Fifteen Once More (1)
“Cough!”
Every cough sent blood spurting from his mouth, staining the ground.
His chest burned like it was on fire.
He'd forcibly drawn up his inner energy too hard, and now his qi and blood were roiling in chaos.
Leaning against a tree, he scanned his surroundings.
Horses, carriages, wagons—everything was engulfed in roaring flames.
A blaze meant to erase all evidence.
A bitter smile twisted his lips at the sight.
Not their first time at this...
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
My name is Eun Seo-ho.
The youngest son of the Eunhae Merchant Group.
When I was born, the Eunhae Merchant Group held the lowest spot among the world's top hundred merchant groups.
Too big for a mid-tier outfit, too small to count as a full-fledged caravan—stuck squarely in the middle.
Born into such a group, I was thrown into the thick of operations at fifteen.
Not as a leader right away, of course. I had to learn the ropes across every department, hands-on.
That was a tradition set by my great-grandfather.
His philosophy: Plop someone with no prep or experience into a leadership seat, and they'd run the whole thing into the ground.
After five years of training and grinding it out, I turned twenty and finally got my own shop to run.
My first posting: the Eunhae Cloth Shop, under the Eunhae banner.
In just three years, it expanded beyond Sungyang County to become Hubei's most renowned clothier. Everyone marveled at my talent.
And I realized I had a real knack for commerce.
Grandfather beamed whenever he saw me, saying I took after great-grandpa—the man who'd bootstrapped the group from a single silver tael into a top hundred contender.
Those were happy days.
Then my eldest brother made me an offer.
“I'd like to hand the merchant group leadership to you. No matter how I look at it, you'd do better than me.”
“Sorry, brother, but no. That seat's yours.”
“Come on, anyone can see your business sense outshines mine.”
“It's not that I crave the top spot. I just love growing the group.”
“Growing it is fun? You serious?”
“Dead serious! Watching it expand under my watch fills me with pride.”
“All the more reason, then...”
“Argh, I said no! Brother! Honestly, isn't that position all about dealing with sleazy types? Putting on airs to protect the group's rep?”
“...”
“I prefer working behind the scenes. There's a thrill to it.”
At the mention of operating from the shadows, my brother chuckled.
He was merchant stock through and through.
He got it.
“Fair enough. You're the sharp one for that sort of thing.”
“Glad you see it my way.”
“If that's your call, fine. I'll gladly play the stuffy leader.”
And so, my kind, considerate eldest brother became leader of the merchant group.
My second brother—righteous and a martial arts prodigy—took command of the Eunpung Brigade.
I, the brains, served as advisor to both.
Folks dubbed us the merchant group's Hyundeok, Unjang, and Oryong.
Our trio's synergy propelled Eunhae into the world's top three merchant groups.
Blissful days, truly.
At this rate, number one wasn't a pipe dream.
Then disaster struck out of nowhere.
Heading home after second brother's message about a birthday feast laid out just for me... ambushed.
Sure, we'd weathered countless attacks before.
As the group grew, envy and grudges were inevitable.
But we'd always pulled through.
Not this time.
I was the sole survivor.
Barely, though—too gravely wounded to move.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A man approached.
Goat-bearded.
Namgung Kang, leader of the rival Baekcheon Merchant Group.
Back when I started in the finance office, Baekcheon—funded by the Murim Alliance—towered over us.
One of the top three, in fact. Third place.
But once I dove into operations, we snatched that spot from them.
Rumors swirled they'd cook up something big for revenge.
But deploying the Murim Alliance's enforcers—the martial world's supposed paragons of justice?
Unbelievable.
“Cough! Planning to finish me off today?”
He smirked at my words.
“Regrettable, really. I know your talent well. You dragged a bottom-feeder top hundred group into the top three.”
“High praise. Cough! Just... not in this situation. Haah. Isn't this a bit too petty?”
“You could see it that way.”
“I thought we'd competed fair and square all this time. Cough.”
“Competed? Quite the way with words.”
He laughed heartily.
“The higher-ups let you run wild, that's all.”
“...”
“Truth be told, watching you scamper about for chump change was entertaining. Kept tabs on you the whole time.”
“Chump change...?”
Something boiled up inside me at those words.
“Why did the Murim Alliance start a merchant group? Not for money?”
“You think we built it for that?”
“Isn't that obvious? Merchant groups exist to make money...”
“Wrong. Why bother with pocket lint when underlings shower us with it on command?”
Namgung Kang laughed incredulously.
“Then why...?”
“Unification of the martial world.”
“...”
