Tell Your Young Master to Come Out!
The market of Hyeongju was a world apart from Wangga Village — loud, crowded, and unmistakably urban. Merchants hawking their wares and customers haggling over prices filled the air with a din that rattled the eardrums.
"Chicken skewers for sale! Chicken skewers!"
Among the countless cries of the vendors, one booming voice snagged my ear. Drawn as if under a spell, I turned toward the rich, savory aroma of chicken skewers and made my way over.
Sizzle—!
The moment I stepped up to the stall, the vendor made a show of working the bellows, bathing the skewers in a thick, smoky fragrance.
"How much for one?"
"Yes, sir! Fifteen copper coins!"
Fifteen copper coins. Back in Wangga Village, a chicken skewer went for six or seven at most. Fifteen? That was more than double. I had to wonder if this was less hawking and more fleecing.
"Hold on — what kind of chicken skewer costs fifteen copper coins?"
The vendor's cheerful smile vanished in an instant, replaced by the look of a man staring at a problem customer.
"What the hell did you just say? I sell the cheapest skewers in this whole damn neighborhood! Get lost, you idiot! If you want to haggle, read the room first! Move — I've got customers behind you!"
He barked it out with genuine fury. Having eaten enough theater meals in my previous life, I could usually tell real anger from a performance. This, I reckoned, was the real thing. As if to confirm it, the customer behind me paid fifteen copper coins without a word of complaint and walked off with a skewer. That settled it. There was a slim chance the man was a plant, but nobody hires a shill over a single chicken skewer.
"My apologies — I've only just arrived in Hyeongju and didn't know the going rates. One, please. Though I have to ask: is everything in this city always this expensive?"
I apologized quickly, ordered a skewer, and slipped in a question for good measure.
"Oh, is that so? Must've come from some backwater village, eh? Here — I'll give you a nice fat one!"
The moment I said I'd buy, the vendor's face lit up again and he handed over a skewer. As I took it, he kept talking.
"With all the merchants coming and going through Hyeongju, of course prices are high. Wherever you came from, most things here will cost you at least two or three times as much. Some items might be about the same, but most of them aren't."
Having learned why Hyeongju's prices were so steep, I took a bite of the skewer. It was made from fresh chicken, free of any off-smell, and genuinely tasty. Still…
"And this is fifteen copper coins?"
I couldn't get over the price. Fifteen copper coins was roughly ten thousand won — for a single skewer. Checking my coin pouch, I could see it had already thinned a little. Looking around at the other stalls only confirmed it: the cost of living here was murderous. At least double, sometimes triple. In that moment, I understood. Without a decent income, Hyeongju was no place for a human being — it was a hellscape.
Was I not a sucker after all?
A thought struck me. Those clothes from the fabric shop I'd assumed were a tourist trap — maybe Im Seha had actually gotten them at a bargain.
Relieved that I hadn't been fleeced on the skewer, yet thoroughly rattled by Hyeongju's prices, I continued surveying the market. And at last, I found what I'd come for.
A bookstore, shelves packed with volumes!
My reason for seeking one out was simple. From my earlier experiences, the people of this world somehow had no knowledge of Romance of the Three Kingdoms. So why not write it myself? The thought came hand in hand with another: I should read the novels of this era first. Preliminary research mattered more than anything.
"Is the proprietor in?"
At my call, an old man with a long, white beard shuffled out from within.
"What are you looking for?"
As he spoke, his eyes raked me up and down, taking stock of my appearance. It was rather off-putting, but I kept a straight face and asked what I'd come for.
"Do you have Romance of the Three Kingdoms?"
I started with that. I didn't expect him to have it, but it was worth asking just in case.
"Romance of the Three Kingdoms? What's that? Some new novel? Never heard of it."
"Ah, so you don't have it. Someone told me it was good, so I came looking."
What a relief. That tiny, lingering doubt — What if I was just imagining things? — finally dissolved. Having confirmed that Romance of the Three Kingdoms didn't exist here, I moved on to my next question without missing a beat.
"In that case, sir, what's your bestselling novel?"
Before writing Romance of the Three Kingdoms, I needed to gauge the quality of this era's fiction. What if it was so good I couldn't possibly compete? Then I shouldn't waste a single character on the Three Kingdoms and should go straight back to hard labor instead.
"Got money?"
