Chapter 11
by Wintermoon“Did you say you are from the Pung-u Merchant Guild?”
“I did.”
“Please, this way. Right this way!”
Yoo-ha followed the owner into the inner office. Hwi moved to follow, but Yoo-ha raised a hand to stop him, leaving him alone with the clerk. Left to his own devices, Hwi turned to the man.
“What is this ‘Pung-u Merchant Guild’?”
“You’ve never heard of them?” the clerk asked, incredulous.
“I am asking because I do not know.”
“Are you not from around here? Not from Ansi?”
“Just tell me. What do they do?”
According to the clerk’s rambling explanation, the Pung-u Merchant Guild was an entity no merchant could survive without. Since the Kingdom of Ansi was walled in by massive mountain ranges on all four sides, trade with the outside world was a logistical nightmare.
The mountain passes were narrow, treacherous, and steep, strictly limiting the volume of goods that could be moved by land. Conversely, taking to the sea usually meant forfeiting one’s life or cargo to the swarming pirates.
To escape the pirates, one could utilize the safe sea lanes managed by the Kingdom of Mir, but the tolls were so astronomical that only the wealthiest guilds could afford them. The Pung-u Merchant Guild was the lifeline for the smaller merchants—the only reliable way to trade beyond Ansi’s borders.
“Does this guild fight the pirates, then?” Hwi asked.
“Fight them? Hardly.”
“Then how do they move goods without being intercepted?”
“That, I don’t know. No one does. All we know is that if you hire Pung-u, your goods arrive safely. And they’re far cheaper than the Mir Kingdom’s routes, to boot.”
They transport goods via sea, evading the very pirates the King of Ansi himself couldn’t eradicate? And Seong Yoo-ha is connected to such a guild? Hwi wondered if the letter Yoo-ha had received from the blacksmith was intended for this mysterious organization.
The meeting must have been simpler than expected, as Yoo-ha soon reappeared from the back of the shop.
“I shall leave it in your hands, then,” Yoo-ha said.
“You have my word, sir. I’m counting on you as well.”
“Of course.”
As they left the shop, Yoo-ha continued through the market, eventually stopping before a stall selling grilled meat skewers.
“Welcome! How many for you, traveler?”
“Just three, please.”
“Coming right up!”
The vendor handed over the skewers, and Yoo-ha signaled to Hwi with a look.
“Those dumplings wouldn’t have been enough to fill you. Besides, don’t you like these?”
Hmm. Not particularly. It wasn’t a delicacy, the meat was of middling quality, and the seasoning was entirely unremarkable. Nevertheless, Hwi didn’t refuse. He took the skewers and, in the blink of an eye, devoured them all, finishing with a satisfied smack of his lips.
“Should I buy you more?”
“No, I’m fine. But tell me—where are you getting the coin for all this?”
From what Hwi had observed, Seong Yoo-ha was a descendant effectively discarded by his family. He had no visible wealth, and his status within the household was barely a step above that of the servants. Hwi knew for a fact that Yoo-ha lacked even the funds for firewood, so where in the world was he finding the money to spend so freely?
“I have plenty of money,” Yoo-ha replied. “It is simply that I cannot bring anything purchased with it back into the annex.”
“Why?”
“Because of the circumstances. Anyway, Hwi…”
He has money, but cannot use it within the estate. That implied the funds were a secret from the Seong family. But how did he earn such a sum? It was almost certainly tied to the Pung-u Merchant Guild.
“Yeah.”
“There is something I need you to do tomorrow.”
“What is it?”
As Hwi asked, his gaze drifting regretfully toward the dumpling shop they were leaving, Yoo-ha caught the clerk’s eye. Realizing the intent immediately, the clerk packed a fresh tray of dumplings and handed it over.
“A shipment of goods will be delivered to the main house tomorrow,” Yoo-ha explained. “If you wait there, the clerk you saw earlier will hand you a supply of charcoal. Bring it back to the annex. Do not stop anywhere along the way; bring it straight to Yong-rae.”
Hwi was about to retort with annoyance—asking why he had to bother with such a task—but he stopped. He realized that the charcoal he was meant to retrieve was a contraband supply, something the main house must never discover. He swallowed a dumpling whole and gave a half-hearted grunt.
“Got it.”
“And…”
“And what?”
Yoo-ha looked up into Hwi’s face—the face of a man who had devoured a second tray of dumplings in a heartbeat. He carefully weighed his words, then simply shook his head.
He had intended to say that Hwi’s manner of speaking was entirely inappropriate for a servant addressing a master, and that it needed correction. But then he remembered that he might not even be able to pay the man’s wages come the next full moon, and that the meals Hwi ate were meager and rough compared to those of the main house servants. Yoo-ha offered him a gentle, apologetic smile instead.
“Nothing. Let’s go, hurry.”
Yoo-ha turned to leave, but before he could take a single step, Hwi’s hand clamped onto his shoulder.
“Do it again.”
“Do what?”
“That, just now. That smile.”
Yoo-ha chuckled, finding the demand absurd, and gently shook off the hand.
“Don’t be silly. Let’s go.”
“I said, show me that smile.”
Yoo-ha lightly tapped Hwi’s shoulder with his white fan as the man continued to stare intently at his face. Then, he started walking. It had been an exhausting day. Yoo-ha walked with a weary step, his heart pulled between two conflicting desires: he wanted to flee the Seong estate as soon as possible, yet he feared the day of his escape was coming far too late.
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