“Kidding. We needed to divert eyes from the Alliance. So the bosses pushed me out front with this front.”
He grinned wickedly.
“That makes it even less sense... You don't care about profits, so why kill me?”
“You're a thorn in the higher-ups' side.”
“What...?”
“Your Eunhae grew too big, too fast. Too righteous for comfort. Raises the bar on 'good' too high. Annoying, see?”
Grit.
He ground his teeth.
Come to think of it, Baekcheon's main lines—herbs, silk—overlapped ours heavily.
Fierce rivalry there, and we came out on top.
I'd always respected them as worthy foes.
But this...
Rage gave way to hollow despair.
Wait... if we're such an eyesore, then...?
No way they'd stop at me.
And they knew my position exactly. Something felt off.
“...What about the rest of my family?”
Namgung Kang's sinister smile sent chills down his spine.
“Knew you'd ask.”
He turned to a subordinate.
“Hand me that box.”
Taking it, he flipped the lid, revealing the contents.
His mind blanked.
Then his body trembled violently.
Second brother's severed head.
The very brother who'd summoned him for the birthday feast.
“Like the gift? Hubei's Unjang begged so hard to spare you. Heh heh heh.”
In that moment, he understood.
Even he—who turned ice-cold in anger—could shatter under fury beyond measure.
“You filthy dog-fucker!”
He spat curses and swung wildly.
Futile.
Thwack!
Namgung Kang kicked him away with an amused grin, sending him sprawling.
He drew his sword.
“That's the reaction I wanted. No fun if you're a corpse already.”
The blade pressed against his throat.
“Know something?”
“What?”
“The real reason they're wiping out Eunhae? You.”
“Th-that's...”
“Farewell.”
Stab!
A freezing numbness seized his body.
So this was death...
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
“Young master...”
“...”
“Young master Eun Seo-ho!”
He snapped awake at the sound of his name.
Before him stood Yu So-ak, the chief steward.
“Dozing off right as work starts? What am I supposed to do?”
“Huh? W-work?”
“I told you: review last year's grain delivery and draft this report. First day, so it might feel tough, but...”
None of it made sense.
Namgung Kang's sword piercing his throat still felt vivid.
Yet here he was, getting chewed out by Yu So-ak.
What the hell...?
He glanced around furtively.
Definitely the finance office.
But not the one he knew.
This layout, this look...
It's when I was learning the ropes.
Impossible to forget.
Three years grinding there.
And the papers on his desk? Burned into memory.
His first task—and he'd botched the report so bad, Yu So-ak reamed him.
“!”
Realization hit. He looked up at the steward.
“Chief Yu. How old am I today?”
“Pardon?”
“How old?”
“Out of nowhere...”
Yu So-ak flustered.
But he had to confirm.
“Tell me.”
“Your fifteenth birthday was yesterday.”
“...”
He stared at his hands. Still boyish, not fully grown.
He slapped both cheeks hard.
Smack!
“Ow!”
It stung fiercely.
“Y-young master! What's that for?”
Yu So-ak's eyes bulged in shock. Coworkers gawked too.
Feeling the burning pain, he muttered:
“I'm... dead, aren't I?”
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
That day, he clocked out early.
Yu So-ak, worried about his state, sent him home.
“Sure you don't need a physician?”
Behind him, servant Palgap asked.
Not the aged Palgap he knew, but young—odd, yet familiar.
He waved it off.
“I'm fine. Just a bit tired.”
“Young master...”
“Really, I am.”
“No, uh... your quarters are that way.”
He froze mid-step.
Right—he'd been heading to the annex he'd used at thirty-nine.
Granted after turning twenty.
But at fifteen, he had a room in the main house. Eunhae didn't count you adult till after five years' training.
“Oh...”
He pivoted quick, memory guiding him to his old room.
Slide.
The door opened to a nostalgic sight.
Tension nearly melted away, but he held firm.
“Need some rest. Don't disturb me.”
“Understood.”
Palgap shut the door behind him.
He flopped onto the bed.
Is this for real...?
Still surreal. He touched his neck.
Intact.
Pinched his arm hard.
Tears welled from the pain.
I'm really alive?
Back at fifteen, no less. No clue how.
He recalled his death.
Namgung Kang's vile sneer, vivid as ever.
Guards and merchants slain protecting him.
Second brother's head.
All crystal clear. His fists clenched tight.
They'd crushed Eunhae—a lifetime's work—in an instant.
Not fair competition, but brute force.
Rage surged.
With more power, he wouldn't have fallen so easily.
But... am I really back?