“Hm? You’re buying me a drink?”
At the middle-aged man’s words, Jin Sohan pointed to the seat again, his face making it plain he wanted to hear news about the Mystic Lunar Dance Troupe. The middle-aged man got up with a booming laugh and dropped into the chair across from him.
“Young brother, up close you’re a tall, fine-looking bastard.”
He leaned his broadsaber against the side of the table where he could snatch it in an instant.
Jin Sohan’s gaze slid to the weapon.
The hilt had filthy cloth wrapped around it in layers, and between the folds, old bloodstains were caked and smeared. When Jin Sohan stared at the grip, the middle-aged man glanced down at his own blade too, smiling faintly as if amused.
“Order the booze first.”
Jin Sohan snapped his fingers and looked at the server who’d been hovering, watching.
“Dogon. One bottle of aged wine over here.”
The moment Jin Sohan spoke the server’s name, the whole room flinched.
The middle-aged man stared at him.
“Huh? You know Dogon?”
“I’ve seen him before.”
“Before? How old are you, and what’s your name?”
“Jin Sohan. I’m twenty-six this year.”
Dogon brought over the food and the bottle of aged wine and set them down with exaggerated care. The middle-aged man, as if on purpose, asked Dogon,
“Dogon, how old are you this year?”
“Excuse me? All of a sudden, my age is—”
As far as the middle-aged man knew, Dogon was twenty-eight this year. He leaned in, voice low and sharp.
“Watch your face. Or I’ll—”
He raised his hand like he was about to smack him. Dogon’s expression crumpled instantly; he jerked his head back and escaped straight into the kitchen. The middle-aged man’s younger brothers snickered. It looked like they did this to him all the time.
The middle-aged man turned his attention back to Jin Sohan.
“Twenty-six, huh… Then what sect are you with? Looking at you, you seem like a disciple from somewhere with a name…”
He tossed the question out like he was buttering him up, but Jin Sohan shook his head.
“No sect. Think of it as payment for your story—eat. I’m having the house noodles.”
The middle-aged man nodded and swallowed.
“Fine. I won’t refuse.”
He grabbed a steamed bun first and started eating. Jin Sohan poured him a cup of aged wine.
Up close, the middle-aged man found himself studying Jin Sohan’s eyes—and suddenly, the bun in his mouth felt like it had lodged in his throat.
What the hell… his eyes are strange.
Jin Sohan’s eyes carried a pale ash-gray tint.
The middle-aged man thumped his chest, then downed the aged wine Jin Sohan had poured in one rough gulp. Smacking his lips, he spoke again.
“Young brother, your way of talking gets under my skin, but you’ve got manners, I’ll give you that.”
Jin Sohan answered even more politely—switching to a more formal register.
“If my manner of speaking bothered you, I apologize. That said, I haven’t heard your name either.”
With Jin Sohan suddenly elevating his tone, the middle-aged man’s swagger actually wilted.
“My name, what the hell… It’s Oh Jecheol. And damn, it’s good to meet someone who knows the Mystic Lunar Courtesan Troupe. That troupe was the pride of West Black Road. You must know that too, young bro—”
“Call me Jin. And it’s the Mystic Lunar Dance Troupe.”
“Uh… right. The Mystic Lunar Dance Troupe.”
Oh Jecheol didn’t realize it, but the people listening in could tell his voice was shrinking by the second.
Because of his bulky frame, Oh Jecheol’s younger brothers couldn’t properly see Jin Sohan from where they sat behind him, and their faces twisted.
What’s with him?
That’s not like him.
*****
Oh Jecheol took a closer look at Jin Sohan.
The man’s face was handsome, but his gaze was cloudy; his posture, movements, and voice were unnervingly calm. And even the sword glimpsed at his waist seemed to breathe out a chill. Only then did Oh Jecheol realize, belatedly, that the black robe suited Jin Sohan far too well.
By Oh Jecheol’s judgment, this wasn’t someone you could bully like an ordinary outsider—or shake down for coin. Without meaning to, he’d grown cautious as they talked.
