Let's Make a Deal
Vast and serene Dongjeong Lake stretched out before him. Along its shores, signs of vibrant spring were blooming everywhere—fresh green sprouts pushing through the earth, migratory birds chattering noisily overhead. The scenery here hadn't changed since ancient times. The only thing different was the status of Yi Gajang.
He glanced around once more, but as expected, not even an ant stirred near Yi Gajang. It was only after walking quite a distance along the lakeside that he finally started encountering people. They tilted their heads at the unfamiliar boy—or young man—approaching from the direction of Yi Gajang.
It was understandable. Yi Jinpyeong, plagued by frequent seizures since childhood, rarely ventured outside the estate. And when he did, his two brothers always accompanied him. A few seemed to recognize him, but they made horrified faces and veered far away.
Yi Jinpyeong smiled bitterly. Even in his previous life, martial artists had given him that look, slinking away lest they provoke him and get beaten senseless.
But the reason they avoided him now was a bit different.
"Hmph! Afraid my madness is contagious?"
At his mutter, the people quickened their pace even more, fleeing as if from a plague. His temper flared—he itched to grab and thrash them—but he calmed himself, remembering more pressing matters. Besides, today was an auspicious day: the day Yi Gajang set off on its revival.
"Can't stain the first day's routine with violence!"
Jinpyeong had completely forgotten that he'd already beaten his own brothers senseless, along with the Hwang Sabang thugs who'd come to collect debts.
After a long walk, he finally reached the market. He couldn't help but be startled. It was packed—people crammed shoulder-to-shoulder from every direction.
It wasn't just the crowd. Voices rose in haggling, yelling to shave off a single coin more, demand extra payment, or cheat one another. Curses flew, collars were grabbed. Desires boiled over in a chaotic froth. Vibrant energy, if you were generous; hell on earth, if not.
When he'd first settled here, the area hadn't been this rowdy and cutthroat. It was the peaceful, pastoral scenery that had drawn him.
Jinpyeong chuckled proudly at Dongjeong Lake's prosperity, then scowled as Yi Gajang's sorry state flashed in his mind, anger surging anew.
"Sigh... Good thoughts. Good thoughts."
Was it because he'd regressed to a younger age? Controlling his surging emotions was harder than expected. Or maybe it had always been this way...
Strolling through the market, Yi Jinpyeong's steps halted at its edge. A small meat shop and slaughterhouse run by a burly owner. Narrow pens overflowed with livestock trembling and squealing, awaiting their turn.
The owner sat with his belly out, massive build matched by a long scar on one cheek that made him look downright ferocious. Perhaps that explained it. Unlike the bustling shops around, this one sat empty, without a single customer.
Yi Jinpyeong called out to the owner, who stared blankly at the sky.
"Not doing business?"
"Welcome! Fresh blood dripping, shine gleaming—Gu Sam's got the finest cuts!!"
The owner sprang up reflexively, bellowing. But spotting his customer, disappointment spread across his face. Fair enough—the scrawny kid in shabby clothes didn't scream "big spender."
The owner crossed his arms, scowling. "Kid. Here on an errand for your mom?"
Good thoughts. Good thoughts...
Yi Jinpyeong held out all the coins in his hand—plucked from the Hwang Sabang thugs.
"What'll this get me? One of those pigs slaughtered?"
"Look at this punk's attitude..."
Deep wrinkles furrowed the owner's brow, though his eyes swiftly counted the coins. He eyed the plump pig Jinpyeong pointed to and barked a laugh.
"In your dreams."
"Then that one?"
"Talking like you know the world."
"...Fine. What can I get?"
The owner, looking incredulous, pointed to a corner pen. Jinpyeong's turn to laugh in disbelief. It was a scrawny, half-starved duck.
He could've hunted one himself by the lake faster. And splitting that bony thing among three brothers? A few scraps each.
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Not my problem. Buy or beat it."
Damn inflation. After a moment's thought, Jinpyeong stubbornly thrust the coins forward again.
"Hey. Let's just do the pig, nice and clean. I'll be a regular. Long-term deal—think of it that way."
He fixed the owner with a fierce glare, like he'd done with the Hwang Sabang goons. The air of menace from once the world's greatest martial artist.
The butcher flinched, uncrossing his arms and clasping his hands politely. A dirty trick against a non-martial merchant, but necessary—otherwise, he'd trudge home with just a duck.
But it didn't last. The owner shook his head, scowled stubbornly, and recrossed his arms.
"Nice try, kid."
"..."
Jinpyeong sighed. Persistent persuasion yielded nothing. The owner wouldn't budge—not a charity, had mouths to feed.
The deal settled on a slightly plumper duck.
Jinpyeong watched silently as the owner deftly slit its throat and prepared it. His stomach growled unwittingly.
