Credit Transaction
Chang'an was the most prosperous city in Guanzhong, the heart of the Central Plains. Countless nations that had once unified the Central Plains had made it their capital. The emperor had gifted the city to the comrades who had fought beside him.
He had granted Chang'an as a self-governing district to the Murim Alliance—the very organization of martial artists he himself had once founded. In the new empire, Chang'an had become a city of the Murim.
A different kind of vitality wrapped the streets of Chang'an, distinct from the cities of the new empire. The rows of market stalls and the war games of children were much the same as elsewhere. Yet the plaque fixed to the city gate, bearing the words Officials and Martial Shall Not Encroach, lent the place an air of freer spirit.
One building seemed to embody that freedom of Chang'an. Though it belonged to the Murim Alliance, it stood some distance apart from the rest.
In the Alliance's martial halls, weapons lay in perfect order; in the administrative offices, dispatches sat neatly arranged. But inside this building the books were scattered in careless heaps.
A man entered. His attire was immaculate, and in one hand he carried a tray bearing a teapot and cups.
He wore robes of deep blue silk embroidered with golden thread—far finer than the usual servants of the Murim Alliance. Ever since Chang'an had become the Alliance's autonomous district, rumors even claimed that the shop boys had taken up martial arts.
The man recalled the gossip and gave a faint snort of laughter. The Alliance always preached the martial spirit, yet in all his time in Chang'an he had never once met a shop boy who knew a single form. The same would hold true for this place. This was the Alliance's archive, a repository for the many texts gathered after the last war.
The trouble was that so many volumes had been lost or ruined in that war that the name "archive" was little more than decoration. It was a warehouse of books, nothing more. It held little interest for martial artists, and so it had no proper caretaker.
That was why his master—who knew nothing of martial arts—had been forced to search the shelves with his own hands. The scattered books were surely the result of the master's irritation.
The man had come seeking his master. He moved quickly through the mess, stepping around the strewn volumes. Though he carried the tray in one hand, not a single item upon it so much as trembled.
Sure enough, his master sat at the very center of the chaos.
"Jun, Jun. You go around using footwork every single day, and that's why wild rumors about me keep spreading."
The master spoke without turning. The man paid him no mind, set the tray on a nearby desk, and poured tea as he answered.
"What rumor is it this time? Last time word got out that our merchant group was buying every ancient text in here, and I got hauled in by the general manager."
"They're saying I'm using these old books to lay out a formation. Do they even know I'm a merchant when they talk like that?"
"The tea's getting cold. Take a breath."
Only after pouring did the man look at his master.
As always, the master straightened his silk robes and rose from the floor. He tidied his clothes with careful hands and sat before the teacup.
"Still, it's settled for now, isn't it?"
"Settled… well, yes."
"Then we can return to the merchant group."
"That… no."
"What?"
The man's name was Ak Jun, son of the merchant group's general manager. When the young master—grandson of the group head—had come to Chang'an, Ak Jun had accompanied him as escort.
Using the mental arithmetic his father had taught him, Ak Jun had already concluded that by today the young master should have finished examining every book in the archive.
"Don't tell me the book isn't here?"
Ak Jun stared at his master with an expression that said it was impossible. The master only sighed.
"I know. What am I supposed to do…"
Ak Jun pressed his brow and covered his face with both hands.
"Young Master, may I offer a word of counsel?"
"Don't… Between you and me, what's this 'counsel' nonsense…"
Ak Jun and his master had been friends since they were boys who still wet the bed. The master treated him that way still. Yet as the years passed, Ak Jun had come to believe there were moments when formality was needed—and this was one of them.
"From the day you saved the family at the age of eight, I carved it into my heart that you, Jinmyung, were my master. But…"
"But you can't stand watching me waste ten years hunting for a single book… Is that it?"
"Y-yes?"
"You said the exact same thing last time you came back drunk. Tsk. If you're going to drink, drink with me. What's the point of getting soused alone and then lecturing me? Every time your fiancée sends a letter from the group, you come back like this."
Ak Jun lifted his teacup with deliberate calm. Maybe I only drink alone because you keep scolding me… He kept the thought to himself.
"What's our merchant group's family motto again?"
"…Credit Transaction, you mean."
