A World Where Romance of the Three Kingdoms Isn't Famous
Perhaps it was because the Bandit Chief had acknowledged me, but the mountain stronghold's bandits came right up without the slightest hesitation and pressed drinks on me.
We were brothers now, they insisted, so I had to drink — and given the situation, I had no grounds to refuse. My relationship with these men was a sandcastle: one good shove and the whole thing would collapse.
In circumstances like that, turning down a toast offered in celebration of new brotherhood? That would immediately chip away at every stack of goodwill I'd carefully built up.
Surviving this place meant managing favorability wasn't optional — it was mandatory. So I couldn't refuse the liquor they kept pouring.
"Our little brother's a real drinker, a proper drinker. Down it goes, down it goes, huh? Impressive, right?"
"Even looking like this, I've never lost a drinking contest among my friends. Hahaha — pour me another, Big Brother."
"Krah! A real man needs a strong stomach for liquor! I could almost believe you're one of us for real!"
It was enough to leave me speechless. The atmosphere had pushed me into claiming I'd never lost a drinking contest among my friends, but that wasn't true. My alcohol tolerance topped out at about two and a half bottles of soju.
Not weak, exactly — but nothing worth bragging about either. If I'd been putting away soju the way I was putting away this stuff, belly full to bursting, I'd already have been out cold and face-down.
The only reason I wasn't was that what they were calling liquor was so low-grade it was an insult to the word. Before the Tang Dynasty, distillation techniques hadn't developed, so people mostly drank cloudy rice wine with bits of grain floating in it, something like sweet rice punch — and this was that kind of drink.
A magical liquor that never got you drunk no matter how much you drank, only filled your stomach. There was even a theory that Zhang Fei drank this sort of thing. If that were true, it meant Zhang Fei had gotten hammered on something roughly as strong as beer with an elephant on the label and then beaten his subordinates like dogs.
Still, even if it didn't get me drunk, drinking continuously sent a clear signal that my bladder was full.
"Khh — this really is good stuff. Big Brothers, where might the outhouse be?"
"Outhouse? What outhouse is there on a mountain? Go off a ways and do it wherever."
I stood up and started toward the secluded spot the bandit had pointed out — and right then:
"Brother Lee, I have something to ask you."
Im Seha approached and spoke. After being so thoroughly startled by my earlier bathroom incident, he hadn't said a word to me the whole time we'd shared a cell — and now, suddenly, he was asking me something.
"So you're finally looking this way, are you?"
I'd said the liquor barely counted as liquor, but liquor was still liquor. Whether I was even a little tipsy or not, an internet meme I'd seen a hundred times floated up and I blurted out something ridiculous.
"Wh… what?"
Caught off guard by my answer, Im Seha stammered in confusion.
"Ah! No — a joke! Just a joke. The drink got to me, that's all. But what is it you wanted?"
"Ahem. It's about the Hong Gildong story you told. I have a few questions."
Im Seha had been summoned out of the cell every day to meet the Bandit Chief, so he'd never heard my Hong Gildong performances in prison. This was the first time he was hearing the tale.
And yet…
"The Hong Gildong story? But Young Master, aren't you a merchant? Hong Gildong is a tale of the Green Forest…"
I'd adapted it, but Hong Gildong was still a bandit through and through. That Im Seha of all people — a merchant — would take an interest in it felt a little strange.
"Ahem… Well. In the end, Hong Gildong died cursing the father he was never allowed to call Father. No matter how much of a hero he became, wasn't his life itself a miserable one?"
"A miserable life… If I were Hong Gildong, I might have felt that way, yes. Spending your whole life trying to win your father's recognition, only to be betrayed by that same father and poisoned to death — if that isn't miserable, what is?"
"I thought as much…"
At my words, Im Seha's expression turned bitter. His face looked so full of private sorrow it almost invited pity, and I called him over.
"Come here a moment."
Leaving the bandits noisily drinking and shouting behind us, I led Im Seha to a quiet corner and told him the truth.
"The real story of Hong Gildong is different from the one I told."
"Different… you say?"
"Founding the Hwalbindang and distributing the corrupt officials' wealth to the poor — that much is the same. But he was never betrayed by his father, and he didn't die so wretchedly in the end."
"What do you mean? You just said he did."
"Of course I did. I rewrote it with fabricated details to flatter those bandits."
"Rewrote it? What on earth are you talking about?!"
