Chapter 98. In That Case... I Can't Trust You Either
Won Seung glanced around and spotted a tofu shop just opening its doors.
"Go grab a tofu cart and some tubs."
"What for?"
"He's not dead yet. Gotta apply some medicine."
"To a total stranger?"
Why save him?
Jong Bi stared at Won Seung like he'd lost his mind.
"Kill one, save one. That's how you avoid bad karma."
He'd killed Deung San, so saving Yu Bul-gun would balance the scales.
Moments later, Jong Bi returned with the cart and tubs.
Won Seung crammed Yu Bul-gun into one tub, draped a cloth over it, and piled it high with tofu blocks.
"Let's go. Tofu delivery to Baekhwa Pavilion."
The two pushed the cart through the predawn streets to Baekhwa Pavilion.
The guards eyed the pavilion's painters hauling a tofu cart curiously but said nothing. Rumors swirled that a Taesu backed the place—they turned a blind eye.
Baekhwa Pavilion was a wreck after the black dao thugs' visit.
"Those bastards... I'll make them pay someday."
Jong Bi ground her teeth at the mess. At least she'd gotten one good stab in on Gwisoo.
While Jong Bi tidied up, Won Seung fed Yu Bul-gun a Rejuvenation Pill alongside a Soul Oblivion Pill.
The Soul Oblivion Pill was the first drug he'd taken upon arriving at the assassin training camp in the mountains. He'd whipped it up out of boredom, but who'd have thought it'd prove so useful...
Then he stitched the wounds and slathered on golden sore salve.
"Take him to the study and lay him down."
Won Seung had pointed to the bed in Hyeol Hwa's study, but Jong Bi hauled him to the barn instead, laying him on the wooden bed Yong Jo-un had used.
She came back out and remarked,
"That guy's got a creepy face. No expression at all."
"You're not much different. And he wasn't always like that."
The Yu Bul-gun from his childhood memories had narrow, curved eyes and a perpetual smile. It used to annoy him, but this blank face wasn't any better.
Did he get arrogant climbing from steward to chief steward?
Jong Bi headed to the kitchen and whipped up some food. The two, starved from running all night, gorged themselves and patted their full bellies when someone knocked.
Jong Bi answered, then returned with a grim look.
"The black society boss wants to see you."
Won Seung's heart skipped, but he tucked a dagger into his belt at the small of his back and headed to the shop front. Stripped of its paintings, the place felt hollow.
Deung Noya sat at a customer table, waiting.
"Who might you be?"
Won Seung had to play dumb.
Deung Noya fixed him with a mild gaze and said,
"I heard some odd painting shop popped up on the painting street. Sells forgeries only? Got curious and came to see."
Buying paintings this early? Give me a break.
Still, the old man's no slouch—crashing in at dawn after pulling an all-nighter.
Won Seung poured tea and replied,
"As you see, the paintings are all gone. When new ones come in, I'll let you know. Where do you reside?"
Deung Noya's eyes curved wide. He smiled warmly and said,
"I lost my pants a few days back. Finely tailored ones, too."
"Oh no! Must've been valuable. But, sir, for pants, head to the clothing district over there."
"Never mind. Can't be helped. So I'm thinking of using fake paintings instead—what do you say?"
'Huh?'
What the hell?
Won Seung eyed Deung Noya.
Those curved eyes still smiled, but the thin slits beneath the wrinkled lids gleamed sharp enough to slice flesh.
'This old codger's a master!'
What's with all the experts in Sangyang?
Won Seung felt sweat trickling down his spine.
-Use the paralyzing poison?
Jong Bi's transmission voice rang in his ear. Coincidentally, Deung Noya's gaze flicked to one wall, pocked with nail-like holes where Jong Bi lurked hidden.
Won Seung smiled and shook his head.
Deung Noya already knew she was there. One wrong move, and Won Seung would be the one hurting.
'Jong Bi... stand down.'
He signaled and said,
"I can't make heads or tails of what you're saying, sir. Pants and paintings are worlds apart—how could one replace the other? You can't wear a painting."
"Can't wear it, but you can hang it up, block the view, no?"
Hmm.
Won Seung got it now.
With Ogu's "pants" facade blown, he needed a new fake black society boss.
But why come here looking?
No way it's me.
"Is Master Ogu badly hurt?"
Ah!
Now it clicked.
Won Seung was only sixteen—manly enough in his own eyes, but to elders, still a boy without the rough edges.
Jong Bi was barely in her thirties. Ogu, though, was mid-thirties originally, youthened to mid-twenties by surgery... but a decade's weight doesn't vanish.
So Deung Noya figured Ogu was the boss and wanted him for the fake role!
When Deung Noya inquired after Ogu, Won Seung feigned deep worry and vented,
"He's recovering somewhere."
"You traded blows evenly—why not call it even and move on?"
"......"
