Reopening - 2
"We have received word that Lady Hwarin's mother was murdered."
I already knew about the matter the Head Butler was reporting, but I had shoved it into some forgotten corner of my memory.
"I heard as much."
I had seen it with my own eyes, after all—I was at Hwarin's side when her mother passed away.
"Though the culprit was never identified, when the creditors reached the grand estate in Shaanxi Province, they found nothing there but rotting corpses."
The Head Butler gave me a brief account of the gruesome scene the creditors had discovered upon arriving at the Shaanxi estate.
Tang Geohu, that bastard, threw one spectacular tantrum.
Chasing after Hwarin, he had set out from the Tang Clan in Sichuan, gone to Seong Family Village in Daehyeong County, passed through Yichang, and pressed on all the way to Shaanxi. A wild-goose chase to end all wild-goose chases.
It was like going to a collab store that promised coupons for your favorite game, only to find it sold out. Then, nursing a sliver of hope, trekking to another branch far, far away—sold out again.
And then, at what you'd believed was your final hope, the staff start going, "What's that?" "Oh, that? You know, the otaku game event starting today." "Ah! Sold out!"—after enduring that ritual humiliation and trudging home empty-handed, he must have been even angrier than that.
Tang Geohu, you worthless piece of trash. No matter how furious you get, you write a rant post on the Demonic Cult forums or the Tang Clan family group chat and soak up the sympathy—you don't murder innocent people.
"Did Hwarin's mother leave behind debt problems?"
In exchange for keeping Daseogak, Hwarin and I had promised the creditors we would repay half of the Baek Family Manor's debt.
Of course, even that much had been wrangled through a bit of sleight of hand, as the price for revealing the whereabouts of Hwarin's runaway mother.
"Yes. Whether the murderer carried them off, or thieves looted the place afterward, no one can say, but most of the valuables were stolen, and far less money was recovered than expected. So now there is talk of pressing Lady Tang Hwarin to pay off the remaining debt."
The remaining debt was supposed to be Hwarin's mother's burden to repay, and they had salvaged less than expected...
"That's absurd. We already took responsibility for half a debt we never owed, and now they want us to cover the rest as well?"
Our contract with the creditors had ended at the revelation of Hwarin's mother's whereabouts. Demanding more money now was nothing short of ridiculous.
"Quite right. And yet it seems those who lost their money cannot easily shake off their obsession. Now that Lady Hwarin is the sole remaining bloodline of the Baek Family, surely she should repay the rest, they argue. Some have even come to me with the preposterous offer of paying me money if I would help them saddle Lady Hwarin with further debt."
The Head Butler looked every bit as dumbfounded as I felt; he gave a hollow laugh before continuing.
"As their granddaughter, Hwarin has done all that could be asked of her. Even if they have a grievance, a matter sealed with a chop is settled—there should be no more wrangling."
"Now that Lady Hwarin has been formally acknowledged as one of the Tang Clan, the creditors will hardly dare make such outrageous demands. That said, should they decide to act together, Daseogak may grow somewhat... lively."
With Hwarin officially a member of the Tang Clan, they couldn't strong-arm us outright—but they could certainly make themselves a nuisance.
The first letter I sent Hwarin would have to carry word that I had arrived safely, along with an account of how things stood at Daseogak.
"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."
I offered my thanks to the Head Butler and drained my long-cold tea.
With nothing left to do at the Seocheon Escort Agency, I set off for Daseogak in high spirits, black gauze cap perched atop my head.
"Aigoo! Aigoo!"
Genuine wailing—and it carried from far off.
Near Daseogak's main gate, just as I'd heard, a huge crowd had gathered.
"We shall now offer prayers for the safe return of Branch Manager Kang Yunho. As always, there is no set form—pray as each of you sees fit."
Drawing a little closer, I spotted a familiar face from the Tea Book Club presiding over the ceremony.
"May Manager Kang endure the Tang Clan's cruel tortures and return to us whole."
"You fool! No one walks out of a Tang Clan torture chamber alive!"
"Then let us pray for the safe return of Manager Kang Yunho's soul."
"Hey!"
"Wind and Cloud of the Tang Clan, volume three. Wind and Cloud of the Tang Clan, volume three. Wind and Cloud of the Tang Clan, volume three. Wind and Cloud of the Tang Clan, volume three."
