At my words, the magistrate began to stammer, his composure crumbling like dry earth.
“Wh-what do you mean by that? Bribes? I’ve taken nothing of the sort.”
“Then on what basis do you claim the seal on the contract I presented is false?”
“Well… that is…”
The magistrate faltered, offering nothing but hesitation, unable to muster a coherent reply.
“His Majesty the Emperor has little tolerance for corruption. Just recall the silk supply competition earlier—those who slipped bribes to the palace eunuchs faced severe reckonings.”
“…”
“I heard the interrogations were… particularly brutal in their thoroughness.”
His face drained of all color at that, turning ashen with dread.
Now seemed the perfect moment to drive the point home.
“Well, if it’s too difficult to discuss, you needn’t trouble yourself. In any case, I’ll soon enter the palace to report directly. There, I could easily include an investigation into Magistrate—your affairs…”
“Pl-please spare me!”
Before I could finish, he threw himself flat on the floor in desperate prostration.
Seizing my leg, he pleaded with frantic intensity.
“I confess—I let greed cloud my judgment and accepted money I never should have!”
Tsk tsk. He should have come clean from the start.
“Mercy, I beg you—just once, let me live!”
I let a deliberate pause stretch, weighing my response before speaking.
“I must report this matter regardless, so word will reach His Majesty’s ears inevitably.”
“Ah…”
“But I can offer you a path to preserve your life.”
He gazed up at me with eyes brimming with desperate hope, and I met them with a faint, knowing smile.
“First, properly examine that contract and verify whether it’s genuine or not. And then…”
“Y-yes, of course. What else must I do?”
“Use that bribe money to purchase grain and send it straight to the palace. That way, you might salvage your neck—and even your reputation.”
“Must it truly be so… absolute?”
“Then you shouldn’t have taken the bribes in the first place.”
“…”
“Best remember that well.”
“Understood.”
He nodded, though doubt lingered visibly in his eyes.
No surprise there—a man steeped in avarice, who’d amassed such ill-gotten gains, wouldn’t easily part with his hoard.
But as a price for his life, it struck me as a bargain.
What use was wealth once the reaper came calling?
A sudden influx of substantial grain to the palace would surely pique His Majesty’s curiosity about the source.
If he followed my counsel, I’d petition the Emperor for leniency on his behalf.
Handing over his entire fortune would likely earn a measure of mercy.
His ultimate choice, however, lay beyond my concern.
I’d pointed out the road to survival; walking it was his alone.
For me, securing certification that the contract I’d unearthed was authentic would suffice.
.
.
.
A short while later,
I returned to the Yangyang Martial Hall.
Heading straight for Hall Master Yeom’s office, I requested Escort Chief Ha’s presence as well.
Soon, the three of us gathered in the quiet room.
“So… what prompted you to summon us both?”
At Hall Master Yeom’s question, I reached into my robes and produced the true contract, placing it gently on the table before them.
“As I suspected all along, the real contract was indeed hidden away.”
“Pardon?”
“The real one, you say?”
“Take a look for yourselves.”
I slid the document toward them, and with puzzled tilts of their heads, they began to read.
“…!”
“…!”
Their eyes widened in shock, deep groans escaping their lips.
“N-no…”
“This can’t be…”
The astonishment left them struggling for words, their voices catching in their throats.
“I was taken aback too.”
Regaining a sliver of composure, the two managed to speak.
“I had absolutely no knowledge of this.”
“Yes, and it seems the Palace Lord knew nothing either. If he had, he would have mentioned it during our talks.”
That made sense. Master wouldn’t have worn that face etched with such worry if he’d been aware.
“The letter on the back suggests the previous hall master agreed to keep it secret at the late manor lord’s request.”
“His sudden passing must have left him no chance to confide in me about it.”
“That appears to be the case.”
Hall Master Yeom pondered for a moment before voicing his thoughts.
“Still, this doesn’t fully resolve our troubles. The current manor lord is unlikely to acknowledge this as legitimate.”
“I anticipated that very issue. Which is why I prepared this.”
I unrolled another scroll and laid it beside the contract—the magistrate’s official certification affirming its authenticity.
Escort Chief Ha let out a low whistle of admiration.
“Remarkable! So thorough.”
But Hall Master Yeom eyed me with lingering curiosity.
“Even so, how did you obtain this? From what I know, the manor lord already has the magistrate in his pocket…”
“There are ways.”
