Chapter 8
Chapter 8
“Why are you going this far for me?”
Kim Moo-young bowed deeply in a formal stance, his voice laced with utmost politeness as he asked. It made sense—he’d just been handed a debt he’d spend his life repaying, all at once. Without refusing, I answered him plainly.
“I already told you. To recruit you.”
“That’s why I’m asking. If you want to hire me, did you really need to spend this much money…?”
“It’s not hiring. It’s recruiting. Don’t you get what that means?”
I smirked faintly at Moo-young as he paused.
“I’m not looking to give you one-off jobs, like a single commission or temporary bodyguard duty. I need someone who’ll never betray me. Someone who’ll stake their life to become my hands and feet. That’s the kind of person I’m after.”
“……”
“And out of everyone like that, you’re the one with the most outstanding qualities.”
“……Qualities? You mean me?”
Shadows crept across Moo-young’s face as he heard the high praise, his words coming out weak and hollow.
“You’re overestimating me.”
Deep defeatism. A helplessness and self-doubt drilled into him over years. It was a face so familiar it made me sick.
Because in my past life, it had been my face.
“I… probably won’t live up to your expectations.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I’m just… one of countless ronin. Nothing more.”
He clenched his fist tight as he spoke, but I knew the root of that defeatism. It wasn’t his martial skill or ability.
“My skills are mediocre at best, and I’m a one-armed cripple. On top of that……”
“Because you’re Kōwa?”
“……!”
He clamped his mouth shut, as if I’d struck the bullseye.
Kōwa—descendants of those who fled the rift-ravaged Japanese islands and settled in Joseon. Because of their origins, they lived in contempt and discrimination here, little better than slaves.
“I looked into your background. You took the palace guard selection exam, right?”
I recalled the details I’d dug up on him.
“The written test? Formalities, whatever. But the practical? Full marks in the applicant sparring section. And you were only fifteen at the time.”
“That was…”
“But they still didn’t take you. Hell, they didn’t stop there.” I glanced at his empty right shoulder. “They turned your arm into that and didn’t even give you a single penny in compensation.”
“……”
“Just because you’re not Joseon blood. That pathetic excuse was all it took.”
Moo-young kept his head down, saying nothing. His lips pressed tight, as if old grudges were resurfacing. I got it.
Origins. Bloodline. Blood. The things you could never change, no matter what—nooses tightening around your life. I’d felt it to my bones, born a bastard and scraping by.
That’s why it’s so easy to sweet-talk you.
“Kōwa? One arm? Ronin? I don’t give a shit. There’s only one reason I came for you and made this investment.”
I put on a serious face and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Because I think you’re worth it.”
“……!”
“Because I’m convinced that once you grow with my investment, you’ll bring back tens, hundreds of times the value someday.”
Moo-young’s expression shifted as he listened. Halfway there already, judging by his face. I squirmed inside with a dark, twisted joy.
Yes. This is it!
Bottom-buy success!
“…That there won’t be a bigger chance for me than this.”
Had he made up his mind? Moo-young, who’d been silent till now, finally spoke.
“I know this opportunity you’ve given me won’t come again in my lifetime.”
“……”
“So, just one question.”
What are you planning to do?
I glanced around at his words. No listeners…
Moo-young, who’d asked, and even Tae-woong were leaning in, curious about my answer.
Fine. At this point, with these two, it was time.
“Revolution.”
The short word hung in the air. Two syllables.
But their faces—watching me—changed by the second.
“Young Master, what did you just…?”
“……!”
Doubt, shock, fear. Emotions flickered across their features.
A word too taboo to even utter.
Yet at the same time, one anyone stuck in this rotten Joseon had probably dreamed of once or twice.
“I’m going to spark a revolution in this Joseon.”
“Let’s start work next Monday. We both have prep to do.”
“Understood.”
By the time we finished the formalities for inducting him as a bodyguard, evening had fallen. I considered buying him dinner but dropped it. With everything piling up nonstop, forcing a meal would just cause trouble. Better to give him time to sort his feelings and let him treat his sister to something nice.
“And finally… here.”
Right on cue, the apartment purchase contract I’d arranged arrived. I handed Moo-young a card.
“This is…?”
An access key to a mid-sized apartment in the residential mid-layers. His eyes widened as he took it.
“You don’t need to go this far! I…!”
