The Bidding - 2
"Wasn't the owner of Daseogak a young lady of the Tang surname?"
The two men from Mangeum Bookstore and I moved our conversation to a teahouse.
"Hwarin and I have promised each other a future. While she stays at the Tang Clan's Yaoyang branch house, I'm the one minding Daseogak on her behalf."
"I see."
"What?! The black-haired barbarian is the fiancé of Baek Family Manor's granddaughter?"
That petty thug Jeon Gilsan still couldn't seem to believe it. He looked me up and down with an expression of pure absurdity.
This is exactly what's wrong with racists, honestly. A black-haired man can very well be the fiancé of Baek Family Manor's one and only granddaughter, the Tang Clan's Poison Human—a woman whose curves busted clean off the Central Plains size charts.
"You want me to arrange a meeting with author Hopil? Whatever do you mean?"
Hiding my true feelings behind a blank face, I glared at Jeon Gilsan and asked.
Apparently my demeanor convinced him I wasn't lying, because he clicked his tongue once and finally came clean about the real purpose of his visit to Daseogak.
"Tch. I'll be blunt. We want to recruit author Hopil into Mangeum Bookstore."
"Author Hopil, to Mangeum Bookstore?"
"Yes. Are you aware, by any chance, that no book published by Baek Family Bookstore may be printed in Wuhan without Mangeum Bookstore's permission?"
It was a man who appeared to be Jeon Gilsan's aide who continued in his stead, wearing an awkward smile.
He looked every bit the scheming clerk who props up a corrupt magistrate—and his tricks were just as slick, too.
"I've heard plenty of Mangeum Bookstore's notoriety, but this is the first I'm hearing of that."
"Lord Jang of the Mangeum Money Exchange wished to protect the rights of his dear friend, the Lord of Baek Family Manor. That has been Mangeum Bookstore's mission for decades."
"Ah. Is that so."
Daseogak may have held the publishing rights to Dangga Pungun, but that only extended as far as Yichang. Even I could do nothing about Dangga Pungun being printed in other cities.
Baek Family Manor had been patronizing authors for decades, so it seemed Mangeum Bookstore had been backing them on the commercial side as well.
"Mangeum Bookstore knew full well that Baek Family Manor's granddaughter was running Daseogak. But some time ago, we managed to get our hands on a truly astonishing book that came out of that store."
The clerk-faced man drew a very familiar book from inside his robe and held it up.
"So Dangga Pungun has even reached Wuhan."
"It is nothing short of an extraordinary novel. Even the attendants who've spent decades working in Wuhan's bookstores joined in unanimous praise, calling it unlike anything they'd seen in their lives."
"So that's why you wish to bring author Hopil into your fold."
A headhunting offer, then. Mangeum Bookstore was a thriving operation—under normal circumstances they could have trampled the publishing rights and printed Dangga Pungun on their own. But of all the books in the world, Dangga Pungun belonged to Daseogak.
Even Mangeum Bookstore couldn't afford to trample on the bond between Lord Jang and the Lord of Baek Family Manor.
"I know this is unwelcome news for Daseogak. But a talent as precious as author Hopil is simply wasted splashing about in a narrow pond like Yichang."
Believe me, I know he's meant to swim in national waters.
"Hopil is an author I have supported with all my heart and all my means."
I handed author Hopil every last coin of Daseogak's income, and even gave up my share of the delicious food whenever he was hungry—and now these people wanted me to hand him over!
I thought they were common thugs, but they were outright bandits.
"We understand. That is precisely why—in exchange for entrusting author Hopil to Mangeum Bookstore—we are prepared to offer Daseogak this much."
The clerk-faced man showed me a promissory note bearing an enormous sum.
"Hmm."
What the—? I nearly lost control of my face for a second there.
Was that figure real? Or was something wrong with my eyes?
The sum written on that note was big enough that even if the printing presses performed a hero-style combination, battled the final boss, started losing ground, and then merged with yet another printing-press robot that arrived as reinforcements, there would still be money left over.
At this point I might need to learn the Art of Self-Duplication. I took them for common bandits, and it turned out they were honest merchants who understood commerce.
No. Pull yourself together. That's money I'll never get to taste anyway.
I can't work under trashy thug bastards like these.
"Merely arranging a meeting with author Hopil would warrant its own reward, of course."
"And how much would that reward be?"
"Would this amount suffice?"
That's... substantial. Self-duplication is a stretch, so maybe I'll just throw on a mask and meet them?
"Ahem. I now understand the purpose of your visit. But before our talks proceed any further—don't we have a matter between us that needs settling?"
Barely crushing the itch to rush a masked-writer Hopil special into print right then and there, I turned a resentful glare on Jeon Gilsan.