Hearing it, the owner smirked and offered a small dried fish scrap. Meager, but Jinpyeong took it, chewing gratefully. Saliva flowed; hunger eased a bit.
"Truth is, even this duck's overpriced for that. But first customer in ages, so I'm cutting you a deal."
"You seem skilled. Why no customers?"
"Kid, what do you know? You in the trade?"
"Dunno about much, but knives? I know a thing or two."
"Yeah, right."
The owner paused, chuckling heartily, then muttered while resuming work.
"...Anyway, got my reasons. Adult stuff."
His voice lacked strength. Curiosity piqued, but no need to pry. He'd learn soon enough.
Suddenly, the crowded market street split like the Red Sea. A gang armed with blades appeared, heading straight for them.
Who the hell are they?
Not Hwang Sabang reinforcements. Then who were they targeting...?
"Kid, almost done! Hang on!"
Oblivious to the tension, the owner focused on his knife. The gang snickered, whispering.
One sprinted forward—
Crash!!!
He kicked over the owner's cutting board. Blood, bones, and meat sprayed everywhere.
Jinpyeong, frowning since the sprint, pondered briefly and stepped back, dodging the mess effortlessly.
Whatever grudge they had, he wanted no part—
But for the owner, focused on his work, it was a bolt from the blue.
"Wh-what the hell?!"
"What? Jang Gapae has arrived!"
The thug bellowed triumphantly. Jinpyeong snorted. Hwang Sabang, now Jang Gapae. How many gangs infested Dongjeong Lake?
The self-proclaimed Jang Gapae member scowled at his bloodied clothes.
"Shit, all over my outfit! Hey, how're you compensating me?"
The gang roared with laughter. The height of audacity.
The owner scanned the mess, face flushing crimson as realization dawned.
"You bastards, what the fuck?!"
"What? We warned you: pay protection or shut down."
"Why the hell should I? Know how long I've run this shop? Who the fuck are you to boss me around?!"
From the gang emerged a lanky giant, head and shoulders above the rest.
"Hey. How long you've been here means jack."
Sharp eyes, elongated limbs, sinewy muscles everywhere. Clearly a cut above—well-trained warrior.
The apparent leader shrugged, scanning around.
"No protection fee, no protection. Simple as that, right?"
His crew chuckled and nodded, mocking the blood-soaked butcher.
The surrounding merchants and shoppers watched silently, faces twisted in distaste at the thugs' arrogance—but none stepped up.
And what was Yi Jinpyeong doing? Standing among the onlookers, arms crossed, nodding sagely.
Spot on. No fee, no protection. Obviously!
He'd wondered if there was injustice, but this burly butcher was the type claiming rights without duties. Jinpyeong despised such folks personally.
But the butcher's retort surprised him.
"Fuck. I already pay Dongbeonhoe three-tenths of sales in dues! Why shell out more to you latecomers? What do you even protect? How're merchants supposed to eat? What's Dongbeonhoe doing? Ain't you pissed?!"
Huh. Paying hefty dues already, yet squeezed twice by another gang? Even for someone from a century ago, that didn't compute.
The butcher appealed desperately to the crowd. Murmurs of agreement rose—
But only briefly. Ching!— Blades drawn, the gang glared.
"Got beef? Step up! Don't mutter—come say it to our faces!"
No one dared before bared steel. The market fell silent.
The lanky leader smirked. "See? No complaints. Everyone else pays up fine—except you. Dongbeonhoe? We handle them. Just do as you're told."
"Fuck that. Can't pay! That's my hard-earned coin! Dongbeonhoe, Jang Gapae—you lot treat merchants like ATMs! You got no right—especially not me, Gu Sam—Gurk!!!"
Throat clutched. The lanky's hand was quick.
He grinned. "No right to what? Keep talking."
Gu Sam's eyes bulged red. The lanky taunted on.
"Go on, swing. Let's see how a butcher handles a blade."
"Y-you...!!"
Unable to endure, Gu Sam swung wildly. Futile. Despite his bulk and fierce look, against a trained warrior?
Whoosh—whoosh—
His clumsy swings parted; the lanky's longsword thrust like a drill.
Blood sprayed from wounds across his massive frame. He collapsed with a thud.
Kraaagh—
The gang howled with laughter at his screams.
"Fitting for a butcher shop—sounded just like slaughtering a pig!"
The fifteen-year-old boy, Yi Jinpyeong, strode forward right then.
Passing the lanky leader, he reached the groaning butcher.
A bizarre sight. A scrawny kid in rags, hardly the type to insert himself here.
Jang Gapae thugs. Market merchants. Onlookers. All stared in confusion...
The boy squatted before Gu Sam, munching the dried fish scrap, and said,
"Hey. How about a deal? I'll be a regular customer from now on."