Swallowing once, Oh Jecheol said,
“That troupe was the dream of men like us.”
“Was it? A dream?”
“They all had incredible figures, and they were beautiful. Perfect women to take as wives—that’s what I mean.”
When Jin Sohan looked straight at him, Oh Jecheol’s eyes fled on their own.
Ah… no. This is bad.
It felt like he’d gotten himself tangled up in something he shouldn’t have.
Dogon came back late with the bowl of house noodles and set it down in front of Jin Sohan before retreating again. Jin Sohan rubbed his chopsticks together once, then sank them into the noodles.
Oh Jecheol asked carefully,
“Are you… someone with ties to the Mystic Lunar Dance Troupe?”
“…No.”
Oh Jecheol watched his face as he pressed,
“Then how do you know the Mystic Lunar Dance Troupe…?”
Jin Sohan answered with a gentle expression.
“There used to be a few dye shops next to the troupe. When you said Moonlit Night Pavilion, I was just talking about the buildings. Moonlit Night Pavilion’s taken up the whole spot—where the Mystic Lunar Dance Troupe was, and where the dye shops were too. Do you remember the dye shops?”
Jin Sohan kept speaking politely, and he kept saying he had nothing to do with the troupe. That gave Oh Jecheol a little courage—enough to respond with relief.
“Ah! I’d completely forgotten there were dye shops there too. Good. That’s good.”
Good for what?
The flow of the conversation had led Oh Jecheol to assume Jin Sohan must be the son of one of those old dye-shop owners, and he continued without hesitation.
“Do you know the Blood-Whisper Sect?”
Jin Sohan nodded.
“I do.”
“The Blood-Whisper Sect wanted to ‘take over’ the troupe. ‘Take over,’ my ass… heh. They wanted to eat it whole. The sweet money the troupe brought in. The women. Even the orphans the troupe raised. And it was probably so they could force them into shows where they stripped down to their underwear while they performed…”
“Strip down… and do a sword-dance?”
Jin Sohan went silent for a moment, then took another drink.
There had been an act where the dancers cut one another’s clothes as a display of skill. But they usually wore martial robes underneath. It sounded like the Blood-Whisper Sect had demanded even that be removed. Of course, the Mystic Lunar Dance Troupe would never accept that kind of interference.
His masters’ guesses had been so precise it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Oh Jecheol went on.
“That troupe wasn’t soft, either. Back then, it wasn’t even an era where the Blood-Whisper Sect had swallowed all of West Black Road… so whenever the troupe got furious, they clashed with the Blood-Whisper Sect now and then.”
At that, Jin Sohan thought of the troupe leader—a woman with a personality that could only be described as fierce and booming.
Is she alive…?
He wanted to know, but he didn’t show it. Instead, he guided Oh Jecheol forward.
“From what I remember, they really were fierce. Even so, how could they handle the Blood-Whisper Sect?”
“Exactly. When the Blood-Whisper Sect reached out, it might’ve been better for the troupe too if they’d quietly gone under them.”
“The Blood-Whisper Sect wouldn’t have come swinging blindly from the start. If I remember right, the troupe had plenty of places that backed them.”
“You think the Blood-Whisper Sect does business like idiots? They sent one of their martial men over to the troupe like they always did. But the moment he stepped through the entrance, he coughed blood and died. He probably took poison the Blood-Whisper Sect gave him—without even realizing he’d taken it. Then the war started. It’s their common trick.”
Jin Sohan replied, expression flat.
“So they made themselves an excuse to strike, using a cheap method.”
Oh Jecheol nodded.
“There was one man back then who liked the women of the troupe. He ran a martial school, and the bastard brought fifty men to support them. Still, it was hard to stand against the Blood-Whisper Sect. The troupe was covered in those men’s blood.”
Jin Sohan nodded and lifted the bottle.
“Something like that happened… Have another drink.”
Oh Jecheol wet his throat with liquor, dredging up the old days.
“Anyone who had ties to the troupe, in one way or another—they all left. It was too much to handle.”
“Did the troupe all die then?”