Judging by my clothes, he clearly thought I was broke. Fair enough — books in this era were luxury goods, and I looked like an ordinary man who couldn't afford them. But you can't judge a person by appearances alone. I was the man who'd received thousands of copper coins as compensation for being taken hostage. I hadn't brought all of it, of course, but the coin pouch at my side was heavy enough to make an impression all on its own.
I put on a confident face and pulled out the hefty pouch. The old man's expression shifted to one of mild surprise, and he disappeared into the shop, returning with a book.
"If it's novels you want, this is the one. Have you read it?"
On the cover of the book he recommended was the title The House of the Blade King. Something about the name felt oddly familiar, and I cocked my head.
"Anything else you'd recommend? I'd like to read a few more."
Looking put-upon, the old man brought out a couple more volumes.
"Aside from that one, these are selling well right now."
The Peng Clan's Storm. Chronicles of a Peerless Hero.
The titles were strangely familiar, and once again I found myself tilting my head. All of them carried a faintly fishy air that made me reluctant to pick them up. Still, as the bookstore owner's personal picks, nothing seemed more reliable.
"These all seem to be stories about martial artists. Is that right?"
"Huh? You've never read a novel? What novel isn't about martial artists?"
Well, this world had a history similar to our own — except it also had the jianghu and martial arts. Finding wuxia novels in a bookstore of this era wasn't strange at all. And Water Margin, that classic of classics, was essentially a primordial martial arts novel itself.
"How much for all of them?"
"One silver liang each. Three silver liang total."
I'd roughly expected as much. Books were expensive in this era. That was why, before leaving the Cheonpung Merchant Group, I'd converted everything except my immediate spending money into silver coins. But when it came time to actually pull three silver coins from my pouch, my hands trembled. One silver liang was roughly a month's wages for a jaengjasu.
"Urgh…"
With shaking hands, I paid and collected the books. It was a significant expense, but I told myself it was an investment. Holding that thought, I put one last question to the old man.
"By any chance, can I get munbangsau here as well?"
"No."
The answer came the instant I mentioned the Four Treasures of the Study — brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. The four essentials for writing. And they were the last things a bookstore should be without. Yet the old man was telling me he didn't have them. I couldn't make sense of it.
"How can a bookstore not have those?"
"Look, kid, I'm saying I don't have them because I don't have them. Do you even know what season it is? Of course they're gone!"
There was clearly a reason behind his words.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Huh? You didn't know? The hyangsi is about to open. Scholars from every corner of the country have swept Hyeongju clean of supplies. You think anything's left? I hear a few pieces trickle into the black market, but you'll pay more than one silver coin for them."
In short, the scholars who'd come for the provincial civil service exam had bought up everything. I had no idea where the black market even was, and I certainly didn't want to pay more than a silver coin for writing supplies.
"Is there no other way to get them?"
"None. You could turn the whole marketplace upside down and still not find a single set. The only place that supposedly has any stock is the Cheonpung Merchant Group, but those people refuse to release any of it…"
His words brought back the cargo from the last caravan — the crates of ink and inkstones that had nearly dislocated my shoulders. So that shipment had been meant to squeeze every last coin from the scholars preparing for the hyangsi.
"I understand."
"If you really want them, don't bother looking anywhere else. Go straight to the Cheonpung Merchant Group. If you beg hard enough, they might sell you one set."
As I turned to leave in defeat, the old man offered the advice like a parting warning. And just as he'd said, nowhere in the marketplace could I find a complete set of munbangsau. Paper was available, but without the rest it was useless, so I followed his counsel and headed for the Cheonpung Merchant Group. Back at the compound, I asked around about where to obtain the Four Treasures of the Study. The employee I eventually found was blunt.
"No."
"I was told the Cheonpung Merchant Group has stock."
"I don't know where you heard that, but we don't have any right now either."
"What do you mean you don't have any? A caravan arrived in Hyeongju not long ago, didn't it? I carried the ink and inkstones myself — I know for a fact there was more than enough."
At that, the merchant looked me over carefully. The mention of carrying cargo made him reassess my appearance.
"Were you a jaengjasu, by any chance?"
"I did the work for a short while, yes."
The sudden question about being a porter, and my honest answer, made the merchant's face twist.
"You idiot — if you're a jaengjasu, what do you need those for? Planning to resell them? Get lost! You think you're the first of your kind I've seen? You think I don't know you're just looking to make a quick profit?"
