Is There Anyone in the World Who Knows Me? (8)
Is There Anyone in the World Who Knows Me? (8)
Morning broke. Ash-colored snow fell from the sky. Whenever the pitch-black flakes touched the ground, they crumbled into black particles and left soot upon the earth. The courtyard of the Chang'an warehouse, once a proud display of Venerable Geumbok's majesty, was now mottled with spots, like a mangy village dog.
"It seems everything has been wrapped up."
The man spoke. But "wrapped up" was the wrong expression. Jong Yuseop and the man had an obligation to complete a transaction today—this was only the beginning.
Jong Yuseop sat slumped before the ashes, his face haggard. The men who weren't martial artists, exhausted from the firefighting and damage assessment that had gone on all night, lay collapsed on the bare ground, panting like dogs with heatstroke. The sound of ragged breathing came from all directions, and to Jong Yuseop, those sounds were like wailing.
"...What's the extent of the damage?"
Jong Yuseop rubbed his face and asked. His disheveled hair and the ashes smeared on his clothes screamed of how grueling the night had been. Even for a peak-level master like him, the mental exhaustion took its toll.
The man standing opposite him reported the damage with a grim tone.
"....This is all we could salvage of the silk. The jewelry is intact, but it's so filthy that I doubt it can be used right away."
At his feet lay a basket containing a single bolt of half-burned silk and a jewelry box so covered in ash it had lost all its luster. You couldn't give a half-burned bolt of silk as a gift, so only the single box of jewelry remained in their hands.
Jong Yuseop stared at the warehouse. The warehouse that had once boasted sturdy security had embraced the searing flames, leaving behind only a blackened skeleton. Seeing it stand haughtily atop the ashes, as if declaring its own victory, Jong Yuseop felt an emotion boiling up in his chest.
It could be described as irrational rage. Though there was no one here upon whom he could justly vent his anger, his chest was tight and burning.
He barely suppressed his fury and asked,
"....Who set the fire?"
The man said,
"There are no signs of outside intrusion. No witnesses, and no one reported hearing anything. It simply looks like the silk caught fire on its own—we can only speculate that a spark was carried in from somewhere, or that embers flew onto it while it was being moved to the warehouse."
Jong Yuseop clutched his head again. He dug his fingers into his scalp with enough force to rip every hair out by the roots, then let his hands fall limp with a sigh.
"....Reporting that a suspicious figure appeared and set the fire—that wouldn't work, would it?"
The man shook his head firmly.
"That would cause even more problems. Weren't both you, great hero, and I amusing ourselves at the brothel at that hour? If word gets out that a suspicious figure appeared in the middle of Chang'an, leisurely set fire to a warehouse, and escaped without us noticing a thing, your reputation will hit rock bottom."
Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Jong Yuseop felt that the situation befalling him was profoundly unjust. Countless members of the Zhongnan Sect and Venerable Geumbok's organization had come to Chang'an and completed this 'formality'—so why was this happening today? Why was this happening to him, of all people?
To Jong Yuseop, this misfortune felt like the world irrationally tormenting him.
"What do we do?"
The man asked, his face uneasy. Though he put on a mask of composure, he was in fact far more anxious than Jong Yuseop. Jong Yuseop was the son of an elder, a direct disciple, a man Venerable Geumbok had raised like his own son—he wouldn't be cast out for something like this. But the man had clawed his way up to this position from the very bottom.
It wasn't Jong Yuseop whose life was in danger. Depending on how Jong Yuseop handled this, the man's continued attachment to his own body parts would be determined. A cold sweat ran down his face as his eyes darted around. Jong Yuseop said,
"I'll have to send word to the person we were supposed to meet today and postpone the appointment. It's an unforeseen situation, so that side should under—"
"Pardon my intrusion."
Before Jong Yuseop could even finish his sentence, a messenger in fine attire appeared before the burned-out warehouse. He wore a long beard, and before Jong Yuseop could ask who he was, he thrust a letter forward and said,
"A letter sent by Elder Dongjeo."
Elder Dongjeo was the man Jong Yuseop was supposed to meet today. Jong Yuseop felt his mind searing as he took the letter. A letter arriving on the morning such a disaster had occurred—it usually brought bad news.
Jong Yuseop did his best to feign composure and unfolded the letter.
[I heard that a warehouse burned down in the middle of Chang'an. I won't ask whether it happened because you have many enemies or because your luck ran out. However, if you cannot even safeguard the gifts meant for such an important matter, how can we arrange a meeting to discuss a great undertaking? I will consider the gift as having been received, and the conversation as having taken place, so today's meeting shall be treated as if it never happened.]
"Ah, aah...!"
Jong Yuseop's face went white. He glared at the messenger with eyes that were nearly all white. Contrary to his expression, which looked on the verge of tears, a murderous aura burst from his body, as if he might kill someone. The messenger flinched at the sight and stumbled backward, and Jong Yuseop lunged toward him, saying,
"Please, ask him to give me a chance, just a chance! Even so, now that I've come this far, surely I should at least be granted a single meeting! The jewelry! The jewelry is still intact, and the residence is fine, so there's plenty of time to discuss matters! How can he simply leave without even hearing my business proposal! His mind will change once he hears what I have to say!"