"Buddha. Celestial Worthy of the Primordial Beginning. On this, the 120th day, we continue our steadfast prayers for the safe return of Manager Kang Yunho."
"This one swore up and down he'd never stoop to praying, yet now he shows up every single day."
Moving in a little closer, I saw a large table heaped with every manner of food offering.
What was this, a full rites ceremony? I'd expected a humble bowl of first-draw well water and bowed heads, but this was main-house ancestral rite territory.
Don't tell me this is why I dreamed of feasting on a lavish spread.
I'm not dead yet. Surely that couldn't be it—but with this many people praying... it just might be possible.
The Tea Book Club's prayers for my safe return raised quite a racket, but the people of Yichang had apparently grown so accustomed to it that they went about their business without much concern.
So this had become the everyday scenery.
Should I announce my return in front of everyone? Or slip away and reopen the shop quietly instead? Just as I was weighing the two, a man appeared from one side, shouting.
"For the last time, it's no use! It's been months since Manager Kang was dragged off to the Tang Clan. Not a word out of Sichuan, and Author Hopil hasn't posted so much as a single 'It's Hopil...' for all the notes he used to write. It's finished, I'm telling you!"
"Exactly!"
"Th-that bastard's come to stir the pot again!"
"Let's just string him up!"
"How long do you intend to carry on with this meaningless farce? You think this will bring Manager Kang home safe? It's over, I tell you!"
The man raised his voice, refusing to yield an inch to the other Tea Book Club members.
By any normal measure, he had a point. A black-haired barbarian locked in the Tang Clan's prison, the author fled into hiding, Wind and Cloud of the Tang Clan on indefinite hiatus. Resignation might well have been the sensible choice.
But then, who am I? The Kang Yunho who walked out of the tiger's den alive, that's who.
"It was not meaningless."
The lead always takes the stage at the most dramatic moment. Channeling the Soyun Mind Image Art so my voice would reach every last ear, I spoke.
"Eh?"
"Ehehehehehe?"
Perhaps it was the familiarity of the voice—every head snapped toward me at once.
"It's been a while, everyone."
Doffing my black cap, I greeted the Tea Book Club for the first time in months.
"Manager Kang!"
"It's Manager Kang!"
"Manager Kang is back!"
"Is that truly Manager Kang Yunho?"
The master of ceremonies. The man who had once waged an all-out war of legitimacy against his own younger brother at Daseogak. Scholar Hwang came toward me wearing the face of a man beholding his great-grandfather returned from the dead.
"Scholar Hwang. It has been far too long."
I clasped the scholar's shoulders in warm greeting.
"Good heavens! Are you hurt anywhere? They didn't put you to the torture at the Sichuan Tang Clan, did they?"
Scholar Hwang swept his gaze over me from head to toe, his face full of disbelief.
"Haha. There were a few perilous moments, but thanks to all your prayers, I have returned safe and sound."
"So the prayers truly did bring him home unharmed?"
"Send word to the whole Tea Book Club!"
"It's really him...?"
The Tea Book Club members swarmed in—not around the offering table, but around me.
"What has become of Wind and Cloud of the Tang Clan? D-don't tell me you forbade them to print volume three?"
"I went and settled matters with the Sichuan Tang Clan myself!"
"Settled matters? Surely you don't mean—?"
"I cleared up the misunderstanding in person, and to my surprise they were full of admiration for Wind and Cloud of the Tang Clan. Even the Tang Clan now longs desperately for the next volume."
I addressed the crowd of Tea Book Club members pressed in around me with unabashed confidence.
"Good heavens!"
"Kuuh... is this man actually out of his mind?"
"Kang Yunho! Kang Yunho! Kang Yunho!"
"What, is Manager Kang your bosom buddy or something?"
"Has Manager Kang unleashed the legendary Fist of the Sun? He is too dazzling to behold!"
"I always believed in him!"
"Weren't you declaring him dead not five minutes ago?"
"..."
"Now I can die with no regrets!"
"Truly?"
"You fool! Can you not take a jest? A jest! Of course he must keep reading the next volume!"
"Hahaha. Reopening Daseogak will take some time, but I shall see to its reopening and the publication of volume three with all haste."
"WAAAAAAAH!"
"Kang Yunho! Kang Yunho! Kang Yunho!"