“Whoa, whoa. Hey, my arm’s gonna fall off~!”
He tried to refuse, but I made a huge fuss, pretending I wouldn’t hear it. Moo-young fumbled awkwardly before accepting the card. Seeing him like that made me chuckle.
“Look after your sister. You can’t keep a kid that young holed up here forever, right?”
“But still…”
“If you’re grateful, just work hard. I’ll grind you till you’re begging for more pay. Got it?”
“……Yes. Understood.”
Refusing more would be rude now. As he geared up to leave,
“Oppa!”
A small shadow dashed toward me from the corner of the room. Kim Ha-young, Moo-young’s little sister.
“Rich, handsome oppa, leaving? When you coming back?”
“Hah hah. Cried calling me a loan shark earlier, now I’m handsome enough for a piggyback ride?”
“Flattering you for money already—quite the promising kid.”
Tae-woong and I traded quips briefly. I said I’d visit again if I got the chance and waved to Ha-young.
“Yeah! Come play again! Promise?!”
“Sure, sure. Next time, more snacks…”
But that was short-lived. Pop! As Ha-young ran at me for a hug, reluctant to part—
I jerked back hastily, seeing her smiling approach.
“Huh? Oppa?”
“……No, it’s nothing.”
She tilted her head, wondering why I dodged. I forced a smile, but my stiff face wouldn’t relax.
“Let’s go, Tae-woong.”
“Ah, yes.”
Leaving the puzzled girl behind, I turned quickly. Moo-young and Tae-woong exchanged glances, wearing similar expressions.
“……What was that about suddenly?”
“No idea.”
It wasn’t because I hated kids or her dirty clothes. If so, I wouldn’t have come to this lower-layer slum at all.
And above all, that face. The expression I’d worn before turning away.
“Less like he dislikes the kid approaching… more like he’s afraid of her.”
Muttering that, Tae-woong straightened his clothes and clapped his future colleague’s shoulder.
“Glad to be working with you. See you next time.”
“Ah, yes! Th-thank you.”
“Mm.”
With a curt farewell, Tae-woong walked off. By the time he exited the apartment complex, I was staring at the invisible sky overhead, my face unsettled.
“What’s wrong, Young Master? Suddenly.”
“……That kid just now. She tried to hug me, right?”
“Yes. Kids warm up fast like that.”
Tae-woong said it with a hint of amusement.
“Isn’t that good? Better than crying at first…”
“No. Not good.”
My voice came out rigid in reply. I covered my face with trembling hands and sighed.
Not good.
Before my covered eyes, memories from my past life unfolded.
Shwaaa—a pitch-black sky. Flickering neon in a rundown city. Mangled corpses strewn amid pools of blood.
And in the center, a kneeling man: Moo-young.
‘I’ll kill you… Kim Chang-un… you yangban…! Your Joseon…! All of you! Every last one…!’
In the memory, Moo-young wept blood. The mechanical arm replacing his right was long shattered. His intact left hand clutched his sister Ha-young’s corpse.
That was the Sword Ghost who’d slain twelve yangban and aura users, plunging Joseon into terror. Joseon’s first traitor, Moo-young.
After his only sister was sold as a noble’s plaything and died, he murdered one and became a wanted fugitive.
The reason he’d hated me in that life… wasn’t anything else.
‘Ha-young… turning this child into that trash’s toy…! You…!’
“……”
The dead sister’s body. I’d handled the cleanup.
To secure my position in the noble power struggles. I was the one who’d covered for that lunatic’s secret and buried the incident.
“……Fucking insane.”
It hit me anew: why had this second-life miracle gone to trash like me?
To atone? Or reflect on the evils I’d committed to survive back then?
Bullshit.
Would that erase what I’d done? No. Even regressing to childhood, those memories and experiences stayed burned in my head.
So this wasn’t some petty atonement. It was just me grasping the most important, most valuable thing I could.
Saving Seo Tae-woong. Pulling Moo-young from the slums before his fated misery.
That was all. No more, no less.
“Let’s go.”
I shook off the thoughts cluttering my head and moved without delay. New bodyguard or not, work hadn’t even started.
Thinking of the ‘meeting’ soon ahead, I had mountains to do.
Either way, I had to carry out the revolution.
Had to survive spectacularly as this Joseon crumbled.