Management - 1
Erotic wuxia.
Or, as some called the genre, steamy murim pulp. Broadly speaking, it meant martial arts fiction stuffed full of explicit sex scenes. More narrowly, it referred to the racy wuxia that had crawled out of the dark age of Korean martial arts novels decades earlier.
Those erotic wuxia that appeared during the murim dark age eventually became little more than straight pornography. People took “porno,” reversed it into “norpo,” tweaked the spelling a little, and started calling the whole mess “Norupo wuxia.”
True murim fans often refused to acknowledge them as martial arts novels at all, treating them as pure smut. Yet their influence could never be completely dismissed. Erotic wuxia had drawn the dividing line between the old school and the new school, and the clichés they birthed still lingered, half-hidden, inside countless later tropes. Besides, during the genre’s darkest commercial years they had been the only thing keeping the lights on. That commercial power was exactly why I was paying attention now.
Even when regular wuxia had plunged into the abyss of unpopularity, Norupo titles had still sold. Start with erotic wuxia, make martial arts novels popular again. Let readers taste the fun of murim through a well-written piece of smut, so that they would eventually crave the pure martial-arts parts as much as the bedroom scenes. Then I would pivot back to something like Chronicles of the Wind-and-Cloud Hero.
I become the founding master of the entire wuxia genre. Kang Yunho, pioneer of martial arts fiction. Starting from erotic pulp, he produces so many beloved titles that they strike the heartstrings of every reader under Heaven. Speak of murim and people think of Kang Yunho; speak of Kang Yunho and people think of murim. When the martial world of today is discussed, they no longer reach first for the Nine Great Sects and One Gang—they reach for the wuxia author Kang Yunho.
It was the kind of grandiose dream that sounded like boasting you would ride a dragon through the sky. But if a lone barbarian scribbler wanted to shake the entire Murim, he had to dream at least that big.
So I draw the dragon. I might botch the lines and end up with a snake or a worm, but only by aiming for a dragon could I ever learn to draw anything at all.
I began sketching the foundational plot of the erotic wuxia that would become my dragon. Just stick to the proven clichés. In this world I would be the pioneer of the entire genre. What felt worn-out and guaranteed back home would feel fresh and revolutionary here.
“The real problem is how to get readers to actually see the damn thing,” I muttered, staring at the list of clichés I had jotted down and letting out a small sigh.
Writing something fun according to the formula was only half the battle. Even Chronicles of the Wind-and-Cloud Hero would have delivered its cliché-driven thrills to anyone who read it seriously—yet no one had. Of course if this one flopped I could always crank out another novel on the printing press. Still, every writer secretly hoped for a home run on the first swing.
“Maybe I should just title-bait the hell out of it.” Something like Reincarnated into Wuxia ~ It’s a Murim Tale but I Promise to Do My Absolute Best with the Sexy Scenes ~. For a complete rookie, title-bait really was the strongest aggro available.
“Are you going to keep muttering to yourself all night?”
“Didn’t you sleep? I told you to go to sleep.”
My monologue must have woken her. I turned my head and found Dang Hwarin lying on the bed, watching me.
“…I felt uneasy trying to sleep alone.” She averted her eyes, clearly embarrassed.
“Attics are like that. That’s why I said you should sleep at your grandfather’s house.” The bookstore building was large enough that the attic itself was spacious, but the ceiling was low. We had cleaned roughly, yet the cluttered space, the low beams, and the unfamiliar bed could not have been psychologically comforting.
“The steward uncle told me the mansion might be seized any day and ordered me to sleep here!” She raised her voice at the end, as if I had been the one scolding her.
“Look, it isn’t going to be seized tomorrow. Sleeping at the house would still be—”
“Enough. Just hurry up and lie down next to me.” She scooted to the far edge of the single bed and deliberately patted the empty space she had made for me.