"Right. Deals made on trust. Now imagine people saying we owed a life-debt and never paid it back. What happens to the group then?"
"B-but Young Master, haven't you already paid enough by spending ten years in this backwater? Even the Grand Master said that you…"
Jinmyung set his cup down with a sharp clack. He knew full well that his grandfather's years were growing heavy.
"If it's not here… then it must be there."
"Nowhere else left, I suppose."
Jinmyung rose from the table and walked to the window. Beyond the glass rose Mt. Hua.
"You're going, then?"
"I have to. My life isn't cheap."
"His Majesty tolerated us as far as the Murim Alliance… but the moment we cross the Haegeomji of the Mt. Hua Sect, they could pin a charge of treason on the merchant group all over again."
"That's why it's just you and me grinding through this, without anyone else from the group."
"This place is the autonomous district His Majesty created—in a way it straddles both court and Murim. But the Mt. Hua Sect is pure Murim."
The emperor had won the last war because he had won so many battles, and those victories had been forged by the martial strength of the Murim Alliance. Yet the new empire had been founded because the merchant group had backed him. Victory in battle might protect lives, but it could not build a way of life.
In short, the emperor had founded his new nation with the support of both the merchant group and the Murim Alliance. That was why, ten years earlier, the moment the realm stabilized, he had moved to purge the merchant group—fearing it could unsettle the throne.
Jinmyung's bargaining had saved the group from that purge, yet everyone knew the emperor still watched them with wary eyes.
Even so, ten years had already passed since Jinmyung came to Chang'an. In all that time the emperor had left both the merchant group and Jinmyung alone, as if he had forgotten them.
Was the emperor's memory more expensive than I thought…?
"Hnn…"
Jinmyung drained the tea in one swallow. The fragrance filled his mouth. He still lacked the clues to settle the matter in his head alone.
Outside the window, Mt. Hua was turning crimson with the sunset. There was one thing that set the Mt. Hua Sect apart from the other schools…
"Come to think of it… the Mt. Hua Sword Debate is almost here, isn't it?"
"About a fortnight left, I believe."
The Mt. Hua Sword Debate had begun as a gathering where the martial artists of the Murim Alliance tested one another's arts in preparation for war, honing themselves through friendly rivalry. After the war, the Alliance had decided the past must never be forgotten, and so every five years they held the Debate once more.
The Debate of later years was different. In wartime it had been a contest among the greatest masters of each sect. Now it had become an honorable stage where the rising talents of every school made their first appearance.
Five years earlier, Jinmyung and Ak Jun had watched the martial artists who took part. Being merchants, and keeping their distance from Mt. Hua, they had only heard the tales in the inns of Chang'an.
"Hmm… I think we might be able to climb Mt. Hua."
"How?"
"I'll need to check a few things first… but we should start at an inn."
"An inn? What is there to check at an inn?"
The Donghwa Merchant Group maintained branches across the entire new empire. In every city where a branch stood, they had expanded into every sort of trade. The Donghwa Inns were one of them. Of course there was no Donghwa Inn in Chang'an—the group had never entered the city.
The emperor had granted the merchant group many privileges, yet those privileges applied only within the borders of the new empire. Chang'an was the Murim Alliance's autonomous district. Without those privileges, the group had not expanded here.
So when Jinmyung spoke of going to an inn, it meant an unexpected special expense would appear in their lodging accounts. Ak Jun was not eager to file another consumption report with the group.
"Right. I'll be at the inn, so hurry and catch up."
"Huh? Weren't we going together?"
"Then who's going to clean up all these books?"
Ak Jun furrowed his brow again. Friends since we wet the bed, was it?
"A merchant should always wear a smile."
Jinmyung muttered without looking at him.
"I'll order the Dongpo pork you like, so get there quick. If you're late I might finish it all."
"By the time I finish cleaning this place it'll be cold."
"Then I'll just order another plate."
As young master of the merchant group, Jinmyung had never known want for money. From Ak Jun's position—managing their living expenses in Chang'an—the words were a little troublesome. Of course the stipend the group sent was more than enough for one or two plates of Dongpo pork. It was only the paperwork of recording every expense that was a nuisance.
When Jinmyung left the archive, Ak Jun sighed and began stacking the books. I shouldn't have brought up the Grand Master and spoiled his mood…