****
“So, you two want to take over this place?”
The owner of the butcher shop—and the finest butcher in the neighborhood—So Hang, an elderly man, asked the question.
“That’s right.”
Sima Geon replied politely.
‘He couldn’t find anyone to hand the shop over to and was going to close up... but in just a few days, he’s like a completely different person. He looks even sicker now.’
Sima Geon could sense that So Hang’s days were numbered, looking far more frail than when they’d last met. Perhaps that was the real reason he’d decided to quit the butcher trade.
“You’re the ones who came by a few days ago saying you wanted to watch. Ha! Looks like it seemed easier than it is. Best head back home.”
So Hang let out a hearty laugh, but his gravelly voice carried a sharp edge.
“Not at all. How could we think that after seeing your technique?”
So Hang’s eyes flashed at the unexpected response, so different from others.
“They say one strike, one kill. It was truly masterful, the weight of years flowing through every bit of it.”
At Sima Geon’s lavish praise, So Hang’s icy expression softened just a touch.
“Ha! Gilding the lily for an old man who’s spent his life slaughtering cows and pigs. Cough! Cough!”
His laughter turned into violent coughing.
“When a man devotes his life to one pursuit, he can reach the realm of art. I wouldn’t know about anything else, but that trance-like strike you showed us... it was the most intense thing I’ve ever seen.”
So Hang, still coughing hard, grew serious at the repeated compliments and fixed Sima Geon with a stern gaze.
Sima Geon didn’t look away. He met it steadily, calmly.
In that unwavering gaze, So Hang sensed this man was different from the usual types who spouted flattery just to win favor.
“Come with me for a moment?”
So Hang’s demeanor shifted abruptly. The frail, about-to-collapse look from moments ago vanished.
Without waiting for an answer, he headed to the slaughterhouse.
Sima Geon followed, dragging the reluctant Cheol U along.
Once there, So Hang herded a pig out of its pen. He handed Sima Geon a cleaver and mallet, saying,
“No one steps up to a job they’ve never done. If you want to take over the shop, you must at least know how to slaughter. Can you show me your skills?”
“I’ve never done it before, but I’ll give it a try.”
Sima Geon first passed the cleaver and mallet to Cheol U, then patted the pig’s cheek and led it to the trough.
Seeing the pig follow Sima Geon without a hint of wariness, So Hang couldn’t hide his surprise.
Sima Geon gently stroked the pig’s head as it buried its face in the feed.
“Last time, I noticed you wait until it finishes eating. It felt like consideration—letting it have a full belly on its final road.”
“Less consideration, more a trick to ease the guilt a bit. It’s just an animal, but still a life.”
So Hang chuckled and shook his head, but Sima Geon saw it differently.
“I felt it as consideration, not a trick.”
“Think what you like.”
As the pig neared the end of its meal, Sima Geon took the cleaver and mallet back from Cheol U.
So Hang watched his movements with a steady, sunken gaze.
Sima Geon positioned the cleaver on the pig’s crown, but it showed no reaction. Even as he raised the mallet high, it stayed oblivious.
‘Impressive.’
So Hang couldn’t hold back his admiration.
For a pig—with senses and instincts far sharper than a human’s—to show no response meant Sima Geon had perfectly erased his own killing intent.
The strike followed.
The hefty pig collapsed into the trough, head first, without a single squeal—just like when So Hang did it.
“You’ve really never done this before?”
So Hang gaped.
“No. I just watched you last time and copied it. What are you waiting for?”
Sima Geon turned to Cheol U.
The grumbling Cheol U tied the pig’s legs and hung it from a pillar.
So Hang was stunned watching Cheol U hoist it alone.
It usually took three strong men to hang a limp pig. Yet Cheol U did it effortlessly with one hand—a beast that must’ve weighed over two hundred catties.
‘No matter how big he is...’
So Hang was speechless at Cheol U’s superhuman strength.
“Oh, right—we have to bleed it.”
Cheol U, turning away, slit the pig’s throat and caught the flowing blood. Then he asked So Hang,
“But do we really have to use those tools?”
“What do you mean?”
At So Hang’s question, Cheol U entered the pen and dragged out another pig.
Without masking his intent like Sima Geon, the pig thrashed wildly but couldn’t overpower him.
Moments later, released at the trough, it forgot its frenzy and dove into the food.
So Hang was dumbfounded that Cheol U, like Sima Geon, had perfectly concealed his killing intent.
“If we can slaughter perfectly without tools, why bother with metal?”
