All-Under-Heaven Inn, Bamboo Grove County, Henan Province.
Countless people passed through this place to sate their hunger.
It was a small inn that could accommodate barely more than ten guests, but its innkeeper, Chang Ho, was so affable and kind that it had quite a number of regulars.
"Oh my, Master Yong, you've arrived? Please, have a seat! I'll bring out some stir-fried bok choy at once!"
The man looked like a shabby country bumpkin, a bundle slung across his back, but Chang Ho warmly greeted him as a master.
The traveling merchant Yong Gang clicked his tongue and shook his head.
"Tsk, one day you're going to get yourself into real trouble talking like that! What sort of master am I? I'm only an ordinary peddler!"
Chang Ho grinned.
"So you don't like it, Master Yong?"
Yong Gang looked at him, then let out a snort of laughter.
Why would he dislike being flattered?
"Ahem, who said I didn't like it! I'm only worried, that's all!"
"Now, now, enough chatter. Sit down! You must be tired after coming all the way up from Guangdong again today!"
Chang Ho even knew his exact point of departure.
Yong Gang stared at him for a moment, surprised, then marveled aloud.
"Good heavens, that memory of yours! It won't be long before the All-Under-Heaven Inn becomes the finest tavern in Henan Province!"
"Ha ha! If a good memory were enough to build Henan's finest tavern, that fellow would have done it already! Hey, you! Get over here and bring Master Yong at least a cup of cold water first!"
Chang Ho called loudly toward the back of the inn.
At that, a young man in plain clothes emerged, dishcloth in hand, looking bored.
He was fairly tall and quite handsome, but the emptiness that pervaded his face was enough to eclipse all of that.
His vacant eyes were so hollow that it was impossible to tell what they held.
At the sight of him, Yong Gang waved as if delighted.
"Murin, it's been a long time!"
"You've arrived."
The young man called Murin briskly wiped down the table where Yong Gang sat with the dishcloth.
Though he seemed to be doing it halfheartedly, his grip was remarkably strong, and the table was clean in no time.
"Have you been well?"
Murin merely gave a slight nod in answer to Yong Gang's warm greeting.
"Yes. More or less."
"You brat! Is that any way to speak to an elder? Are you going to answer properly or not?"
As Chang Ho glared, Yong Gang smiled good-naturedly and stopped him.
"Heh heh, why make such a fuss? I rather like this side of Murin. Don't scold him so much."
His gaze was warm, as though he were looking at his own son.
Then again, Yong Gang was nearing fifty, so it was understandable.
He had always said that, had he married early, he would have had a son about this age.
"Ah, seeing your face reminds me! I brought you something from Guangdong Province."
He rummaged through his clothes and took something out.
"Oh, Master Yong, you're too generous! You went all the way there, and you still brought something for this boy?"
Chang Ho spoke disapprovingly, but Yong Gang merely chuckled and handed the item to Murin.
"Take it. When I saw it, I thought of you."
What he handed over was a common money pouch made of cloth.
Though it was simply made, its stitching was so sturdy that silver coins did not seem likely to spill out easily.
And its surface was embroidered with a paired-fish pattern said to draw wealth.
It was very modest, yet far from an ordinary money pouch.
"Didn't you say you wanted to save silver coins and find the place where your mother was buried? Save the wages the innkeeper gives you in that pouch. I had paired fish embroidered on it, so you'll surely gather a fair bit of money."
A small money pouch.
Yet it was sturdily stitched and even embroidered with a paired-fish pattern, making it a gift filled with the giver's care.
It showed just how much Yong Gang cherished Murin.
Murin, who had been standing frozen before the pouch, accepted it with both hands and gave a deep bow.
"Thank you, Master."
At those words, Yong Gang burst into hearty laughter.
"You rascal! You really do like the gift! I even got to see you bow your head! Ha ha ha!"
Chang Ho shot Murin a sidelong glance.
"Good grief. Look at you, completely won over by a single gift like some fool...."
But without a change in expression, Murin tucked the money pouch into his clothes.
