The Second Test - 4
How do you make a wolf show you the inside of its jaws? Naturally, you have to become someone the wolf believes it can safely bare its weakest spot to.
The real question was how to earn a wolf's trust — and once my thoughts reached that far, there was little left to agonize over.
School ties, regional ties, blood ties.
Methods I had long since made my own. No matter the era, no matter the land, a bond that opens hearts quickly is a tool waiting to be used.
"Gaettongi...?"
The Three-Eyed Sword stared at me — me, who had recognized him on sight — and spoke as though he couldn't for the life of him place my face.
"I knew it! You're Uncle Cheol from Musuchon, aren't you? It's me — Gaettongi! You really don't remember me?"
"The milk names of the Joseon children in that village all ran so terribly alike..."
If Uncle Cheol had lived in Musuchon, then Kang Yunho had to have lived there as well. So how did I make myself have existed in a village I'd never set foot in?
It started with the name. By custom, a child's milk name was always something lowly, given so that ill fortune would glance over the little one and pass on by. Gaettongi, Sottongi, Malttongi — dog dung, cow dung, horse dung — about as common as names came. But exactly the sort of name a village like that was bound to have produced. Introduce myself with a name beyond all suspicion, and in the Three-Eyed Sword's mind I would begin to solidify into a boy who had once lived in Musuchon.
"Do you remember the Deputy Village Chief, sir? Not the chief himself — the Deputy. Black-haired, you remember — one of ours."
"The Deputy Chief...? That stiff-necked old coot?"
"Yes, sir! I'm the son of the family that married into the Deputy Chief's cousin's household."
A connection he could not possibly remember. But anchoring the tale to a man who really existed — the Deputy Chief — gave it detail.
"The Deputy Chief's cousin? There was no such person in my memory. You're sure you haven't got the wrong man?"
The Three-Eyed Sword's wary gaze scraped across me as if to flay me open.
Can't recall something from nearly twenty years ago? Doesn't matter. All the better for me, in fact.
Go ahead — gather every Musuchon native among the Hometown Association folk and trade stories of the old days. I'd already finished that homework.
"You don't remember my grandfather, then? You know the house — across the stream, where they used to cut firewood. My grandfather once chanced upon wild honey. I heard he even offered you a taste of it, Uncle Cheol."
"Honey...? Now that you mention it, I do seem to recall something of the sort."
Memories of something delicious eaten in childhood linger longest of all. A sweetness left on the tongue becomes a thread that leads straight back to me.
The moment his last flicker of suspicion dissolved into foam, the Three-Eyed Sword dove back into the caverns of memory. He would never find me in there — I had never existed. But making the suspicion disappear? That I could do. Everything I said was true. Everything but me.
"You know how it was, sir. I couldn't say whether you'd remember, but whenever we children saw you with that blade at your hip, it frightened us for no good reason — and thrilled us, too — and if we so much as caught your eye from a distance, we'd bolt like rabbits."
A memory borrowed from a Musuchon native. A truly worthless little story — and yet.
"That's right! I think I do remember! So you were one of those children!"
To the Three-Eyed Sword, Jo Cheol, it was a tale that could pass for remembrance. Only now did he look at me as though I had finally come back to him.
But was that a genuine memory? There were twenty years between the Three-Eyed Sword and me. Whole ages had passed since he left Musuchon besides. Grown man, small child — even if I truly had existed there, forgetting me would have been only natural. And that was precisely the crack I could wedge myself into. To the Three-Eyed Sword it had all been unremarkable daily life — little tykes playing in a corner of Hwajeon Village. One of those tykes must have been me, his memory obligingly concluded, and the bond sealed itself.
"That's right! Seems it's all coming back to you properly now."
I held down the laughter bubbling in my chest and made a show of boundless joy as I spoke to Jo Cheol.
"Good. Glad to see you. So you've been living in Wuhan."
And just like that, wrapped in one another's gladness, we reached an agreement: the Joseon boy called Gaettongi — Kang Yunho — had grown up in Musuchon.
"To think I'd run into you in a place like this. Have you eaten yet, by any chance?"
After tossing out a few more Musuchon stories I'd gathered from the others in the Hometown Association, I steered us naturally toward a meal.
"Ah..."
Why so reluctant? Because you're mid-flight with the money?
"Eaten or not, it makes no difference! Either way, you're eating with me!"
But here's the thing — walk away now, and this would end as nothing more than a happy coincidence. And I had no intention of settling for that.
"All right. Fine. Let's go get a meal, then."
When I tugged his sleeve with a beaming face, Jo Cheol let out a wry chuckle and started walking.
A total stranger had become a man of the same hometown. I had banked inner closeness, moved us naturally to a meal, and purchased goodwill besides. And now, after just the right amount of hometown talk, we had arrived at the door to his heart.
"But first — allow me the honor of offering you a drink."
It was time to open the door to his heart with liquor.
"Drinking in the middle of the day is a bit..."
"Oh, come now! How can you be so cold? I've finally laid eyes on a face from home after a dozen years in a strange land — grant me at least the honor of one cup!"
