I Can't Even Imagine How Much He Studied
"Hah~ hah~"
The stuffy stench of a bandit den was gone, replaced by the clean, phytoncide-rich scent of a mountain path. At last, I could breathe again.
"Brother Lee, you seem to be in good spirits."
Im Seha had noticed my reaction and asked.
"I nearly died and came back alive. Of course I'm happy."
Truth be told, my condition was far from fine. I'd been locked in a prison cell for days, and the night before I'd drunk myself into a stupor. Still, the simple fact of being free of hostage status was enough to paper over all of it. That good mood, however, lasted only a moment.
The instant I turned my head while answering Im Seha—
Goosebumps raced across my entire body.
Those eyes watching me from beside Im Seha. Those two eyes, gazing at me with the languid hunger of a predator deciding when to eat.
"Hah!"
I flinched with a startled cry, and Im Seha looked at me with concern.
"What is the matter? Are you unwell somewhere?"
I was too rattled to answer. Seeing my state, Im Seha followed my gaze—and at the end of it sat Jegal Hyeok, regarding me with those same lingering eyes.
And yet, even after watching me jump and flinch at the mere sight of him—an outright rudeness—Jegal Hyeok simply smiled as though nothing were amiss and spoke to me.
"So, your name was Lee Munhyuk, was it?"
Jegal Hyeok asked. I snapped back to my senses and answered.
"Yes. That is correct."
"And your courtesy name? How is it written?"
"With the character for writing, mun, and the character for leather—or reform—hyuk."
"Oh-ho! Is that so! Munhyuk! Mun-hyuk! To change the world through the written word! Yes! A most fitting name! You, of all people, are worthy of bearing it!"
Jegal Hyeok made a great fuss over my name. The meaning was accurate enough. But—
Isn't he laying it on a bit thick…?
Ever since the anecdote of Zhuge Liang's battle at Jieting, the way Jegal Hyeok treated me had become unbearably intense.
"Ahem… Young Hero Lee, did you not say yesterday that you had other stories as well? Those bandits started a drinking bout and made such a racket that the evening fell apart—do you have any idea how disappointed I was?"
"Is… that so?"
"It most certainly is! Which is why I propose this: on the road back to the city, why not tell me another tale?"
"Another… story, you say?"
Not a welcome suggestion. The hangover from the bandits' endless rounds of liquor the night before was still crushing me, and after days of nothing but rice balls, my stamina was a wreck. And my legs? We still had a long walk ahead before we reached the city walls.
In that state, he wanted me to spin stories for him? I wanted to refuse on the spot—but the man across from me was the head of the Jegal Clan. I was still hemming and hawing over how to handle it when—
"Clan Head, Brother Lee does not appear to be in good condition at present. If you ask him for a story now, he may not be able to deliver it properly. Would it not be better to wait until we return to the city and he has had time to recover his strength and spirit?"
Im Seha, my relief pitcher, took the mound.
"Ah, how careless of me—my eagerness got the better of me. I failed to notice that Young Hero Lee was struggling. Forgive me."
Thankfully, Im Seha's intervention made Jegal Hyeok back down.
"Thank you."
"Not at all. The exhaustion is plain on your face—where would you find the strength to tell a story? Besides, it is I who should be thanking you."
Im Seha smiled faintly as he spoke.
"Had it not been for you yesterday, Brother Lee, who knows what might have happened? The Clan Head and the Bandit Chief could well have come to blows. You resolved that situation—gratitude alone is hardly enough."
My ears pricked up at that.
"Ahem… if gratitude alone is not enough…? Might that mean…?"
"Of course. Once we return to the merchant group, I shall reward you handsomely."
A reward. And not from just anyone—from the young master of a merchant group. My shoulders lifted with anticipation despite myself.
"Hmm-hmm…! Do you intend to head straight to the merchant group, then?"
Having overheard the talk of returning to the merchant group, Jegal Hyeok asked.
"Most likely, yes. The porters and escort guards who were imprisoned here are in poor condition. We plan to have them convalesce at the merchant group for at least a few days."
"A… a few days, you say?"
At the mention of several days of recovery, Jegal Hyeok asked in visible alarm.
"The people here are not well, after all. And since their being taken hostage was largely the merchant group's responsibility, it is only right that we take care of them."