He had needed a pouch to store the silver he was saving, and Yong Gang had given him exactly the right gift.
"I'll bring out the food."
With a touch more warmth in his voice than before, Murin went back inside the inn.
Watching him go, Chang Ho shook his head.
"That hopeless boy. Still, you're the only one who looks after him, Master Yong. He'll be truly grateful."
Yong Gang nodded with a smile.
"Having a good memory isn't always a good thing, is it? That boy, especially, remembers even his days as a newborn.... Though he says he remembers nothing for a long time after that, how could he easily bear the memory of his mother dying while holding him in her arms?"
Chang Ho let out a long sigh.
In truth, Murin was a child he had brought home after saving him from being beaten by beggar children at the marketplace.
That had already been fifteen years ago.
Though he had been such a small boy, his eyes had been so vicious and fierce.
Several of the beggar children had already been knocked flat by stones he had thrown.
Clicking his tongue at that ferocity, Chang Ho had taken the boy in and begun raising him at the All-Under-Heaven Inn.
In a way, Chang Ho was practically his adoptive father.
"It really is strange. How can he remember when he was a newborn...? Ah...."
It seemed impossible.
Chang Ho had thought it was merely a child's lie.
But as Murin grew older, he stubbornly insisted that he wanted to find the place where his mother had died and bury her properly.
He was told that it would require an enormous amount of silver, but they could not break Murin's resolve.
Instead, he had even thrown a tantrum, saying he would help with the work at the inn if they gave him silver.
Once it came to that, they had no choice but to believe him.
"Did he say it was a battlefield? Well, he said many ordinary people had died there, so it would be more accurate to call it a slaughterhouse than a battlefield."
A memory seen through the eyes of a newborn.
That was what Murin had said.
His mother had drawn her last breath while holding him tightly in a place littered with the bodies of countless people.
He said he had seen, far in the distance, a triangular mountain and red pines as crimson as if they had been drenched in blood.
Murin further explained that the triangular mountain had looked sharp and pointed, as though a blade had been planted upright.
The place where he had nearly died.
How could he remember it so clearly?
"In any case, the poor boy. I wish he could go about more cheerfully, but when I think of the life he's lived...."
Chang Ho clicked his tongue, looking deeply distressed.
Perhaps it was his innate disposition, but Murin—Cheon Murin, that is—was not much of a talker and tended to be shy.
Yet he carried out every task entrusted to him quietly and flawlessly, and his memory in particular was beyond belief.
He remembered things from when he was a newborn. How extraordinary must that memory be?
An enormous number of guests came and went through the inn, yet he was a monster who remembered their appearances, personalities, speech, and even the kinds of food and liquor they had consumed that day.
But knowing his circumstances, the two men instead pitied him, wishing he had been an ordinary person without those memories.
Then Yong Gang suddenly seemed to recall something and asked Chang Ho,
"Ah, does he still become like that whenever he goes near a blade?"
At those words, Chang Ho's expression instantly hardened.
"Don't even mention it! Didn't you see him completely lose his mind when he picked up a kitchen knife last time? He's a madman, a madman! Maybe he was a butcher obsessed with slaughter in a past life!"
It was a strange thing.
For some reason, whenever Murin held a bladed weapon, his eyes rolled back and he revealed a madness.
Then he tried to attack everything around him, and last time they had gone to tremendous lengths to restrain him.
Murin had always been strong, but with a blade in his hand, he became a completely different person.
Even then, it had taken five or six grown men, along with Chang Ho and Yong Gang, to subdue him at last.
Even five or six grown men had been unable to hold him down. Fortunately, his strength had slowly ebbed only after he heard Chang Ho and Yong Gang shouting.
"What a dreadful affliction.... That child will never be able to work as a cook. What a pity."
Yong Gang shook his head, looking sincerely regretful.
"The food is ready, Master."
Just then, Murin emerged carrying water and food, his voice a little gentler than before.
Yong Gang beamed and nodded.