I rose with impeccable courtesy and offered the bottle to the Three-Eyed Sword with both hands.
"Heh heh heh. Well, well. All right, then. I'll take it."
Perhaps he'd been sparing with the bottle while on the run — a shade of hesitation crossed his face before he nodded, as though he simply hadn't the heart to refuse.
As the fiery liquor burned down both our throats, I pretended the drink had already gone to my head and opened my mouth.
"Ahh. Truly, how long has it been? You left when I was still a snot-nosed brat — it's been better than fifteen years, hasn't it?"
"Feels more like fifteen and a half to me."
Good. That faraway look — he's reminiscing already. Excellent.
"Hearing 'Uncle Cheol' takes me straight back to when I was small."
And I would follow him into the past, exactly as planned. I emptied my freshly refilled cup as I spoke.
"When you were small?"
"You may not know this, Uncle Cheol, but whenever I raised real hell as a little one, my mother would go, 'Keep that up and I'll have Uncle Cheol come discipline you! Do you know what kind of sword Uncle Cheol carries?!' And I'd scare myself half to death and behave like a reformed saint for days on end. Hahaha!"
"Heh heh. That's right. Whenever the village brats got up to trouble, the women would wag their fingers — 'Keep that up and Uncle Cheol will have you!' It was the standard scolding of the whole village."
As though a pleasant memory had surfaced, the Three-Eyed Sword drained his cup once more.
Keep them coming. That's the door to your heart swinging open.
Whether Gaettongi had ever truly existed was beside the point. What I spoke of were not Gaettongi's private memories — every last one of them was bound to the Three-Eyed Sword himself. The liquor had opened his heart, and into it I painted the past. The young man standing before him had been one of the little tykes in that scene. A tyke who surely hadn't mattered to him at all back then was now treasuring the memory of who he used to be. There was no longer any room to doubt the Gaettongi in front of him. The bond between the Three-Eyed Sword and me was hardening into fact.
"Ever since I was little, Uncle Cheol, you were my idol."
With the closeness secured, it was time to take one more step.
"You're... Gaettongi... no, wait, that is to say... ahem."
Had the liquor gone down one cup too many? Jo Cheol fumbled for my name for an instant, then looked away in embarrassment.
"Gaettongi is perfectly fine — or Yunho, if you'd rather."
"Yunho. I was your idol?"
The Three-Eyed Sword stared at me with eyes gone wide, plainly caught off guard.
"Did you not escape a dirt-poor village like Musuchon and make your name out in the world? Every time word of you reached us, Uncle Cheol, I'd swear to myself that I would succeed just as you had."
Now to seal it with expression. I fixed him with a gaze of pure rapture, as though I were a fan granted a one-on-one audience with my most beloved idol.
"It was never quite like that."
The Three-Eyed Sword turned his head, abashed.
"It was exactly like that. To me, it was."
"..."
Perhaps because I'd said it without a flicker of hesitation — the Three-Eyed Sword, head still turned, stole a sidelong glance at my face, so endlessly proud.
"Well, then... here, have a drink."
Muttering to himself, the Three-Eyed Sword pushed the bottle toward me.
"When word came that you'd cut down a famed martial artist who ambushed you from behind — in a single stroke — and earned the name Three-Eyed Sword for it... even back when I was small, Uncle, whenever I stared at you, you'd spin around like a man who truly had eyes in the back of his head. I bragged about that to everyone I knew."
"Heh heh! Is that so?"
Unable to keep the grin off his face, the Three-Eyed Sword accepted my pour and tossed it back.
I still had to see inside the wolf's jaws. As nothing more than a hometown acquaintance, there was no telling what lay in its belly. To grow closer still, to become a man worth trusting, I strode ever nearer with every word that held him up as an idol.
So — what came next? This was our first meeting. Should I content myself with a respected senior and junior of the same hometown?
"Uncle Cheol, it has truly been a joy to see you again after all these years. Today's meal is on me."
No. Today's plan is not finished yet.
"What kind of talk is that? Don't make a graceless man of me."
Would a man that concerned with face go running off with the money?
"It's no trouble at all, I assure you."
"Hah. Even so, I couldn't possibly."
A perfectly natural reaction, from the Three-Eyed Sword. He was the hometown senior; I the junior — and worse, his self-declared idol. And if the idol was the one buying the meal? Disgraceful. But here was the thing — that, too, was exactly what I was after.
"Because I happen to be the owner of this inn."
"What?"
Now it was time to show him just how far I had come.
"Boss. Was the meal to your liking?"
The inn's staff gathered before me and bowed in a body.
"The seasoning's gotten a touch heavy of late. Mind the difference between what we serve out front and what we serve inside the inn."
"W-we will correct it at once!"
"Good. Back to it — I know you're busy."
I waved a hand as though I could barely be bothered, and the staff dispersed like clockwork.
"Yunho. You..."
What's so shocking about that?
"Haha. I only ever wanted to become someone like you, Brother — I worked hard, and now here I am, able to set a meal before you."
