Tu Gate — 6
All I had to do was hold out until dawn.
Tonight's meeting place was a courtesan house south of the Yangtze, deep in Wuhan. Haomen's influence flourished there more than anywhere else in Hubei Province — which made it the perfect stage for the Do Gate's gamblers to make their move.
So long as it was night, that is.
Hubei lay within the orthodox factions' domain. Even the Do Gate would have to watch its step in broad daylight. And once the sun set again, Lim Hayeon would be formally installed as Hyangju of the Tu Gate — head of the thieves' branch.
The Hyangju gathering was set for midnight, so I'd figured a few hours of endurance would see me through.
"What? Doesn't want to take it? Gi Gate Hyangju. The new face says she'd rather not take it — so, how about it? Care to accept an apology gift in her stead?"
Apparently the madman had never intended to grant me any time in the first place.
"Dan Wan-gwi — the Severed Wrist Ghost. This is no place to show off your hobbies."
The ghost who severs arms. Just how long does a man have to wallow in rigged gambling dens before he earns a reputation for carving up other people's limbs?
"Ma Gate Hyangju. Unless you'd like to surrender an arm of your own, I suggest you stop muttering that nickname in front of me."
Had he picked up other people's arms in the hopes of earning himself a title like the Three-Armed Buddha? At the Ma Gate Hyangju's words, the Do Gate Hyangju stripped the amusement from his face and bared his teeth.
The atmosphere froze solid.
An internal feud erupting before a single thing had been accomplished was not on my agenda. I rose from my seat, keeping a smile threaded through my voice.
"It seems my presence has darkened the mood for no reason."
"Well, well. Our rookie's finally on his feet, I see."
"Word of my empty title as the Shadowless Divine Thief has spread through the martial world. I look forward to your guidance in the days ahead."
Even a madman has his reasons for staging a mad scene. He meant to seize the initiative and rattle the room — but I saw no need to dance to his rhythm.
Composure intact, I cupped my hands in the fist-palm salute and introduced myself.
"As I understood it, the previous Shadowless Divine Thief had pink hair."
"The current Shadowless Divine Thief is the last one's sworn sister."
The Gi Gate Hyangju answered in my stead, though the suspicion bleeding through Dan Wan-gwi's question was plain as day.
"Sworn sister? The Shadowless Divine Thief had a sworn sister?"
Disbelief written all over him, the Do Gate Hyangju looked me up and down.
"I inherited my sworn brother's arts, and with them this modest, hollow title."
With my introduction, I turned my head and let the room's gazes drift naturally toward the Tu Gate's disciples. The disciples nodded along, as if attesting to every word.
And what would you do about it if you still didn't believe me? I already carried the stamp of authenticity.
"Amusing. How amusing. Very amusing indeed."
"And what, exactly, is so amusing?"
I asked the Do Gate Hyangju with unruffled ease. His mouth was smiling; his eyes were not. What was he fishing for?
"A black-haired Shadowless Divine Thief, of all things. You know, someone does come to mind."
You mean Kang Yunho.
It felt as though the Do Gate Hyangju's sinister gaze were crawling up over my mask.
"Wuhan has black-haired folk enough to spare, so I'm afraid I couldn't say whom you mean."
Did he think a jab like that would rattle me? Black-haired people in Wuhan were hardly rare. Why, even his own men had eaten food delivered by black-haired hands just yesterday.
My derisive snort echoed inside the mask and rolled out all the louder for it.
"Is that so? I suppose it could be. But tell me, rookie — why commit such madness?"
Perhaps because his opening ploy to shake me had been parried far too easily, the Do Gate Hyangju drew back a step this time and probed at me like a gambler testing the table.
"Does a righteous thief need a reason to steal?"
"Oh, I'm suspicious indeed. You carry yourself like a man who needs to become Tu Gate Hyangju in record time, by whatever means necessary. And I have never once been wrong about this sort of suspicion."
The Do Gate Hyangju closed a step toward me, radiating the promise that one wrong word would cost me my mask.
"Then might I ask a question of my own?"
There was no sense in cowering and handing him a clue. I would meet a question with a question. My voice stayed even as I asked.
"First, answer my—"
"Do Gate Hyangju. If you insist on dragging a welcome celebration into the gutter, at least show the barest courtesy."
This was exactly why a man needed allies. As the Gi Gate Hyangju, presiding over the gathering, made no attempt to hide her killing intent, the Do Gate Hyangju clicked his tongue and shot me a sour glare.
"Tch. Fine, rookie. Ask."
"Why do you go around severing other people's arms?"
"Why? If you strain out all the complicated reasons... because it's fun?"
The Do Gate Hyangju mulled over my question for a beat, then answered as though it were nothing at all.
I knew he would say exactly that. I let out another snort and opened my mouth.
"I do it because it's fun too."
"What?"
The Do Gate Hyangju's foot froze mid-stride toward me.
"It delights me to watch the rich tremble, wondering if theirs will be the next name drawn. I savor the sight of them receiving my notice of theft, thrashing in despair, and finally falling to their knees and wailing. And when they believe the damage has barely begun — only for the bailiffs to come knocking and send them plummeting into the abyss — why, that thought alone helps me sleep at night. Wouldn't you say the same, Do Gate Hyangju?"