"Ahem…"
He wasn't wrong. And yet, even knowing it was right, the idea felt unfamiliar. Taking responsibility? Even in the modern world people rarely did that—and in this era? Honestly, if they'd just washed their hands of the whole thing, porters of a jaengjasu's station would have had no recourse. Watching Im Seha speak like that, I was more certain than ever that he was a genuinely decent man.
Well… I did call him a sucker at first… No, no! A sucker? He may look the part, but that's not it!
I hurriedly scrubbed the uncharitable thought from my mind.
"Young Master Im, rather than the bustle of a merchant group, what would you say to convalescing at the Jegal Clan?"
No matter how I looked at it, he was trying to keep me there. Judging by Jegal Hyeok's behavior, the Jegal Clan would no doubt treat me with the utmost care. But good treatment or not… those sticky eyes of his.
I'd seen eyes like that before. Not directed at me—at a close friend, while we were eating at the university cafeteria. His thesis advisor had appeared out of nowhere and fixed him with that exact look while urging him to become a graduate student. The next time I saw my friend, he was a graduate student. And his eyes had gone hollow, as though someone had drained the life right out of them.
If I got dragged into the Jegal Clan, I'd eat well and live comfortably, no question. But every time I looked at Jegal Hyeok's eyes, his advisor's face rose up, and my friend's hollow stare wouldn't leave my head. Im Seha seemed to sense it too—he glanced at me. I gave a slight shake of my head, signaling refusal.
"Is that so? I had been worried we might lack empty rooms at the merchant group, so this works out well. That you would take on the convalescence of our porters and escort guards—we can only be grateful."
At those words, Jegal Hyeok startled visibly.
"Th-that isn't what I meant. Young Hero Lee looks far worse off than the others, so I was merely suggesting he convalesce at the clan."
"Brother Lee alone, you mean? That is an exception I cannot make."
"And why is that?"
"If we single him out, what would the other porters and escort guards think? These people are employees of our merchant group. After enduring the same ordeal, we cannot treat them differently."
"Is there truly no way?"
"I am sorry. Unless the others come as well…"
Jegal Hyeok thought it over, then let out a long sigh.
"Hah… The elders would never allow it. My time away has already grown long, and if I brought all these people back as well… Very well. Forget what I said."
Im Seha did not answer—he simply bowed his head. At the same time, I exhaled a quiet sigh of relief that I would not be hauled off into that Jegal den.
Time passed, and after we arrived at Hyeongju and entered the merchant group—
"This is our compensation?!"
The porters who'd received their reward money shouted with ear-to-ear grins. Each man had been given roughly what he'd earn from a full month of backbreaking labor—and all for a week spent in a prison cell.
In America, they'd have sued on the spot for underpayment. But this was ancient China. March into the county magistrate over something like that and you'd be flogged for greed. And because it was that kind of era, the porters were perfectly satisfied, grinning as they counted their silver.
Then came my turn.
"Here you are."
Im Seha pressed a money pouch into my hand. But it wasn't much different from what the others had received. Hadn't he said he'd reward me handsomely?
I looked at him with a puzzled face.
"I will give you the rest separately, once the other porters are gone."
He spoke in a voice too low for anyone else to hear. After that, everyone returned to their own lodgings, and I was resting in mine when—
"Young Master requests your presence."
A maidservant's voice called from outside the door. The moment I heard it, I buried the money pouch deep in my luggage bundle. Then, a smile blooming across my face as I imagined the reward Im Seha was about to give me, I followed the maid.
"Had I given you the money in front of the others, Brother Lee, it could have put you in danger. That is why I withheld it."
Facing me, Im Seha explained why he hadn't handed over the money on the spot.
"I respect the porters, but one can never truly know a person's heart—there are always those who will turn to ill intent. If word got out that you were carrying a large sum, would the flies not start to gather?"
"I understand completely. If anything, I am all the more grateful for Young Master Im's consideration."
When I showed that I grasped the situation at once, Im Seha offered no further explanation. Then he drew something from his robes—something small enough to be hidden in his palm—and set it on the table with a soft tap.
Resting there was a tiny silver ingot shaped like a horseshoe.
I'd never seen one before, and I was still wondering what it was when—
"An Eunwonbo."
At Im Seha's words, my eyes flew wide open.
A yuanbao.
The shape was a little different, but it was clearly the same kind of thing I'd seen in games and movies. But a silver yuanbao?
I could hardly believe it. The real value of a yuanbao was nothing like the rough figures tossed around in media. From what I'd learned working as a jeomsoi, even a neighborhood restaurant would never see money of this magnitude. In modern terms, this Eunwonbo was worth thirty to forty million won. A gold one would run into the hundreds of millions.
