Me? The Yi Gajang Trio Heads to Pung Gaekru
The bustling street where Pung Gaekru was located fell within the southeastern lakeshore district of Dongjeong Lake, the same general area as Yi Gajang. Still, it was quite a distance away.
By the time Yi Jinpyeong and his group arrived at the alley housing Pung Gaekru, it was nearing noon. Too early for the taverns selling booze and laughter to open for business. The alley was quiet, with only a few servants and workers sweeping vigorously in preparation for the afternoon trade.
"Nice location. And the building—hot damn, three stories tall?"
"Yes. Quite flashy. I hear the top two floors were added recently."
"A place raking in cash like this borrowed ten seok of rice from our Yi Gajang?"
"Yes..."
"And now they're gearing up for a second branch on the opposite side of the lake?"
Yi Jinpyeong grinned wickedly, reconfirming what he'd already heard in the report.
Gwak Yeonyong broke out in a cold sweat as he explained again.
"That's right. Truth be told, it wasn't always this booming. But our investigation showed they shifted their business model about a year ago. Before, it was mostly booze and snacks, but now the focus is on the girls and entertainment—dancing, singing, that sort of thing. Full-on night trade. That's when business exploded, and it turns out Chwi Hwa Bang was backing them."
Gwak Yeonyong had gone to collect the rice debt from Pung Gaekru on behalf of Yi Gajang. But the path had been thorny. Pung Gaekru's owner, Yeom Dal, had dodged him with excuses of being too busy. Even after a meeting was finally arranged, Yeom Dal had played hardball, dodging payment with slippery excuses. Gwak, the chief steward, hadn't been intimidated by the rough faces of Hwang Sabang's warriors either—he'd sensed something off and quickly pieced together that Yeom Dal had backing. And that backing was Chwi Hwa Bang.
"Chwi Hwa Bang lives up to its name—'Drunk Flower Gang.' Specialized in booze and flowers, meaning night businesses like this. In the industry, they're known for sharp business sense and deep connections. Yeom Dal pays them hefty protection fees in exchange for solid expansion support. If things get messy with Pung Gaekru's owner, we'd end up clashing with Chwi Hwa Bang too."
"How does Chwi Hwa Bang stack up against Hwang Sabang or Dongbeonhoe in scale?"
"Nothing like Hwang Sabang, which was just scraping by with a few gambling dens. But not on Dongbeonhoe's level either. Among Dongjeong Lake factions, they'd rank around thirtieth or fortieth."
Yi Jinpyeong let out a hollow laugh. It hit him anew. Dongjeong Lake's crawling with these gangs.
Off the top of his head, the factions so far: Dongbeonhoe in the top ten, Chwi Hwa Bang around thirty or forty, the now-defunct Hwang Sabang in the sixty or seventieth range.
...And Yi Gajang's sitting at ninety-ninth now, huh.
Smashing one a day would still take over a hundred.
If he built power steadily, sure. But Yi Gajang wasn't just playing in Dongjeong Lake—it had to spread across the entire Central Plains. Was he going to waste time brawling with these third-rate gangs?
Power was power, but once he decided to move, he'd move decisively.
"Should this man Gang Ryong drag that Yeom Dal bastard here right now?"
Gang Ryong asked, brimming with enthusiasm. Yi Jinpyeong shook his head.
"Nah. We're at a tavern—might as well have a drink first. We'll run into all sorts naturally over booze."
"Dr... drink? Again?"
Gwak Yeonyong's face paled at the thought. He'd suffered from last night's binge; even the smell of alcohol made him queasy now. And this young lord wanted to start drinking in broad daylight?
Yi Jinpyeong strode into Pung Gaekru without hesitation. A servant in the midst of tidying up stared blankly at him.
The young boy leading the pack. A hulking, fierce-faced, hairy warrior glued to his heels. And a hesitant, bushy-haired youth trailing behind.
An odd trio that didn't add up.
"How may I...?"
"What do you think? Came to drink. Show us in."
"Uh. At this hour? We're not open for business yet..."
"Dense one, aren't ya? When a customer walks in, that's opening time. Did Yeom Dal teach you that? How the hell you gonna make money like this?"
Yi Jinpyeong wagged a finger scoldingly. The servant gaped at the casual name-drop of the owner. Meanwhile, the group brushed past and slipped inside.
They headed straight up the stairs to the third floor with the best view.
