Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: First Steps into the Jianghu, and the Enchantress (2)
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Suyang County's premier brothel, the Glorious Flower Pavilion.
Atop its highest floor, a woman sat cross-legged with her eyes closed.
She was a beauty.
Her black hair cascaded like shimmering silk, her red lips parted ever so slightly with each breath, and the crimson silk robe draping her form—all elements that radiated a dazzling allure, striking viewers with an electric thrill.
—Milady.
A voice emanated from somewhere.
The woman lifted her eyelids.
Her fiercely upturned yet elegantly noble gaze turned straight ahead.
"What is it?"
—Someone has been investigating you, Milady.
"…What?"
—He's a martial artist we've never seen around these parts.
"Is it the One Wheel Society?"
—Doesn't seem like it. Their methods are too sloppy for the One Wheel Society, and his attire and gear are utterly shabby.
The woman's brows furrowed.
"Any idea what he wants?"
—Unclear.
"His level of martial prowess?"
—…At least first-rate, I'd say. His energy was remarkably refined.
"At least first-rate…."
The woman muttered to herself and let out a hollow chuckle.
"What kind of sniffing mutt has caught the scent this time?"
—Shall I deal with him?
"Hyang-ah, your loyalty is commendable, but don't meddle in matters beyond your station. I don't want to send you off so pointlessly."
The woman unfolded her legs and rose to her feet.
She straightened her back, her gaze fixed on the window leading outside.
It offered a full view of Suyang County.
A bitter expression crossed her face.
When had it started?
Ever since she'd discarded her family name and fled, enemies lurked everywhere, forever gunning for her throat.
Just when life seemed tolerable, they'd close in; when she fled again in search of survival, those tiresome shadows followed.
In exasperation, she let out a sigh laced with lament.
"Don't they ever tire? And now these omens appear again."
—…We can't be sure it's them yet.
"Who else would produce such an expert out of nowhere?"
The voice trailed off.
No doubt, its owner was fidgeting atop the ceiling, unsure how to respond.
Imagining the scene, the woman smirked and asked,
"Where is this guest now?"
—Ah, on the second floor of the pavilion.
"I see. How's he playing it this time? Making a fuss demanding to see me, or throwing around his clan name to bully the girls?"
She waited, but silence hung in the air.
Tilting her head, she pressed for an answer.
"Hyang-ah?"
—Well…
The voice called Hyang-ah hesitated.
Suspicion deepened on the woman's face.
—…He's being entertained. All shrunk up and meek.
At those words, the woman's expression twisted into something bizarre.
*
"Darling, you're too cute! Huh? Look here for a sec."
"P-please, stop…!"
"Eek! He says stop! You're just too adorable!!!"
The corner room on the second floor of the Glorious Flower Pavilion was in an uproar.
Brothels were noisy by nature, but even accounting for that, this commotion felt oddly off-kilter.
Wouldn't you agree?
Usually, it was the patrons giggling and reveling, while the courtesans simpered flirtatiously at their sides.
Yet here, it was the exact opposite: courtesans laughing uproariously as the patron blushed shyly.
And who was the patron?
No need to spell it out.
It was Mok Ri-won.
"H-how can women wander around so indecently clad…! Th-this is no way for ladies to behave!"
Mok Ri-won squeezed his eyes shut and spoke in a trembling voice.
His hands busily adjusted the skimpy shoulder straps of a nearby courtesan's outfit.
The girls squealed in delight at the sight—no need to belabor the point.
"So considerate, too!"
Ae-wol, the courtesan seated right beside him, burst into laughter and patted his shoulder.
One might protest treating a guest this way, but that would come from ignorance of the trade.
'Sucker.'
Patrons came in types.
The rich and worldly.
The penniless tyrants who lorded over the place on their rare visits.
The sticklers for propriety who complained if protocols were breached.
The Three Great Evils, as the girls called them.
On the flip side were patrons like Mok Ri-won.
The naive innocent who knew nothing of women.
The shabbily dressed sort who seemed unlikely to cause trouble.
Commonly dubbed suckers—types you could half-ass entertain.
But Ae-wol wasn't half-assing it today.
"Darling, eighteen years old?"
"Y-yes…"
Young. Handsome. Appetizing.
When one like that walked in meek as a lamb, a little extra service was nothing.
"Already like this? If you get hooked now, you're in for big trouble later."
At Ae-wol's teasing words, Mok Ri-won flushed beet red and hunched his shoulders.
'Th-this isn't right!'
The sweet aroma of the sake cup inches from his nose, the feminine scent of the woman hooking her arm through his—it was all too stimulating.
Her giggling voice carried a novel resonance he'd never heard, inexplicably heating his cheeks.
Mok Ri-won felt like he might die of embarrassment right then.
'The e-enchantress…!'
He had to ask.
Probe these women about the enchantress on the top floor!
"Um… now, about that enchantress…"
"Oh my, talking about another woman right in front of me?"
…No matter what he said, he got playful jabs like that.
"That's not—!"
Mok Ri-won squeezed his eyes shut and protested.
The courtesans surrounding him front, back, and sides laughed even harder.
The chaotic scene dragged on for a while until, mercifully, salvation reached Mok Ri-won.