And that Eunwonbo was about to enter my possession? Money it would take years of jeomsoi work to earn? For someone who'd had nothing but a few copper coins to his name?
Wanting to be sure it was real, I looked at Im Seha and asked.
"You're giving this to me?"
"Of course. Compared to what you have done for us, Brother Lee, it is nothing."
Before Im Seha could change his mind, I reached out to claim the Eunwonbo. But he covered it with the back of his hand.
The give-and-take left me so flustered that I stared at his face with an expression that clearly demanded an explanation.
"As I said earlier, if word spreads that you are carrying a large sum, it could be dangerous. Therefore, we shall hold this Eunwonbo for you."
I was about to shout at the sheer absurdity of giving something only to snatch it back when—
"In its place, I shall give you this."
What Im Seha produced looked like a waist-token. Engraved on it were the words Cheonpung Bank.
"Take this to Cheonpung Bank, and the staff there will give you the money."
"A bank… no, you have a money house?"
"Of course."
In a backwater village like Wangga Village there had been no such thing as a money house, so it had never occurred to me that one might exist. But hearing Im Seha confirm that banks existed even in this era, my first thought was pure relief. I'd been greedy enough to grab the Eunwonbo on the spot—but at the same time, I'd been fretting over where on earth I'd keep the thing.
Im Seha's arrangement was an enormous help.
"I don't know how to thank you enough."
After receiving the token, I paid my respects to Im Seha and returned to my room. The moment I stepped inside—
"Heh-heh-heh-heh… heh-heh-heh-heh…"
A stream of idiotic laughter filled the room.
"I'm rich… How much is this even worth, heh-heh…"
This was nothing like the two- or three-hundred-thousand-won monthly wages I'd scraped by on as a jeomsoi. Real money had rolled into my hands—and I couldn't stop laughing.
"Ahem! Calm down. But… what do I do now?"
Having money was one thing; I still needed a solid plan for the future. I sat in my room and tried to think of what to do next, but I knew so little about this era that nothing useful came to mind.
If I'd been a science major, I could have done the novel-protagonist thing—invent soap, or kickstart an industrial revolution. But I wasn't a science major. I wasn't even a humanities major; I barely knew any history.
That's right. I was from the arts and physical education track—utterly useless in this era!
What good was that supposed to do me? And then, one idea surfaced. The bandits cheering for my stories. And especially Jegal Hyeok, who'd been ready to drag me home with him.
"…No, wait. Who knows? This might actually work. So first… maybe I should do a little market research?"
"Is it truly all right to give such a large sum to a mere porter?"
A questioning voice reached Im Seha, who was alone.
"An Eunwonbo is no small amount of money. But this is an investment."
"An investment, you say? Is he not a porter?"
Im Seha answered into empty air, speaking as though alone. And yet, though he was clearly by himself, another person's voice came from somewhere nearby.
"Do you know how much we invest in those who pass the Hyangsi and become Geoin?"
"At least two or three gold yuanbao, as I understand it."
"Precisely. Which makes a single Eunwonbo remarkably cheap."
At Im Seha's words, the mysterious voice fell silent for a time, then spoke again.
"Are you saying that man will become a Geoin?"
A voice thick with disbelief. To that question, Im Seha replied calmly.
"That, I do not know. But I told you I heard his stories, did I not? So I looked into them. One of the two tales was too ancient to trace—but the figures named Zhuge Liang and Sima Yi most certainly existed."
Im Seha ran his hand over a book as he continued.
"This volume clearly records Zhuge Liang as Chancellor of Shu and Sima Yi as Chancellor of Wei. Only the names are listed, so the detailed history is beyond us… but if his stories are true, just how much must the author of those tales have studied? I cannot even begin to imagine."
As he spoke, Im Seha recalled Lee Munhyuk's words—the ones with which he had refused Yeom Gilsan's offer.
"And a man like that says he will rise to office in accordance with his parents' dying wish. Sooner or later, he will. If a single Eunwonbo can purchase the goodwill of such a person—what a profitable venture that would be."
So saying, Im Seha continued to gaze at the history book in which Zhuge Liang and Sima Yi were recorded—his expression that of a man wondering just how much Lee Munhyuk, who claimed he would sit for the civil examinations to honor his parents' will, must have studied to make that possible.