The inn was filled with a light clamor.
On the first floor of the two-story inn built around a courtyard, people were having dinner, men were drinking, and in a corner a few were fiddling with domino tiles. A pot-bellied middle-aged man, who seemed to be the innkeeper, bustled about carrying bowls of noodles, bottles of wine, and small dishes.
Just then, a man wearing a bamboo hat lifted the hanging curtain and stepped inside.
He was an outsider. Those slurping noodles and drinking wine cast sidelong glances at him. Judging from the sword at his side he was surely a martial man, but in the New World every dog and ox clutched a blade and called themselves that, so it was hardly anything unusual.
When the man stopped, sensing the gazes on him, the innkeeper approached, wiping his hands on the towel at his belt.
“A stranger, eh? Welcome, welcome.”
The man pushed his hat up slightly with a finger and looked at the innkeeper. The innkeeper met the man’s eyes under the brim and continued.
“Staying the night?”
“Dinner too.”
The innkeeper nodded.
“Ten wen.”
The man silently pulled out ten coins from his breast and handed them over. The innkeeper took them and headed toward the kitchen.
“Sit anywhere you like. I’ll have a bowl of noodles out quick.”
The man walked to a corner table, drew the sheathed sword from his belt and set it by the table, then removed his hat.
Seeing that he wasn’t here to cause trouble, the inn, which had quieted for a moment, soon grew noisy again.
The man, Jang Geon, sat in a relaxed posture with both hands resting on the table and slowly looked around the room.
Most of those in the tavern-cum-eatery were locals from the village or nearby farmers. Of course, a few, like him, had propped a sword by their side, but there were only three or four at most. In the cities and towns along the western coast, there were often more self-styled martial men than commoners, but this region lay farther inland. Here, there were more farmers than sword-carriers.
And the few who did carry blades looked more like wanderers who had armed themselves for self-defense than true fighters.
Though there were quite a few guests, it seemed the innkeeper was the only one working. Unlike other inns, there was no boy running errands, nor wife or children helping out. Jang Geon figured it might take some time for his noodles to arrive.
“You bastard! You cheated me just now, didn’t you?”
“What? Cheating? Maybe think about your crippled fingers before you start shouting.”
From the corner, where men were playing with dominoes, voices suddenly rose. One man sprang up, pointing at the man seated with his back toward Jang Geon, accusing him of cheating. Both jumped to their feet, shouting they would kill each other.
The other patrons only shook their heads or chuckled as they sipped their drinks—clearly a common sight. Even the innkeeper, peeking out from the kitchen curtain, smirked and went back inside. No one looked worried; it seemed it would end with little more than curses.
But Jang Geon’s eyes stayed fixed on them. To be precise, from the moment he heard the voice of the man with his back toward him.
“Damn it! How is it that you win all day and I lose all day?”
“That’s your fingers’ problem, not mine. Everyone else at the table won plenty.”
“You bastard—”
The man accusing him finally lost his temper and shoved his opponent. The other staggered back a few steps, then snarled.
“You want to do this for real?”
“Damn right! Did you think I was some fool just because I let it slide till now?”
The two grabbed each other by the collar, shaking violently, hurling curses. And at last Jang Geon saw the face of the man who had only shown his back till now.
A faint smile touched his lips.
“So, here you were.”
Murmuring briefly, Jang Geon rose and strode toward them while they continued to spit foul words at each other. The others at the table just chuckled, making no move to intervene.
“Hey.”
The two men froze at Jang Geon’s voice, turning to look. The one who had cried cheating gave him a baffled look, as if to say, Who the hell is this? But the other man suddenly paled.
“…What is it?”
When the first asked, Jang Geon shook his head.
“Not you.”
The pale-faced man rolled his eyes nervously, then forced a weak grin.
“…Brother Jang, fancy meeting you here.”
“Yes. Been two months. How’ve you been?”
The man slowly released his grip on his opponent’s collar and stepped back. The other, confused, let go as well.
“M-Me? I’ve been fine, fine. And you, Brother Jang?”
Jang Geon shook his head with a smile.
“I’ve not been fine. Funny how every last one of your gang says they’ve been fine.”
“…So you found the others too?”
“Yes. You’re the last.”
The man shuffled another step backward.
“L-Look, I—I was against it from the start. Really. Who robs martial men with swords over a game of dominoes? If we got caught, the blades would be in us for sure.”
“But in the end, you all did it.”