“How are two people supposed to sleep on this tiny thing? Just throw me a blanket. I’ll take the floor.” After clearing the attic junk we had found a bed for lodging, but it looked far too narrow for two.
“Tomorrow we have inventory and book organizing and a mountain of work. How can you sleep on the floor? Stop bullshitting and get over here.” She kept patting the spot with a prim, sulky expression. Was this really the same woman who had first protested that a man and a woman could not share a bed?
Night was deep; we needed sleep. Erotic wuxia might begin with a single step, but bookstore management had to begin as well. Tomorrow: inventory, organizing books, and before long the grand-reopening campaign.
Wait—promotion?
A brilliant idea flashed through my mind. I sprang to my feet with sudden energy and strode straight toward her.
“Hwarin.”
“Uh—uh? What’s with that face?” She clutched the blanket with one hand and yanked it all the way up to her collarbone, as if my expression looked dangerous.
“About the bookstore renovations. Can I do them completely my way?”
“Your way? What are you planning?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow.” I smiled at her bewildered face and stretched out on the bed.
“Because it’s you… it must be another good idea, right?” She stared at my grin for a long moment, then seemed to convince herself, closed her eyes with a strangely satisfied expression, and drifted off.
That’s right. Trust me. If everything goes according to plan, I can run the bookstore and solve the erotic-wuxia problem at the same time. Sleep easy.
“Hwarin, sorry, but could you pull your back a little farther toward the edge? I feel like I’m going to bump into you while I sleep.”
“This is as far as it goes.”
“…I’m still worried.”
The next morning my uneasy prediction came true. I woke up exactly like the protagonist of a love-comedy morning scene that did not suit me at all.
“Hwarin. I want to go to the place the steward uncle mentioned last time.”
By unspoken agreement we never mentioned the morning’s wake-up situation. We had already bought a second bed and put every other task aside; now we were on our way out.
“….”
When I looked at her she immediately turned her face away. Still sulking? I’m sorry. But was that really my fault? You were the one who insisted on sleeping next to me. Soft, springy warmth still lingered on my fingertips, so I had nothing to say for myself either.
“Hwarin?”
“…Follow me.” She strode ahead without looking at my face.
“I’ve already heard the request. You’re renovating the bookstore? Having received a lifelong debt of gratitude from the Baekga Clan Leader, I’ll do the whole job at nearly cost.”
We had arrived at a construction workshop that handled interior renovations throughout Yichang. Interior work caused headaches and burned money in every era; thanks to the steward uncle we had landed at a trustworthy shop.
“Yes. You may have heard the rough idea already, but I want to go considerably bigger than that.” I explained my full concept in concrete detail.
“Haha. Once it’s finished, this will become a bookstore the likes of which no one has ever seen. Even at cost, however, the bill is going to be rather large.” The contractor quoted an approximate figure.
“Hey… Yunho. Where are we supposed to get that kind of money?” Only now did Hwarin speak up. She had been listening from behind, and the moment she heard the price she grabbed my sleeve in panic.
“I’ll pay the deposit right now and settle the rest in stages as construction progresses.”
“Hey. Yunho.”
“It’s fine. I’ll cover everything.” I paid the deposit while trying to calm the anxious look she kept giving me.
“Is it really okay?” Once we were outside again she spoke with a worried face.
“Don’t worry. If I empty my pockets completely, the construction money comes out.” Plus I still had one emergency pouch stashed away. Using up every last coin of my Dangsu severance pay hurt, but when someone offered careful work at rock-bottom prices there was no reason to refuse. The renovation had to follow my plan if the novel was going to succeed and the money was going to roll in. All of it was an investment in my future.
“Your entire fortune… for me…” Hwarin stared at me with trembling eyes, so moved she could barely speak.
“Haha. I told you already. I’m going to keep helping you from now on.” No need to correct the misunderstanding. If Hwarin felt properly touched, later she could just cut me a bigger share of the bookstore.