Creak-.
The room's door slid open.
In stepped a petite figure cloaked head to toe in black, face masked.
"Halt."
At the thin voice, the courtesans jumped apart from Mok Ri-won in alarm.
Finally catching his breath, he blinked and stared at the masked figure ahead.
The exposed eyes gleamed sharply, radiating clear internal energy.
'A martial artist?'
Mok Ri-won's gaze hardened.
'First-rate entry level. Style… swift swordsmanship? No, assassination arts?'
The instinctive analysis was one of the skills Beggar King had drilled into him back in the valley.
The sharpening tension made the courtesans gulp nervously.
The masked figure swallowed dryly at Mok Ri-won's sudden shift and spoke.
"…The Pavilion Mistress wishes to see you."
Pavilion Mistress.
Mok Ri-won's eyes lit up at the term.
'The enchantress…!'
That matched the intel he'd heard.
The original Pavilion Mistress had been so enraptured by her music upon her arrival that she'd handed over the place.
That was said to be the enchantress's first move.
"Perfect timing. I came here seeking her."
Mok Ri-won stood, dusting off his clothes as he spoke.
He lowered his voice and squared his shoulders dramatically.
But the masked figure merely scoffed in disbelief.
So-hyang, the Pavilion Mistress's closest aide, glanced between Mok Ri-won and the courtesans.
She knew full well he'd been giggling and frolicking moments ago—now this act felt infuriating.
Mok Ri-won had no defense for that.
"A-hem…!"
He cleared his throat awkwardly and averted his eyes from the masked figure.
*
The Glorious Flower Pavilion rose five stories tall, a grand edifice.
Mok Ri-won followed the masked figure, expanding his senses widely.
'Assassins hidden: seven. All genuine second-rate martial artists.'
The guards posted on each floor ranged from early second-rate to fresh first-rate—quite the mix.
'All martial artists?'
Something smelled fishy.
Mok Ri-won quelled his prior nonchalance, adopting a stance ready to draw his sword at any moment.
"Enter here."
They arrived before the top-floor door.
Mok Ri-won shot a glance at the masked figure stepping aside, then approached.
'Eight presences inside.'
Likely the Pavilion Mistress seated in the center, with escorts clinging to the ceiling.
All early first-rate level.
Overkill for a Pavilion Mistress's guard, he thought.
Mok Ri-won pondered this as he opened the door.
Creak-.
He froze mid-step.
"Please, come in."
The room was vast.
Spacious enough for dozens without crowding.
With scant furnishings, it should have felt barren.
Yet the moment the door opened, Mok Ri-won thought it unbearably cramped.
'Beautiful…'
Beautiful.
The thought overwhelmed him as the beauty filled his vision entirely, narrowing his world to her alone.
Making his field of view feel suffocatingly tight.
Thud-.
He felt his heart plummet.
*
For the woman, Hwa Seo, the first emotion upon seeing Mok Ri-won was something else.
'Young?'
Shock.
Pure shock.
'Heard he was at least first-rate.'
Yet this youth looked no older than his early twenties, even being generous.
Bone refinement was out of the question.
A master at that level would have fully concealed his energy, undetectable even by So-hyang.
'From a clan?'
The possibility sharpened.
Raised on elixirs in some clan, it made sense—and his refined features screamed noble birth.
'If he's from a clan, I have to kill him here, no matter the cost.'
The thought flashed through her mind, but Hwa Seo steadied herself.
'…No, too soon to conclude.'
Suppressing her dry swallow amid the tension, she composed her expression and bowed her head.
"I am Yeon-hwa, Mistress of the Glorious Flower Pavilion. And you, sir, what might your name be?"
Information first.
Ascertain his origins: threat or potential ally?
Hwa Seo organized her thoughts swiftly, awaiting his reply.
Seconds ticked by—dozens, perhaps.
With no response, she furrowed her brows and looked up.
What she saw:
"Uh, uh…"
A flushed face mumbling incoherently, eyes spinning dazedly.
Hwa Seo scoffed inwardly.
'Inducing carelessness?'
Feigning foolishness to lower her guard.
Any first-rate or higher master would have cultivated mental fortitude atop their will.
"Daegong?"
A warning against tricks.
Mok Ri-won jolted, shock plain on his face.
'D-daegong…?'
Daegong.
That single word made his heart pound fiercer than when he'd first seen her.
Being hailed as "Daegong" in such a scenario was a dream come true—Mok Ri-won struggled to regain composure.
His heart thundered; heat surged to his feverish head. Startled, he shook himself alert.
Shing-!
He drew his sword.
"What manner of bewitching sorcery is this!"
His shout echoed through the room.
As Hwa Seo tensed and ceiling escorts drew daggers, he continued.
"You've ensnared me with seductive arts! But Mok Ri-won won't crumble so easily! Reveal your true demonic nature, wicked enchantress—!"
Mok Ri-won was convinced.
This had to be some vile seductive technique.
Nothing else explained his pounding heart.
Or the growing haze in his mind as he beheld her.
In the room where his cry lingered, Hwa Seo finally grasped his bizarre outburst, her face blanking.
She thought:
'What the hell is this guy?'
Where did this lunatic crawl from?
…Yeah.