Do You Know Hong Gildong, Hero of the Green Forest?
"I'm sorry."
Jang Pilsen bowed his head as he apologized.
Whether in the past or the present, a superior apologizing to a subordinate was the sort of thing that only happened when a situation had gone spectacularly sideways. And jaengjasu were little more than short-term day laborers. For a department head from the client company — not even the labor boss — to apologize to a temp worker? And to bow his head while doing it? In short, we were well and truly screwed.
"Hero Jang Pilsen, the Tiger Wind Swordsman! Surely you could cut down a pack of Green Forest bandits with a single stroke of your blade? So why are you trying to hand us over as hostages?"
I propped up Jang Pilsen's reputation as high as I could, hoping to make him reconsider and keep myself from being dragged off. The answer that came back was ice-cold.
"Shh! Keep quiet! Do you have any idea who that man is?"
One porter's cry withered under Jang Pilsen's bark.
"That's Yeom Gilsan, the Black Dragon Blade! Sworn younger brother of the Green Forest Grand Chief! Cross him and you'll make an enemy of the entire Green Forest!"
In other words, he'd taken one look at the other guy's name value and folded completely.
"We don't have the toll they're demanding. When we offered to pay it later, they demanded hostages. If we want to pass this road safely, we have no choice but to meet their terms. Once this is over without incident, I'll see that you're compensated handsomely. And the Black Dragon Blade has never broken a deal. If we deliver the money on time, he won't harm you."
Trust a bandit?
I'd heard a lot of nonsense in my life, but this was a new low. The idea that bandits kept their word, that the merchant caravan would take responsibility and come back for us — it was all empty credit with nothing behind it. No matter how sweet the promises of compensation sounded, we were just porters. The caravan could finish its run and simply decide we weren't worth the trouble. Even in the modern world, where human rights were supposedly guaranteed, when something happened to a lowly laborer the whole thing got swept under the rug and treated like it never happened.
And this place didn't guarantee human rights at all. Spend money to rescue a disposable hired hand? You'd have to be the sucker of all suckers. That was exactly what I was thinking when a sucker walked out from the caravan's side.
"I am Im Seha, young master of the Cheonpung Merchant Group. The porters need not worry for their safety — I and the caravan's martial artists will be going with you."
The speaker had a clear, fair complexion and a strikingly handsome face, free of any blemish. Maintaining skin that refined in this era meant he was clearly the scion of no ordinary household. And then there were his clothes. Those were the exact garments that had been displayed in the fabric shop in Wangga Village, where the inn I'd worked as a jeomsoi had been located. I remembered them because, back when I was running food deliveries as an errand boy, the fabric shop owner had volunteered a price I hadn't asked for and then crowed that a parlor boy like me could work my whole life and still never afford them. At the time I'd cursed him under my breath, wondering who in that backwater village would ever buy clothes at that price. And now the sucker wearing them was standing right in front of me.
"A sucker, then?"
The words slipped out before I could stop them. The moment I realized what I'd said, I knew I was in trouble — but the young master of the caravan just smiled faintly and answered.
"A tiger's mouth… You seem to know the game of Go. You're quite right. Walking into a tiger's jaws is exactly what this is. But before I am the young master of the Cheonpung Merchant Group, I am the one responsible for this caravan. Given the circumstances, if entering the tiger's mouth is what must be done, then that is what I shall do. It will be an inconvenience for a short while, but I ask that you place your trust in me. I will protect your safety — that I swear."
Fortunately, the young master seemed not to grasp the real meaning of "sucker" and took it as a Go term instead, delivering a rather reassuring answer. The sword-bearing martial artists behind him, however, fixed me with piercing stares. For a moment I swallowed hard, half-expecting them to make an example of me — but Im Seha made no move, and so neither did the men at his back.
"Nngh… Young Master. Must you truly become a hostage as well? Is there no other way?"
