The Association Leader - 3
Smash a place to pieces with enough gusto, and sooner or later the time comes to build it back up.
"Brother An, I need you to find me a few Joseon men who know their way around woodwork."
Gazing out across the wrecked first floor of the inn, I made my request to An Tae-won.
"You're an innkeeper and an Association Leader now, lad — none of this 'Brother An.' Chef An will do nicely. As for tables and dishware, I know a merchant or two. They won't skin you alive just for being Joseon."
The market was a world where both sides came to duel. Live long enough as a black-haired man in a town where you know no one, and you learn to assume everyone is trying to overcharge you by default. Exhausting, honestly.
Still, a trustworthy trading partner would be a welcome lead.
"I have a major construction project on my hands."
"A major project? Those Black Thief bastards are gone now — couldn't you simply run the inn as it is?"
Chef An asked with a puzzled frown. He had a point; with the thorn in our side finally pulled, the inn alone could keep us fed.
"I'm starting a new business. I'll need carpenters, and laborers for the odd jobs as well. Tell them the wages are generous, and find me as many hands as you can."
Because the thing is, I've got a business to run.
"Weren't you supposed to be working at the inn?"
Lim Hayeon's voice drifted in from behind me.
"Similar line of work. Just a little different. Huh?!"
"Gah!"
The moment Chef An and I whipped around toward her voice, we both sucked in a sharp breath.
"Wh-what is it?"
"Why on earth are you wearing that?"
Lim Hayeon stood there in a black qipao — and not just any qipao, but one tuned to my tastes in advance, cut with bare fabric above the swell of her chest and a skirt short to the point of scandal.
That was in my room back in Yichang. When did she get her hands on it?
"Someone has to deliver the food, qipao or not. That's how we draw a crowd, isn't it?"
She had a point. But how could she not notice that her entire body was screaming embarrassment? To any observer, that outfit read less "front of house" and more "between the sheets."
Lim Hayeon tugged at her hem, cheeks flaming, half afraid her underthings might peek out.
"Hahahaha!"
"Ugh... I wore this to help you!"
She frowned, sounding thoroughly wronged. I appreciated the eagerness to help however she could — truly. But there was no need to help in that.
"Miss Hayeon, there's something else you can help me with. Something far more important."
Because the job I need from you, Lim Hayeon, is a different one entirely.
"Me?"
Yes. You're exactly what I need.
The hiring and the construction kicked off at a blistering pace.
"Expand the kitchen? I'd have thought seating more customers was what mattered."
"The third floor, done this way? It's not impossible, mind you."
"Round up the willing young men of the Simun? Say no more."
"Woodwork is my trade, sure, but I've never built anything like this before. Ah — not that it can't be done! If the Association Leader declares it must exist, then exist it shall!"
"A dozen-odd quick-footed Joseon lads? As waitstaff? Wouldn't one or two suffice?"
"Association Leader! Permit me to pay my respects!"
"Publicity? What in the world is that supposed to mean? You want them waving placards and handing out flyers?"
The list of tasks refused to shrink. Even with the entire concept mapped out in my head, dragging a plan from imagination into reality was no small feat.
"Aren't you gazing down at everything a little too leisurely?"
That was Lim Hayeon, climbing up to the third floor with a sulky expression on the day the preparations finally neared completion.
Weren't you on the first floor a moment ago? You came up three flights in a single breath? Her lightfoot skill is honestly absurd.
"Just catching my breath. You think I'd play hooky after handing work over to Miss Hayeon?"
Let me catch my breath too, thank you very much.
Unlike the old days, the work demanded far less brute strength — a mercy — yet somehow managing people and steering a plan down its intended course burned through my mental stamina even faster than swinging a hammer ever had.
"Hmph. Whatever you say. Here."
Lim Hayeon gave a small snort and offered me a cup resting on a little plate.
"What's this?"
"An iced americano. You looked like you were running yourself ragged, so I brewed one."
So that was why she'd come up mid-task.
"Don't mind if I do."
Smiling at her, I picked up the chilled cup. Curt as she tried to act, there was no missing how her manner toward me had changed of late.
Before, she'd been a feral thing — set a bowl of food before her and she'd eye it with maximum suspicion, eat, and bolt like a thief cat. These days she was more like an aloof housecat who deigned to stroll over and pretend at familiarity the moment you held out a hand.
Rolling her changed demeanor around in my mind, I raised the cup to my lips. Refreshing. She'd brewed it strong, too — and as the caffeine hit, I could feel my spent mental stamina ticking back up.
Truly, the working man's potion.
I was savoring the last of the chill against my palm when Lim Hayeon spoke.
"Everything you asked of me is done. The third floor will be finished today."
"Then tomorrow, we move in earnest."
With time so short, every task had been pushed forward at once, and yet it had all come together faster than I'd expected.
I looked down at the inn's first floor, where not a trace of the fighting pit remained.
