Yangyang Martial Hall (6)
The Seong Clan Manor, located near West Lake.
It had grown rapidly over the previous generation, amassing enough wealth to earn a decent reputation in the area.
But its heir, Seong Jun, wasn't satisfied. He craved even greater riches.
Though the clan owned considerable land, it ranked only middling among the local wealthy families.
The richest folks around West Lake were mostly those running pleasure houses or taverns.
So Seong Jun, the clan lord, decided to build his own pleasure house.
He dreamed of becoming the wealthiest man near West Lake.
Conveniently, there was a suitable plot of land nearby.
True, it was a bit removed from the lake, but a tall building would overcome that drawback.
The Seong Clan had never ventured into pleasure house management before, following the previous lord's policy.
He had left the same advice to his son.
"Jun, if you want our Seong Clan to endure for generations, steer clear of pleasure businesses, no matter what."
"Why, Father?"
"We're not cut out for it. We lack the caliber."
But he wanted to tell his late father one thing: you were wrong.
The Seong Clan had more than enough caliber for it—they should have started long ago.
It wasn't too late now.
He'd succeed in the pleasure house business and become a son his father could be proud of.
Not to mention, rake in the cash and become Hangju's top magnate.
Five years after inheriting the clan, he resolved to launch the venture.
The plot did house a martial hall where the previous owner had permitted residents to stay for over a decade.
No matter.
Didn't the original landowner have the right to evict them?
The weather was cold for moving, but that wasn't his problem.
Plus, giving three months' notice was downright merciful. Obviously!
Then the steward came to report.
"Clan Lord, we discussed with the builders. Demolishing the building on that site alone will cost about thirty nyang of silver."
"Oh?"
Come to think of it, why should he foot that bill?
Finders keepers—he who built it should pay to tear it down, right?
The contract mentioned nothing else, only annual rent of five nyang of silver for the land.
And since he'd offered to buy the land outright, they couldn't claim poverty.
The Yangyang Martial Hall's master protested, but he ignored it.
What could they do? He owned the land.
His father's words briefly surfaced.
"Always treat the Yangyang Martial Hall with respect. They saved my life and our clan..."
He shook his head, dismissing it.
They saved my father, who's long gone. It has nothing to do with me. Speaking of, guests at their hall?
He had them watched, just in case, but the reports were mundane.
Just playing with some kids.
Probably here to help with the move.
He decided not to bother with those guests anymore.
* * *
A few days passed, and the watchful eyes vanished.
Time to act.
I left the martial hall with my guard warriors.
Consulting the map against my memories, I headed toward the spot indicated by the seal's mark.
In my previous life, I'd roamed these parts for months and even drawn maps, so the terrain was etched in my mind.
But as a first-time visitor in this life, I deliberately brought the map.
"My lord, you seem to know the area well."
"I've stared at this map so much, it's easy to navigate."
"Still, you find your way better than us. Impressive."
I chuckled at Seo-u Warrior's words.
Good call bringing the map.
Even with my sharp sense of direction and memory, navigating flawlessly without it would raise eyebrows.
"Come to our White Plum House!"
"Handsome brothers~ We'll treat you right~."
Palgap stuck close as the courtesans hawked aggressively.
"Why?"
"Gotta protect you, young master."
"Relax. You think I'd fall for that and get fleeced?"
"Fair point."
Laughter from courtesans and patrons mingled with drunken shouts and music, creating a chaotic symphony.
Their perfumes, booze, and snack aromas wafted through the streets.
Passing the pleasure district, West Lake came into view, ringed by over a hundred red lanterns illuminating the night.
Street vendors selling snacks had lit them; the chill air made their work look grueling.
Lantern-lit boats plied the unfrozen lake.
Folks had an unofficial nickname for West Lake: the place without night.
Because it bustled day and night.
In other words, a money pit where people burned cash.
That's what Seong Clan Lord was after with his pleasure house.
The plot was a bit off from the lake, but a tall building and competitive pricing would turn a profit.
Still, recouping investment would take years, and it wouldn't mint fortunes as he dreamed.
Plus, a liquor ban was coming soon after the pleasure house opened—that was the real killer.
I had no plans to snap up famous liquors or houses right now.
Even yelling "Hand it over!" would get me laughed off.
My timeline: about two years from now.
No matter how much prep or imperial advice, famine couldn't be fully averted.
Rebellions might be small-scale, deaths limited, but a liquor ban was inevitable amid the severe shortages.
Glancing at my guards amid such thoughts, I noted their flushed cheeks from courtesans' stares—but not a glance back.