Jang Pilsen looked at Im Seha with a pained expression, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of the young master joining the bandits' hostages.
"Chief Escort, this is the best course available to us. If anything, I consider it fortunate that Yeom Gilsan pointed me out. This is my first time leading a caravan along this road, and I cannot say with certainty whether I would return on time after the run is finished. But you have ample experience, Chief Escort — you can lead our people and arrive on schedule. As for the payment, it can be arranged through our branch in Hyeongju. So if my capture allows us to pass without bloodshed, is that not the greater gain?"
"Hah… I suppose there's no other choice. Very well. And since this is, strictly speaking, a failure of escort duty, the agency will provide compensation afterward. We'll finish the caravan run as quickly as possible and return. If things grow dangerous, Young Master — even if you must flee alone — escape."
"Hah… Understood. But if you judge the situation dangerous, I ask that you get yourself out, even alone."
Watching them fuss exclusively over Young Master Im Seha's safety while the porters barely registered as an afterthought, I couldn't help thinking that people were the same whether it was the old days or now.
I was hungry.
Starving, actually.
These bandits had apparently tossed the Geneva Convention on the humane treatment of prisoners straight into the trash. They'd locked us in a cave barred with wooden slats and hadn't given us so much as a single meal. The stomach alarm that had been ringing all day no longer even had the strength to gurgle — it had gone completely silent.
"Staring outside like that won't change anything."
A voice came from behind me. Im Seha — my only cellmate. The prison holding the porters and Im Seha's bodyguards had been too cramped, so as the youngest among us, I'd been stuck sharing a room with him.
"And is there something else I should be doing?"
I answered curtly when he spoke. It was absolutely not because I was being petty about him selling us out to the bandits. If I'd truly been that petty, I wouldn't have answered at all. Anyway. I wasn't.
"Why should there be nothing to do? Since we're here, why not introduce ourselves? We seem close enough in age, as it happens."
Introductions — so he was just as bored as I was. Close in age, though… Factoring in how people looked in this era, I was pretty sure I was considerably older. While I was turning that over, Im Seha started introducing himself first.
"I am Im Seha, young master of the Cheonpung Merchant Group. In the martial world, I am known — in a modest way — as the Jade-Faced Divine Dragon."
With an introduction that direct, I could hardly refuse to give one of my own.
"Lee Munhyuk. Just a nobody porter."
"How can you say such a thing? A porter, a nobody? Porters are the roots of a merchant group. Goods must reach their destination on time and in safety for the group to function — and for the common people to eat and live."
That someone this enlightened existed in this era left me staring at him in startled confusion — until it occurred to me that he was a merchant. So that's what it takes to be a merchant. A tongue coated in gold. I could have believed he was the Jade-Tongued Divine Dragon instead of the Jade-Faced one. And yet, even knowing it was flattery, it somehow didn't feel bad. If anything, that single line loosened something in my chest. He had a merchant's gift for putting people at ease.
"So please — do not belittle yourself."
"Ahem…"
I cleared my throat and glanced slightly aside. Being praised was awkward enough on its own; being praised by the man who'd gotten me captured by bandits made it even more uncomfortable. Sensing as much, Im Seha let a flicker of apology show as he spoke.
"I am truly sorry for dragging you into a place like this, little brother. But I hope you will understand that it was a choice I had no alternative but to make."
"What do you mean by that?"
At my question, Im Seha let out a quiet sigh and continued in a low voice.
"Do you know what kind of man Yeom Gilsan is?"
"I heard he's the sworn younger brother of the Green Forest Grand Chief."
"He is. If that were the only reason, there would be no need to fear him quite so much. But the true reason Yeom Gilsan is terrifying lies elsewhere."
Im Seha turned his gaze beyond the wooden bars as he went on.
"It is his monstrous martial prowess. Even with his elder brother as Grand Chief, the man judged the strongest in the entire Green Forest is Yeom Gilsan."
