The Reason for Trust - 1

This time around, I'd made up my mind to feed everyone nothing but the expensive stuff. They all wore dumbstruck faces at first, but they ate whatever was set in front of them all the same—and ate it well, too.

It made for a lovely sight.

And so, having stuffed everyone to their hearts' content, sent off the premium dang-gwa sweets meant as a gift for the Sword Saint along with the items I'd prepared separately, and gone to sleep in high spirits, I rose in the small hours of the next morning.

I went out to inspect the carriage Hyeonryeong had sent over, along with the pair of horses.

Luxurious it was not—rather, it was big and sturdy, a plain traveling carriage shielded by a waterproof canvas to keep out wind and rain. Even so, by any standard it was a splendid rig.

After all, it bore the official seal of the government itself.

True, I'd taken this on as a subcontract, but what I was doing now amounted to official government business.

Official business! Government work!

Which meant I was entitled to use what belonged to imperial officials. Above all, the Imperial Official Road was strictly reserved for horses and carriages stamped with the government seal—nothing else was permitted. Get caught running that road without one, and in the worst case you faced a lengthy detention.

Which was probably why, back in Celestial Moon, the soldiers used to descend on any unqualified fool who set foot on the official road with clockwork precision. Of course, the game had whole events built around that, and out here there'd be no soldiers lurking in hiding like traffic cops waiting to slap a citation on anyone who jumped the signal.

Still—why court danger when there was nothing to gain from it?

I gave the two horses, sturdy enough to pass for warhorses, and the carriage hitched behind them a meticulous going-over. When you rent something, checking it properly is simply the rule.

Having finished with horses and carriage, I loaded a jug of liquor, provisions, and the rest of our luggage into the cargo hold—and I had just climbed onto the driver's bench when Chae Jin came walking out with her things in hand.

"You're out earlier than we agreed? A little warning next time you plan to do inspections."

"I can manage that much on my own. What of it?"

"Aww... wait, isn't this a government horse pulling a government carriage? There's a magistrate's seal stamped right on it."

"It is. Part of the reason I borrowed it is that this trip to Cheongho comes at the magistrate's request."

I told Chae Jin about the conversation I'd had with Hyeonryeong the day before.

She listened quietly, hesitated for a beat, then let out a little snort of laughter. And then she made straight for the driver's bench, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Hold on. Why are you climbing up there? There's a seat in the back. Ride back there, if you please."

I knew Chae Jin could ride a horse—but she could drive a carriage too? When I stared at her, she answered with that trademark expression of hers, brimming with arrogant confidence.

"Hehe. Today, I shall become the wind. I may not look the part, but I am living proof of the Cheongho Maximum-Speed Theory. They all call me the Rampaging Black Carriage Destroyer of Cheongho, you know..."

"Destroyer? What do you mean, destroyer?"

"I did once destroy several carriages in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Cheongho Carriage Race, you see. Hehe. After that, no one ever dared bring a carriage near me again. I took three championships in a row, and everyone was so astonished by my skill that they came begging—please, they said, never enter the Cheongho Carriage Race again."

"......"

The Cheongho Carriage Race. A race in which carriages modified to nearly war-chariot specifications were drawn by a pair of horses at a dead run to a set destination. A notoriously savage contest, famous for the sheer number of injuries it produced.

I'd made quite a bit of money off it back in my Celestial Moon days.

But she'd actually entered it—and picked up a nickname that sinister along the way?

My instincts screamed. A desperate, pleading cry: do not put the reins in this woman's hands.

Cold sweat creeping down my back, I said, "You... you know the old saying, don't you? Hurry to arrive one day sooner, and you may arrive thirty years sooner still."

"Hehe. It really has been ages since I last drove a carriage, though."

Who exactly am I talking to right now?

I turned a blind eye to her sparkling gaze drifting toward the reins, and in the end she climbed into the cargo hold, pouting.

"We'll be taking the Imperial Official Road anyway, so there's no call to drive fast and wild."

"Oh? Then if we take the Imperial Official Road and I drive fast, won't we arrive even sooner?"

That was... not convincing!

"Get caught driving above a certain speed on the official road, and we get thrown off it."

Not that grand lords and high officials cared about such rules—but we were hardly that sort, were we. No point taking risks where there was nothing to be gained.

"Tch."

Did she seriously just 'tch' me?

With our little tug-of-war settled, departure time arrived and we rolled out of Seomhwachon. We set out from the village in the direction of Yangwi Fortress, then swung north. A little farther up, the ordinary dirt road gave way to something different: a highway paved in stone.

"Halt! Halt!"

Stopped at the very first checkpoint, of all things.

