Crows under heaven are all one black.
All the crows under heaven are black.
A villain is a villain, every one of them.
There's no need for a story behind it.
Evil is evil.
That's what the idiom means.
And if I were to describe how I see this world from that viewpoint.
“Every martial artist is, in the end, a murderer.”
That's what it comes to.
Is there a single knight-errant of the orthodox sects who has never killed anyone?
Isn't what they cultivate the art of killing people in the first place?
Even if Qingcheng cultivates the Dao, it's a Dao of murder.
Even if Emei studies the Buddha's Law, it's a law of murder.
That's how I saw it.
Just look at how the people right in front of me were reacting.
A voice of absurd volume suddenly burst out.
“Everyone, stand back!”
Even common folk who had never learned martial arts knew at least that inner arts were packed into that lion's roar.
They also knew that if they didn't do as they were told right away, their lives could go flying.
It took only an instant for the eyes of the bookshop owner I'd been talking to to waver with unease.
He and I quickly hid ourselves inside the building.
Passersby in the market street ran to get under a roof, any roof at all.
I poked my head out slightly.
Curiosity is human nature, so there's no helping it.
Dust rose, and before the owner of that booming voice, his prey appeared.
“Ngh.”
All I heard was that groan.
A young man who looked not the least bit suspicious, kind-faced even, appeared as if he'd dropped straight out of the sky.
It had to be movement arts or whatever they called it.
My eyes couldn't follow it properly.
With a groan, he tried to vanish again, and failed.
Have you ever seen a person's head go flying with your own eyes?
The me of five years ago hadn't.
But now it's a sight I see five or six times a year.
I have no idea how sharp a thing it takes to cut like that.
The body that had been about to bolt moved a few steps even after losing its head.
Then, as if realizing its life had run out, it slid and collapsed.
The blood spurted a moment later.
The heart wouldn't know yet that it was dead, and it would begin pumping out blood with fierce beats.
I flinched in horror and hid behind a pillar.
Of all directions, the corpse had slid toward me.
If blood splattered on me again, the lady at the laundry would give me an earful.
Fortunately, the toppled corpse emptied what was inside it onto the ground.
Letting out a sigh, I looked at the bookshop owner.
He was already clicking his tongue.
“Well, looks like I won't have to scrub blood off the wall again.”
“That's a relief, Mister Jang.”
“What were we talking about?”
“About how I passed every stage of the Youth Examination.”
“Heh heh, so we were. Congratulations. You're a proper Licentiate now. Guess I can't go calling you so carelessly anymore. How old are you this year?”
“Twenty-five.”
“A genius, you are. And to think you were a young fellow who couldn't even speak our language properly at first.”
The small talk calmly picked back up.
We didn't know what had happened, but for now it was over.
Seeing someone die is an everyday thing.
That's because this is a world where the murim exists.
Even I've gotten used to it by now.
Soon another martial artist or some government soldiers would show up and clear away the body.
“Oh? Did you say Licentiate?”
But the one who appeared was an old man.
The bookshop owner flinched for an instant.
He had to be the martial artist who'd just cut off that corpse's head.
I quickly bowed my head to show respect.
“That is correct. I passed the final examination last year and became a Licentiate this year.”
“I see. Pardon me. I must have startled you.”
I only learned it after coming here, but a Licentiate is a position treated as half a government official.
It's a more impressive title than you'd think.
Yet the old man only gave a light nod of courtesy and did not bow.
That's what masters of the murim are like.
“Forgive me, but might I ask a favor of you?”
It wasn't welcome, but I smiled as I raised my head. A serene face greeted me, the kind that made me wonder whether anyone had ever once in his life opposed his opinion.
I had no choice anyway.
He knew that too.
“I have just finished my business. If an honored elder renowned in the murim asks a favor, I shall naturally oblige.”
“I thank you. Go to the Clear Wind Inn over there and fetch those brats of mine. The dead must be cleared away, must they not?”
“Ah, if that is the case, it is something I should gladly help with as well.”
“Then I must search the surroundings further, so I leave it to you.”
“Please be careful. There is no telling where the villains might be lurking.”
The old man vanished, and the bookshop owner raised his slightly frozen face.
The moment I started answering, he had lowered his head and kept as quiet as a dead mouse. A wise call. Get tangled up with martial artists, and your life gets shorter.
“Heh heh, you're a Licentiate all right. How can you talk so smoothly to such a terrifying martial artist?”
