Words Never Did Work on You
Every set of eyes in the clearing snapped toward me.
"Under circumstances like these," the escort leader said, his expression far more sour than before, "I would suggest you refrain from making promises you cannot keep."
Given that this entire escort mission served as his successor evaluation, it was only natural he was on edge.
"All I have to do is retrieve the cargo," I replied casually. "Isn't that right?"
"…Are you truly prepared to bear the full weight of those words?"
The responsibility he spoke of was far from a mere slap on the wrist. The recent ambush had left the majority of their escorts and porters dead or grievously wounded, racking up catastrophic losses. If I failed, he was asking whether I could answer for the ruin this botched delivery would bring down upon his name.
Not that I was worried in the slightest. Failure wasn't on my schedule anyway.
"I'll take full responsibility."
"Then I grant you three days and three nights," he declared after a heavy pause. "Recover the cargo and deliver it to the Black Heavens Escort Agency. The remainder of the transport will be postponed until then. However, should you fail to return within that time, you will be held accountable for every word you have spoken today, Great Hero."
Beside me, she tugged frantically at my sleeve. One look at her pale, pleading face told me everything: she wanted to cut our losses and turn back right now. But walking away empty-handed was never an option, so I gently peeled her trembling fingers from my hem. Reaching up, I smoothed down her hair with a reassuring pat.
"Still don't trust your Master? Wait here and don't worry. Got it?"
"…You really are coming back in one piece, right?"
"Of course. Child's play like this won't take long; I'll be back before you know it. Ah, and do me a favor and help look after the dead, will you?"
"…Understood."
Overcome with relief, the head escort choked back a sob and bowed deeply toward me. "Thank you… Thank you so much, Great Hero…"
The surviving escorts and battered porters soon joined in, their voices thick with tears.
"Thank you…"
"Thank you, Great Hero, thank you so much…"
Once the ragged procession had limped out of sight, absolute silence settled over the mountain path. I was left entirely alone at the foot of the slope.
"Heheheh. They said Hocheol Camp earlier, didn't they? So our dear little Hocheol… has been hiding out here all this time?"
To make sense of this, one has to rewind the clock five years back to my brief stint as an escort porter. The moment I joined the outfit, I took it upon myself to beat the living daylights out of the entire crew just to establish a proper pecking order.
Now, you might wonder who this Hocheol character is, or whether he was guilty of running some horrific hazing ring. Honestly, I beat everyone up regardless of rank or attitude, so none of that ever mattered to me. There was only one single reason that bastard remained burned into my memory.
He was the one and only man who had ever managed to run off with my money.
The whole mess started quite simply. Back then, Hocheol was technically the most senior among the porters, so I gave him a special assignment: collections. In truth, I merely told him to keep doing the exact same extortion he'd been running on the other boys, only now he had to hand the proceeds over to me. Imagine a mere porter shaking down his coworkers under the guise of 'protection fees.' The first time I heard about it, the sheer audacity left me dumbfounded.
—Where does all that collected silver go?
—W-we just split it among ourselves, boss…
—Is thaaat so? Heheh. Then starting right now, every copper you shake out of their pockets comes straight to me. Understand?
—Wait, boss, that's a bit—
I raised my fist high in the air.
—Hocheol, what does this look like to you?
—A-ain't it a fist, sir?
—Wrong. This is the Rod of Justice.
—…Huh?
—The only reason I'm taking this silver off your hands is because I'm worried you scoundrels will stray down the wrong path. So if you don't fancy tasting the Rod of Justice, you'd best mind your manners.
—……
—No answer? Want a taste right now?
—Y-yes, sir! Right away, sir!!
Now, a moral crusader might argue that evil customs ought to be stamped out entirely. But let's be real: even if I put a stop to it, the second I left, some other thug would pop up and pick right up where Hocheol left off. If money was going to change hands anyway, wasn't it far better off in my pockets? Besides, those scumbags had fully intended to extort me the moment I walked through the door. Why on earth should I play the saint?