You can't talk contracts before settling grudges. You tried to have a man beaten, and now you're playing innocent?
"...Ha!"
Even under my glare, Jeon Gilsan just crossed his arms as though I were hilarious, then quickly averted his eyes.
"Heh heh. My young master is a touch lacking in manly spine when it comes to such trifles. As the saying goes, one sets aside personal feelings—however briefly—when pursuing great undertakings."
If this counts as lacking manly spine, the whole male sex might as well give up being male. Where did these people learn to talk such nonsense?
"A fair point. But before joining hands on a great venture, one is also wise to weigh the character of one's companions."
"Heh. That too is fair, but..."
The man shot his wretched young master a cautious, troubled look.
"I merely conducted Mangeum Bookstore's business. And now I'm to apologize to the man who obstructed it?"
Guilty as sin yet playing the aggrieved party, Jeon Gilsan rounded furiously on his own subordinate.
"Young Master. You must think of the road ahead."
The man's expression turned flustered, then earnest, as he pleaded with Jeon Gilsan.
Cornered at last, Jeon Gilsan gave me a look of pure reluctance and opened his mouth.
"Tch... Fine. I apolog—"
"Let's call it here for today."
Having watched him wring out that apology like the last drops from a rag, I rose from my seat.
"What?"
"Our thoughts and feelings are hardly going to be sorted out in an instant. This is plainly not something one day can resolve, so let us meet again another time. I'll send word separately."
You don't look like you intend to apologize either, and I have no intention of receiving one.
I need a little time just now. Until next time.
Leaving the two men staring blankly after me, I walked straight out of the teahouse.
"You want me to brief you on Mangeum Bookstore and Jeon Gilsan, in detail?"
After leaving the teahouse, I sought out the bookstore run by the Yichang bookstore representative.
"They've turned up at Daseogak itself, so I figured I ought to know what I'm dealing with."
"There's not much beyond what you already heard. The Mangeum Lord started out playing with money and rose to become one of the recognized magnates of the Central Plains, and Mangeum Bookstore is the bookstore his Mangeum Money Exchange operates. As for Jeon Gilsan—well, you saw him yourself. A good-for-nothing playboy who lives for eating and drinking."
"Why would a playboy who lives for eating and drinking come crawling all the way out to Yichang?"
"Because the Mangeum Money Exchange has itself a succession problem."
The bookstore representative told me news I hadn't expected.
"What do you mean by that?"
"The Mangeum Lord's only son died young without issue. Plenty of daughters, mind you, but just the one son—so who do you suppose all that magnate's assets fall to?"
"To his grandsons by his daughters, I'd imagine."
"Exactly. That's why even a layabout like that has his blood up, running around playing at work."
Like that pig up north who fired off missiles whenever he needed to lock down his succession—so the brat had come to pad his résumé.
Well, I could see the appeal: buy the bookstore its badly needed printing presses on the cheap, reel in a god-tier author called Hopil, and he'd have himself one hell of an achievement.
"By the way, what was it that Gilsan fellow said again? Something about not bidding on the printing presses?"
"He said they want to recruit author Hopil into Mangeum Bookstore."
I said it with a careless shrug.
"What?! Isn't that a catastrophe?!"
"What catastrophe? You know what sort of man Hopil is."
"Oh, you! Do you think you're the first bookstore owner to say exactly that? When Mangeum Bookstore throws its money around, it grabs up cash, women—whatever an author desires—until he's theirs. You think your Hopil is going to keep faith with you?"
"He will."
The answer came without a heartbeat of hesitation.
Because I knew exactly what sort of friend Hopil was. Through every joy and every sorrow, every sickness, every once-in-a-lifetime experience of my life, he had been right there beside me.
"Truly of one brush, it seems. Not even a flicker of hesitation. Well then, best of luck. That's everything I can tell you."
Clucking his tongue in admiration, the representative soon took up his feather duster and vanished into the depths of his shop.
"An offer to recruit author Hopil, is it."
My answer, naturally, would be no.
Winning a heroine's heart takes money and reputation points, so I had zero intention of giving up my business.
The problem was the printing press bidding.
The pitch for recruiting author Hopil might have been a single probing jab, but having already rallied the surrounding merchants into a bloc, there was no way he'd walk away from the bidding itself.
Asking the Tang Clan for help—that I must avoid if at all possible.
I wanted as little to do with the Sichuan Tang Clan going forward as I could manage.
Besides, it would be one thing if Mangeum Bookstore had actually done me harm. Running to the Tang Clan whining "Save me, Daddy!" over a mere threat would just be laughable.
"It's Hopil here..." Yes, I should restrain that card, too.