At the news that Hong Gildong's ending was different, Im Seha raised his voice in a way I had never heard from him before — sharp with excitement.
"Shh! Shh!"
Afraid that shout would draw the bandits' attention, I hurriedly clapped a hand over Im Seha's mouth.
"Mmph!!"
"Do we need to advertise to the bandits that I fed them a fake story?"
At that, Im Seha seemed to settle down and said nothing more.
"The court, holding the reins of power, sent government troops with orders to suppress Hong Gildong — but no one ever managed to catch him. Even so, the Hwalbindang he led was an organization that rested entirely on Hong Gildong's personal talent.
"Just as one hand cannot fend off many, a single person cannot change the world. In the end, I heard that Hong Gildong led his followers across the sea and founded the Kingdom of Yuldo."
"I see… At least it isn't a tragic ending."
Even knowing Hong Gildong's ending wasn't tragic, a note of regret still colored Im Seha's voice.
"The ending doesn't sit well with you? He became a king, though — I'd have thought he'd have been happy."
"In the end, even Hong Gildong never received his father's recognition."
"Mm… Not necessarily. In the real story of Hong Gildong, Hong Sangjik only forbade him from calling him Father because he was wary of his legitimate wife — he still treated him no differently from a son. What father in this world would refuse to treat a child born of his own blood as his child?"
"Heh heh… Is that so? Treated him as a son…"
Im Seha smiled at that — a smile that looked both satisfied and quietly glad.
That was all well and good, but I couldn't hold it any longer.
"Ah — may I go now? I've been trying to get to the outhouse since you first called me."
"Ah! So you were. I was keeping you for no reason."
Leaving Im Seha behind, I walked farther into a more secluded spot. Whether they trusted me or simply figured they could catch me if I ran, no bandit followed. I trudged along, and by the time the noise of the bandits' drinking party had faded to a murmur—
"Should I… run?"
The thought crossed my mind for a moment, but one look at the mountain ridges where I couldn't see a single step ahead made me drop it immediately. There was a reason the bandits had sent me off alone without a second thought.
There was no way to navigate these pitch-dark mountain paths — and even if there were, wild beasts prowled these hills. I had no desire to work up the courage to leave only to become their dinner.
"Still — is it because it's dark, or because the air is so clean? The moon is really bright."
The full moon hanging overhead was bigger and brighter than any full moon I had ever seen.
"Moon, moon~ bright moon~"
Weak as it was, liquor was still liquor. A little light-headed, gazing up at that beautiful moon, a cheerful mood took hold and a song came out on its own. In that state I finished relieving myself, hiked up my trousers — and right then:
"What's that?"
Faint lights were climbing up from the foot of the mountain. They wavered this way and that like will-o'-the-wisps, enough to raise a slight chill along my skin.
"Aagh!"
Distracted by the sight, I missed my footing and went sliding, tumbling down the mountainside. Fortunately the slope wasn't steep and there were no jutting rocks, so I wasn't badly hurt — but when I came to my senses, I couldn't help panicking.
Because a bandit holding a torch was staring straight at me.
"Who's this bastard? Anyone know him?"
"Isn't this the one? The guy we threw in the cell the other day?"
"Ah! That one?"
"Then how the hell did he get out? Hey! You — how did you get out?!"
The bandit barked at me as if I were some kind of escapee. Then a broadsword, glowing red in the torchlight, was leveled at my chest.
"I did not escape from the cell!"
It was the first time I'd ever been threatened with a cold weapon that brutal, and I shouted in a panic. If even one of the bandits who'd heard my stories in prison had been among them, the situation might have been a little different — but unfortunately, every bandit in sight was a complete stranger.
"If you didn't escape, then what are you doing here?!"
"The Bandit Chief! The Bandit Chief called me out for a while!"
"Whaat? This bastard's spouting nonsense. If the Bandit Chief called you out, why are you wandering around alone right now?"
Fair enough — I wouldn't have believed it either. But what could I do? It was the truth. I was about to open my mouth and explain in detail to clear up the misunderstanding when—
"Hold on! Stop that! Isn't that man one of ours anyway?"
A familiar voice came from behind the bandits. Its owner came striding through the torchlight. The man who appeared was Jang Pilsen — the same man who had sold me out.
In that instant I was certain. Jang Pilsen had returned with the ransom money!
"He's going to be released anyway, so leave him alone!"