I'd picked them well.
About two ke (an hour) later, we reached a weathered old shrine.
"This the place?"
"Yeah, should be."
I scrutinized the shrine.
It was modestly sized, dedicated to the two sages of West Lake legend: Jade Dragon and Golden Peak.
Long ago, these immortals found white jade near the Milky Way's fairy realm and refined it for decades into luminous silk.
The silk's mystical glow made vegetation flourish wherever it shone, until Queen Mother of the West stole it.
Jade Dragon and Golden Peak fought her; the silk fell to earth, becoming West Lake.
And this was where the clan lord's seal mark pointed.
Something was hidden here...
Not certain yet, but it felt like the real contract lurked within.
I paused before searching, struck by propriety.
Legend or not, these were the lake's creators—ought to show respect.
No full bow, but incense at least.
I sent Palgap for some; he returned quickly.
I lit it and placed it in the censer.
The smoke rose... huh?
Odd drift. Normally straight up, but veering suspiciously left.
Toward the shrine's left wall.
Turning, I shot to my feet.
"My lord?"
"Hold on."
Approaching the wall, I spotted a thread protruding from a crack.
No way?
Unlike wooden walls, this was finely bricked masonry.
So...
I gently pushed a brick upward.
Creeeak.
It slid up, revealing packed earth behind.
The thread was buried in it.
This is it!
Thud! Thud!
Digging with my dagger uncovered a slim black box. The thread connected to it.
"Whew..."
Deep breath, then I extracted the box.
Inside, a tightly rolled scroll. I unrolled it.
This is the authentic contract leasing five hundred pyeong of land in Hangju Seong Clan's Seong Ji-myeong and Yangyang Martial Hall's Baek Eol-ji's ×× location.
I, Seong Ji-myeong, in repayment for saving my life, promise to lease this land to Yangyang Martial Hall perpetually for annual silver five nyang.
Should I or my descendants break this promise and order eviction, ownership transfers instantly to Yangyang Martial Hall, extinguishing all rent obligations.
The rest detailed further clauses.
The back page was a letter to his son, the current lord.
[Contents examined, leading to laughter...]
Reading it, I burst out laughing.
"Hahaha."
"What's so funny, young master?"
"The previous Seong Clan Lord was no ordinary man."
The old hall master must have known too.
But his sudden death prevented passing it on.
Why hide it here?
Because Seong Ji-myeong knew his son's character all too well.
The terms overwhelmingly favored the hall.
Knowing of it, the son would destroy it— like the Lotus House madam torching Eunhae contracts in my past life.
(I'd thwarted that one, leaving it an attempt.)
It was also a test for his son. The letter proved it.
Plus, a safeguard: if evicted unknowingly, the seal mark would lead here.
Short-sighted or brilliant?
Yangyang saved the old lord and clan? Yet the son acted heartlessly, unaware?
If aware, he was scum.
If he'd known and still evicted them, even harsh measures would get the old lord's nod.
Had I not found it, they'd be homeless—like my previous life.
(Though with me here, not that dire.)
Gazing at the real contract, pondering next steps, inspiration struck.
His Majesty had granted me a perfect identity.
He'd understand its use.
But first, confirm if current lord knew of the恩情.
Time to task Chun-il.
* * *
Two days later.
I stood by the lakeshore overlooking West Lake.
A lovely courtesan approached. Palgap flinched to block, but I stopped him.
"She's my guest."
"Huh?"
"Chun-il."
"...!"
Palgap's eyes widened; my guards mirrored him.
Chun-il's disguise was peerless.
"You saw through it. Hohoho."
"Pageboy last time, courtesan now?"
"For a picky client's request."
"So, the intel?"
She nodded.
"He knows. That Yangyang saved his father and clan."
"..."
True scum.
Next day, I headed to the county office.
For authentication: confirming the seal matched the previous lord's on the real contract.
Official validation would smooth things.
But Magistrate Ji-hyeon refused—worse, branded me a criminal.
"This is fake, right?"
"Pardon?"
"Forged. Bringing fakes to blind me?"
I sighed inwardly.
People don't change.
Given era and locale, he'd likely taken bribes to ignore liquor sales in my past life, earning execution.
Such officials had.
He was probably pocketing Seong's cash now and future.
"Guards! Bind this insolent wretch!"
"Yes, sir!"
As they lunged, I flashed the imperial inspector's badge.
"Assailing His Majesty's envoy, are you?"
"E-envoy?"
He approached, checked it, and toppled in shock.
"Eek!"
"So, how much did he pay you?"