"..."
"Why so anxious?" I asked. Lim Hayeon stood gripping the empty plate, her eyes fixed on me without a word.
"You've spent nearly every coin on that promissory note. If this fails, you could lose everything you have."
Anxiety and guilt ran together in her voice. Was she wondering whether she deserved to have all this done on her behalf?
"For have-nothings like us, one failure at the start and it's all over. Ours has never been the kind of life that hands out second chances."
To bastards like Jeon Gilsan, a single failure is a learning experience. To bastards like me, it's a one-way ticket into the abyss, no climbing back out.
One-coin clear. What costs somebody else a single coin has always demanded everything I've got. That never changes.
"And knowing that, you still—!"
"But sometimes, if you mean to save someone, you have to be willing to stake everything you are."
I looked at that "someone" as I said it, wearing the expression of a man bearing a weight almost too heavy to carry.
"...!"
Touched, is she? Lim Hayeon's eyes are trembling.
In truth, this is a gamble to spread my own wings — but it matters to you too, doesn't it? Your help is absolutely vital this time, so don't let me down.
You're not some spectator watching my one-coin clear play out from the sidelines. Carry your share. A hundred honeyed reassurances would do less for her than watching me pour everything I have into this — that much pressure, she'd feel in her bones.
"Don't worry yourself sick over it. You're the one who clapped her hands and called it a brilliant idea, remember?"
To lift the worry off her shoulders, I brought up the day, not long ago, when I'd walked her through the plan.
"Can we really pull this off?"
"It will succeed. I intend to show Mangeum Hall and the Simun alike results worth their satisfaction. So trust me."
I stepped in close, right up in front of Lim Hayeon, and smiled at her.
"I-I'll try to believe you."
For whatever reason, she couldn't quite meet my eyes as she nodded.
Right. Tomorrow, the business begins.
"So you finally show up!"
"You call this on time?!"
"My apologies. Shuffling the tiles already?"
A residential quarter of Wuhan. A man who made his living as an armed escort for an escort agency arrived late to a room where his friends had long been waiting.
"Can't turn the mahjong tiles until you sit down. Do you have any idea how hard it is to scrape together four players?"
"I said I was sorry. But about tonight's mahjong — we ought to be careful."
The escort covered his mouth with one hand, dropping his voice in case anyone outside might hear.
"What's this about?"
"Suspicious types have been prowling the neighborhood. Could be constables. Best we mind ourselves."
Tonight's game was mahjong with real silver on the table. Friends playing for fun it might be, but gambling at high stakes was regulated by the state.
Nothing good ever came of tangling with constables.
"Straw hats? Ah — you mean the Joseon folk?"
"The Joseon folk?"
"Word is they've taken to wearing straw hats around town lately, so their hair color doesn't stir up trouble wherever they go."
"Oh. So that's what that was."
Not constables traveling incognito — barbarians. The escort pulled a sheepish face at his own groundless suspicion.
"Well, now that the whole party's here, get in here and shuffle those tiles."
"I hate to raise this when I'm the latecomer myself, but..."
Since his dignity was already forfeit, the escort decided he might as well surrender the rest of it.
"Now what?!"
"Is anyone else peckish? Let's eat first, then join the game. Consider it my penalty for being late — lunch is on me."
He'd overslept and skipped the morning meal entirely. Clutching his growling stomach, he made the offer to the room.
"You're seriously buying lunch?"
His friends glanced at his rumbling belly and traded sidelong smirks, as if some scheme had just hatched between them.
"Of course. My escort pay only just came in — I'll treat you all to something good."
Was he imagining it, or were these vultures scheming to order liquor and delicacies on his coin? He would have to steer them toward the cheapest greasy spoon in town, he decided grimly.
"Fine by me. Then take a seat."
But his friend's reply was nothing he could have anticipated.
"Huh? If we're going out for lunch, you lot are the ones who should be standing up. Why would I be the one to sit?"
"The poor man only just came back to Wuhan — of course he doesn't know about the hottest thing in town right now!"
"Tsk tsk. Missing out on something this wonderful."
"What in the world are you all talking about?"
The escort could only stare at his friends, utterly lost.
"Bring the little fellow out!"
To resolve the confusion, one of them hauled something out from the corner of the room.
"Huh? This box is what everyone's been raving about?"
A wooden box. Was there supposed to be food inside it?
If that box held field rations — the dried jerky he'd choked down on escort runs until he never wanted to see it again — he resolved to smack each of his friends across the head and drag the culprit out by force.
But the box held no rations.
As the lid came off, something inside caught the escort's eye with a rustle of movement.
It was one of those boxes the Joseon folk had lately been handing around the neighborhood. The beating heart of the scheme Kang Yunho had devised. The very reason he had needed Lim Hayeon's help.
And its name was—
"That's right. This right here is the Giosugu!"