The Bid - 1
A bank balance is a salaried worker's HP. Unless you're running some kind of perverted challenge play, nobody sprints all the way to the boss fight holding at 1 HP.
You might need to pay for treatment when a serious illness strikes out of nowhere, or end up at the dentist's—the chair that terrified you with pain as a child, and terrifies you with the bill as an adult.
My salary climbed arithmetically while housing prices climbed exponentially, so I needed savings set aside for the next move, too.
And then there was the limited-time gacha rush that arrives without warning, the kind that has you pulling while screaming, I'm begging you, future me! I curse you, past me!
Once you're the one responsible for your own life, you have to keep your HP—known as your bank balance—topped up at all times, ready for whatever variables come your way.
I spread open the ledger from the attic drawer. From the days when money vanished the instant it grazed my account to cover monthly debt payments, all the way up to now. Compared to Daseogak's earliest days, the HP written in that ledger was, admittedly, quite generous.
The problem was that a printing press was an enormously expensive piece of equipment—a critical hit strong enough to buckle my knees.
"To expand the business, I'd need to open Daseogak branches."
Publishing a single novel didn't send the Nine Sects and the Union into cheers, the Unorthodox factions into fear, and the Demonic Cult into anxious pacing all at once. Hubei Province alone was twice the size of South Korea—and province-level administrative units like Hubei were so numerous across the Central Plains you could count on every finger and toe and still run short.
If I wanted to make a name for myself, I couldn't just hurl one novel into the Central Plains and call it done—I had to spread Dangga Pungun by multiplying branch locations.
"First, let's set up a print shop."
I needed a dedicated print shop—one that would cast its own lead-alloy movable type instead of ordering it delivered, and keep the presses running without pause.
"With a print shop in Yichang, I could establish Daseogak branches along the entire Yangtze and project my influence across it."
Yichang was Hubei's second city, sitting on the Yangtze—and the river linked Sichuan, Hubei, Anhui, and Jiangsu, with Jiangnan besides held firmly in its sphere.
I would open branches along the river and stock them exclusively with books my print shop published. Like a franchise headquarters supplying raw materials to its stores, I'd secure full control over every branch. And the manpower could be sourced through my work-study program.
A bank balance is a salaried worker's HP. An ordinary office worker ought to live with that health bar perpetually full—but I was no ordinary office worker.
I had to expand the business. Raise my fame stat. Make money. For the women standing against their fates. To find the true heroine. Now was the time to spend that HP and run.
"If you're heading out to see a supplier, take me with you."
A few days later, Lim Hayeon waylaid me as I was stepping out of Daseogak—she wanted in on today's government disposal of the printing press.
"It's not even past the lunch hour yet. A manager should keep to his post."
Making excuses to skip work, was she? Trying to sneak along on the boss's outings—that takes more seniority than she has.
"I'm not the only one learning the management work, you know. Besides, there's a problem with the delivered goods."
Lim Hayeon held out a handful of coffee beans as she spoke.
"What sort of problem?"
"There's a musty smell to them, and the foam they pull isn't right either. Whether they sent us old stock or there's been some mix-up, we need to find out."
"Seems about the same as usual to me."
I sniffed at the beans and tilted my head. Something did seem a little off, but was it bad enough to matter?
"See? You can't tell. This is exactly why an expert has to come along."
"Then by all means, let's go together."
Lim Hayeon had received professional training at the Gyobang, so she'd know for certain.
"Hehe. Unnie. Going out with the manager again?"
Ha Soso narrowed her eyes at Lim Hayeon, who was getting ready to leave.
"It's for work."
Did slipping out during a busy stretch prick her conscience? Lim Hayeon muttered like a defendant pleading her case, avoiding Ha Soso's eyes.
"Manager! Make Hayeon unnie buy you a nice dinner later!"
"It's not like that!"
Did she have to pull a face of pure disgust on top of it?
"Let's go."
Leaving my modestly wounded heart behind, I stepped out of Daseogak with Lim Hayeon. She kept stealing glances at me with her head bowed, then finally spoke.
"...You do know it's not like that, right?"
I know. I know.
"Sorry about that!"
Lim Hayeon's call had been dead on. The supplier had been mixing aged stock in with the new goods.
"Pull this again and I'm finding myself a new supplier."
The monthly order wasn't even that large, and they had the gall to pull this stunt? I scowled as menacingly as I could manage and laid down the law.
"Sorry, sorry. In return, just as you say—I'll knock twenty percent off the next delivery!"
We collected apology after apology from the supplier, secured a promise against a repeat, and stepped back out onto the street.
"I was right, wasn't I?"
Lim Hayeon lifted her shoulders so high and proud she looked ready to take flight without even Void-Step, that legendary pinnacle of lightness skill.
"An expert truly is a different breed. If this humble girl hadn't been there, you'd have served Daseogak's customers rotten tea snacks."
"Hmph! These snacks are sold under Lady Du Eung-hyang's name. We can't serve anything half-baked."