Not that I was worried. I had both the seal and the permit, after all.

"I am Yuk Gang of the Official Road Management Department. Pardon me, but might I see your permit?"

An officer with strikingly sharp eyes stood barring our way, soldiers arrayed behind him. His whole bearing radiated wariness, as though he'd draw steel at the first false move. I promptly presented the permit Hyeonryeong had given me; he examined it for a moment, handed it back, and stepped aside.

"On official business, then. Though you don't appear to be an official yourself."

"The magistrate asked me to hurry to Cheongho. And—over there—you gentlemen work hard. Have yourselves a drink after your shift, why don't you."

Discreetly, I set a coin pouch holding a few nyang of silver atop his hand. He floundered, of course, and refused it several times over; just as many times, I pressed it back into his palm.

"This isn't anything so sordid as a bribe. I know full well how much the imperial army endures."

"Ohh... very well then. My thanks."

Silver accepted, the moment I turned to climb back onto the bench he glanced around, caught my arm, and murmured low in my ear.

"If you're bound for Cheongho, it'll be two days' travel from here. Half a day out, you'll come to the Yangcho Guard Post. Tell them Yuk Gang sent you, and you can rest inside before moving on."

With that, he slipped a wooden tag into my hand.

Truly, it was a beautiful sight to behold.

I have always been fond of a clean transaction.

"Glory to the Empire."

"Glory to the Empire."

After a light fist-palm salute, I took up the reins once more. Sure enough, with the road paved in stone, both the horses and the carriage rolled along smooth and swift.

"I had no idea you were so adept at handing out bribes."

"A bribe? What a heartbreaking thing to say."

"What else would you call it?!"

"The Official Road Management Department has a rough time of it even by military standards. And who is it that actually uses the official roads? Officials, nearly all of them."

"I... suppose that's true?"

"The imperial bureaucracy and the imperial army don't get along. So officials pick quarrels with officers over every little thing. But would an official dare pick a quarrel with a man of general's rank or higher? Never."

"Ah."

"Which means the junior officers doing the real work out here get chewed out in one place and raked over the coals in another—perpetually put-upon men, every one. If a little recognition and a few nyang of silver can cheer such men on, it's a bargain by any measure."

"Hmm..."

"It's simply people who toil helping others who toil. Don't go calling that beautiful, noble token of goodwill a bribe."

Chae Jin snorted a laugh. It didn't sound mocking. Merely a laugh of wonder, nothing more.

"Hehe. All right, all right, I hear you. But Innkeeper, you know a surprising amount about this sort of thing, don't you?"

Well, that would be because it was step one of an event that was all but mandatory for anyone who played Celestial Moon.

Just as the officer Yuk Gang had said, after roughly half a day of driving a guard post appeared beside the road. When I reined in the horses, they snorted and heaved out rough breaths.

"Well now. What can I do for you folks?"

The officer minding the post was a pleasant-faced middle-aged man. I told him Yuk Gang had sent me and held out the wooden tag he'd given me, and the man broke into a ready smile.

"If that boy sent you, come right in. Your horses look worn—rest a while before you move on. There's water and fodder around back for them."

"Thank you. Miss Chae—sorry to trouble you, but could you look after the horses?"

"Sure thing."

While she unhitched the team from the carriage and led them around back, I stepped inside. A handful of off-duty officers were lounging about, each resting in his own way. Among them, I made for an old officer sitting alone in a corner, idly turning janggi pieces over in his fingers.

"If you're not otherwise occupied, elder, care for a game?"

"Hm? I don't play unless there's a wager riding on it. How about we stake something?"

Just as I'd expected. I went back out, fetched the cask of liquor from the carriage, and only then did the officer laugh from his belly and rap his knuckles on the worn old book sitting beside him.

"Haha! If it's something like this, how could I refuse? My stake, then, is this book. Though tell me... do you play well?"

"About as well as the next man."

I smiled. He looked satisfied.

When the clack of pieces against the wooden board finally fell silent, the old officer spoke. "Splendidly played. You've bested me."

"Thank you for the game."

I'd won our wagered match. I'd once ranked near the top of the Celestial Moon Gallery Janggi Tournament, so I'd had no confidence at all.

In losing, that is.

"Well now. That was fun, whatever else. The louts here can barely play—bored me stiff. Here. I received this from a certain Daoist wanderer long ago; take it with you. Can't say whether it'll do you any good."

"Thank you, elder. Haha."

"Heh heh. Think nothing of it."

"And this—share it with your comrades. I enjoyed myself as well."

Smiling, I held out the cask of liquor, but the old officer shook his head. I simply held it out again.

"You meant to give me the book even if I'd lost. Didn't you."

