Hunters’ Street. In these parts, large predators have all but disappeared—likely thanks to our efforts—and small game is so abundant that the area has evolved into a bustling market and a hub for intelligence exchange.
The heavy, cloying stench of cured hides saturates the air.
If I tried to pick out the scent of wild raspberries here, it would be an agonizing task. Yet, my companions show no sign of discomfort.
"Well, what have we here? A brat in a place like this?"
"Um, is there a hunter around here who marks his arrows with a blue feather, stamped with two circles and a single rod?"
"Blue feather with... two circles...? Nah, everyone’s using those white feathers nowadays. They’re made from local birds; durable and they catch the wind well."
"Ah-ha~ Brother, you’re quite the handsome one, and damn, you've got an eye for detail. You must be some kind of hotshot."
"So this tyke knows a good man when he sees one?! Hey, did you hear that? He said I'm more handsome than you!"
"What? What kind of lunatic tells you you’re handsome? Are you drunk?"
Good, good. These veterans likely have a hunting buddy or two. That means more intel for me.
"Let’s see... what's the deal with this kid? From a well-off family?"
"Heh-ho! What do you mean, 'can't a hunter see'? Don’t you see these clothes? I was sold! Sold off, I tell you! My ancestors may have been nobles and all that, but that’s just fate! I was starving, too proud to beg, so I sold it all—my noble pride and everything! For three years—three long years—I’ve been sold just so I could get a scrap to eat!!"
"What's all the trouble here?"
"This kid... I think he was sold off by some noble family."
"Ugh, those nobles are rotten to the core, tsk tsk..."
Good, good. That’s the hook. Even in the presence of the highborn, we bow our heads, but behind the mask, we tear them down—it's in our blood. Naturally, a child crying, 'I was sold by nobles!' would attract a crowd.
"Oh, my wretched fate! Calling me a lucky charm just because my hair is black and white, dragging me from house to house... waddling along on these short legs... was I really that cute?!"
Eolsu—!
Right. The pansori singer caught the scent of money. With that, stirring the pot will be even easier.
"My seat was the place of honor; they served only the choicest game from field and mountain. But those nobles—do they even know? The men hiding in those hills like tigers spent the entire night counting each kill and barely touched a thing! Seriously, what kind of nonsense is that—am I right or what?!"
"That's right, exactly!"
"What? They pay barely enough to cover the bait and the hunt, and then they barely eat? Damn, that's infuriating!!"
As expected, a bit of sarcasm gets a great response.
"But yesterday, I had the strangest encounter. Any takers for a story?"
"Well, well! Who's listening—"
"What's that kid jabbering about now?"
"I'm curious! Tell us!"
"Yesterday, I went up the mountain to harvest wood, and I ran into a Mountain Spirit whose horn was larger than mine! Its legs were like a bull's, its face like a tiger's; I swear on my life I saw it!"
"Since when did Mountain Spirits reappear? Are you sleep-talking?!"
"I'm telling the truth! That spirit had a bamboo cylinder in its mouth, and from within, I heard a baby's cry that tore at my eardrums! I was so terrified I scrambled down the mountain like a madman! I saw it with my own two eyes!"
"A baby in a bamboo drum... a shaman must have cast a curse-ritual!"
"There are still shamans like that?"
"They say the Black Cloud Society has been poking around lately; it has to be their handiwork!"
"Yeah. Timing's perfect."
"But what did it look like—what else was there!"
"An arrow—blue feather, two circles! A rod with a fancy tuft, lodged clean in the Mountain Spirit’s thigh! If you think I'm lying, go check it yourself!"
"Blue feather... two circles... a rod...?"
"Ah! Isn’t that the old man who was badly wounded and came down from the mountain recently?"
"That rambling old man?!"
"I thought he'd seen a ghost, but he actually met a Mountain Spirit!"
"Do you know where that old man lives?"
I pull a flask smelling faintly of grapes from my pocket, dab some on my hand, and ask for directions.
"He’s down there in the innermost house of the alley, nursing his wounds. But are you sure that old man shot the arrow?"
"I’m not certain. I’ll go ask and see, so kindly wait."
"This kid... turns out you’re a pansori singer?"
"Well, let’s just say I’m multitasking."
Time to make my move.
"Found him?"
"Whoa, what the—who’s this hulking fellow?"