I said it smiling, as though it were nothing worth mentioning.
A hometown soul met by chance on the road. The lad he had taken, until this very moment, for an awestruck boy who worshipped him turned out to be the master of the house. Which meant the man the master of the house revered... was the Three-Eyed Sword. How did that feel? One breath he was looking down at me from above — the next, he was the one who had to come closer.
"Heh heh heh! The squirt from Musuchon made good!"
"How could I ever hold a candle to you, Uncle Cheol?"
Even while being raised up, he raised the other man higher. The Three-Eyed Sword laughed and thumped me on the shoulder.
"Right. That was a fine meal."
"Brother, where are you lodging these days?"
I asked the Three-Eyed Sword as though a single meeting were far too little to part on.
"Ah... well. I've rented some run-down room or other. That's where I sleep."
Perhaps my success embarrassed him by contrast. The Three-Eyed Sword averted his eyes awkwardly as he said it.
"I beg your pardon? The famed Three-Eyed Sword — in a run-down room?"
I raised a fuss like a man who had just overheard something he was never meant to hear.
"No, it's only — there are circumstances..."
It's all right. I'd already investigated every last one of those circumstances.
"Jeomsoi!"
"Yes, Boss!"
"Is our finest room open at the moment?"
"There's a guest staying in it."
"Is that so? Offer him a premium and send him on to another inn."
"No, no — there's really no need for that!"
At my flat, decisive tone, the Three-Eyed Sword started in alarm and hurried to stop me.
"Uncle Cheol. It's because I wish to look after you properly. That is all this is."
The room is actually empty. Jeomsoi and I already had our story straight.
"No, really, I'm fine—"
"Don't make a graceless man of me. Hey — get that guest out, and put my brother here in our finest room. Understood?"
He had declared I revered him, hadn't he? Very well — one action would prove it beyond argument.
"Yes, sir!"
"And if I ever hear my brother's name come out of your mouth behind his back, there will be real trouble."
"I-I will bear it in mind! Right this way, honored guest."
"Hah. Well, I never..."
"Brother, I have work waiting, so I'll head in first."
"Thank you, little brother."
In the Three-Eyed Sword's eyes, the wariness of our first meeting had vanished without a trace. In the span of a few hours, I had gone from barbarian outsider to the Gaettongi of his childhood, from hometown junior to a little brother worth drawing close to.
"Rest well, Brother."
Sleep tight. Because it was time for me to go spin the next web.
"You're something else. You actually pulled it off again."
When I returned to the residence and broke the news of our success, Jeon Gilsan could only gape in admiration.
"This is only the beginning."
"You sure about this? 'Three-Eyed Sword' is just a name, mind — but the bastard earned it by cutting down a man who crept up behind him without so much as a glance. Word is his methods are cruel, too. Anyone who rubs that man the wrong way ends up crippled or dead — more of them than you could count, they say."
"Y-Young Master Kang?"
"He won't swing a blade at someone he's close to, not out of nowhere."
I said it while reassuring Lady Jegal Hyang, who was watching me with anxious eyes.
"If you say so, I'll take your word for it. So what's the move now? I was kinda hoping to see a warrant get served, y'know. What, you planning to just come out and tell him?"
"You think a wolf opens its mouth just because you ask it to?"
"Then what?"
"What options does a man in hiding have?"
"Huh?"
"Cooped up in his room day after day, he starts to itch. But draw a blade, and eyes will notice. So, bored out of his skull, he'll take up a little fishing. And when even that palls — a man's ears begin to open."
"You mean he'll start taking an interest in rumors and the like?"
"Exactly. So we wait until the bait I told you to scatter has spread far enough."
"Bait you told us to scatter?"
"We've already located the fish in its hiding hole. Now we simply wait for it to lift its head to the scent of the chum."
It wasn't as though I had to move with my own two hands every single time. Now came the hour of simply waiting for the fish to rise to the scattered bait of its own accord.
"This is our finest room, sir."
"Hmm. Much obliged."
Who would have thought I'd meet a little brother from home. Swapped from a room where you half expected sewer rats for one flooded with sunlight, furnished with a soft, deep bed, the Three-Eyed Sword, Jo Cheol, could not keep the smile off his face.
"If it isn't too impertinent of me — might I ask what exactly your relationship with our Boss is?"
"A very dear little brother from my hometown."
When Jeomsoi asked, treading carefully, Jo Cheol answered like a man boasting of a sibling he was proud of.
"Oh! Of course. You are blessed with a truly remarkable younger brother, sir."
"Heh heh. Owner of an inn at his age. I think so myself."
"The owner of the inn, you say?"
Jeomsoi tilted his head as though something didn't add up.
"Don't tell me the inn has some other owner?"
Perhaps the inn had a proper owner of its own, and the little brother merely ran the place. Entirely possible. The boy did say he idolized him. No doubt he had embellished things to make a good impression.
But Jeomsoi's next words defied the Three-Eyed Sword's every expectation.
"Our Boss doesn't run a mere inn, sir — here in Wuhan, he is building something very great indeed."
"...Business?"