I hadn't expected much at first, viewing it as nothing more than a harmless little embezzlement racket to pad my meager savings. But lo and behold, wicked deeds truly flourish in the hands of seasoned scoundrels. If Hocheol had gone into private moneylending, the man would have built a financial empire. He shook people down with excuses so preposterous that even I found myself taking notes. Frankly, nearly half of my classic interrogation techniques—the Room of Truth and the like—had essentially sprouted from that little bastard's head.
The tragedy struck when I foolishly convinced myself we had bonded. I let my guard down and joined the boys for drinks, carrying every single coin I'd hoarded tucked safely in my robes. Plastered out of my mind and swaying on the verge of passing out, I made the fatal mistake of handing the pouch to Hocheol for safekeeping. I figured he'd been managing the books all this time, so surely he wouldn't dare steal from me.
Only the next morning did the cold reality dawn on me: I had entrusted a fresh fish to a starved stray cat.
By the time I peeled my pounding head off the floor, he had already vanished into the predawn mist alongside a handful of lackeys. Chasing after them was completely out of the question.
From that day forth, I swore a solemn oath: never again would I carry hard currency on my person. Better to spend every last copper on wine and meat than let another soul swindle me. And above all else… if I ever tracked that thieving rat down, I would rip him apart limb from limb.
"Well then. Shall we go see how our dear Hocheol is getting on?"
Meanwhile, atop the peaks of Nokrim Mountain, a bandit strode into the fortified stronghold roaring with laughter.
"Gwahaha! Just like you said, Big Bro! Those bastards from the Water Dragon Camp tried to pull a fast one on us, so we hacked every last one of 'em into mincemeat! And look what we brought back…"
Lined up behind him were the crates plundered from the ambush: ingots of pure gold, rolls of shimmering silk, rare medicinal herbs, and precious spiritual elixirs piled high in dazzling abundance.
At the sight of the glittering haul, Hocheol threw his arms wide and bellowed to the rafters.
"Tonight we celebrate! Eat, drink, and drown yourselves in liquor!!"
"WAAAAAAAAGH!!"
In no time at all, the entire bandit den erupted into a wild, raucous feast. Amidst the drunken din and roaring laughter, however, sat a strangely familiar face.
Jeong Ho-yeon.
For some reason, he had shed his usual clothes and was sporting the same tattered, foul-smelling rags as the rest of the mountain scum. Far from standing out, he was slouched dead center in the throng, tossing back bowls of cheap booze with absolute gusto.
"Kwah! Now that hits the spot."
"Hng…? Who the hell're you…?"
A bandit named Gal Sam-i squinted with bleary, bloodshot eyes, staring intently at the newcomer without recognizing him in the slightest.
"…Hahaha! Big Bro, you wound me! Don't you recognize Bang Sam-i, the fresh recruit who just joined up today~?"
"Bang Sam-i? Did we have someone like—"
"Aiyoo~ Big Bro, you've had one cup too many! Come on, let's drain it together! To the glory of Hocheol Camp!!"
The sheer, seamless confidence of it completely bypassed their alcohol-soaked brains. Convinced their own drunkenness was to blame, the crowd raised their bowls in a roaring chorus.
"TO THE GLORY OF HOCHEOL CAMP!!"
"CHUG IT DOWN!!"
Once the revelers had collapsed into snoring heaps across the bloodstained floorboards, Ho-yeon set his bowl aside and leisurely strolled toward the inner quarters. Pausing outside a sturdy wooden door, he gave it a polite, rhythmic tap.
Knock, knock.
"*Hic!* Who is it…?"
The slurred, irritated voice from within undoubtedly belonged to Hocheol.
Knock, knock.
When the knocking came a second time, the drunken chieftain dragged his heavy feet to the door and yanked it open in a fury.