The tavern reeked of last night's debauchery—booze and perfume everywhere. Here and there, disheveled men hiccuped their way to the outhouse.
Yi Jinpyeong snorted derisively.
"What a dump."
He found the cleanest room available, claimed the head seat naturally, and lounged back.
"What're you standing around for? Sit."
Gang Ryong and Gwak Yeonyong shuffled awkwardly. At his command, they took seats flanking him on either side.
Now they really looked like they'd come for a proper drinking session.
No sooner had they sat than a clamor erupted outside—crashing and clattering. Footsteps pounded, and rough men arrived, catching their breath and straightening clothes. Then the door slid open cautiously, and one stepped in deferentially, hands clasped.
A middle-aged man with a goatee. Likely the tavern's chief steward, greeting guests.
His face screamed all-nighter fatigue, eyes darting warily at these uninvited guests, but his smile was pure business.
"Young masters. Thank you for gracing Pung Gaekru. I'm Yu Ju-gol, the steward here."
"Mm."
Yi Jinpyeong replied indifferently from his reclined perch.
The goatee man chuckled at him.
"Young master, one thing to ask forgiveness for upfront—we're a bit early today, so no girls are available yet. If you'd given notice, we'd have prepped somehow... such a shame."
"Don't need girls. Just wanna drink our fill."
The goatee man smiled awkwardly. Pung Gaekru wasn't just about hospitality. But if it was only booze they wanted, inns and other taverns were a short walk away. Why come here, off-hours, for drinks alone?
Still, he bowed deeply without complaint.
"We'll do our humble best. What drinks would you like?"
"Bring all your best stuff. Gotta keep face in front of my brothers, right? Geumjoncheong, Cheonilju, Baekhwaokro, Yeoja Hong, Olyangyeok, Aengdo Hong, Ihwa Chun..."
The goatee man mentally noted the order, inwardly startled. This kid rattled off rare, pricey vintages like it was nothing—hard-to-find or exorbitantly expensive brews.
They didn't look flashy, no pricey baubles... but maybe a hidden rich kid? That casual sprawl, the arrogant tone—it all screamed authority.
The goatee man's bow deepened.
"Excellent choices. And if it's not too rude... may I ask your connection to our tavern lord? I heard you mention him downstairs."
"Good, you talk sense. Tell Yeom Dal he's being rude. An investor shows up, and he hasn't even poked his head out?"
"Investor...! Eep!"
The goatee man jolted. He backed out bowing so low his beard nearly swept the floor.
The warriors who'd rushed with him whispered urgently.
"Troublemakers? Want us to rough 'em up?"
"Trouble? Nah, smells like Chwi Hwa Bang."
"Chwi Hwa Bang? No way—we've seen their guys plenty."
"You think I haven't? But they're huge! And the vibe—definitely not small fry. Serve the booze top-notch first. If it's bluffing, we can beat 'em later."
"Got it."
"I'll fetch the lord quick. Guard the front—no slipping away."
"Understood."
A moment later, Gang Ryong and Gwak Yeonyong's eyes bulged like lanterns.
Yi Jinpyeong had just tossed out that investor line and a few words. But streaming in weren't just assorted liquors—platters of side dishes followed in endless variety, threatening to snap the table legs.
And the bottles! Exquisitely ornate, prices unimaginable. Gang Ryong shrank back intimidated, but Yi Jinpyeong tilted them casually, filling their cups.
The dizzying aroma filled the room.
"Here. A drink."
"One? Hell, ten, a hundred—pour 'em all!"
"Hey, Gwak steward. Weren't you gonna puke from the smell alone?"
"Never knew booze this good existed. Doesn't even feel like it'll get me drunk."
"Whoa, young master! Try this side dish—insane!"
Gwak the steward and Gang the overseer were in heaven. Especially Gang Ryong—his hands moved faster than ever, as if last night's pork feast had vanished.
Yi Jinpyeong chuckled at the sight, then sobered abruptly.
"You clowns are here to work, not party. Gang, time to earn your keep."
"Yes sir! Don't worry—I'll smash that Yeom Dal flat!"
Gang Ryong bellowed, food spraying from his stuffed mouth.
"Yeom Dal? You think we came for small fry like him?"
"Huh? Then who..."
"Chwi Hwa Bang goons'll crash soon enough. You handle 'em."
Gang Ryong blinked owlishly, wondering if he'd misheard. Appetite and buzz vanished; his mind sharpened like a cold plunge.
"Me? Chwi Hwa Bang?!"