Choose the Fox, or Ally with the Wolf….
Won Seung waved his hand with a grin.
“No need for the Governor to worry. Why do you think we call it Baekhwa Pavilion?”
He ducked into the inner room and returned with a tightly rolled scroll, hanging it in the spot where he'd removed the Sang River Evening Clouds Landscape.
“Oh! Oh!”
Exclamations of awe rose from here and there as everyone crowded around the new painting.
Even So Yeonggwan couldn't tear his eyes away.
“This is a copy of Mount Durun's Ten Thousand Peaks in Fury by Yi Cheongsan, replicated by the later wild swordsman, Feng Yun-gongja.”
Won Seung introduced the piece.
“I thought Mount Durun's Ten Thousand Peaks had been lost ages ago... This isn't a fake, is it?”
Jong Wonbo eyed the painting suspiciously.
“No, it's authentic. The original was in the imperial collection. The previous emperor bestowed it on one of his officials. But that man got tangled in a rebellion plot and fell from grace, and it vanished... It looks exactly like the one I saw.”
His gaze shifted to Won Seung.
He didn't name the official because the man who exposed the plot was none other than the current Won Guksa.
You got this from your family, didn't you?
Won Guksa's ruthless reputation flashed through his mind.
A poor scholar from a humble family in Soju had aced the provincial exams, married into nobility with Joo Gunju as his principal wife.
Joo Gunju was the youngest sister of the previous emperor, who adored her like a princess. And as Seong Wang's own sister, her influence was immense. Won Guksa had used it to eliminate countless rivals.
Even more astonishing: he'd never gotten his own hands dirty. Rumors swirled a few times, but nothing stuck.
A man like that made a poor enemy. But... Seong Wang was no pushover either.
Seong Wang was a tyrant. The story of him beheading an official on the spot for insulting the imperial family was still whispered in bureaucratic circles.
Choose the fox, or ally with the wolf... That's the dilemma.
So Yeonggwan realized the moment of choice had arrived. He smiled at Won Seung.
“Baekhwa Pavilion truly is remarkable. I'd love to admire more paintings, but since I came unannounced today, I must take my leave.”
Only Yang Dae-hyeon noticed the subtle shift in the Governor's tone toward Won Seung.
As the Governor prepared to depart, his guards cleared the street outside.
Won Seung and Yang Dae-hyeon's group followed to see him off.
“I'll let you know if any fine pieces come in. Please visit anytime.”
Blissfully unaware of So Yeonggwan's inner turmoil, Won Seung bowed deeply.
Having gifted a bribe-worthy painting to the Governor, he was thrilled at the bright future ahead for Baekhwa Pavilion.
“Paintings...?”
So Yeonggwan did crave rare treasures.
“If such a piece arrives, could you deliver it to the Governor's office?”
A man of his position couldn't frequent a painting shop. Won Seung, getting the hoped-for response, replied at once.
“Of course.”
“Let's go.”
So Yeonggwan urged his daughter into the carriage. So Sansan cast a lingering glance at Won Seung before climbing in.
“Hyah!”
The coachman cracked the reins, and the four-horse carriage rolled off, guards trailing behind.
“Whew. Even the Governor himself... Incredible.”
Mun Yeok-su shook his head in admiration.
As they watched the carriage depart, Jong Bi sidled up and slipped Jong Wonbo a silk pouch.
Right. Almost forgot about this guy!
Jong Wonbo was still bowing toward the now-distant speck of the Governor's carriage.
“Time to head inside.”
Won Seung passed by Jong Wonbo and casually untied the silk pouch.
Eeeeng!
Five or six furious hornets, trapped in the narrow pouch, burst out—only to catch the thick honey scent and swarm straight for Jong Wonbo.
“Huh?”
Caught off guard by the sudden swarm, Jong Wonbo flailed his hands. The already enraged hornets went berserk.
One stung the honey-smeared spot behind his ear. Another jabbed the finger he'd used to dab the scent.
“Aaaagh!”
Jong Wonbo's vision burned, followed by waves of excruciating pain that shattered his composure. The stung areas swelled grotesquely in seconds.
But the hornets pressed their assault.
Jong Wonbo screamed.
“Arrrgh!”
“Young master!”
His guard rushed over from the side.
Jong Wonbo collapsed, gasping raggedly, eyes bulging as if to pop.
Yang Dae-hyeon hurried over, checked him, and shouted.
“His throat's stung. Leave him like this, and his airway'll close—he'll die. Get him to a physician, now!”
The guards hoisted Jong Wonbo and ran.
“I'll come too. This could turn fatal.”
Mun Yeok-su followed with a grim face.
With multiple stings on his neck, even a doctor might not save him.
Won Seung said sympathetically.
“Senior Brother Jong must carry hornets around with him. Last time his guard got stung... now it's him.”
Yang Dae-hyeon shot Won Seung a knowing smile.
This guy's the one who pulled out that perfume on purpose, huh?
As one of the Three Prodigies of the Realm, he saw right through Won Seung's scheme.
Ogu was livid, having been shoved into the outhouse in Jong Bi's panic. Seeing his mottled, inflamed skin, Jong Bi wrinkled her nose.