Jang Pilsen spoke with real force behind the words, and the moment I saw him like that I felt it clearly — this was what a named martial artist looked like. Even though he wasn't addressing me, an unnameable pressure rolled off him all the same.
"Nngh…!"
Whether it was that pressure or something else, the bandits said nothing more. It made sense: from what I could tell, most of the ones who looked like officers were back at that banquet-hall-ish place, drinking themselves stupid.
So these were probably the rank and file. Men like that couldn't casually defy Jang Pilsen.
"Looks like you tumbled down from up above — are you all right?"
Having settled the situation, Jang Pilsen came over and helped me up.
"A few scrapes, but I think I'm fine otherwise."
"This way."
I followed Jang Pilsen toward the rear, where a middle-aged man in scholar's robes was waiting. Jang Pilsen left me beside him and asked in a low, careful voice:
"Did you… actually escape? What about the young master and the others?"
I explained the current situation. The young master was up above with the Bandit Chief right now, and the others were safe and sound in the cell. Hearing that, Jang Pilsen let out a breath of relief.
"But why are you out here alone?"
Once my explanation was finished, the middle-aged man in scholar's robes asked me.
"Well, you see — I'm rather good at telling stories. I told one in front of the Bandit Chief, and on my way to the outhouse afterward I missed my footing and rolled down."
"Hmm… Is that so?"
As if he couldn't quite believe me, the man looked at me with a meaningful eye. Fair enough — I'd be suspicious too. A hostage suddenly comes tumbling down a mountainside.
But then…
Suddenly the look in both their eyes changed. They seemed to exchange a glance, and Jang Pilsen stepped in front of me.
And then—
A firm press!
The middle-aged man's hand moved toward my stomach. I turned my head, wondering what this was about, and in that instant—
"Be quiet and tell the truth. That would be wise."
The middle-aged man murmured close to my ear.
"Have the bandits threatened you — or bought you off?"
No question about it. These two were thoroughly, completely mistaken. It was enough to leave me speechless, but there was nothing for it. This was a bandit den — of course they had to be careful.
I could understand their position. The problem was that I was the one on the receiving end.
"What kind of nonsense is that?!"
I raised my voice deliberately so the bandits walking ahead could hear. Jang Pilsen hastily yanked his hand back from my stomach, and the middle-aged man put distance between us.
Startled by the sudden noise, the bandits also turned to check what the commotion was.
"Didn't I just tell you? Why are you still suspicious? This is ridiculous, honestly! Your people are here — why would I take the bandits' side?"
At my words, the bandits seemed to grasp the situation and started snickering among themselves. From their point of view, watching their enemies distrust each other and fall into division was as good as a comedy sketch.
And that was exactly what I'd expected. If I really were on the bandits' side, Jang Pilsen — with hostages still held — couldn't freely harm me. So what they'd done was pure bluff.
But the misunderstanding still needed clearing, which was why I'd raised my voice and drawn the bandits' attention. And just as expected, the bandits watched us, muttering and laughing among themselves. Only then did Jang Pilsen and the middle-aged man seem to realize their mistake and apologize.
"I understand it was a situation easy to misread. So it's fine."
These were the people who'd come to rescue me, after all. There was no need to pile on complaints.
"But Great Hero Jang — who is this gentleman with you?"
"This is Great Hero Jegal Hyeok, head of the Jegal Clan."
Jang Pilsen answered my question. At those words I whipped my head around to look at Jegal Hyeok. The Jegal Clan — a name that appeared in every wuxia novel.
And this was its clan head!
He was no minor figure. That someone of his stature had come meant my odds of survival had just shot up exponentially! I was starting to feel good about the welcome news when a sudden question rose up. The people of this place didn't know Romance of the Three Kingdoms! The sheer incomprehensibility of it was too much, and I couldn't hold back my curiosity. I approached Jegal Hyeok and asked:
"Ah — Clan Head."
"Ahem… My apologies for earlier. What is it?"
"It's nothing much. I was wondering whether you happen to know a gentleman by the name of Zhuge Liang."
"Zhuge Liang?"
Hearing that, Jegal Hyeok looked at me with puzzled eyes, then seemed to turn something over in his mind. When he finished thinking, he opened his mouth.
"'Liang' is a generational character we no longer use… How do you know of it?"
In that moment, I was certain. In this world, Romance of the Three Kingdoms was not famous!