do you really believe that just getting our hands on one darksteel sword will suddenly skyrocket our martial prowess—me and the entire guard squad?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Exactly. So what do you think we really need right now?"
"……"
"What we need is war funds."
"W-War funds, my lord?"
So Daeseop's eyes widened.
Hanbin shrugged and continued.
"What do you think the successor competition really is, So Daeseop?"
"Well……"
"It's not some polite contest—it's war. Straight-up war."
"War……"
As So Daeseop trailed off, Sim Miho chimed in.
"You're right, my lord. To win a war, funds are essential. The eldest and second young masters benefit from their maternal clans' support, but……"
As Sim Miho hesitated, Hanbin waved it off.
"It's fine, just say it straight. I don't have a maternal clan to lean on—not even a speck. Unlike my gold-spoon brothers, I'm pure dirt-poor."
"That's not what I meant. I was just saying……"
"It's fine. Everyone knows I have no backing— even a three-year-old could tell you that! What I need isn't a relic; it's cash."
"My lord, to think you had such profound intentions……"
Sim Miho nodded in agreement but couldn't quite finish her thought.
She'd been worried that pawning the darksteel meant for a successor's relic would draw the family head's wrath, but now a strange sense of expectation toward her lord bubbled up inside her.
At that moment, Hanbin pressed on.
"I know what you're worried about, Deputy Commander Sim. If we can't overcome even that, how can we survive a war? As soon as we get back, start surveilling our rivals."
"My lord, you can't just……"
"Know your enemy and know yourself, and you'll win a hundred battles without peril."
"Wise words, my lord!"
Sim Miho nodded, and Hanbin continued.
"Truth is, my goal isn't to become family head!"
His sudden declaration made Sim Miho's eyes go wide.
"My lord, then what……?"
As she trailed off, Hanbin grinned.
"Survival, obviously. It's not the strong who survive—it's the survivors who are strong."
"That's true, but……"
"And I won't survive alone. I'll make sure we all do—you guys included!"
Hanbin swept his gaze across the three of them evenly.
So Daeseop and Sim Miho's eyes gleamed as they met his.
Hanbin's next stop was Cheonhwaru, Hebei's most famous restaurant and pleasure house.
As Hanbin halted in front of Cheonhwaru, his followers' eyes rounded once more.
This time, So Daeseop stepped forward.
"Young master, you said we need war funds, but how can you visit a pleasure house in broad daylight?"
Hanbin pulled several pouches from his bosom and held one out to So Daeseop.
"Here, So Daeseop."
"My lord, what's this?"
"Your daughter's been sick, right?"
"Pardon?"
"That's what you told the law enforcement hall. That you stole the manual because your daughter was ill."
"Ah."
So Daeseop let out a gasp.
It was all true. His sick daughter had worn both him and his wife down to the bone.
So Daeseop cracked open the pouch and peeked inside.
"Gasp."
His gasp turned into a near-scream.
The pouch brimmed with at least ten nyang of silver.
Hanbin's voice rang in the stunned So Daeseop's ears.
"Don't gape like that—put it away."
"It's too much."
"Call Hebei's best physician for a checkup. If you drag it out, it'll turn serious."
"Even so……"
"This isn't for you, Daeseop. It's for your family. And from now on, tell me about hardships before I have to notice them myself."
"Still……"
"I told you—this is war funds."
"Yes, you did."
"I'm investing in my sword."
So Daeseop clenched his teeth.
To stifle the sob rising in his throat.
Memories of his past misunderstandings of his lord flashed before him like a lantern show.
He regretted it all.
So Daeseop clasped his hands in a fist salute.
"Wise words, my lord!"
Afterward, Hanbin handed pouches to Sim Miho and Cheolno as well.
Their feelings were all the same upon receiving them.
That emotion shone plainly in their eyes.
Hanbin spoke casually, as if it were nothing.
"Now, let's head in."
"You mean actually into Cheonhwaru……?"
"No, not there—there!"
Hanbin pointed to the shabby inn next to Cheonhwaru.
The place Hanbin entered was a small eatery right beside Cheonhwaru.
Compared to Cheonhwaru's nine-story grandeur, the ramshackle building looked downright filthy, on the verge of collapse.
As Hanbin sauntered inside with casual strides, sharp glares poured down on him from within.
So Daeseop, following behind, swallowed hard.
The eatery was packed with ronin.
The rough-looking ronin eyed Hanbin's group—dressed in neat uniforms—with open hostility.
They all trailed after him awkwardly.
Leaving his nervous followers—who looked like village pups on an outing—Hanbin plopped down by the window as if it were his own home.
Unlike Hanbin, who owned the space, So Daeseop and Sim Miho scanned their surroundings with narrowed eyes.
Even they, seasoned Paeng family guards, seemed out of their depth in this atmosphere.
Hanbin grinned at them and nodded toward the seats.
At his gesture, they reluctantly sat.
Sim Miho whispered softly.