“I don’t think so. There were women the men dragged out and fled with. And women the Blood-Whisper Sect leader had his eye on from the start—those, the sect didn’t touch. The ones in the troupe who were especially beautiful… the sect leader probably took them.”
By now, Oh Jecheol was practically docile, confessing the past to Jin Sohan. And he knew far more detail than Jin Sohan expected. Jin Sohan figured it was because Oh Jecheol had spent years coming and going from Rooster Head Tavern, sitting right across from the troupe’s old grounds.
But Oh Jecheol was growing more and more uncomfortable meeting Jin Sohan’s eyes.
What if he’s from the demonic cults…? The clothes fit. Damn—this feels worse the longer I talk. I should get up.
Oh Jecheol started to lift his hips from the chair—
—and Jin Sohan murmured with a sigh, letting the words slip out like he couldn’t help it.
“Seriously… that Blood-Whisper Sect leader was a son of a bitch then, and he’s a son of a bitch now.”
Oh Jecheol’s younger brothers reacted first, like they’d been stung.
“What?”
“Heh. Listen to that brat’s mouth.”
They flared up immediately, and the tavern fell quiet in a natural ripple. None of them were Blood-Whisper Sect men—but in this area, there weren’t many people who could spit that kind of profanity at the Blood-Whisper Sect leader and expect to die of old age.
Jin Sohan had deliberately used one sentence to hook the throats of rough men.
Already cowed, Oh Jecheol forced out a laugh and tried to crush the disturbance.
“Enough. Quiet—quiet!”
When his brothers stared at him like he’d lost his mind, Oh Jecheol spoke as if he were warning Jin Sohan out of concern.
“Young brother, there’s no Blood-Whisper Sect man here, but if you keep throwing words like that around, you won’t live out your natural years.”
Jin Sohan looked at him and answered.
“There’s no one from the Blood-Whisper Sect?”
“There isn’t. We’re just—”
For some reason, Oh Jecheol felt the stares and expectations of everyone around him, pushing him toward a cliff’s edge. More than anything, the young man in front of him had cursed the Blood-Whisper Sect leader—and his emotions hadn’t shifted by even a hair.
Oh Jecheol spoke like he was making excuses.
“No—listen. I’m saying it for your sake.”
At that, Oh Jegwang—the youngest brother—finally exploded. He didn’t like his brother acting scared, and more than anything, he hated the kid’s mouth and that calm, steady attitude.
Oh Jegwang sneered, like he was already picturing a knife going in.
“Come to think of it, there was a woman in the troupe named Duhyang. Now I remember. You all remember her?”
Oh Jecheol’s gut dropped. He whipped around, eyes blazing.
“…Jegwang. Shut your mouth.”
Oh Jecheol turned to his youngest, tense to the bone—while Jin Sohan, too, quietly looked at the man who’d opened his mouth.
Oh Jegwang grinned at Jin Sohan.
“Duhyang. Ring any bells?”
Oh Jegwang was weaker than Oh Jecheol and had none of his sense—but his cruel streak and his need to show off were a cut above his brother’s.
Oh Jegwang kept going.
“Looks like Duhyang went out on an errand or something, because she didn’t get caught up in the mess. Thanks to that, us brothers were able to slip Duhyang away somewhere quiet.”
Oh Jecheol bulged his eyes and shouted.
“I said shut up!”
Even the second brother—clueless as ever—showed his displeasure at Oh Jecheol.
“Big brother, why are you so scared? You really getting spooked by some young punk?”
“Ha… You idiots picked today to say nothing but stupid shit.”
A cold bead of sweat slid down Oh Jecheol’s back. On any other day, they would’ve started a fight like this, shaken a customer down—or killed him and tossed the body somewhere.
But not today.
Oh Jegwang glared at Jin Sohan.
“If you know a woman named Duhyang, I’ll tell you all about her. In detail. Like what her skin felt like.”
Jin Sohan, still holding the chopsticks he’d been eating noodles with, pointed at Oh Jecheol’s brothers and said,
“Your brother’s telling you to shut up, so why do you keep jumping in, you sons of bitches?”
For an instant, the tavern went dead silent.