“There are plenty of martial artists at Jeong Manor too, so maybe I've just gotten used to them.”
But the Clear Wind Inn, of all places. Maybe not for a martial artist, but for an ordinary person like me, it's pretty far. What a pain of an errand.
Still, I already knew who that elderly martial artist was.
It was very well known that an elder of the Namgung had come all the way from distant Anhui and was staying here in Sichuan.
Judging by the blue martial arts uniform, it was definitely the old man from just now.
Right after, the man himself confirmed it.
[Ah, my apologies. I am called Namgung Hyeon-ri. Tell my brats as much. Then they will believe you.]
The voice seemed to stab right into my ear. What was it called, telepathy or something? It must be that.
“I'll be going now, Elder.”
“Take care on your way.”
As I trudged along, people began moving again.
The sudden disaster had passed, and since no one had been hurt or killed, everything returned to normal in an instant.
It was always like that here.
It had been that way for the past five years.
***
The Clear Wind Inn had now become the most famous inn in Sichuan.
That was because the younger brother of the Namgung Clan Head, an old man who was a senior figure of the murim, was staying there with his children.
Having nothing to do with the murim, I had no idea why they'd come all the way to faraway Sichuan to stay.
I was simply carrying out the favor asked of me.
When I sent word through the steward, a prim-looking girl appeared.
“Father sent you?”
“He asked that you retrieve the body of a martial artist he cut down in the market street.”
“Ah…….”
The girl hurried upstairs and brought down her older brothers.
One was a dignified-looking man who seemed about thirty, and the other, in contrast, was a timid-looking young man around my age.
As I took the lead to guide them, I couldn't help overhearing their chatter.
“Looks like Father succeeded in rooting out the spy.”
“Seeing as he decided there was no need to interrogate him, I'd guess he had something tucked inside his robes.”
“But will the Demonic Cult really strike Sichuan first?”
Having read my share of martial arts novels, I could roughly tell what they meant.
But even if I heard, I had to pretend I didn't.
I have no intention of getting involved with the murim.
My dream is to rise to an official post and live a stable life.
So, even if I hear something, I pretend I didn't.
I have to act like I'm not interested at all.
“You two. The Licentiate can hear you, so mind your words.”
“Yes, Orabeoni.”
It wasn't a dismissive tone.
The eldest was being considerate of me. I was truly grateful.
I didn't want to hear any conversation about the Demonic Cult this and that.
Who knows, it could end up being the reason someone plunged a knife into my heart and walked off.
The problem in the first place was that I'd been dressed like someone you'd ask a favor of.
‘Was it a mistake to get excited for nothing and dress up in my official robes?’
I'd become a Licentiate. The results were announced, and I was issued official robes. So I got a little carried away, and right away I ended up watching someone die.
The murim is another world.
Thankfully, guiding the Namgung children to where the body had been wasn't hard.
I bowed first to signal that I would take my leave.
The three siblings bowed back.
Seeing that, it sank in all over again that I'd passed the civil service examination.
In the past, I'd never have received such mutual courtesy.
Then again, that old man wouldn't have sent me on an errand either.
***
On the way back, I looked up at the sky.
Just then, a flock of crows was flying overhead.
Martial artists, murderers, villains.
I will never join that flock.
I'm going to treasure my own life.
If martial artists are crows, then officials must be white egrets.
They may not be lofty, but at least they'd never have to dye their feathers black.
At the very least, they'd never have to dye them with blood.
“I'd better start preparing for the Provincial Examination soon. Only once I get an official post will these threats to my life go away.”
I trudged home.
My name, as of today a Licentiate's, is Saeng.
My surname is Heo.
Heo Saeng has become a Licentiate, so now he's Licentiate Heo.
It's the name of a protagonist I've heard plenty of times somewhere.
But I've never wanted to be a protagonist.
Nor have I ever wanted to be a traveler who arrived in such a strange world.
Isn't that precisely the kind of trial only a protagonist should be given?
The role I'd wanted was at most the protagonist's helper, since that way you enjoy the glory and suffer less hardship.
So why did I end up here?
It's already been five years since I started asking myself that.
Heo Saeng, once a twenty-year-old young man of the Republic of Korea, has now become twenty-five-year-old Licentiate Heo of a world he can't even identify.
I'm still living in this world.
Without any miraculous encounter or protagonist's boost.