Cheol U grinned.
Sima Geon, realizing what he was up to, slapped his forehead and shook his head, but So Hang just looked baffled.
“Looks like it’s eaten enough. Time to go. I’ll wish you good fortune, at least.”
Cheol U murmured softly, then swung his fist.
Bam!
A thunderous impact rang out, and the pig slumped headfirst into the trough.
The result matched Sima Geon’s mallet strike. The difference? Sima Geon’s cleaver had pierced the skull precisely for instant death, while Cheol U’s punch shattered it outright.
So Hang’s face hardened.
“You’re no ordinary folk. Martial artists?”
“We were, once.”
Sima Geon didn’t bother denying it.
“Why would martial artists want this kind of work?”
“We want to live ordinary lives.”
“Ordinary. With your skills, you could find anything.”
“We tried all sorts, but it’s not that easy. Not much else we learned growing up.”
So Hang glanced between Sima Geon’s bitter smile and Cheol U humming as he hung his fresh kill. He intuitively felt their lives hadn’t been smooth—that they carried heavy stories.
“Shame we don’t have more time.”
At So Hang’s gentle tone, Sima Geon beamed and bowed.
“Teach us well. You won’t be disappointed.”
<><><>
The knife danced like it was part of a fluid performance, slicing along the grain without a moment’s hesitation.
With every move of Sima Geon’s blade, the butchered cow separated perfectly into bone and meat.
No hesitation, no speed too great—zero mistakes. It was as if he knew the cow’s anatomy inside out.
“Ha ha ha! Incredible!”
Leaning heavily on his staff, So Hang watched with a hollow laugh escaping his lips.
In just days, Sima Geon had matched skills honed over fifty years and thousands of animals. Nay, his flawless blade work surpassed it.
“You said you’ve eaten knife rice, but you pick it up fast. Nothing left to teach.”
Despite his illness preventing proper instruction, So Hang felt proud yet empty—his lifetime craft stolen in three days.
“Thanks to your proper guidance. My gratitude.”
Sima Geon, having fully disassembled the cow, set down the knife and bowed.
“I’m the grateful one. I knew it was foolish, but I hoped the shop I devoted my life to would keep its reputation. Or vanish entirely. That’s why I wasted time searching for the right person. All failures.”
His body swayed—even the staff was too much. Sima Geon quickly supported him to a bench.
Through liver spots blanketing his face, So Hang smiled and grasped Sima Geon’s hand.
“Thanks to you, this old man’s wish is fulfilled. Now I can close my eyes in peace. Thank you—truly.”
“No, sir. Returning home, I agonized over what to do. Thanks to you, I can settle properly. The thanks are mine.”
Sima Geon sincerely thanked So Hang for passing on his skills without reservation.
As they exchanged gratitudes, Cheol U returned from mangling a fresh pig, tossing the knife aside.
“Damn, it’s just meat—chop it up and sell. Why disassemble like this?”
Cheol U plopped down beside Sima Geon and chugged liquor.
“Boss, do I really have to learn this?”
Before Sima Geon could reply, So Hang snapped angrily,
“Don’t give that one a knife. Just chores. Though his slaughtering with fists is decent enough.”
Unlike the diligent Sima Geon, Cheol U’s half-hearted attitude from the start irked So Hang. But he acknowledged those fists that felled pigs and cows alike.
“First sensible thing you’ve said, old timer. Let’s do it your way, boss. Always thought knives ain’t for me.”
Sima Geon resisted smacking Cheol U’s smirking face as he offered liquor, gruffly raising his cup.
“Do as you like.”
“Heh heh! Thanks, boss.”
Cheol U, looking reborn, refilled Sima Geon’s cup. Glancing at So Hang’s labored breathing, he said,
“Have a drink, old timer.”
“What nonsense!”
Sima Geon startled and tried to stop him, but Cheol U brushed him off with a grin.
“A sip won’t hurt, even on the way out.”
“Ha! That guy.”
So Hang stared at Cheol U in disbelief, chuckling weakly. He tossed his staff aside and straightened his hunched back.
“Fine. Even if it kills me right now, I can’t skip a drink on a day like this. Pour it.”
So Hang held out his cup. Cheol U filled it, and he downed it without pause.
The fiery burn down his throat felt as good as ever, even facing death.
“One more.”
So Hang smashed his cup on the ground and bellowed boldly.
That was So Hang’s final feast—the top butcher and notorious drunkard’s last supper.