Chapter 10
by Wintermoon“That man only did it because he was ordered to. If I stir up trouble for no reason, the only people who will suffer are those around me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I cannot be by Yong-rae’s, Nanny’s, or your side every hour of the day.”
Hwi’s eyes narrowed. Did that mean the bastards of the main house harassed the annex servants the moment Yoo-ha’s back was turned?
“Shall I order one more?”
Hwi watched Yoo-ha in silence. The man sat before him, pouring water and pushing the cup toward him with care. Hwi took another bite of the dumpling.
“No. I’m fine.”
A master who looked after a servant’s very meals. Hwi had never heard of such a thing, let alone imagined it. Swallowing the meat, he met Yoo-ha’s gaze.
From the perspective of a man raised on the refined delicacies of the Imperial Palace kitchen, the quality of the dumplings was undeniably low-grade. Under normal circumstances, Hwi would have spat the first bite out in disgust, yet it wasn’t nearly as wretched as he had expected.
As Hwi chewed slowly, Yoo-ha scanned the market alley as if searching for someone. His gaze eventually settled on a single spot, and a faint smile touched his lips. Hwi followed his line of sight.
Is that the old beggar from before?
“He seems to be doing well,” Yoo-ha murmured.
Unlike before, the man was dressed neatly and sat before a small stall, speaking to the passersby who stopped. A shopkeeper, was it? Spotting a little girl who suddenly went running into the old man’s arms, Hwi looked puzzled.
“Didn’t you say his granddaughter had died?”
“She is the granddaughter of the shop owner across the way.”
Hwi watched the old man smile brightly at the child, tidying her clothes with weathered hands. He turned back to Yoo-ha.
“Interesting.”
“Hm?”
Hwi ignored Yoo-ha’s puzzled sound; he simply swallowed the rest of the dumpling in one bite.
“Excuse me, sir! You need to pay! Sir?”
Bang!
The clerk’s frantic voice was cut short by a heavy, dull crash. Every patron in the shop turned toward the sound. The shop owner came rushing over, bowing his head in a flurry of apologies.
“Oh, my heavens! I deeply apologize! He’s a new clerk, you see—he’s still quite new!”
“Train him properly,” a voice barked.
“Yes, yes! Of course! I am so sorry!”
Hwi watched with fascination. It looked as though a massive commotion was brewing, yet it was smoothed over with ease. People taking whatever they liked without so much as a thought toward payment. Judging by their attire, they weren’t royalty or members of a renowned clan.
“Hwi,” Yoo-ha whispered, his tone changing. “If you see men wearing black clothes with red sashes, be careful. It is best to avoid them entirely.”
“Who are they?”
“Pirates who wear the armor of the Mir Kingdom’s tacit approval. They are backed by the Jinso Merchant Guild.”
Most of the goods in the Kingdom of Ansi arrived via the waterways. Consequently, the power of those who controlled the currents was absolute.
”The Jinso Merchant Guild is the most powerful in the Kingdom of Ansi, and this pirate group has joined hands with them. And the Mir Kingdom’s navy chooses to turn a blind eye. Is that the gist of it?”
Yoo-ha was surprised by how effortlessly Hwi grasped the situation. He had extracted every hidden implication from just a few words.
”The kingdom attempts to address the problem, but there is no progress,” Yoo-ha replied. “Or perhaps they have no real intention of solving it at all.”
Yoo-ha believed the reason this issue persisted was simply because no one with the power to act was willing to do so. For those with vested interests, the status quo was far from inconvenient.
”If the issue is the monopolization of a narrow path, the solution is simple: break the path wide open.”
At Hwi’s indifferent, blunt response, Yoo-ha stared blankly for a moment. Usually, when a problem arose, people sought to modify or supplement the existing structure. But Hwi viewed the situation from a fundamentally different perspective. His method was not to fix the path, but to eliminate the cause of the blockage entirely.
It was bold, progressive advice.
Yoo-ha felt as if he had caught a fleeting glimpse of Hwi’s true nature—a decisiveness that Yoo-ha himself lacked. Somehow, it suited Hwi perfectly. It was yet another confirmation that his initial assumption had been correct: Hwi was no servant, nor had he ever been a slave.
He likely hails from a prominent family in the Mir Kingdom, doesn’t he?
Curiosity gnawed at him. What kind of life had Hwi led across the border?
”Wouldn’t a method that yields no profit be difficult to realize?”
Yoo-ha deliberately left the subject of “who” would lose profit ambiguously. A sudden, conflicting surge of emotion surfaced—a desire to test Hwi, yet at the same time, a hope that Hwi would be unable to answer.
”The seat of power always changes, and bloodlines eventually run thin,” Hwi replied, his answer as fast as Yoo-ha’s question. “While the structure still allows power to suppress power, the foundation must be solidified if the nation’s destiny is to endure.”
Though Yoo-ha couldn’t fully parse the weight of every word, he felt he understood the essence. To maintain a dynasty, the structures that served the people—the very foundation of the state—had to be unshakeable.
Hwi had clearly been educated by an exceptional tutor. Moreover, he undoubtedly came from a family prominent enough to secure such an elite education.
“You always say things that are difficult to understand.”
The inner voice that had hoped Hwi would falter slipped out as a quiet remark.
Hwi didn’t ask for clarification. He simply met Yoo-ha’s gaze in the heavy silence. Then, he dusted off his hands and signaled with a sharp look that it was time to move on.
“Are you truly sure you don’t want another order?”
“I have had enough. Let us go.”
The next stop after the dumpling shop was a merchant dealing in charcoal and firewood.
“Welcome,” a voice called out.
“I would like to speak with the owner,” Yoo-ha said.
“And who is asking?”
At Yoo-ha’s demand to see the master of the shop immediately upon entering, the clerk narrowed his eyes, measuring him. Seeing the silk robes, the clerk took him for a member of the Mir or Maru clans. However, noting the frayed and shabby state of the garment, he quickly concluded this was a noble in name only.
“Tell him I am here on behalf of the Pung-u Merchant Guild.”
“Merchant guild or whatever… Wait, what did you say? The Pung-u Merchant Guild?”
“That is correct.”
“Oh, heavens! I didn’t recognize such an important guest. Yes, yes—of course. Please, wait just one moment!”
The moment he heard the name, the clerk’s dismissive attitude vanished. He scrambled toward the back of the shop, and a few breaths later, the owner himself came rushing out—so frantic to pay his respects that he hadn’t even stopped to put on his shoes.
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