The messenger's face was troubled. The very fact that he'd come in person made it clear he wasn't in a position to give his master advice. Flustered in a way that ill-suited his long beard and fine clothes, he said,
"Ah, n-no, well... the Elder has already made his decision..."
"You must at least hear me out! Ah! Or else I'll go in person and speak—!"
When Jong Yuseop said he would visit in person, the messenger cried out in horror.
"Ah, good heavens! I understand! I understand! I-I'll relay the message, but please don't get your hopes up too much!"
Jong Yuseop steadied his breathing. The man standing behind him felt his heart would burst and could hardly stand it.
Should I run away now? If things go wrong, I'm dead regardless.
But just running away meant wasting everything he had built up under Venerable Geumbok all this time.
That was what held the man back.
********
"I thought you'd go for the tea storage room."
"If I made them throw out all the tea in there, that'd be such a waste. And it'd definitely raise suspicion."
I had considered drenching everything in the tea storage room with foul sewer water to ruin all the tea, but that would indeed be far too likely to raise suspicion. No matter how much of an idiot he was, if he saw the tea storage room in that state, he'd think someone was trying to sabotage him.
What Jong Yuseop needed wasn't the thought that someone was doing him harm. He needed the thought that things just weren't working out and that he had shit luck. I had to corner him into thinking he was ruining everything through his own incompetence.
"So we're going to play tricks a different way."
"How?"
"Like this."
When I went up to the reception room and started getting to work, Sannyeo frowned and said,
"Isn't this a little too childish?"
"The effectiveness is top-notch. Besides, who would ever suspect someone of cooking up this kind of nonsense? More importantly, help me out a bit."
Sannyeo, looking dubious, nevertheless helped me and began the work. The whole time, the smile never left my face.
Tormenting people really was just so damn enjoyable.
*******
For Jong Yuseop, whether it was misfortune or fortune, Dongjeo readily agreed to at least hear out his business proposal. Out of consideration for his old ties with Venerable Geumbok, he said he would show his face and hear the story. The messenger who relayed this spoke with the face of a man resurrected from death, and Jong Yuseop had to hurry for the meeting.
He rushed the attendants, who hadn't yet recovered from the aftermath of the fire, to polish the jewelry, and hurriedly found clean clothes to wear.
Jong Yuseop changed only his clothes and met Dongjeo with his face still haggard from exhaustion. He didn't have the time to get everything properly prepared. The jewelry was still not fully cleaned, and he hadn't been able to finish practicing his explanation of the business proposal.
But he absolutely had to persuade Dongjeo this time. If he failed, too many things would collapse.
Watching Dongjeo approach slowly, Jong Yuseop clenched his fist tightly under the table.
Contrary to what Jong Yuseop had feared, Dongjeo was an old man of unremarkable build. The moment Jong Yuseop saw him, he rose from his seat and bowed his head, saying,
"Elder Dongjeo. Thank you for granting me this opportunity to speak."
Dongjeo stroked his beard at Jong Yuseop's words and smiled amiably.
"Ho ho ho, not at all. My ties with Elder Venerable Geumbok run deep in many ways, so I figured I should at least hear you out. Come now, tell me your story."
Jong Yuseop broke into a cold sweat at the demand to get straight to business. If the story proved uninteresting, he would leave immediately. Dongjeo was as uninhibited in spending money as he was decisive in cutting off investments. If the story struck him as even slightly odd, he would walk away.
Just imagining the sight of him turning his head away made Jong Yuseop's stomach twist. Hoping to ease Dongjeo's tension first, he offered him tea.
"Before that, why not have a cup of tea? This is an exceptionally fine tea."
When he gestured with his hand, an attendant came out and poured the tea. As the jade-colored tea filled the cup, steaming, the fragrance saturated the room. Dongjeo bowed his head toward the teacup, flared his nostrils like a pig, and said,
"Mm, the aroma is lovely..."
"Yes. There's nothing like good tea to soothe a weary body."
"Then I shall have to sample the taste as well."
And so Dongjeo raised the teacup.
But no sooner had he lifted the teacup than water dribbled out from beneath it and soaked Dongjeo's clothes.
"Ah, good heavens! What is the meaning of this!"
A startled Dongjeo flung the teacup away and flamboyantly leaned his chair back—and in that instant, the chair, its legs already loosened, collapsed under Dongjeo's weight.
"Uwaaak!"
Woodangtangtang!
With a tremendous crash, Dongjeo toppled to the floor and let out a sound close to a scream, his mouth hanging wide open.
"Ah, aah...! Aah...! Y-you old bastard...! J-J-Jong Yuseop, you baaastard..!"
Jong Yuseop's mind went blank.