“After the bullshit I pulled this morning… never mind. Yunho. Lunch is on me. Let’s go.” A flicker of guilt crossed her face; she grabbed my sleeve and tugged.
“Hey, you don’t have any money.”
“I still have the pocket money the steward uncle gave me. Come on!”
I cheerfully ate the meal she bought by cleaning out her tiny allowance, then we returned to the bookstore. From the next meal onward I would just be honest and pay myself.
Dang Hwarin’s maternal grandfather’s bookstore had been running for more than fifty years. After the old man accumulated wealth through other ventures, simply maintaining the status quo had been enough; as a result the place looked thoroughly old and outdated. Ancient volumes were crammed in disorderly ranks on the shelves, and the shelves themselves had long ago bowed under the weight of so many books. When a customer arrived, a clerk fetched whatever was requested. The shop had essentially become a gigantic warehouse holding half a century of inventory. Even the most decrepit modern used bookstore would have looked cutting-edge by comparison.
“Move those over there!”
“There really are a ton of books!”
“Miss, where should this stack go?”
“Bring it over here!”
The renovation progressed so smoothly that the bold investment already felt justified.
“Is business really going to boom if we do it like this?” Hwarin asked, staring at the completely transformed bookstore once the work was finished.
“Of course! This is how they do it in Joseon.” I gazed around the new space with deep satisfaction. Even running the old shop as-is would have paid off Hwarin’s debts in twenty years. But if a better sales strategy could make the business flourish, clear out the mountain of dead stock that had become a burden, and simultaneously solve my own problems—then why not try it, especially when the method was already proven?
The finished bookstore now resembled a modern large-scale chain store. Near the entrance, instead of tall shelves, free-standing tables displayed carefully chosen volumes. In the center of each table stood little placards reading “Book of the Month,” “Staff Recommendations,” “Annual Bestsellers,” and the like.
Of course I have to copy the proven bookstore sales methods exactly. There was no need to dump every single book into one chaotic space. High-traffic spots would hold the hot sellers and practical manuals to drive revenue. Deeper inside, proper shelves would house the expensive scholarly works that serious customers regularly sought. No longer a gloomy cave that smelled only of musty paper and ink—visited solely when necessity forced it—the shop had become a place people might drop into lightly, just to see if anything caught their eye. The new style was certain to lift sales above the old baseline.
And I can promote the erotic wuxia at the same time. “Book of the Month.” “Staff Picks.” In web-novel terms it was main-banner advertising. Even in the modern world publishers hustled bookstores hard just to get their titles onto those tables. Now I possessed absolute authority over them. The moment I finished an erotic wuxia, my book was going straight onto the display.
“It has changed a great deal.” The steward uncle, having heard about the reopening, visited with a startled expression.
“Welcome!” We greeted him with bright faces.
“I almost cannot believe this is the same place as the old bookstore.”
“Hwarin and I worked hard on it.” Ninety-nine percent of the labor had been done by the workmen, of course, but the one-percent idea was what mattered.
“Haha. Now I understand why the young lady keeps refusing my invitations to move into the mansion. To think you remade the place so diligently. Just looking at it, one can tell business will flourish.” The steward uncle surveyed the surroundings with clear satisfaction. Wait—what did he just say?
“Huh? Hwarin, the steward uncle told you to sleep at the bookstore—”
“Aack! Hey! A customer just went upstairs, so hurry and go check on them! I’ll watch the first floor!” Hwarin suddenly looked panicked and shoved me bodily toward the second floor.
“Okay, okay! I’m going!” Murim people were supposed to control their strength. You couldn’t just shove someone like that the moment a customer appeared.
Pushed by Hwarin, I climbed the stairs toward the second floor where the customer had gone. First customer of the second floor. I paused on the landing, dusted myself off, and looked around.
The second-floor renovation is finished as well. We had not stopped at the first floor. The entire second story was ready to be reborn. Everything was in place to make this the finest bookstore in all of Yichang.