The moment he learned I'd carried cargo as a jaengjasu, the merchant dropped all formality. But his words struck a nerve.
"Resell? Apologize right now! Who do you take me for?!"
A scalper! Those were the people I despised most in the world. Even when a show was sold out, empty seats would still appear during performances. The sorrow of standing on stage and seeing those vacant chairs — it felt like a piece of your heart had simply vanished. And every last one of those empty seats was their fault.
And now he was calling me a scalper? The insult was unbearable. I exploded at him.
"You! Do you even know who I am?! Me! I ate meals with your young master! I was taken hostage with him! I've done it all!"
In the middle of the shouting match—
"What is all this commotion?"
A middle-aged man in fine clothes stepped out from within and asked.
"This fellow was trying to buy munbangsau so he could resell them, so I was in the process of throwing him out."
At that, I fired back.
"What do you take me for?! I need them for my own use! Tell your young master to come out! Young Master Im!"
"Manager, this man is lying. He admitted himself that he was a jaengjasu. What would a porter need those for? And look at him — daring to call for Young Master Im! How dare he address the young master so casually!"
The merchant continued to dismiss me. Having heard the explanation, the branch manager looked me over and spoke.
"Might you be one of the jaengjasu who were taken hostage alongside the young master this time?"
"Ahem…! Yes, that's right."
Hearing the manager speak with such composure, I figured he was someone I could reason with and answered promptly.
"Give him one set. Do not charge him."
"Pardon?"
The merchant looked flustered at the manager's order. Though clearly baffled, he obeyed his superior, fetched the goods, and handed them over. I accepted them in a daze, equally stunned by the sudden turn of events.
"Hmm… and what are those books?"
Looking at me with the supplies in hand, the manager asked again.
"Books I bought to read. Why do you ask?"
"No particular reason. I wish you good results."
The branch manager said something I couldn't begin to decipher, then turned and went back the way he'd come.
"Were you… acquainted with the branch manager, sir?"
And once the manager was gone, the same merchant who'd dismissed me as a mere jaengjasu was suddenly addressing me with the utmost deference. That was just a bonus.
"Regarding the goods acquired on this caravan — when do you think we should release them?"
Im Seha asked the middle-aged man seated across from him. Baek Gawang, branch manager of the Cheonpung Merchant Group's Hyeongju Branch, shared the schedule he had already prepared.
"And if the Horan Merchant Group arrives a little later?"
"In that case, the prices of our goods would rise even higher. People are already holding off on purchases, waiting for the Horan Merchant Group to arrive."
Im Seha considered this briefly, then reached a decision.
"The Horan Merchant Group will almost certainly be delayed because of Yeom Gilsan. Let us adjust the dates accordingly."
"Understood."
With the meeting concluded, Baek Gawang rose from his seat. Then, as if something had just occurred to him, he paused mid-step.
"Young Master — about that jaengjasu you gave the eunwonbo to last time."
The words brought a particular person to Im Seha's mind: Lee Munhyuk, the man he had invested in, believing he would pass the civil service exam.
"The very day you gave him the eunwonbo, he came to our shop. He made quite a scene demanding munbangsau."
"Is that so? How did you handle it?"
Im Seha replied without much concern. Lee Munhyuk was someone he had invested in, so the man held his interest — but a disturbance within the merchant group was strictly the group's business. He could not simply take one side.
"I simply gave him a set."
"You simply gave it to him?"
"Of course. And through this incident, I found myself once again marveling at your eye for people, Young Master."
Coming from a branch manager who rarely praised anyone, the compliment left Im Seha slightly flustered. He asked for the reason.
"Hearing that from Manager Baek is rather unexpected. What do you mean?"
"From the day he received the eunwonbo, it seems the man intended to begin his studies. He arrived carrying books and demanded munbangsau. And according to the maids, he has not left his room for the past several days — doing nothing but reading."
"Is that so? He said it was his parents' dying wish, so I suppose he is giving it his all."
"Hahaha. At this rate, we may well produce a geoin from within our own merchant group — someone who has passed the hyangsi."
"A geoin is not so easily made."
"One never knows."
And so the two of them, thoroughly convinced that Lee Munhyuk — who was in fact holed up in his room writing a novel — was studying himself half to death for the provincial civil service exam, began speaking with the greatest of expectations.