As Im Seha's explanation continued, I finally understood the full picture of why I'd ended up a hostage. Put simply: even if the Cheonpung Merchant Group and the escort agency flew and crawled, they could not have handled Yeom Gilsan. If they'd brought enough toll money, they could have settled it with silver — but this route had never had bandits before, so they hadn't been carrying much. In the end, Im Seha had volunteered himself as a hostage. He'd meant to go alone at first, but Yeom Gilsan demanded additional hostages, which pulled in the porters and bodyguards as well. I'd simply been swept up in it.
Hearing that, I found myself looking at Im Seha in a new light. Offering yourself up as a hostage was no small thing.
"But once you're a hostage, won't Yeom Gilsan just demand more money?"
Whoever held the hilt of the blade held the power. And the other party was a bandit. Worried something might go wrong, I put the question to him.
"You need not worry on that account. This road is the fastest route to Hyeongju, but it is not the only one — so he agreed to a reasonable sum."
"Is that so?"
"If he set unreasonable terms, no one would use this mountain path at all. Yeom Gilsan knows that, so he will not break our arrangement."
Bandits doing business… They say that once any organization grows past a certain size, it can no longer act however it pleases — and that saying fit perfectly. We were still talking when a presence stirred near the entrance.
"Only a day in and they're living large already. Living large, are we?"
"Heh, seeing our young master so free of worry is good for us too. Means the money's probably coming on time."
"Then why are you bringing food? I thought we didn't feed martial artists when we catch them."
"You idiot. Those ones are enemies. These ones are going to be our customers — so we treat them well."
"Ahh! Is that right?"
A bandit with a large scar across his cheek, and behind him a bald bandit carrying what looked like a bucket of rice balls and water. The two of them muttered back and forth as they came down from the cave mouth.
The bald bandit stopped in front of the cell, set down the bucket, and plopped a single rice ball into a wooden bowl. After more than a day without food, my starved stomach went wild at the smell of cooked rice. The moment the ration was handed over, though, something felt off. One rice ball in the wooden bowl. A fairly large one, granted — but still just one. Were we supposed to split it between the two of us?
I looked at the bandit with that thought, and he stood up and started unlocking the cell door.
"Young master, come on out."
At the sudden order, Im Seha eyed the bandit warily.
"What are you so startled for? Think I'm gonna do something funny? The chief wants to see you."
"Is that so? Then you should have said that first."
Im Seha relaxed at that and rose to his feet.
"Cheoldu, I'm going to the chief. Handle the rations yourself."
"Yes, big brother."
Im Seha passed through the cell door and climbed up out of the cave. The bandit left behind went deeper into the cave, finished distributing food, and came back.
"Haaah~ So boring."
He yawned wide, then looked at me with idle eyes.
"Hey, you. Got any interesting stories?"
"Cough—! Cough!"
Mid-bite of rice ball, the sudden question made me choke. A mouthful of rice tumbled to the floor.
"Tsk tsk, what a waste. Tell me something fun and I'll give you another rice ball."
A rice ball!
My ears pricked up at once. What I'd been given was barely the size of a large convenience-store rice triangle. Nowhere near enough to fill me — and now he was offering one more. An irresistible temptation. I grinned at Cheoldu.
"Am I not a walking story-sack?"
Stories I had in abundance. Preparing for performances, I'd read every world classic worth the name more times than I could count. Even now, the titles of countless masterpieces were surfacing in my mind.
"Confident little bastard, aren't you? Fine. Let's hear it."
My confidence seemed to please him. Cheoldu's expression turned interested as he settled into a better listening posture. Faced with a bandit ready to be a proper audience, I searched my mind for the story this particular bandit would love most.
And then I found it.
The name that flashed through me — the story with a bandit as its hero.
"Do you know of Hong Gildong, the hero of the Green Forest who was active a thousand years ago?"
And in that very moment, for the price of a single rice ball, Hong Gildong became a legend of the Green Forest.