The Winning Bid

"He just doesn't tire of drinking, does he?"

A glittering Yichang night. I was trudging toward Daseogak on leaden legs, reeking of liquor from head to toe. It wasn't as though I were drinking in good company, and it was no company dinner either — dragging myself out night after night just to keep a hoodlum young master amused was wearing my body down to the marrow.

Wasn't there some wonder elixir out there that was actually good for you — a Great Reversion Pill, say? Now I understood why sales executives who barricade themselves in their offices command such respect. Buttering up clients year after year while still squeezing out profits by the hundreds of millions was clearly no ordinary feat.

I was idly debating whether to lay in a stock of decent hangover cures when, just as Daseogak finally came into view, a figure abruptly planted itself in my path.

"Goodness! You startled me! Lady Hayeon! What brings you here?"

Why was she standing in front of Daseogak at this hour? A woman calling on a man alone in the dead of night was, generally speaking, either one nursing dark intentions and come to throw him over ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her shoulder and carry him off — or a thief, after something valuable. The first was impossible, so naturally, it had to be the second.

"What kept you so late? Here, take this."

Lim Hayeon held out the small wooden object she'd been carrying.

"What am I supposed to do with a pigeon and a birdcage?"

What she handed over was a cage with a snow-white pigeon inside. Now where had I seen that bird before?

"It's a carrier pigeon. Leave the third-floor window open, and it will come and go as it pleases."

"A Haomen carrier pigeon? You could simply send a person — why go to the trouble of a bird?"

"This isn't a Haomen carrier pigeon. It's mine."

"Hm? Now that I look closely, it does look familiar." On second glance, it was the carrier pigeon from the Shadowless Divine Thief episode — a white-bodied bird with a few blue-tinged feathers at its crown.

"That man apparently kept a line of them too. It's the breed used for slipping in, lifting information, and slipping back out. Crossbreed and raise them by the Divine Thief's secret methods, and you get pigeons that understand human speech."

Lim Hayeon drew the white pigeon from its cage and put on a little show.

"Coo-coo-goot!"

Answering every movement of her hands, the bird hopped from her shoulder to her arm to her wrist, wheeled up into the night sky, and came gliding back down onto her outstretched palm. At a few spoken commands from her, it traced dazzling loops through the air and even performed the trick of fetching back a tree branch.

"Ooooh. Where do I hand over the money?"

To think it wasn't some dumb white barnyard pigeon but a genuine spirit-creature. Marveling, I gave a small clap and asked.

"I'm sorry — what?"

Ah. The performance had been free of charge.

"I see. A crafted spirit-beast, then. But why bring me your own pigeon?"

"Ugh... Because of you, obviously!" Lim Hayeon glared at me, scowling as though I'd gravely wronged her.

"Because of me?"

"Branch Chief Uncle has been sulking, going on about how he came out of this whole affair with nothing to show for it! He was the one who took in and raised the carrier pigeon the Wushan branch sent flying over, and now he's badgering me to come collect it."

Apparently the bird before me was a pigeon Lim Hayeon had raised back at the Wushan branch. A carrier pigeon accurate enough to fly, unerring, the distance from Wushan to Yichang — a journey of several days even by boat. Truly, carrier pigeons in the martial world played by different rules.

"Good grief. I told him to line his pockets with inflated fees — and that wasn't enough for him?"

"Apparently not. Keep your room window open for a few days so it memorizes home, then carry just the pigeon over to the courtesan house. They'll handle the rest and send word back on their own."

Lim Hayeon gave me a brief rundown of the bird's feed and care. With her own circumstances still far from settled, it seemed she wanted me to put it to use for now and shelter it in the meantime — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was that the idea?

"I don't know who's a Haomen member and who isn't. Couldn't you simply handle it yourself, Lady Hayeon?"

"Because if I go anywhere near the courtesan house, it'll be a disaster."

Lim Hayeon looked back at me, brow creasing faintly at my thoughtless remark. Ah, of course — Lim Hayeon was a runaway courtesan. One trip toward the courtesan quarter, one glimpse of her on a wanted notice, and she could be dragged away.

"Understood. By the way, what's this bird's name? Guia? The Divine Falcon of the Heavenly Net? Red Falcon? Brazenface?"

"There's no such grand name. It understands human speech — call it whatever you like." Lim Hayeon replied as though I'd said something profoundly foolish.

I studied the pigeon with the striking blue feathers above its eyes for a long moment. The true romance of the martial world was supposed to be a lone Haedongcheong falcon and a single blade, roaming the jianghu. I was no swordsman, and this was no aloof bird of prey — so your name, little one, is decided.

"Very well. From today onward, your name is Gugu."

You do live in the Tea Book Pavilion, after all. Yours is a pigeon of the written word.

"Isn't that naming it a bit carelessly?"

It was a name with history and tradition behind it. She simply didn't know any better.

Gugu. Now that the naming was done, time to see what the bird could do. I set the pigeon on my hand, pointed at Lim Hayeon, and shouted.

"Go! Gugu! Body slam! Now! Body slam!! What, you can't? Then Lightning Flash!"

"Coo-coo-coo-goot!"

Gugu stared back at me in a way that proved even animals can curse a man with their eyes.

