Gal-san, You Have a Plan for Everything
At that very hour, inside the Clan Head's private study, Jegal Yeo-ryong appeared to be deep in conversation with a visitor.
Before him knelt a man dressed in midnight-black martial robes, one knee planted firmly against the floor.
"...So, what did your investigation into Jeong Ho-yeon turn up, Captain?"
Embroidered over the right breast of the man addressed as Captain was the silhouette of a dragon soaring into the heavens.
The Flying Dragon Unit.
They were the intelligence branch of the Jegal Clan, answering solely and directly to the Clan Head himself.
"Following your orders, we conducted a thorough inquiry. It appears he has made quite a name for himself among wandering martial artists. However, his moniker was somewhat... unusual."
"A moniker, you say? What on earth is it?"
"He is known as the Idle Vagrant. True to the name, he is an utter loafer who refuses to take any commissions until his purse runs completely dry, practically living out of gambling dens."
Jegal Yeo-ryong stroked his chin, an expression of faint surprise dawning on his face.
"Yet despite that, he made a name for himself. When I observed him recently, he seemed nothing more than an ordinary third-rate martial artist..."
In truth, the vast majority of wandering vagrants lived like shiftless bums, so the habit itself was hardly shocking. What truly caught his attention was the fact that Jeong Ho-yeon possessed a moniker at all.
A moniker was a title reserved exclusively for an individual, never bestowed lightly. In the cutthroat trade of the wandering vagrant, earning such an epithet was extraordinarily rare unless one had accomplished staggering, historic feats.
"Indeed, Clan Head. We found that suspicious as well and attempted to probe deeper, but because he has lived with such monotonous consistency, that was the extent of the general information available. However... though I cannot verify its absolute veracity, we did uncover a single glimpse into his distant past."
The Captain hesitated for a moment, looking as though he could scarcely believe the words about to leave his own mouth.
"Ten years ago, on exactly one occasion... it is said he accepted a Red-grade commission."
"A-A Red-grade commission, you say?!"
The Clan Head, who had maintained an unshakeable composure throughout, raised his voice in outright shock for the first time.
"How could someone like him...?"
There was good reason for such profound astonishment.
The commissions undertaken by wandering martial artists were divided into strict danger classifications: White, Black, Blue, Purple, and Red.
Among them, a Red-grade commission carried an unfathomable level of peril. To put it into perspective, it was the equivalent of being hired to assassinate the grandmaster of one of the Nine Great Sects. Successfully completing a Red-grade assignment meant that the martial artist in question stood at least in the Transcendental Realm.
Furthermore, this had supposedly happened ten whole years ago. It was entirely understandable why the intelligence officer had hesitated to speak.
"Yet for reasons unknown, he has accepted nothing but White or Black-grade requests ever since."
"......"
The revelation was so jarring that Jegal Yeo-ryong fell silent. After a heavy pause, his face darkened into grim severity.
"From whom did you hear this information?"
"That is..."
The moment the name slipped past the Captain's lips, the porcelain teacup slipped from Jegal Yeo-ryong's fingers.
Crash—!
"...Did that esteemed personage truly utter those words with their own mouth?"
"Yes, Clan Head. It is information I received directly from their lips."
"...For the time being, continue gathering intelligence on Jeong Ho-yeon."
"Understood!"
Whoosh—
With a faint rustle of fabric, the scout melted into the shadows. Left entirely alone in the silent study, Jegal Yeo-ryong walked slowly over to the window. Gaze fixed on the courtyard beyond, he whispered in a low, troubled murmur.
"Just what in the world... is your true identity...?"
Meanwhile, inside Jegal San's quarters.
A full two hours had slipped by before anyone realized it. Yet the interrogation showed no signs of concluding.
"Aaaaargh!"
"S-Spare meeeeee!"
"Please, st-stooooop...!!!"
"So, what's the deal with you three, huh? Look, I'm really not the type of guy who enjoys doing this sort of thing. You're forcing my hand, making me keep at it."
To be completely honest, I had intended to wrap things up quickly at first, but once I got into the rhythm, it became oddly entertaining. What, you're asking if torturing people for two hours just because it was fun means this is my real personality? Absolutely not! Straight-up interrogation is just so terribly dry, so I merely seasoned the process with a healthy dash of amusement.
...Why are you looking at me like that? I'm telling you, I did nothing wrong.
I pressed down firmly on the Gu bug in the wooden case once more.
"Aaaaaaaargh!"
After writhing on the floor in unrelenting agony, the three of them finally broke and spilled every last secret. Having listened to the entire story, I leaned back in my chair and addressed the miserable heap sprawled across the floor.
"So, in a nutshell, you two are hitmen from the Black Slaughter Gate, and our dear Gal-san here happens to be an elder of said establishment. Am I reading the room right, Gal-san?"
"Th-That is correct, but... my name is not Gal-san, it is—"
"Whatever. Now, what am I supposed to do with you lot? Should I just gift-wrap you and drag you before the Clan Head? I bet he'd hand over a pretty handsome bounty."
At that, Jegal San flared up in frantic protest.
"That is a breach of our agreement! You clearly stated that if we spoke, you would spare—"
"I told you to confess obediently. Did I ever say I'd spare your lives? Nope. Never crossed my lips."
"Th-That is...!!"
Technically speaking, every word out of my mouth was undeniably accurate, leaving him utterly choked for a retort. The other two assassins turned pale as death, their expressions curdling into pure despair at the realization that their lives were forfeit.