My vague reply drew a nod of understanding from Hall Master Yeom, who grasped the implication without pressing further.
“I see. Truly impressive. In any event, this means the land now belongs to the Yangyang Martial Hall.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“So… no need to relocate after all?”
I didn’t answer directly, instead offering a cool, edged smile as I continued.
“I have no intention of letting this end on amicable terms. After the heartache this caused, don’t we deserve compensation for the ordeal?”
“No need. I’m content as it is.”
Hall Master Yeom replied with a gentle laugh.
“Gaining ownership of this land, and avoiding the move altogether—that’s more than enough satisfaction for me.”
Escort Chief Ha chimed in supportively.
“Agreed. The Palace Lord will surely feel the same.”
I shook my head firmly.
“No. I won’t stop here.”
“Bu…”
Cutting off Hall Master Yeom, I pressed on.
“From the intelligence I gathered, the manor lord knows full well that the Yangyang Hall saved the previous lord’s life and preserved the Seong Family’s honor.”
“What?”
“Is that true?”
“Absolutely. And the late manor lord repeatedly urged his son to treat the hall with care, as the clan’s true benefactors.”
“…”
“Yet he still sought to drive them out. That kind of audacity is too infuriating to overlook.”
Having heard the full circumstances, Hall Master Yeom and Escort Chief Ha’s expressions darkened with dismay.
“So here’s my proposal—do you need a new building?”
“Pardon?”
“The current ones look so run-down.”
Escort Chief Ha nodded at my observation.
“Well… these structures have stood for over a decade now. And they weren’t built with the finest materials to begin with.”
“Then prepare to relocate.”
“Huh?”
“Relocate? To where?”
“To hook a great fish, patience is essential.”
From what Chun-il had uncovered, the manor lord planned to erect an eight-story tavern right on this site.
Complete with several annexes and an ornate garden to boot.
Such grandeur would suit as a training ground for the pillars of the rebuilt Snow Wind Palace, once they came of age.
I couldn’t help a faint chuckle.
In essence, our “move” would simply foster the manor lord’s grand delusion.
The more effort he poured into that tavern, the less it harmed us in return.
That said, an establishment like that wouldn’t include a practice yard, so purchasing the adjacent plot for martial training would make sense.
After all, as the senior brother, wasn’t it my duty?
For the children’s sake, I could gladly contribute that much.
But this venture would span about a year.
With no way to linger here indefinitely, I’d need someone reliable to oversee it in my stead.
Should I entrust the task to Palgap?
His bearish build belied a sharp intuition and quick wits when it counted, sharper than most.
Yet without him, who would handle my daily affairs?
Time remained on my side for now, so I could focus elsewhere in the meantime.
- * *
To be honest, compared to other famed lakes across the Central Plains, West Lake wasn’t particularly vast in size.
But its breathtaking scenery alone drew crowds from afar, all eager to savor the timeless vistas.
At a modest fabric shop nestled amid Hangzhou’s lively streets.
Business thrived as usual that day, the air humming with the soft rustle of silks.
“This is our latest shipment of fine silk. Notice how evenly it’s dyed—no blemishes at all.”
“Oh? It’s truly lovely…”
“Pair this azure skirt with gold-thread embroidery and a vibrant red jacket—imagine how striking that would look.”
“Y-yes, I suppose it would.”
“The men passing by wouldn’t stand a chance; they’d stop in their tracks.”
“I’ll take it.”
The primary patrons of fabric shops near West Lake were the women from the pleasure houses, and among them, this ‘Eun-deok Fabric Shop’ enjoyed quite the reputation.
The establishment itself wasn’t ancient by any means.
Just four years prior, its current owner, a man named Wi Jun-deok, had acquired an existing store and transformed it into this fabric venture.
It started far smaller than today, yet in merely four years, it had more than doubled in scale.
Once the midday rush of customers ebbed, Wi Jun-deok stepped out for a brief respite.
“I’ll be back shortly.”
“Yes, safe travels. Supervisor.”
He waved with a warm laugh.
“Haha, I’m no longer a supervisor, remember?”
“But it’s become such a habit…”
“Fair enough—after calling me that for over a decade. Anyway, I’ll head out.”
“Yes.”
Wi Jun-deok left the shop behind and strolled along the thoroughfare.
“How swiftly the years have slipped away!”