Well, anyone would be shocked if a man covered in slash scars suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
"You there! Aren’t you the one who captured that beast? Huh?"
"What? Really?"
"Hmm? Me? No—"
Pinch!
"Moejang... keep the beat."
"...Yes. But it was so powerful and fierce, I had to drop boulders from a cliff to bring it down. This horn is proof."
"Hiiieek! Is that really a horn? Even broken like that, it’s easily three feet long!"
"Now I’ll just verify that this horn is from that Mountain Spirit, and we’ll be off! Shall we, Uncle?"
"...All right."
Phew... this is working.
"He said he lives in the very, very back of that alley."
"Surprisingly, that kid has a knack for drawing attention."
"Really? I just scratched the highborn’s backs and got straight to the point."
"Lee Sang or Faust wouldn’t have managed that. Don Quixote might have—"
"Honestly, you didn’t think it would work, did you?"
"Ahem. Sir. Are you there?"
No response. The Moejang is cold.
"Who are you...?"
"I came to ask if you are the owner of this arrow, sir."
"Blue feather, two circles, one rod. Right?"
"Yes... now only I use this feather. Those of my generation are either retired or no longer among the living."
Seems this man is the one.
"You’ve seen a beast with this horn, haven’t you?"
"...! That horn! Are you saying you captured that creature?!"
"It wasn’t me. It’s this child’s accomplishment."
"What? Moejang, don’t suddenly hype me up."
"Call me Uncle."
"Moejang... you lot... you’re of the Sword Sect."
—!!!
"Shall I kill you?"
"Gasp! This kid is of the Sword Sect's blood too... damned brat."
How did he recognize us? Because Moejang is covered in scars?
"Meursault... I believe that was the name of the one who became the youngest commander in the Sword Sect back when I was still in active duty...?"
"Active duty? Which means...?"
"I too... was once part of the Sword Sect. Now I’m just a washed-up hunter growing old."
"Sir. As for our situation..."
"I know. That you’re being pursued. I’ll keep it a secret for the little life I have left."
"Yeah. Since I’ll probably die soon anyway... die now or die later, at my age, it’s all the same."
"...these youngsters have no manners... Is this how your mother and father taught you?"
"I’m an orphan."
"Gasp! Ahem... right. But why are you so curious about that beast?"
"You’re dodging the question! That’s cheap!"
"The thing is, that creature isn’t native to these mountains; it crossed a barrier to get here."
"A barrier... meaning somewhere it was breached... If you go right from the village entrance, you’ll find Mount Gyejok. I spotted the creature there. With this decrepit body, all I could do was take aim with my arrow."
"Mount Gyejok... that’s on the exact opposite side of here."
"One more thing. Did grandfather inflict that wound on its leg too?"
The wound in its leg was clearly a deep gouge.
"No. When I took aim, its leg was already crippled. Someone had cut it long before I did... The deliberate mutilation marks are strange."
So that’s the case? Then who was it?
"Everyone on our side claimed they weren’t responsible. So..."
"It’s too early to conclude, but we can’t rule out the Black Cloud Society."
Black Cloud Society... the organization of the unknown... what link could they have?
"We should get going now, sir. Let’s be on our way."
"Ah, yes. Farewell, grandfather."
"Damn kid. What’s your name?"
"Hmm? Baekhyun. Just call me Hyun."
"Baekhyun... Hyun... Fine. I’ll remember you as the impudent Sword Sect brat."
"Don’t remember me for that!"
"Now, are we heading up?"
"Wait a moment. If we don’t buy some provisions, Otis will be furious."
"Hmm... it's true we've been eating too much lately...?"
Otis sighs every time she spies the empty rice box.
"Still! We earned a tidy sum, right?"
Since we’d established the horn’s provenance earlier, its price shot through the roof.
"Indeed. We managed to sell it at a price 25.7% above the typical estimate."
"With this, we should be able to afford meat, right?"
"Very well. It’s your earnings, so if you wish, you may."
"Excellent! Today we feast on meat until we burst!"
Heh heh... money is the best!
"Aaaah!! Someone!! Are there no hunters here?!"
"Huh? There’s a ruckus. What should we do, Moejang?"
"The Sword Sect’s true purpose is to wield the blade for others. Though our aim has grown cloudy, we must not forget it."
"All right! Shall we go? It might be wise to empty our stomachs first!"
Meat tastes even sweeter after a day’s work, right?
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