It wasn't that I longed to be some chivalrous hero. Nor that I longed to be Tu Gate Hyangju. It was fun. I acted as I pleased — and so I had become Tu Gate Hyangju.
It was the only answer a child of the unorthodox path could give, the only answer worthy of the chief of thieves.
"Kheh."
"Did that answer your question?"
Now it was my turn to provoke. I closed a step toward the Do Gate Hyangju and asked, as though he surely must be satisfied by now.
Lips pressed into a thin line, the Do Gate Hyangju held my gaze.
Silence stretched for a long moment. A gambler to the bone — was he hunting for the tell of a bluffing mark?
It didn't matter.
Roll those eyes all you like. Find it, if you can. If my acting were shoddy enough to be seen through that easily, I would never have been standing in this room at all.
"Kheheh. Well, well. I flatter myself that I'm quite the madman, and yet for the first time in my life, I find I have to concede a move to someone?"
Had he surrendered to my logic? The Do Gate Hyangju gave a hollow laugh and applauded me.
"Well, then—"
He would be willing to begin the meeting by now, surely. I turned to take my seat.
"Oh, but you see... that's a little thin, as far as earning my acknowledgment goes."
Mockery dripped unmistakably from the Do Gate Hyangju's voice.
Right. It had been a vain hope from the very start, imagining words alone could win him over.
This was not a man who had come here to laugh and make merry. He was provoking me by every means available — to expose my identity, and if it came to that, to set the troops he'd dragged along into motion.
Sword against shield. How did one counter an opponent who had no interest in dueling logic against logic through an exchange of words?
I had anticipated at least this much.
And I had a weapon ready to use.
"Who ever asked for your acknowledgment?"
Steel would be answered with steel; provocation, with provocation.
"What?"
At my abrupt about-face, the Do Gate Hyangju's eyes widened a fraction.
"Let a man have ears, and he will have heard what I have done. Let him have eyes, and he will have seen it. I proved myself before the Tu Gate's own disciples — so tell me, why should I seek recognition from a common gambler?"
I packed my voice with fury.
"Looks like our rookie is rather upset..."
"Tonight is a feast held to welcome my installation as Hyangju. The people seated at this table acknowledge me, and the disciples who have gathered in Wuhan for the first time in ten years vouch for me. If you didn't come to offer congratulations, then why did you come at all?"
Declare your purpose. Strike quick and deep at an opponent's true heart.
"Well, that's—"
I had no intention of letting him answer. I had to look like the man standing above him. I had to seize the initiative.
In a single stride I was before the Do Gate Hyangju's very nose, cutting off his words.
"So terribly curious, are you, about what face is hiding behind my mask?"
Close enough that an outstretched hand would find the other's face.
The Do Gate Hyangju's eyes gleamed oily with greed, as though he had finally laid hands on the thing he'd wanted all along.
"Curious? Very. Desperately curious."
The knife in my hand was small.
Momentum against momentum, knife against knife. Keep waging this contest of nerve and I would only be pressed onto the back foot.
Even if I flew into a rage, to the Do Gate Hyangju it would read as a brat's last flailing. All I would accomplish was smoothing the path of a man who had arrived with every piece already in place.
And yet — no true knife had been swung yet.
Even in a contest of nerve, there was a way for the smaller knife to defeat the larger.
Namely—
By placing the hilt of the knife in my opponent's own hand.
"Tu Gate Hyangju!"
"Everyone, hold your tongues! A suspicion is something you either carry to the very end — or strip bare once and for all!"
I heard the startled voice of the Si Gate Hyangju, who had until now watched events unfold in silence — but I did not turn my head.
Because I had to keep my eyes locked on the Do Gate Hyangju, glaring as if we might collide at any moment.
"If you want it, strip it off with your own hands. But keep one thing in mind."
I would place the hilt of my knife in his palm.
The choice would be his to make. But that did not mean I was laying down my own blade.
"Meaning what, exactly?"
"This mask was pressed into my hands by the Tu Gate's own disciples, who hailed me as the face of the Tu Gate. Now — if the Hyangju of the Do Gate strips it off with his own two hands..."
My mask stood for the Tu Gate entire.
So let the mask be given meaning. Let this veil of falsehood, begging to be torn away, carry the weight of a symbol.
"And if I do strip it off?"
"Then the world will believe the Do Gate trusts not one hair of the Tu Gate — today or ever after."
Even a man who looked defenseless as a lamb knew a thing or two about your weaknesses. I knew precisely what you feared most.
The one vote in my keeping.
The single vote you needed to climb into the seat of Mangju.
If you're so eager to swing that knife, I'll hand you mine as well — so swing away. Provided your blade doesn't lay so much as a scratch on me.
You will lose everything.
"Ha..."
For the first time that night, bewilderment flickered across the Do Gate Hyangju's eyes.
How many years had the Severed Wrist Ghost poured into preparing to become the Mangju of Haomen? My mask had just become the one throw of the dice on which his entire fortune now rode.