Merely four years earlier, his life had flickered like a candle in the wind, precarious and uncertain.
Serving as supervisor for the Dong Clan Merchant Group, he’d been traveling with the clan lord’s second son on a trade run when the devastating news struck: the entire group had been dismantled.
The Dong Clan Lord’s plot to assassinate Jin U-rim, leader of the Jinhwa Merchant Group, had been exposed, kindling the Emperor’s wrath and sealing their doom.
Despite Wi’s earnest pleas to go into hiding and bide their time, the second son, Dong Wu-yeok, plunged ahead recklessly.
He’d deployed a Blast Thunder Bomb against the Eunhae Merchant Group’s entourage, en route to Beijing under imperial decree.
And then,
In the concealed depths of that forest, he’d encountered a figure: Eun Seo-ho.
The chance Eun Seo-ho offered might have stemmed from mere caprice.
Yet he honored his word.
Not a single pursuing imperial guard had darkened his path since.
Thanks to that, Wi had survived and made his way here.
Pondering his future amid the uncertainty, he’d settled on opening a fabric shop.
Dealing in textiles had defined his life thus far; reinventing himself entirely felt daunting, a path too shadowed to tread.
He named the shop Eun-deok—receiving grace.
For his very survival was a debt owed to Eun Seo-ho’s mercy.
Choosing Hangzhou in Zhejiang Province held no grand motive.
Having operated from nearby Jiangsu before, this similar region felt like a natural extension.
“Hm…”
Wi Jun-deok walked the streets at an unhurried pace.
To an onlooker, he might appear aimless, but this routine formed a vital part of his business acumen.
It sharpened his eye for shifting fashions, subtle trends emerging among the crowds.
Thus, every two or three days, he wandered the bustling districts, observing attire and changes in the throng.
During one such ramble, a familiar voice caught his ear—clear and resonant, lodging neatly in his memory.
Turning toward the sound, he spotted a young man in a flowing crimson robe.
A handsome youth with an enigmatic charm.
Though four years had woven their subtle changes, Wi recognized him at once upon seeing that face.
“Isn’t that Deputy Merchant Lord Eun Seo-ho?”
- * *
Gazing out from the third floor of this pleasure house toward West Lake below, I had to admit—the view carried a certain appeal.
At the adjacent table, Palgap and the Escort Guards sat enjoying tea, their presence a quiet comfort.
But not them; the man seated directly across from me was the true reason for my visit here.
“How have things been for you these past years?”
“Ah, well enough.”
“Thank you for upholding your promise back then.”
“I gave my word, so I kept it.”
The middle-aged man before me had once served as supervisor for the Dong Clan, the very group that schemed against Jin U-rim’s life.
I’d granted him a chance in that moment, and from the look of it, he’d thrived beyond expectation.
His attire spoke of modest prosperity, and his expression held a relaxed ease, unburdened by hardship.
“Come to think of it, I never properly introduced myself. You probably don’t even know my name.”
I offered an awkward smile, inviting him to continue.
“I’m called Wi Jun-deok. And these days, I run a fabric shop near West Lake.”
“I see.”
We exchanged light conversation, much of it flowing from Shopkeeper Wi.
As his tales unfolded, a quiet realization stirred within me.
No doubt, he had advised Dong Wu-yeok to the best of his ability back then. The fault lay with the young heir for ignoring that counsel.
In a strange way, Dong Wu-yeok had my gratitude.
Because of him, a capable talent like this had survived, allowing our paths to cross once more.
My own efforts played a part, of course, but without the initial spark, no flame endures.
“By the way, what brings you to West Lake?”
“Ah, just some business matters.”
“I understand. If it’s not too forward, may I ask what sort?”
“My apologies—it’s a trade secret.”
“As expected.”
He respected boundaries without overstepping, yet his instincts as a merchant remained keen and alive.
A man of clear talent.
And with his evident goodwill toward me, the prospect grew even more promising.
One might call it callous to gauge emotions so keenly, but the world of commerce demanded such clarity.
Money itself held no sentiment, yet those who wielded it were flesh and blood, alive with feelings.
Just when I needed a skilled, trustworthy ally, this opportunity had presented itself neatly.
Lowering my voice, I ventured the offer.
“From what I’ve seen, Shopkeeper Wi, you’re not the sort to content himself with small ponds. So, how would you feel about testing deeper waters?”
–TL Notes–
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