Chapter 34. Baekhwa Pavilion
It was time to shoot an arrow at Yi Eon-pae's house. One shot every month.
Won Seung pulled out his writing brush and inkstone, scribbling a few lines on a scrap of paper.
Yi Eon-pae,
I was too busy last month to pay you a visit. There are just so many bastards in this world worth killing. Be grateful you got an extra month of life. I'll drop by at the end of this month. Wash your neck nice and clean and wait for me.
He added his signature baby turtle doodle and handed the note to Jong Bi.
"Tie this to an arrow and shoot it into Yi Eon-pae's room."
Jong Bi wrinkled her nose at the turtle surrounded by a flurry of curses.
"Why the hell do you do crap like this?"
"There's a reason. You'll figure it out later."
Exposing his assassin life made him uneasy, but with Jong Bi stuck to him like glue, there was no hiding it. Might as well train her properly since she'd find out anyway.
"Got it. Call me a first-class assassin when I get back."
The next morning, Jong Bi set off early for Jungyang County.
Back at Gwancheonbang, Ogu holed up in his room, sleeping like the dead until Gu Ja-ang summoned him at dawn.
"What happened? Why didn't you report yesterday?"
Ogu spilled everything that had gone down, straight up. Won Seung scared him, but Gu Ja-ang terrified him more.
On the other hand, he held out faint hope that Gu Ja-ang might cure the poison he'd ingested.
Gu Ja-ang listened, his face icy cold, eyes rolling in thought.
'Thought he was just some scholar, but he uses poison? Is he really from Seongwangbu?'
Scholars often dabbled in tricks, so poison wasn't out of the question. No, a Seongwangbu strategist should handle poison just fine.
'This is a headache. Better not touch him until we confirm his identity.'
It was a critical time where one slip could lead to disaster.
Gu Ja-ang was waiting on a report from his trusted subordinate in Huangdo.
Ogu shrank, watching Gu Ja-ang's mood.
Gu Ja-ang called in the guards outside.
"Lock this one in jail for now. Suspicion of colluding with the enemy."
Ogu jumped up in protest.
"No! I endured brutal torture and spilled nothing!"
"Then how'd you come back in one piece? He promised antidote in a month? What did he make you do?"
Gu Ja-ang glared at Ogu with terrifying eyes, then turned to the guards.
"Starve him until he coughs up the truth."
The seeds of distrust and betrayal Won Seung had sown were taking root.
The errand boy knocked on the door.
"What is it?"
"Hehe, midway bill, sir."
The boy handed over the tab.
'Holy shit!'
As Sangyang's top inn, the food and lodging costs were insane.
Won Seung asked in a trembling voice,
"We settle up when we leave, right?"
"Ah, we bill every ten days. You could prepay and stay on credit, but..."
The boy's face turned stone-cold. He'd been all smiles a second ago—money flipped the switch.
"Forget it."
Won Seung dug out his money pouch and paid up. It deflated instantly, while the boy's grin bloomed anew.
'Ugh...'
He'd made a killing selling meds at Cheongsu Gate, but half was gone.
'No good. At this rate, I'll be broke before the assassin gigs wrap up.'
Pondering hard, Won Seung headed to the calligraphy and painting district that afternoon, loading up on brushes and paper.
Then he barricaded himself in the room, painting like mad.
Days later, Jong Bi returned to find stacks of paintings crammed everywhere.
"What's all this?"
"Can't mooch off people forever. Gotta work like a man."
"Going pro as a painter?"
Jong Bi unrolled one casually and blinked in surprise. A landscape with a waterfall that looked alive.
"Huh. Not bad."
"Oh ho? You spot it?"
"What's it supposed to be?"
"By Anmoksaeng, super famous painter."
"Then it's a fake?"
"No!"
Won Seung pointed to the margin: "Imitating Anmoksaeng's style after viewing his work. Fengyun Gongzi."
"See? Not plagiarism."
"Pfft. What's the point of crap like this?"
"You didn't even know it existed till now, right? Big shots hoard famous pieces for private viewing. Folks hear about Anmoksaeng's Thousand-Day Waterfall but never see it."
Jong Bi slapped her knee with a gasp.
"Aha! So you fake 'em to show what they look like."
"Bingo. Head starting to turn, huh?"
"Will it make money?"
"Guaranteed. I'll paint; you do the mounting, first-class assassin."
"Me, mounting?"
Jong Bi scowled.
"Never learned?"
"I did, but it's been ages..."
"I'll teach you what you forgot. Mount 'em."
"Can't we outsource?"
"Nope. Eras differ, so mounting styles too. And leaks kill the biz."
"Ugh..."
In the end, Won Seung painted while Jong Bi mounted.
"How's this?"
Jong Bi showed off a finished scroll. Won Seung studied it, then fetched powder from his room.