If the face beneath the mask belonged to someone else entirely, every scheme the Do Gate Hyangju had spun until this day would dissolve into foam.
The mask he had assumed he could peel off and swallow whole, like fleecing a mark, had just been turned into a gamble with his life on the line.
"I'll say it once more. If you want it, strip it off. If not—"
I had no intention of being satisfied with merely building a table where the Do Gate Hyangju had staked everything he owned.
"If not?"
With the Do Gate Hyangju's question, my body moved.
The Shadowless Body Art footwork I had saved for this very night. Without a hint of preparatory motion, I slid across the floor to the table and raised my own stake.
In my hand was a sheath for the knives we had drawn — and a new stake on the table.
"Will you grant this junior the honor of pouring you a drink, senior?"
I would forget it.
If he accepted this drink, I would forget today's insolence. In return, he was to bury his suspicions for good as well. Take the knife I had handed him, and sheathe his own beside it.
With a sly, crescent-eyed smile, I held out the bottle.
The Do Gate Hyangju's eyes wavered.
Raising one's stake at the right moment was a gambler's virtue — but so, too, was knowing when to fold a losing hand.
Would he sit down at the table prepared to lose everything? Or fold it all away for a single cup of wine?
A moment of choice, brief and yet endless, slipped past.
"Kheheheheh. Fine. Let's see just how extraordinary the taste of a junior's poured drink can be. Bring me the biggest cup we have!"
The Do Gate Hyangju declared his fold.
The moon was sinking.
"Everyone, get home safe."
"A pleasure tonight. Let's not wait so long next time."
For some, the longest night of their lives was drawing to a close; for another, a night spent praying for a beloved's safe return.
"Uuugh. You old-timers never know when to call it quits."
The Do Gate Hyangju stretched, then waved at the black-haired Tu Gate Hyangju clambering into his carriage.
A gathering that had opened a hair's breadth from open bloodshed somehow wound down in warmth so convivial that its members were waving one another off.
"Do Gate Hyangju, you've worked hard tonight. Shall we arrange a little meeting with the Tu Gate Hyangju?"
Perhaps things might resolve themselves the easy way after all — so asked the Do Gate Hyangju's subordinate.
"And what would I want with a meeting?"
"He'll want something, won't he? Women, if it's women; power, if it's power. Hand over what he wants, take his one vote, and this whole business is finished."
"Kheheheheheh."
"Do Gate Hyangju?"
"Yes... not one of them caught it."
At some point, the amusement had drained entirely from the Do Gate Hyangju's voice.
"What do you mean?"
"It took even me a while to be certain. I can hardly blame the rest of you."
"Hyangju?"
"I'll give you half a day. Bring me Lim Hayeon. Tear apart every place suspicion has touched. If she resists, cut down the Gi Gate dogs if you must — but find her. No matter what."
"You're ordering us to move our forces?"
"Do I need to say it twice?"
"It will be done. But is there any need to goad the new Tu Gate Hyangju for nothing? Would it not be wiser to open with dialogue first?"
A hostage can become a losing move. Even if the new Tu Gate Hyangju were the previous Shadowless Divine Thief's sworn sister, holding her own daughter hostage and holding a sworn brother's daughter hostage carry burdens of very different weight.
"A black-haired man, the new Tu Gate Hyangju? Kheheheh."
"I know it comes out of nowhere, but as the Shadowless Divine Thief's sworn sister — doesn't it all fit neatly?"
It was true that no one in the Do Gate had foreseen a black-haired man appearing as the Tu Gate Hyangju. But if the Hyangjus and the Tu Gate's own people had accepted him, what grounds remained for doubt?
Looking upon his baffled subordinates, the Do Gate Hyangju laid out the reason for his doubt.
"You dense bastards. He's too perfect."
He had been perfect. Far, far too perfect.
"Sir?"
Kang Yunho had made no mistake.
His performance as the Shadowless Divine Thief had shaken even the Do Gate Hyangju, dread of the underworld. Through every hour of that night's drinking, he had denied the man a single moment of certainty.
The Si Gate Hyangju had stroked his beard in quiet admiration at the sight, and the Gi Gate Hyangju had puffed at her long pipe to hide the smile tugging at her lips.
He had been so convincing that even the Tu Gate disciples, who knew the truth, had caught themselves wondering whether this really was their Hyangju-elect.
If those gathered at the Hyangju meeting had overlooked a single fact, it was only this—
"When you can't tell who the mark at the table is... the mark is you."
His opponent was a man who had collected the wrists of countless crooked gamblers.
That the man was the Do Gate Hyangju — one who aspired to be not merely Mangju, but king over every last disciple of Haomen.
"We move at once!"
"And have the fake Shadowless Divine Thief in my hands before the sun rises."
The moon was setting; dawn would soon pale the sky. The sun the black-haired barbarian had longed for so desperately was about to rise at last.
But the night was not yet over.
The madman's night — more than ten years in the making — was not yet over.
Time that would be enough for no one. Now was the hour to fling every last shred of strength toward the final line, and let the world learn who would claim the victory.