"Then I'll buy you a delicious dinner later."
"Sure, I'd lo—ve that... ahem! Never mind. You sly snake."
Perhaps Ha Soso's words had come back to her; Lim Hayeon answered with one eye screwed shut at me.
"Fine, have it your way. Let's head to the next stop."
"Where are we going, exactly?"
"To the government office."
I said it offhandedly, tilting my chin toward the government office visible in the distance—and Lim Hayeon's face went pale as ash.
What was wrong with her? I stared at her, utterly baffled.
Lim Hayeon looked at me the way a little boy looks at his parents after trailing along on the promise of a pork cutlet, only to lose something precious forever—utterly betrayed—and opened her mouth.
"...Y-you're not planning to sell me off, are you?"
"Get in here, quickly."
"Uuuuh. Hold on. Let me take a few deep breaths first. Hoo... hoo!"
Seriously, this woman was a hopeless goofball in the strangest places.
Runaway courtesan. Daughter of the Shadowless Divine Thief. Thief (the genuine article).
Perhaps because, if even one of those truths came to light, the government office could turn Lim Hayeon into a human wind instrument, she balked at setting foot inside.
In the end I had to seize the sleeve of Lim Hayeon—who kept dithering with a tsk, is this some kind of barrier? look on her face—and haul her inside.
"Is this not the right place?"
Since applications were only being taken here at this hour today, I'd expected a crowd. Had I come to the wrong office?
It felt exactly like slipping into a lecture hall ten minutes before a university exam, finding it empty, and slowly realizing something had gone terribly wrong.
"Here to file a bid for the printing press disposal?"
A man who looked to be the clerk rose from his desk and asked.
"Yes. Is this where I submit a bid?"
"Drop the paper with your personal details into this jar here, and you'll be notified separately. But... do you truly mean to drop it in?"
The clerk asked reluctantly, his eyes drifting past my shoulder toward a corner of the room.
"Pardon?"
What now? Following the clerk's gaze, I spotted several armed men staring in my direction.
"Hah. Never mind. Just put the paper in this jar here."
The clerk deliberately tilted the jar to show me its interior. Inside sat a single envelope—nothing more.
What was this? A blatant sigh, and a warning on top of it. Something reeked here.
Judging by the scene, the men boring holes into me from across the room had everything to do with it.
My mind set a scale on its shoulders and ran the comparison at speed. There seemed to be risks here I knew nothing about. But bid applications were open for today only.
The press on offer was a new model in excellent condition, at a price I could just barely stomach.
Throw away this chance, and I'd have to brace for a critical hit to Daseogak's ledger.
"I'll be submitting a bid."
The decision came fast. This was my home turf. If a snag like this spooked me, I couldn't do business anywhere.
"We'll verify your identity and send someone around. Submit your bid amount by this same hour next week."
I nodded, then towed Lim Hayeon—whose anxious gaze was still locked on the armed men—out of the government office.
"We're being followed."
Not long after we left the government office, Lim Hayeon murmured quietly at my side.
"Those men from before?"
"Yes. Behind us and to the left. There are more coming from up ahead, too."
"Into the alley!"
Lim Hayeon and I, as though we'd rehearsed it, broke into a dead sprint for the alley.
"They're running!"
"Get them!"
Hah... hah!
Scrambling after Lim Hayeon at a frantic pace, my breath climbed clear to the base of my throat.
"You trained in martial arts—why can't you use lightness skill?!"
"I don't have much internal energy, that's why..."
Hand me a spirit elixir first, then lecture me. Besides, it would've been fine if she'd just run down the alley—it was because she was parkouring like a proper thief that keeping up was the hard part.
"Uuugh! Honestly!... Here! Hop on."
Lim Hayeon stamped her feet in an agony of indecision as she looked at me, then promptly crouched down and offered her back.
"I don't think that will be necessary."
I was touched, truly. Still unnecessary.
"What?"
"We're surrounded."
Haaah—hah! Hah!
A short while after we were surrounded, a man who looked to be in his early twenties came puffing onto the scene, gasping for air.
A fellow who looked as though he'd not only sworn off exercise but built the Great Wall between himself and his studies.
"Young Master. Deep breaths, please."
"I'm f-fine! Wh-who the hell are you people, anyway?"
The punk jabbed a finger at us between wheezes.
...
"Black hair? A barbarian bastard, is it? Hey? Can't you speak Central Plains tongue? Ha! Fuck's sake. Anybody here understand what these barbarian bastards are saying? Wait, no—the wench beside you isn't a barbarian."
"And who might you be?"
Show them fear, and you only end up bowing lower. I asked the flustered thug in a calm, even voice.
"Huh? You speak Central Plains tongue just fine! This body is Jeon Gilsan of Mangeum Bookstore!"
"Jeon Gilsan of Mangeum Bookstore?"
Who? It felt like watching a masked singer pull off his mask on a variety show and somehow become even more of a mystery.
"You don't know Mangeum Bookstore? What an ignorant barbarian bastard. Hey. You here running errands for your master?"