"My lord, why on earth did you bring us here?"
"I've got someone to meet."
"Someone to meet?"
"Perhaps……"
As Sim Miho trailed off, Hanbin tilted his head.
"Perhaps what? Why stop midway, Deputy Commander Sim?"
"Well, coming to a ronin hangout with the money from selling the darksteel—does that mean you're hiring ronin for the war……?"
"Deputy Commander Sim!"
"Yes, my lord?"
"You're overthinking it."
Hanbin gave her an exasperated look, and she sighed in relief.
"Phew, good."
No matter how much the successor contest favored raw power, bringing in outside forces violated family rules.
Just then, a shabby waiter approached.
"What'll it be, sir?"
"A bowl of beef noodle soup each, and a few bottles of jukyeopcheong."
The waiter asked again, sounding disappointed at Hanbin's order.
"Nothing else?"
"Oh, and two platters of the best poached chicken!"
"Right away, sir!"
The waiter bowed deeply and scurried off, attitude flipped.
Watching Hanbin, Sim Miho narrowed her eyes.
What's with that natural ease?
The way he slouched and ordered looked just like a ronin grizzled from decades in the jianghu.
Hanbin grinned at her.
"What's up?"
"N-Nothing, my lord."
Sim Miho hurriedly looked away.
Silence hung between them for a moment.
In the awkward air, Cheolno spoke up as if struck by a thought.
"Why this dump over all the other inns, young master?"
"It's a secret, Cheolno."
Hanbin grinned, and So Daeseop jumped in.
"You called us your sword earlier, but now it's a secret? Isn't that a bit much?"
"There's a jianghu saying for this."
"A saying?"
"The one who pries too much dies first."
"Guh!"
So Daeseop choked on his first slurp of noodle soup.
He hadn't noticed before, but Hanbin's words didn't sound like jokes anymore.
So Daeseop half-believed he might actually kill him.
Hanbin shrugged at the sight.
"Kidding. Let's eat first."
Hanbin lightened the mood again, but So Daeseop and Sim Miho's eyes sharpened like honed blades.
With Hebei's roughest ronin swarming the place, they were on edge.
Hanbin chuckled at their stiff postures.
Even as food arrived and drinks circulated, So Daeseop and Sim Miho never let go of their sword hilts.
Finally, Hanbin spoke up.
"Deputy Commander Sim, why act like a newbie?"
"Like what?"
"What do you mean? You look like a fresh-faced martial artist on their first outing. Can't have our captain and deputy acting like that. Pretend it's home and relax."
Sim Miho glanced at the ceiling.
In back alleys, guts mattered more than sword skill.
Don't flinch in a den of wild ronin? Is he serious?
It felt no different from when Paeng Kyungbin had swung his blade at her shoulder.
Hanbin turned to So Daeseop next.
He was just as frozen stiff.
Catching his gaze, So Daeseop waved his hands frantically, feet to the fire.
"I'm not tense."
"Then why the pose?"
"It's not……"
So Daeseop trailed off. He hated looking tense in front of his subordinates as captain.
Composing himself, he changed the subject.
"While we're out, how about stopping by the Mu Sword Clan?"
"Mu Sword Clan?"
Hanbin tilted his head.
But only for a moment—old memories resurfaced, and his eyes narrowed.
It was a deeply buried recollection.
One that took up barely a grain of space in his past life's memories: the Mu Sword Clan.
Sim Miho cautiously interjected.
"Why pretend you don't know? It's the Mu Sword Clan—one of Hebei's top five—where your fiancée is."
"……"
As Hanbin stared silently, Sim Miho continued awkwardly.
"You called the contest a war, my lord. In war, you use anything you can."
"You're right, Deputy Commander Sim. But will the Mu Sword Clan really become my sword?"
"Lady Musoryul of the Mu Sword Clan……"
Sim Miho trailed off, drawing a blank, and Hanbin chuckled.
"We're lucky if she doesn't stab me in the back."
Everyone's jaws dropped at his quip.
Until recently, Hanbin's only leverage had been his fiancée and her clan.
He'd grin ear-to-ear at any mention of her!
As they gawked, the jukyeopcheong and dishes arrived.
Hanbin downed a bottle straight, acting like nothing happened.
"Ahh, good stuff."
Sim Miho eyed his brazen nonchalance.
Ignoring her gaze, Hanbin sank into thought.
In his past life, Musoryul of the Mu Sword Clan wasn't a fond memory.
She was a thorough pragmatist—swallow the sweet, spit out the bitter.
Of course, his past self had been one of those she spat out.
Hanbin drained the last of his jukyeopcheong with a meaningful expression.
About two hours passed like that.
With drinks gone, food gone, and topics exhausted, Sim Miho prodded gently.
"My lord, how long are we staying?"
"No rush."
"Still……"
That was when it happened.
The din in the inn dropped as if someone had cast a silence spell.
All eyes turned to one spot.
A group entered, swords at their sides.