"Tsk. It's like you can read a man's mind."

In this event, he handed over the book whether you won or lost.

Instead of answering, I shrugged, and he chuckled easily before looking around at the room.

"Oy! Thanks to this gentleman here, every one of you is having a drink after shift today. Don't any of you think about drinking for free—bring something out!"

A drink after work in a quiet posting like this—few pleasures in life could rival it. Perhaps that was why the officers grinned and pressed one thing after another into my hands. A dagger here. Army-issue gold sore salve there. A decent lump of ore or two, good for crafting materials.

Arms laden with their gifts, I turned back to the old officer. "Care for one more game?"

"It's a beautiful woman who should hold a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠traveler's feet, not an old fogey like me. May blessings follow your road. If you ever pass this way again, come rest anytime at all."

With a sly grin, the old officer went back to fiddling with his pieces. Unable to press him further, I made my way outside.

Chae Jin was watering the horses, all the while sneaking sidelong glances at the reins.

"Rested up?"

"I'm all rested, but the horses don't look quite done to me. You've been working hard driving that carriage too, Innkeeper—take a breather. Or else just hand me the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reins and..."

I ignored her and opened the book I'd won. Puffing her cheeks out a little, she drifted over beside me and cocked her head at it.

"What's this? Understanding Distance, Volume One?"

Having read the title printed on the tattered cover, Chae Jin looked intrigued and shut her mouth, as if daring me to turn the page. So I did.

I finished the introduction to the first chapter and turned the page. Then the next. And the next.

One careful read-through told me that Understanding Distance contained, precisely as its title promised, a theory of at what range one should slip past an enemy's attacks—and at what range one should deliver one's own.

In Celestial Moon, reading it through used to raise your evasion.

Whether it was my shallow store of martial knowledge or my lowly realm of cultivation, a single read showed no visible change in me at all.

I'd have to give it another read later.

"Hmm... skimming it, it seems like a martial manual."

"It is. Here—read it on the road. It can wait until later for me."

"Oh? Isn't this rather precious, though?"

"Better that whoever can put it to use right away does. And besides, the stronger you become, the easier my own life gets."

And it wasn't as though this were some ultra-rare secret-technique manual, either.

You could earn it as a reward for stacking up mileage at the used-book stall in the Imperial Capital. Granted, saving that much mileage cost a pretty penny, but that route got you both the first and second volumes at once, along with other rewards besides. And there were no small number of other ways to come by it, too.

"If it still bothers you, think of it as a loan—return it nice and neat when you're finished."

Once I was done with it, I'd add it to the Hongseong Sect's collection. It would serve them well—their knowledge of the martial arts would far outstrip mine before long, after all.

"Hahaha! All right. I'll read it properly, then. I was worried the road would bore me—this works out nicely."

Grinning, she accepted the book.

And so we set off. From the moment the moon rose until we reached our campsite, she sat in the swaying rear of the carriage without speaking a single word, lost entirely in the book.

By the time I halted the carriage and finished making camp, the night had deepened until a dazzling full moon sat enthroned in the sky. And then she—she who had been brooding over something before the campfire—

"...Huh? Wait. Just—wait."

With a short exclamation, she slowly drew her saber.

A little way off from me, the Moonlight Blade Technique unfolded. But it was different from every Moonlight Blade Technique of hers I had seen until now. Bathed in moonlight, Chae Jin swung her blade—and for one single instant, that swing became very, very slow, a lazy arc drawn through empty air.

And in that same instant, what unfolded before my eyes was the moon, split in two.

I hastily screwed my eyes shut and open again—and confirmed that the moon above was perfectly whole.

Only then did I understand what this was. The technique Chae Ryeon had become able to use only after reaching, in Act Three, toward Dun's enlightenment. The technique that Chae Jin, who had chased nothing but sheer speed, never could have obtained. One of the secret arts of the Moonlight Blade Technique—the effect known as Moonlight Flash.

As I gazed at her, standing there dumbstruck after pulling off Moonlight Flash, she drifted over and lowered herself in front of me, still staring blankly at my face—and I held out a cup of tea to her.

"Congratulations."

"Um... it was, right? That just now—that was really me, right?"

"You did it yourself and you don't know?"

"Ah. Ahaha. Ohohoho!! As expected of me! That's our Moonlight Blade Chae Jin for you—eldest disciple of the prestigious Moon Lotus Pavilion, the chivalrous heroine whose talent outshines even Hong Ryeon's! Ahahahaha!!"

To her delighted laughter, I held the teacup out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠once more. Only after taking it did Chae Jin murmur, small and almost sheepish:

"...Thank you."

"Don't mention it."