"Dammit, I asked who the hell—"
"Hocheol-ah. It's been a while, hasn't it? If you were going to scurry into a hole, you should've dug a little deeper. Do you have any idea how much your big bro missed you?"
"……Eh?"
The instant his eyes locked onto Ho-yeon, Hocheol stumbled backward as if he had just come face-to-face with a man-eating tiger.
"Oho, so this is your private den? Must be nice. Meanwhile, your big bro went through absolute hell on earth entirely thanks to you."
Crack! Pop!
Watching Ho-yeon casually pop his knuckles, Hocheol's eyes darted frantically across the room in search of an escape route. There was none.
"W-wait, Big Bro… t-that's not what happened—"
"Look at you, your accent's even changed. Guess lording it over a pack of bandits really made you forget yourself. How about a nice, thorough beating to bring back the good old days, hm? Hehehe."
Realizing that flight was impossible, Hocheol's cowardly cunning kicked in, and he resorted to desperate, shameless bluster.
"I mean, why are you even tracking me down, Big Bro…?! What did I do that was so wrong?! Frankly speaking, if you really break it down, that wasn't your silver in the first place, was it?! I'm the one who did all the sweating to shake those bastards down!"
"……"
Encouraged by Ho-yeon's eerie silence, Hocheol puffed out his chest and pressed his argument.
"A-and besides! Isn't it your own damn fault for failing to keep an eye on your money…?! I only took what was rightfully mine and went my own way!!"
A heavy, suffocating stillness descended upon the room.
Under normal circumstances, Ho-yeon's fist would have caved his skull in before he finished the first sentence. Yet for some reason, he simply stood there, listening without a word. At last, he opened his mouth, his tone dripping with eerie gentleness.
"So… that's how our dear Hocheol viewed me all this time… I see. Then I really was in the wrong."
"R-right! Exactly! So let's just let bygones be—"
"I completely forgot that words never did work on a bastard like you. Man, I really have gone soft. Back in the day, I wouldn't have wasted breath listening before beating you within an inch of your miserable life."
"W-wait, what are you saying…?"
Ho-yeon tightened his fists until his knuckles turned pure white.
"You always did understand this better than words, didn't you?"
Step. Step.
As the terrifying figure closed the distance, the icy dread of impending death crushed Hocheol's bravado, dropping him straight to his knees.
"I-if this is about the escort cargo from today, it wasn't me, I swear…! My boys jumped them without my orders…! P-please, have mercy, spare me!!"
"The Hocheol I know wouldn't utter a shred of truth if his life depended on it."
"I-it's the God's honest truth, sir!!"
Groveling on the floorboards, Hocheol clamped both arms around Ho-yeon's legs, weeping and begging for his life. But Ho-yeon simply shook him off with a slow, disappointed shake of his head.
"I know you. Words never work on a guy like you."
"BIG BRO!! It was me! I did it all, I ordered the whole thing!! S-so please, just spare my—"
"How about we… give the Room of Truth a thorough scrubbing, just like old times?"
"N-NOT THAT, ANYTHING BUT TH—"
Whoosh—!
CRACK! THUD! SMACK! CRUNCH!
"GYAAAAAAAGH!!"
While the rest of the fortress lay dead to the world in a drunken stupor, Hocheol's bloodcurdling shrieks echoed across the dark valleys of Nokrim Mountain from midnight until dawn.
The following morning.
Having dragged every last bandit into the courtyard, a battered, bandaged, and violently trembling Hocheol addressed his men with a cracking voice.
"F-from this day forward!! This esteemed gentleman is the new supreme chieftain of Hocheol Camp—no, of the newly christened Ho-yeon Camp…!!"
"……EEEEEEH?!!"
"What in the blazes are you talking about, Big Bro…?!!"
"Ho-yeon Camp?! What is the meaning of—"
Before the bewildered outlaws could even begin to process the coup, a scruffy sentry burst through the main gate, panting in sheer panic.
"B-Big Bro! The Water Dragon Camp just sent an envoy to our gates…?!"