...Wait, shouldn't professional assassins bite down on poison capsules and choose suicide over leaking intel? These guys seem awfully clingy about staying alive for contract killers. Where's your workplace professionalism?
Well, regardless of my bluster, I had every intention of letting them live. Naturally, only until I had sucked every drop of sweet nectar out of them.
I put on a remarkably magnanimous expression and offered a generous compromise.
"Alright, give me a reason why I should keep you breathing. Pitch it to me. Who knows? If you make a compelling sales pitch, I might just be tempted to let you off the hook."
After a moment of desperate hesitation, Gal-san was the first to speak.
"...If we perish or our cover is blown, the Black Slaughter Gate will immediately dispatch operatives to eliminate you first. The entire reason we attempted to recruit you in the first place was under direct orders from the sect."
"Hmm. So are there other moles creeping around this manor besides you three?"
"I cannot say how many lower-level operatives have infiltrated the clan... but among the council of elders, I am certain I am the only one."
"You know, Gal-san, that doesn't really sound like a reason for you to live. In fact, it feels an awful lot like you've been threatening me for a while now. Do you need another taste of the parasite to fix that attitude of yours?"
As my hand moved to flip open the wooden case again, he screamed in pure panic.
"...W-We will submit false reports! If you harbor any doubts, you can simply permit us to stay close under the pretext that you have been recruited to our side! I-If you fear exposure, we do not even have to press the matter! Should you ever desire it... you can eliminate us at any moment with that Gu poison anyway...!"
The words tumbled out of him in a desperate, breathless rush, but the gist was clear enough. Basically, he was offering to serve as a double agent between me and the Black Slaughter Gate.
"Gal-san, you really have a plan for everything! Why didn't you just lead with that from the start, huh? See? I knew you didn't win that elder seat in a dice game!"
"Wait, you keep calling me Gal-san, but my actual name is—"
"There, there, Gal-san. What does a silly name matter right now? Staying alive in front of me is what's truly important, wouldn't you agree?"
"...Call me whatever you wish..."
"Alright, now that we've tidied up our little misunderstanding, I'll take my leave. If anything comes up, Gal-san, you come find me yourself. Understood?"
"......"
"I asked for an answer."
Click.
I tapped the lid of the wooden case.
"Y-Yes, of course! I shall do so!"
Having concluded our mutually beneficial and enriching team-building session, I stepped outside to find that night had already fallen over the manor.
"Ah, I'll be able to sleep with my legs stretched out comfortably tonight."
What do you mean, when have I ever not slept comfortably? How could you say such a heartless thing to a fragile soul who spends every waking hour plagued by anxiety? Still, all's well that ends well. Right?
......
"Ahem. The night breeze sure is brisk. Brrr."
Just like that, a whole week drifted by.
"Hmm-hmm~"
Right now, I was practically floating down the stone pathway in exceptionally high spirits. If you're wondering why... it was because today was the glorious day my weekly wages were disbursed.
"My lovely silver ingots, you're waiting for me, aren't you? Hehehe."
Passersby gave me bizarre looks whenever they walked past, but I couldn't care less. At this very moment, there was room in my brain for only one true love: cold, hard silver.
Ah, did anything noteworthy happen over the past week, you ask? Well, it was peaceful enough. Gal-san hadn't reached out with any bad news, either. But a rather vexing problem had cropped up.
Namely, Jegal So-yeong.
Ever since I introduced her to the Room of Truth, she had become wonderfully polite and obedient, which was great. But for some inexplicable reason, she had taken to constantly loitering in my peripheral vision.
If it had happened once or twice, I would have brushed it off. But hovering around me for seven days straight was impossible to ignore. Just yesterday, as I was walking toward the detached residence after wrapping up her lessons, I noticed her tailing me. When I turned around and caught her red-handed, she panicked and flustered, stammering some pathetic excuse about our paths just happening to align.
I don't know if everyone in this clan shares a genetic defect where they can't look someone in the eye when flustered, but her lies were painfully obvious. Still, she didn't seem to harbor any malicious intent, so I decided to let it slide.
Eventually, I arrived before a grand pavilion bearing a signboard that read Jaegyeong Pavilion.
"What business brings you here?" the clerk asked.
"Ah, I've come to collect my weekly pay."
I presented the wooden identity token I had received previously.
"Confirmed. Would you prefer to receive it in banknotes, or would you like it directly in silver ingots?"
"Silver ingots, please."
The instant the hefty pouch was safely tucked inside my robes, I wheeled around and set off toward another destination.
Specifically, the Cheonghwa Courtesan House.
They claimed it was the undisputed number one pleasure pavilion in all of Hubei. How could an upstanding gentleman like myself possibly pass that up? Of course, it wasn't because I was lustful or debauched—it was merely purely intellectual curiosity driving me to inspect the local culture. Not an ounce of improper motive, I swear.
...Seriously.
"Still, there's no way she followed me all the way out here, right?"
They say tempting fate is the quickest way to summon disaster, and sure enough, the absolute last person on earth who should have been standing in this district was currently planted directly in front of me.
"O-Oh? What an incredible coincidence, Master! I just happened to have s-some business around here as well..."
".........I see. Yes, of course..."
Farewell, my lovely big sisters of Cheonghwa.
A depiction of Jegal So-yeong five years in the future.