"To commemorate Manager Kang Yunho's return, tonight's Tea Book Club dinner is on me!"
Bathed in the fervent cheers of the Tea Book Club, I announced my return to Yichang.
"Look at all this dust."
Once the commotion had settled and I stepped inside, Daseogak lay buried under a thick coat of dust.
Waving my palm furiously at the motes charging straight for my nose, I began making the rounds of the interior.
Thankfully, it seemed no thief had broken in. Then again, with crowds camped at the door day in and day out, the risk for any burglar would have been steep.
"All the provisions have spoiled."
The smell gave it away. I'd been certain we had cleared out everything perishable before leaving, but apparently a few things had slipped through the cracks.
I hastily dumped the reeking refuse into the bin, then sank into a chair and stared blankly around the empty Daseogak.
I had barely walked a few steps, yet the dust I'd kicked up hung swirling in the air, turning the sunlight streaming through the window hazy.
There was a mountain of work ahead.
The interior looked hardly any different from months ago, but the dust, the trash, the spots crying out for tidying and repair kept snagging my eye.
"This won't be a one-day cleaning job, or even two. I'll just have to scrub hard. Right?"
I spoke toward the place beyond the haze, the spot where someone had always been.
Ordinarily she would have chided me—quit talking and start moving—but from beyond the dust, no voice answered.
"...Who am I even talking to?"
Feeling foolish, I murmured to no one. Not much had changed, and yet the one thing that mattered most had.
A familiar place, revisited after months. A home I had missed. The person I used to talk to—in hardship and in joy alike—was no longer there.
"I'll need to hire some staff."
I shook off the mood before it could turn maudlin and rose from my seat.
Nobody had died; there was no call for sentiment. Far better to stop sitting around, get to work, and pour myself into my celebrated novel.
"I must find staff worthy of Daseogak."
True to its nature as a book café, ideally someone with an ironclad spirit of service, quick on their feet, strikingly good-looking, and fond of Wind and Cloud of the Tang Clan on top of it all.
Whether such a paragon actually existed, I couldn't say.
The Haomen Yichang Branch.
"The Wushan branch was attacked."
The woman with pink twin tails explained to the Haomen Yichang branch manager what had befallen Wushan.
"A rather peculiar carrier pigeon came pecking at my window. I wondered what in the world it wanted—turns out it was yours. I worried when the news reached me, but thank heaven you slipped out through all that chaos."
The branch manager offered words of comfort to the pink-haired woman, with whom he shared a personal friendship.
"I'm hardly skilled enough to be taken by the likes of them. There was danger, yes, but along the way my benefactor gave me a great... no, a somewhat great deal of help."
"Good. You've been through a lot. For now I'll look into the situation and discuss with our superiors how best to respond."
"Yes."
It worked. She pressed a hand to her still-racing heart and let out a long breath of relief.
"What will you do now? You're branded a runaway courtesan. Shall I look into a place for you as a pure courtesan? With luck, I might even manage to buy out your registry through the Yichang guild."
With her looks, any courtesan house in the land would be fighting to employ her. The branch manager asked, appraising the twin-tailed woman from head to toe.
"I never even finished my training at the Gyobang. And if word spreads that a pink-haired courtesan is working at a house here in Yichang, Wushan may well come to drag me back."
At the mere mention of courtesan work, she shook her head at once.
Every soul for itself. The Haomen was famous even among the unorthodox sects, but unlike the others, it took no responsibility for its members' daily bread.
A runaway courtesan could be made a horrific example of. Having escaped Wushan amid the chaos of the attack, she had no intention whatsoever of being caught again.
"That's fair enough. Then will you live off some other talent?"
The branch manager knew full well what her talents were; he wiggled his fingers as he asked.
"I have no intention of living as a thief."
She narrowed her eyes at the branch manager and fired back.
"The only things you ever learned were courtesan work and thieving, no? If you won't set foot in either, what exactly do you mean to do?"
She looked at the branch manager's bewildered face.
Courtesan work and thieving. True, those two were all she had ever learned in her life. But who ever decreed that a person must live doing only what they had been taught?
She resolved to confide in the branch manager the dream she had recently come to carry.
"I'm going to try becoming an author."
"An author?"
"Yes. I'm going to become a novelist like Author Hopil."