If I spent it on something trivial, its power could plummet at the truly crucial moment later on.
And even if I used those methods to drive Mangeum Bookstore off, problems would remain.
The merchants who'd hoped to take the presses off my hands could come swarming back and demand the bidding resume, and even if Jeon Gilsan withdrew, someone else from the Mangeum Money Exchange could simply step in and buy the presses in his place.
If I could engineer a situation where Jeon Gilsan and I were the only two competing bids, it would become an enormous opportunity.
This was no open auction—sealed bids, and the highest submitted price took the prize.
Neutralize Mangeum Bookstore, and I could take those printing presses off their hands for a genuinely laughable price.
The illegitimate son of the Sichuan Tang Clan, and the author Hopil.
Without spending either of those identities—was there no way to beat Mangeum Bookstore as plain old Kang Yunho?
"Well, of course there is."
There was a move I could make as Kang Yunho.
"Why do you make me tag along every single time?"
With Lim Hayeon in tow, I headed for the teahouse to meet the Mangeum Money Exchange people once more.
"Isn't it because you're the only person I can trust?"
Because you're the only reliable muscle within my reach.
"Ugh... aren't you being just a little too shameless?"
Lim Hayeon crinkled one eyebrow and wore a look of utter revulsion.
A man says he trusts you—what's the harm in being pleased about it?
"Let's go in."
"...That man is really him?"
He is. Enough chatter—just follow me.
"So you've finally decided to do business."
The moment I stepped into the teahouse, Mangeum Bookstore's magistrate-and-clerk duo came out to greet me.
"There is something I must take care of before we discuss any business."
"Heh heh. And that would be... Young Master?"
"Tch. Fine. I'm sorr—"
"That's not it."
"What?"
"What sort of men exchange these stingy little apologies? Trivial misunderstandings and bruised feelings aren't washed away with greetings—they're washed away with something else entirely, wouldn't you say?"
I gestured with deliberate, theatrical flourish as I spoke.
"Washed away with something else?"
"I hear Young Master Jeon Gilsan is a man of considerable refinement in the elegant arts. Having come from a foreign land, I know little of such pleasures—would you do me the honor of instructing me on this occasion?"
As the saying goes, grudges between men are washed down not with words, but with wine. I'd deliberately baited the hook with exactly the language those refined-dandy types adore.
At my words, Jeon Gilsan's face froze for an instant—then split into a grin from ear to ear.
"Hahaha! Yes! Now that's more like it! What kind of man goes red in the face over trifles like a little girl?"
"Quite right. On reflection, I really was lacking in manly spine."
"I understand. I understand completely! Shall we head out right now?"
So pleased with himself, not a clue he'd just been played.
"Daytime pleasures have their charm, but wouldn't it be finer to take the moon as our companion and discourse on this dusty, wind-tossed world?"
"Good! Then it's tonight! I'll be counting the hours."
"As will I."
The moment we stepped out of the teahouse, Lim Hayeon spoke up, her face full of disbelief.
"You're truly handing author Hopil over to Mangeum Bookstore?"
"Hardly. Come with me."
"Where?"
"To show a certain playboy just how bitter the world's storms can taste."
"You need information on Mangeum Bookstore's bid price for the printing presses?"
The place I'd gone to was Haomen.
"Yes. I need to know how low the transfer bid can be set."
"Did you think Haomen was some place that coughs up intel the instant you demand it? Info on Jeon Gilsan, we've got! Playboy. Loves his booze. Loves his women. Useless. Blows his top at the drop of a hat. Cleaning up the messes that brat stirs up in Wuhan has his parents' insides turning to charcoal. I can give you a mountain of odds and ends, but bid information? Nothing."
"So you truly keep none of it on hand?"
"What do you take us for—some Dongchang spy bureau, or those chosen ones out of Dongyeong? Only when someone lets something slip unguarded do our Haomen members, scattered to every corner of the land, catch it with their ears and report it back to us."
It was the Haomen method I knew all too well.
"Much like a gambling shark, who can only skin a mark once the mark climbs onto the table himself—wouldn't you say?"
"Right. You understand it well. And you think I'd chatter about intel that vital?"
I studied the exasperated Haomen branch chief.
There was a way that needed neither the illegitimate son's identity nor Hopil's.
Because Kang Yunho could call upon the strength of the Haomen.
"Then allow me to place the mark upon the table for you."
Just as a carriage driver overhears his passengers' talk. Just as a teahouse server overhears her customers' chatter.
"Huh?"
Get the mark thoroughly drunk, park him beside a courtesan, and the information pours out of him on its own. Simple as that.
"So—skip the information. Lend me some people instead."
I'll set the mark down on the table myself; you lot can skin him however you please.