"Haah. What on earth was that? I never taught it any of that." Honestly, sometimes she was just like a kid. Lim Hayeon grumbled as she watched me.

What do you mean, 'that'? Then what can you do? I'd gotten my hopes up for nothing. You're just a no-name pigeon after all.

"I'll take good care of it. You've worked hard, coming out this late." Thanks to Lim Hayeon's little performance, the liquor had mostly worn off. With the cage in hand and the pigeon perched atop my head, I said my piece.

Even at my farewell, Lim Hayeon simply went on watching me in silence. Wasn't she leaving? Was there some problem with a pigeon on my head? Or did she have something else to say? When I gave her a puzzled look, she rolled her lips this way and that for a moment before finally opening her mouth.

"...I hear you told someone never to sit beside a courtesan?"

"Now where did you hear that from?"

"Why would you do such a thing?"

Because I might slip.

The Haomen folk wouldn't treat Jeon Gilsan's ramblings as mere chatter — and every drunken truth that left my lips would be committed to memory, too. Defier of Destiny. The Moyong Clan. The Heavenly Killing Star. The Poison Human. The Sichuan Tang Clan. Hopil. This body carried far too many secrets to guard.

In a dangerous moment where a bit of drink could strip away my self-control, I could hardly seat a Haomen member at my side.

"A pure courtesan ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is meant to be savored with the eyes and ears, and wine is meant to be drunk and enjoyed. Why would I ever need to force another courtesan to sit beside me?" No reason to be honest here. I arranged my face into that of an incorruptible scholar, tragically compelled to partake of wine, music, and dance.

"And I hear there was a courtesan who wanted to sit beside you." Lim Hayeon pointed this out with a strangely jutting pout. Even that tidbit reached her ears?

"We have our own objectives to look after. Besides, I'd rather not have word spreading that Daseogak's Kang Yunho shirks his duties to carouse with courtesans."

News of my doings slipping into the Tang household through Chipao was dangerous enough — a courtesan house would be downright lethal. I shrugged and made light of it, the picture of a man who never covets what he doesn't need.

"So it isn't that you dislike the company of lowly women?"

You got that interpretation out of that?

"What color is my hair, Lady Hayeon?"

"..."

Did that count as an answer?

"I'll be heading in for the night." I, for one, had worked since morning — and playing drinking companion from clock-out until deep in the night left body and mind in equal tatters. The way an office worker exercises to survive, I needed to train my martial arts harder, if only to keep breathing.

Leaving Lim Hayeon standing there, struck dumb, I opened the door to Daseogak. Sleep, right away. I was carefully drawing the door shut when her small voice slipped through the narrowing gap.

"...What a strange man."

Before long, one useless carrier pigeon — a bird that couldn't so much as manage a body slam — came flying home to Daseogak.

The operation had succeeded. By a margin narrow enough to grate, Daseogak had won the concession over the bid Mangeum Bookstore had put on the table — two full printing presses for the price of one, no less.

"WHAT?!"

"WAAAAAAAH!"

At the official's single pronouncement, one side's face went rigid with disbelief while the other side cheered and broke into outright applause.

"You! Didn't you say you were washing your hands of this?!"

Jeon Gilsan stalked toward me, his expression a hair's breadth from a full-blown tantrum, and roared in my face.

"I never once said the words 'I give up.'"

Think back carefully. I changed the subject, mumbled something vague, dodged every straight answer — didn't I? You took that for surrender and got careless. How considerate of you.

With his bodyguard warriors lounging over drinks at the courtesan house alongside their master, quietly slipping in a sealed bid had been easy as breathing.

"You shared cups with me while scheming behind my back! You dared to deceive ME?!"

"In business, one fences even with friends using edgeless blades — and one may yet share a cup with one's enemies." My tone stayed cool as well-water, even facing a Jeon Gilsan whose face seemed ready to boil over. Who told you to drop your guard? If you came to do business, then do business — why gulp wine like a fool and let your bid price slip out cup after cup?

"The AUDACITY!!! A barbarian dares lecture ME!"

Jeon Gilsan's fist clenched tight, poised to swing at someone. I lifted one corner of my mouth at him and pressed on.

"Oh, and Author Hopil passes along a message. He says he has no interest in associating with a pitiful little brat who judges men by their hair color and can't even manage the work right in front of him."

"You—!!"

"Hearing my friend's words, I've come to a realization. Daseogak truly is best run by me."

Arms spread wide, shoulders squared, I beamed at the utterly furious Jeon Gilsan. Perhaps he finally grasped how thoroughly he'd been beaten — the sight of my victory smile turned his face scarlet, and he let out a great bellow.

This bastard had just crossed the line. Then again, crossing lines had been his daily bread since the day he set foot in Yichang. A man who threatened rival merchants at knifepoint and stuffed the officials with bribes would hardly balk at threatening the life of someone who had done business like a gentleman.

That's right. You're no third-rate street thug — you're the pampered third-generation heir of a moneyed dynasty. Who in the world could stop you? He really could make one black-haired barbarian vanish without a soul ever knowing.

Jeon Gilsan of Mangeum Bookstore was, unlike other men, free to cross whatever line he pleased.

But you see —

You're not the only one who can cross a line.

"Th-the warrior of the Sichuan Tang Clan? Why—?"

As it happened, I had my own way of stepping over the line I'd been holding.