“Even after washing, there's still that faint shit smell. Did the poison seep into your bones?”
You shoved me in there!
Ogu grumbled inwardly as Won Seung scolded Jong Bi.
“It's our shit. Don't be too harsh.”
“The stench is killing my appetite. Let's book him a room at an inn for a bit. Tell him to come back once the smell's gone.”
Ogu recoiled at Jong Bi's cold practicality.
“No way! I can't. If Gwancheonbang spots me, I'm dead.”
“Hmm?”
Won Seung realized his plan had a snag as Ogu frantically waved him off, refusing to step outside.
If they find out Ogu's alive, Gwancheonbang won't let it slide... That'd be a problem.
It had been over two months since leaving the assassin training camp. Four more, and they'd have to return—Jong Bi included as supervisor.
Someone had to guard Baekhwa Pavilion, and Ogu was the only option. Getting caught by Gwancheonbang would ruin everything.
Won Seung eyed Ogu up and down.
“Ogu, you need a full identity wash—and a face makeover.”
Ogu felt uneasy. Changing his looks sounded ominous. He asked cautiously.
“A face makeover? What do you mean?”
“Not hard. Your face is plain, so a few tweaks will do.”
“So... what kind of tweaks?”
“Might as well do it now.”
Won Seung fetched a leather pouch stuffed with needles and assorted blades from the inner room.
Ogu paled.
That's a torture kit! He's gonna scar my face so no one recognizes me...?
Trembling at the sight of the sharp little knife, Ogu stammered.
“Can't I just use a human-skin mask? I've disguised myself plenty in the underworld...”
“Wearing that all day wrecks your skin. You've tried it—you know. I'll make it so you don't need disguises.”
Back at the camp, training all day in human-skin masks always left his face broken out like crazy.
Won Seung wouldn't inflict that on Ogu.
Ogu whined.
“Once I'm healed, then...”
“You're already recovering—let's knock it out now.”
As Ogu opened his mouth to protest, Won Seung jabbed an acupoint with a needle.
Gurk!
Ogu's throat gurgled. He couldn't move a muscle.
“Song Sensei, lay him on the table and strip him.”
While Jong Bi got Ogu naked on the table, Won Seung boiled his dagger.
Soon enough.
With tools sterilized, Won Seung stood before his “operating table.”
“Hmm... Rough skin can be smoothed with meds. First, the eyes. Change the shape, and the whole impression shifts.”
Ogu blinked in panic, but Won Seung needled him—eyelids frozen.
Won Seung sliced Ogu's eyelids with the dagger. Blood trickled from the shallow cut.
“Gonna gouge the eyes?”
Jong Bi watched with interest.
“Then he couldn't see. Just trimming the lids. Needs a delicate touch.”
After the cut, Won Seung told Jong Bi.
“Done. Smear salve on the lids and cover with a cloth.”
As Jong Bi handled that, Won Seung prodded Ogu's nose bridge. Crack—it snapped.
“Slightly hooked before. Made you look fierce. Straighten it, and the face changes completely.”
Plain impression my ass...
Won Seung trimmed below the ears, letting the lobes sag a bit.
Paralyzed, Ogu felt no pain—but knew his face and body were being mutilated.
Ah... I've walked into hell.
Ogu blacked out.
Undeterred, Won Seung worked on Ogu's body.
“Mole here brings bad luck.”
He dug out a back mole, transplanted it to Ogu's butt...
“Fingers too short look clumsy.”
Sliced between them, bandaged with cloth.
Tweaking here and there left Ogu mummified in bandages.
Even intrigued Jong Bi bailed midway—it was too gruesome.
Finished, Won Seung soaked the bandages in meds.
“Ogu, you're becoming a new man. You'll thank me when you wake.”
Having indulged his dream human experiments, Won Seung pressed the transfusion on his bandaged patient, satisfied.
Word spread of the Governor's visit, drawing more customers.
“Hmm. So lifelike—indistinguishable from the original. What a shame it's a copy.”
“Copy or not, if it's good, that's what matters.”
Two well-heeled men muttered, then asked Jong Bi at the counter.
“Hey, how much for this painting?”
“First time here, huh?”
Jong Bi pointed to papers stuck beside the scroll.
Three palm-sized slips, each with a price:
- 500 taels
- 550 taels
- 600 taels
“Hmm. So 500 or 600?”
“No—these are bids from buyers. We post them, and every ten days, sell to the highest bidder.”
“What? This isn't an auction house...”
“With so many wanting pieces, we have no choice. Please understand.”
“Hmph! Price gouging! Let's go!”
The pudgy one fumed and turned to leave, but the short one hesitated, stuck 650 taels on the painting.
The pudgy man said.
“Don't post yet. Someone might top it before the ten days. Wait and bid then.”
“Oh, right!”
As the short one peeled his note, Jong Bi clarified.
“If no higher bid in three days after posting, you can take it immediately.”
“Hmm. Skinning us alive...'
The pudgy one grumbled endlessly, but the short one pondered, removed 650, and wrote 700—jumping a full 100 taels.
“Why? Why add 50 more?”
“To hold it for three days, right?”
The short one wanted it fast.