Deung Noya pulled an envelope from his bosom and handed it over.
"For Master Ogu's medical bills."
Won Seung peeked: a one-hundred-tael silver note.
Oho, black society boss alright. Big spender.
"Where are you folks from, anyway?"
"Truth be told, we got caught peddling forgeries in Huangdo and washed up here."
Won Seung brazened it out, but Deung Noya wasn't buying. Forgery wasn't that grave a crime.
Won Seung sighed dramatically.
"There was more to it—something shady."
"Shady?"
"Yeah. Our shopkeeper's a real looker. Some high official's concubine came for a painting, and... well, things happened. The bigwig found out. Nearly got us killed."
Deung Noya nodded knowingly.
"Who can stand in the way of young love?"
"Exactly."
"Must've been rough."
"You bet. But here? Black dao everywhere. Rent's killing us. And last night? We got raided."
"Raided? Sangyang's black dao are fairly upright."
Deung Noya played innocent.
"Tell Master Ogu this: I've got a proposition. Once he's recovered, let's meet."
"And who might you be, sir?"
"I'll send word when the time's right."
Deung Noya deftly changed tack.
"Do you know why Master Ogu entered the tripartite duel?"
"We take any paying gig."
Won Seung answered straight-faced and honest.
"Ran some errands between Cheongsu Gate and Gwancheonbang."
"Is that so? Fine, upstanding youths. Reminds me of my younger days. Keep at it."
Deung Noya rose. Won Seung hurried to open the door. As he stepped out, the old man paused like something just occurred to him.
"Any errands left from the tripartite duel?"
"Just the bracket draw. The rest is up to the organizers."
"Right. Know how the brackets'll shake out?"
This old fox?
He knows Cheon Il-hae is dead and Hwa Cheon-gang gravely wounded. Why ask me?
"Only heaven knows."
"True enough. Farewell."
Deung Noya patted Won Seung's shoulder and left.
With the hundred-tael gift, Won Seung saw him off into the street.
Morning summer sun blazed down already. A bodyguard shaded Deung Noya with a large parasol.
'Thousand-year-old serpent, that one.'
Won Seung watched his retreating back. Suddenly, Deung Noya turned.
Won Seung bowed deeply and politely.
Deung Noya chuckled faintly and vanished.
"Why'd that old guy show? Revenge for stabbing his man?"
"Nah, doesn't seem like it."
Won Seung shook his head.
"Black society won't bother Baekhwa Pavilion for a while."
"Good enough."
Jong Bi, up all night, was beat. She headed to her room without another thought.
Won Seung did the same. Four hours till the noon tripartite duel. He'd catch a wink.
But they were roused at once.
Grk!
A short groan, then
Thud!
Something heavy hit the back wall like a dropped gourd.
"Check it!"
Won Seung thumped the wall to summon Jong Bi next door.
Rustling sounds, footsteps toward the back wall. He was drifting off when—crash, clatter!
Won Seung rushed out. In the yard, Jong Bi and some man tumbled down the stairs from the hall.
Jong Bi sprang up, bowing and apologizing profusely.
"S-sorry! My legs gave out... slipped on the stairs."
"Help me up already!"
The man scowled.
Jong Bi supported him to his feet. Spotting chairs under the eaves, he aimed for Hyeol Hwa's spot, but Jong Bi blocked and offered Ogu's instead.
Damn, devotion even now—guarding Hyeol Hwa's seat.
But who's this guy making Jong Bi grovel?
She whispered,
"Bi Jangno's guard. U Hui... real expert."
"Bi Jangno's guard? Then why's he such a mess?"
U Hui was arrow-pierced in the shoulder, bloodied everywhere.
He'd barely escaped the soldiers, swam the Sang River, and headed for the inn with Bi Jangno. But streets crawling with troops—he hid.
Jeokhyeolsan branch was close, but no go. Injured assassins got summarily executed to protect the branch's secrecy.
Pondering, he recalled the trainee Jwa Hu had watched. Second-class assassin overseer, safehouse too.
Baekhwa Pavilion on painting street?
Morning bustle let him ask around and find it. Over the wall just in case... some bastard spiked it with iron caltrops.
Sliced up by Haeyeonmun blades, big arrow in the shoulder. Exhausted from night-long battle and flight, stabbed foot—he slipped off the wall.
No dignity for a master.
Won Seung grabbed medicine and approached.
"Aigoo, hit by a greatbow. Must hurt like hell."
U Hui had snapped the arrow's front, but the shaft remained. Won Seung gripped and yanked it free.
"Grrk!"
As he reached for hemostatic powder, U Hui waved him off and offered his own from his bosom.
"Use this!"
Hmm. Doesn't trust us, huh?
Come to think of it, U Hui had watched Won Seung's every move, even perking up at Jong Bi fetching warm water sympathetically.
In that case... I can't trust you either.