"Ah, that smell! This is why I can never give up the All-Under-Heaven Inn! Chef Yeon's skill is as fine as ever!"
"Heh heh, is that so? Chef Yeon is getting on in years and says he plans to return to his hometown, so I'm worried about what to do."
"Oh? Is that so? There is no one else as good as him!"
While the two chatted in low voices, Murin was about to head back inside.
Then Yong Gang raised a hand and called to him, as though he had remembered something.
"Ah, Murin! Could you give me the money pouch I gave you earlier?"
When Murin looked puzzled, Chang Ho, who seemed to catch on, said,
"Hurry and give it to him! Master must have something in mind!"
A smile had formed on Chang Ho's lips as he spoke.
"Ah, all right."
Murin took the money pouch from his clothes and held it out to Yong Gang.
"Mm! Leave it there and go on."
"Yes...."
As Murin turned to head inside again, Chang Ho slapped his forehead and said,
"Goodness, where has my mind gone? Murin! Go draw some water! Chef Yeon asked someone to fetch water, and I only just remembered!"
About a quarter-hour's walk from the All-Under-Heaven Inn stood a well that yielded clear, delicious water.
Thanks to that, the inn was famous for the fine taste of its water.
They therefore always kept several jars filled with extra water.
"Yes, Innkeeper."
Murin had never disobeyed a word from Chang Ho, the innkeeper.
He went outside, picked up the water yoke, and disappeared somewhere.
Watching his retreating figure, Yong Gang wore a pleased expression.
"What a fine boy."
Chang Ho looked at him and said in a suggestive tone, "Why don't you do what you were about to do?"
Chang Ho was grinning at Yong Gang as if expecting something, and Yong Gang let out a chuckle.
"Heh heh, you see too much! Thanks to that, the boy had to go all the way to the well, didn't he?"
As he spoke, he opened his own money pouch, took out several pieces of silver, and carefully placed them into the pouch he had given Murin. Then, smiling with satisfaction, he murmured,
"Murin, earn plenty of money, find your mother, and live happily. I could not put much in it, but please understand this uncle's heart."
But Chang Ho, who had watched this, looked startled.
"Isn't that too much? He's only a child! You'll spoil him!"
Yong Gang shook his head.
"No. That child is by no means frivolous, so he will not spend silver recklessly. And if it helps him find his mother, how could I begrudge it?"
Chang Ho slowly nodded.
He knew how dearly Yong Gang cared for Murin, so he could no longer dissuade him.
While the two were talking, someone entered.
"Huff, huff!"
At the sight, the people inside the inn cried out in alarm.
"What's with that man?"
"What the—!"
It was a man drenched from head to toe in blood.
At a glance, Chang Ho could tell from his martial arts uniform that he seemed to be a martial artist.
But none of the wounds covering his body looked shallow.
What in the world had happened to him?
"P-please, save...."
Crash!
Just then, a group of men burst in, violently smashing through the inn's door.
They wore black martial arts uniforms and carried swords, but every one of them had a mask covering his face, making their identities impossible to discern.
"Eliminate him!"
The man who seemed to be their leader shouted, and the others ruthlessly swung their swords at the blood-soaked man.
Slash!
A spray of blood scattered in every direction. The man trembled violently, then collapsed where he stood.
"What is this...?"
Chang Ho shot to his feet.
But the leader looked at him.
Only his eyes were visible, but the dense killing intent pouring from them made Chang Ho stagger back.
It was an instinctive reaction.
As though a herbivore had suddenly found itself face-to-face with the eyes of a predator hunting for its throat.
"Kill them all!"
Silence every witness.
Whoever they were, they meant to kill everyone here to conceal what they had done.
"By your command!"
The swordsmen scattered in every direction.
'M-Murin!'
As he watched Chang Ho collapse before his eyes, Yong Gang prayed that Murin, who had gone to fetch water, would not return now.
Clench—
And he gripped Murin's money pouch, full of silver, tightly in his hand.
Splurt—
Yong Gang's blood sprayed upward.