The man stared blankly at Jang Geon’s reply, then suddenly barked a laugh and spun to flee. But the instant he turned, a brutal hand clamped the back of his head and slammed it down onto the table strewn with dominoes.
“Ugh!”
His forehead crashed against the wood, dominoes and coins rattling. The bystanders flinched back in shock. The man thrashed, trying to break free, but Jang Geon’s grip was like stone.
“I swear I told them not to! And you lost all that money just sitting there, Brother Jang! We weren’t going to stop you if you’d stood up! It’s the truth, please!”
Jang Geon gave no reply. He seized the man’s left hand, laid it flat on the table, and drew out the hidden domino from his sleeve. Shoving it in the man’s face, he whispered coldly.
“Does that erase your cheating? Cut the crap, Yang Gung. Where’s my money?”
Yang Gung swallowed hard at the glint in Jang Geon’s eyes.
“I… I turned it in for a Martial Alliance bounty.”
“The fuck? You used it for a bounty?”
Yang Gung trembled at the fury darkening Jang Geon’s face.
“T-There’s a Martial Alliance branch right here in town—what else could I do? I still have to eat at an inn, don’t I…”
Jang Geon yanked him upright by the collar.
“So you’ve got nothing left?”
“N-Not nothing. I’ve won a bit here. You can take that…”
He pointed with his eyes at the coins on the table. Jang Geon shoved him aside and began sweeping the coins into his hands.
The accuser, the gamblers, the other patrons—everyone stared blankly. Clearly Yang Gung had been caught cheating before and run off, only to be found. Even knowing that, Jang Geon’s brazenness left them speechless.
“Stop! Stop right there!”
The man who had cried cheating found his wits and shouted.
“Those are all winnings from cheating! That’s my money!”
Jang Geon glanced at him, still pocketing the coins.
“Not my problem. Settle it with him later.”
“You son of a—”
The man lunged, trying to shove Jang Geon as he had shoved Yang Gung.
But Jang Geon caught his hands, tugged, and slipped aside.
“Whoa!”
Dragged forward, the man toppled headlong, smashing his face on the floor. Clearly untrained, he had no way to break the fall. Jang Geon ignored him, finished scooping the coins, tucked them away, and grabbed Yang Gung by the collar again.
“H-Hey, Brother Jang, what are you—”
“What do you think? It’s nowhere near enough.”
“I… I’ve got nothing else…”
Yang Gung gave a pitiful grin and held up empty hands, as if to say: search me if you don’t believe it.
Jang Geon wondered if he should strip the man bare—
“You bastard!”
The man who had fallen staggered up, clutching his bleeding nose, glaring murder.
“You wrecked my nose? You’re dead!”
Clicking his tongue at the sight, Jang Geon muttered.
“Sorry for hurting you. But I’ve lost more than a few coins to this swindler…”
His words trailed off, for the man suddenly bolted out of the inn. Watching his retreating back, Jang Geon chuckled in disbelief, then turned back to Yang Gung.
“What the hell was that fool?”
“H-His name’s Jin Yangseok, but…”
Jang Geon cut him off with a shake of his head.
“Enough. What about you?”
“W-What about me?”
Jang Geon’s grip on his collar tightened.
“Will you cough up the rest, or will I smash your dantian?”
At that, Yang Gung twitched, his left eye and both hands trembling.
“Even if you scatter my measly qi, what good would it do you, Brother Jang?”
Jang Geon showed no pity, only raising a rock-solid fist before Yang Gung’s face.
Shifting his gaze between fist and eyes, Yang Gung let out a deep sigh, sagged, and dropped his gaze.
“…Then at least let me go. I’ve got something hidden on me.”
Released, he tugged open his collar, tore at the inside seam, and drew out a small cloth bundle cleverly hidden there. With slow hands he unwrapped it, revealing a small jade ring.
He looked at it, sighed again, and held it out.
“…I got this back in Shinsa Province. It’s real jade. Find the right buyer, it should fetch a fair price.”
Jang Geon turned it in his hand, then pocketed it at once. Yang Gung, watching nervously, asked:
“H-How about it? Enough now?”
“Yes. This will do.”
Jang Geon gave a faint smile. Yang Gung forced a crooked grin in return. Jang Geon then turned his head toward the innkeeper, who had stuck his head out from the kitchen. Paying no mind to the stares of disbelief from the patrons, he asked in a flat tone:
“When are my noodles coming?”