"What did you just say?!"
"Stay still."
I stepped in front of Lim Hayeon and calmed her down. Barbarian discrimination was nothing new—this much barely qualified as a morning greeting.
"Hey, barbarian. Carry a message to your master. Jeon Gilsan of Mangeum Bookstore, all the way from Wuhan, has his eye on that printing press—so tell him to give up the bid."
"Mangeum Bookstore of Wuhan is after the printing press, you say?"
"Ha. Fuck's sake. This barbarian bastard keeps giving me two-word answers. Hey. Did your master raise you to talk like that? This won't do at all."
Jeon Gilsan glared daggers at me, then raised his hand.
At the thug's signal, the armed men fixed us with menacing looks.
So it would come to blows after all.
"Step back behind me."
Lim Hayeon slid a snow-white leg out through the slit of her qipao, poised to unleash her signature footwork.
"I can lend a hand as well."
I said, toying with the hidden weapon inside my coat.
Perhaps because we refused to cower, the men too began creeping closer, their expressions taut with nerves.
Where should I aim to put a man out of commission for good?
Just as we stood locked in standoff, deliberation and tension thick in the air—
— Peeeeeeet!
"Head Constable! The people who left the government office headed that way!"
A constable's whistle blast rang out.
"Tch! Make sure you deliver every word to your master! Let's go!"
Jeon Gilsan scrambled away and vanished down the alley.
"You went and put in a bid on the printing press Mangeum Bookstore has its eye on? Have you lost your mind?"
The bookstore owner stormed into Daseogak and tore into me the moment he arrived.
"So everyone knew about this but me? What is the deal with those people?"
"You don't know Mangeum Bookstore? It's run by Mangeum Jeonjang—the most famous bookstore in all Hubei. Renowned for backing authors the way Daseogak backs Author Hopil, and for supplying books exclusively."
"I believe I've seen it a few times."
I did seem to recall passing it now and then on my travels around Hubei Province.
"The fellow who turned up in Yichang this time is the grandson of Lord Jang of Mangeum Jeonjang. A while back he came at me with armed men in tow and threw his weight around, ordering me not to bid on the printing press. My knees were knocking, I tell you."
"Mangeum Jeonjang this, Mangeum Bookstore that—why do they get to monopolize government disposals? Why does the office just sit on its hands?"
"Telling people to bid or not to bid is awkward territory for the office to meddle in. Besides, Mangeum Bookstore's money comes straight out of Mangeum Jeonjang's vaults, so the office figures the money's as good as gold. They've probably pocketed a few under-the-table cuts, too."
"Outrageous."
"Even if that grandson punk's thuggery is beyond measure, brushing him off means big trouble. Mangeum Bookstore is the most famous bookstore in Hubei—there's nothing to gain from crossing them."
"For all that, there's no Mangeum Bookstore in Yichang, is there?"
"Because this place is here."
The owner said, jabbing a finger at the floor.
"Daseogak?"
"Aren't the master of the Baek Family Manor and the Mangeum Lord sworn friends since childhood? That's why there's no Mangeum Bookstore in Yichang."
"Ahh, I see."
You don't muscle in on a friend's business. So that was the logic behind never expanding here. The owner admitted that was exactly why he'd never gone out of his way to tell me about Mangeum Bookstore.
"Thanks to that, little bookstores like mine get to eat. Anyway—be careful."
"So the Wuhan crowd thinks the press is cheap enough to come all this way for it."
Ridiculous, admittedly—but it was undeniably a seductive price.
"What's a bookstore this grand doing in a backwater like Yichang?"
I'd barely sunk into thought when a voice I'd heard not ten minutes earlier drifted over.
"Isn't that only because there's no Mangeum Bookstore here?"
Huh? Those guys?
"You think so? Get the manager out here!"
"What seems to be the problem?"
The ones shouting were the very Mangeum Bookstore people I'd just met.
"Hm? The barbarian from before? So you're a clerk here?"
"I asked what the problem was."
"Not you, barbarian. Get the manager out here."
Jeon Gilsan said to me with a bored expression, even shooing me with his hand.
"That would be me."
"...You're the manager?"
...
"The owner of Daseogak definitely has purple hair... This is rather awkward."
Jeon Gilsan or thug bastard, whichever he was, the man sized up the situation, then wore the face of someone who'd deliberately refused to give up his seat in the priority seating to an elderly passenger—only to find that very old man sitting across the interview table from him the next day.
"I asked what the problem was."
"Haaah. Fuck's sake."
Had the man been raised in some Unorthodox den? Standing a person in front of him and sighing like that—utterly without manners. What did he even want?
"I'm with Mangeum Bookstore."
In the end, it was the man who looked like he was there attending the thug young master who addressed me.
"You made quite the fiery introduction earlier, so I'm aware of that much. What is it you want?"
The man fidgeted helplessly before me with a troubled face, then finally raised something entirely unexpected.
"We would like you to arrange a meeting with Author Hopil."