He unrolled it, sprinkled powder, added a splash of water.
"What the hell!"
Too late—a stain bloomed in one corner.
"Gotta look aged. Old fakes fetch better prices."
Won Seung lifted the treated scroll.
"Whoa, this looks centuries old."
Jong Bi warmed to the work. Money? She dove in. Her mounts got Won Seung's chemical aging for that natural patina and antique vibe.
Won Seung had eyed countless paintings as a kid, with killer memory—he nailed even ultra-famous ones convincingly.
Hell, he copied pieces stashed in the imperial palace.
With a hundred done, Won Seung declared,
"Time to snag a shop."
"Full storefront? Squatting in Sangyang long-term?"
Jong Bi looked puzzled.
Won Seung needed a base after toppling Jeokhyeolsan assassin camp. With Big Stepmom alive, Won Mansion was off-limits.
Sangyang was big, livable. Thriving painting shop? Perfect stay-put cover.
"Makes cash, solid disguise... Painting shop's ideal."
"Won't HQ bitch?"
"We keep shut, who knows? Assassins need secret lairs."
"True, but... Shop opens, local branch sniffs it out. Reports to HQ."
Active assassin Jong Bi nodded, worried.
Won Seung gaped.
"Branch? Jeokhyeolsan has one here?"
"Duh. Every decent city."
Won Seung's gut dropped.
Idiot. How'd he miss that?
"Where?"
"No clue. They don't hang signs. Super secret."
Even second-class Jong Bi knew squat.
Won Seung's scalp crawled. If Sangyang branch was watching...
"No sweat."
"Why?"
"You're a trainee, not Jeokhyeolsan. I'll watch you myself."
"Oh. Right...? Whew."
"But shop might draw branch probe. They report local changes to HQ."
"Hmm..."
Won Seung schemed.
"Launder identities hard when opening. You pose as scholar too. Hide swords."
"Gotcha."
Won Seung rented a tiny corner shop in the calligraphy district as "Fengyun Saeng."
Looking for carpenters? Highway robbery prices. They DIY'd renovations, even painting.
Assassin training covered woodworking—no sweat. But Won Seung's Seongwangbu impersonation meant no public sightings.
So dawn outings in disguise via back ways, late nights back.
Stargazing to work, Won Seung griped,
"Livelihood assassin's path is rough."
Shop spruced, "Baekhwa Pavilion" sign hung, Won Seung prepped move to attached quarters.
Art supplies and rent gutted his pouch.
Last night at Unhwa Inn, packing, he asked Jong Bi,
"Got that hundred taels from Jo Bang-un?"
"Huh? Isn't that for my debt?"
"Hand it over. Inn bill."
"How much? Ten taels?"
"All hundred. I'll repay from paintings."
"What the hell's the tab?"
Jong Bi eyed suspiciously; Won Seung flashed the bill.
"Holy shit!"
Jaw-dropping sum.
"Fuck this... Let's bounce."
While Won Seung set up Baekhwa Pavilion, Sangyang buzzed.
Biggest buzz: Hwa Cheon-gang dodging Yong descendant's challenge. Outraged, the Yong heir pitched a tent at Cheongsu Gate with a flag.
Cheongsu Gate's doors stayed shut.
Rumors flew; Yong heir's tale spread wide. Old-timers who remembered Yong family cursed the Hwa brothers.
"Killed the father? Face the son. Still claim to rule Sangyang?"
"Proud of Cheongsu Gate till now—now Sangyang's shame."
Barrage of hate, but Cheongsu Gate ignored it.
Gwancheonbang squirmed. Plans to hit Cheongsu Gate during Hwa Cheon-gang vs. Yong heir deathmatch? Fucked.
Never figured a Top 100 expert like Hwa Cheon-gang would ditch honor.
Cheongsu Gate stole Sang River logistics from Yong family. Accept the challenge—or hand rights to Yong heir!
Gwancheonbang leader stirred opinion, but Hwa brothers picked profit.
They muddied waters with counter-rumors.
Claimed legit fight for Sang River dominance—above board. Won't accept challenge to avoid ending Yong line.
-Better take public hate than wipe out a clan.
Yong heir swapped flag text.
Sangyang eyes glued to Cheongsu Gate and Yong heir, new Baekhwa Pavilion in painting district corner went unnoticed.
Tiny, no flash—no foot traffic.
Ambitious launch, zero customers—Jong Bi griped,
"So confident, huh? Flies buzzing, that's it?"
"Quality paintings trade quiet. Rabble brings no cash."
Won Seung bluffed, inwardly worried. Scoped the street, shop—nothing wrong.
"Bad location?"
Sudden epiphany—he slapped his knee.
"Ah! Grand opening! Skipped that! No wonder no biz."