WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle

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◈ Raised by a Ruthless Swordsman ◈

Chapter 8: Entering the City

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At the first signs of dawn, Munhwi got up and dusted himself off. I rose as well, pretending I had only just woken.

Breakfast was the same as dinner the night before. We mixed the powder from the cloth pouch with water and split it between us.

Soon, we smothered the dying fire with dirt, gathered our things, and set off at a brisk pace.

The road grew wider and firmer the farther we went. The packed earth no longer gave beneath our feet, and angular stones had been laid here and there.

Willows that had shed nearly all their leaves stood at regular intervals along the roadside.

More and more people came our way until, before long, there were quite a few ahead of and behind us.

A man carrying a load, an elderly person bearing an empty A-frame, a woman with a bundle on her head. Some gave us a quick glance, while others simply went their own way.

It was the first road with so many travelers I had seen since the fish-market alley in Yeongpa.

Munhwi walked through them without hesitation. He neither avoided people nor bumped into them, though he occasionally looked back at me, trailing a step behind.

I did not even know how much distance to keep from someone coming the other way, so my steps kept turning awkward.

"You said you spent ten years in the mountains. Looks like you're not used to crowded places at all."

With nothing to say in reply, I shut my mouth and sulked. He did not tease me further and looked ahead again.

Around the time the sun hung directly overhead, enormous city walls appeared at the far end of the road.

High gray stone walls stretched endlessly to either side. Roofed towers rose above them, flags hanging limply in the wind.

It was a fortress so enormous that neither the mountains nor Jang Sam's village, nor even the faintly remembered entrance to Yeongpa, could compare.

I must have shown it on my face, because Munhwi looked back and snickered.

At the center of the walls was an opening like a cave, swallowing up the road. People and carts crowded before it in a long line.

The closer we came, the slower the line moved. Several soldiers with spears stood on either side of the opening, inspecting each person who entered or left. Some were simply waved through, while others were stopped, questioned, and had their belongings searched.

Their manner was especially harsh.

One man was made to untie his bundle after a soldier prodded it with a spear shaft. The soldier rummaged through it, then dumped its contents on the ground. When an elderly person pleaded about something, a soldier barked at them, and they bowed repeatedly before retreating.

Even those allowed through were sent on their way with a glare and a jerk of the chin.

An inexplicable tension crept up my back.

Suddenly, Munhwi lightly caught my wrist. Looking down, I saw that my hand had unconsciously begun to creep toward the sword at my waist.

"Stay still."

He released me and looked forward again as though nothing had happened. I came to my senses and lowered my hand. By then, the line had moved another step.

After perhaps an hour of waiting, our turn finally came.

One soldier fixed their gaze on me, and their expression hardened. I could see their grip tighten around the spear shaft.

"Who are you, and where are you from? And why are you carrying a sword?"

I did not know how to answer. I could not say I had come from the mountains, nor could I name a village.

As I hesitated, the soldier's eyes turned cold. The soldier then demanded my travel permit, but I had no idea what that was.

Then Munhwi stepped forward.

"He's with me. We're traveling together to Geonnyeong on business. He's spent a long time in the mountains, which is why he looks like this. I ask for your understanding."

His tone was far more relaxed than before. As he took another half step toward the soldier and added something in a low voice, their hands moved naturally between them once.

The sharpness slowly left the soldier's face.

"...Go on through. And don't draw that sword carelessly inside the city."

"Thank you."

Munhwi gave a light nod, then patted my shoulder once. Before I knew it, I was following him into the archway.

A dark, chilly air swept over us. Thick stone pressed down overhead, and though it was midday, the passage was quite dim. Our footsteps echoed dully against the ceiling.

I glanced sideways at him and quietly asked,

"Brother Mun. What was that travel permit he mentioned earlier?"

Still looking ahead, he answered briefly.

"It's a document issued by the authorities for traveling long distances. It says who you are, where you live, and where you're going. Without one, they consider you suspicious."

"Then how did I get through without one?"

He let out a short laugh.

"Not everything in this world is settled with documents alone."

Only then did I think I understood what had passed between them. And how little I knew of the ways of the world.

If I had been alone, the gate guards might have given me a great deal of trouble.

"Thank you."

"It's nothing."

He waved it away as if it were no big matter, just as the passage came to an end.

The moment we emerged from the darkness, light poured over us all at once.

I stopped for a moment, blinded by it. Once my eyes adjusted, I could finally see what lay ahead.

I had never known a road for people to walk could be so wide. A broad stone-paved avenue stretched straight ahead, its end out of sight, while roofed houses stood tightly packed along both sides.

Cloth signs and banners hung from every eave, fluttering with letters and pictures.

There were even more people than before. Nothing I had seen on the official road could compare. People carrying loads, people pulling carts, people lined up before stalls, people shouting and waving their hands.

Horses and oxen passed through the crowd, while the smells of cooking food and the sound of hammering metal drifted together from somewhere nearby.

At the far end of the avenue, beyond the rooftops, stood an even grander tower. It rose higher than any other roof, as though it could be seen from anywhere in the city.

I stood still and stared at it for a long time.

Munhwi had already gone a few steps ahead. He stopped and looked back at me.

"You're going to catch flies with your mouth hanging open. Ten years in the mountains, was it? You're every bit the country bumpkin."

Then he gestured with his chin toward the inner stretch of the avenue.

"Stop standing there like you've lost your soul and follow me. You'll get swept away by the crowd."

We walked along the avenue for quite some time. People and carts kept blocking the way, so I followed with my eyes fixed on Munhwi's back.

Every house on either side had its doors wide open, with cloth signs and lanterns hanging from the eaves to call in customers.

Munhwi slowed before one of them. It was a three-story building with a faded cloth sign hanging beneath the eaves.

As if he knew the place well, he stepped over the threshold without even looking around. I hurried after him.

The inside was crowded. Pack peddlers had set down their loads beside them, farmers sat with mud-stained feet stretched out, and two men already had flushed faces though it was still daytime.

Narrow tables filled the room without a gap between them, covered in soup bowls and wine cups. Looking up, the ceiling seemed far away. The center of the building was open all the way to the upper floors, and the railings of the second and third floors circled the space below.

Steam, the smell of oil, and the voices of people talking rose thickly through the open space. It seemed to be a place that sold food and wine.

Munhwi stretched out his legs and asked what we should order, but I spoke first.

"I'll pay for this."

When I took out my money pouch and showed him a piece of silver, he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, well. A man who says he's spent ten years in the mountains is carrying silver too."

Without answering, I looked up at the paper posted on the wall. There were names like Dongpo-style braised pork and twice-cooked pork, but I could not imagine what they were made of or how.

In the mountains, all we did with what we caught was roast it or boil it. After staring at the menu for a while, I gave up.

"Order whatever you think is best. What's the fun if the person paying gets to choose?"

"Naturally. Waiter!"

He snorted and raised a hand. A skinny boy with a grease-stained apron approached. Munhwi ordered several things with practiced ease.

"One red-braised pork, any stir-fried greens, two bowls of rice, and a warmed flask of yellow wine."

The waiter quickly repeated the order, then hurried away.

As I looked around, the food arrived before long. Thin slices of boiled pork served with garlic, and greens barely wilted in oil.

It was beyond comparison with what I had eaten for ten years in the mountains. It reminded me of Mrs. Jang's cooking, but it was richer and more strongly seasoned. My chopsticks moved on their own.

Munhwi emptied his cup, then filled another and pushed it toward me. Steam rose from the cup I picked up.

I had never tasted anything like it. Hyeonam had never brewed or steeped anything in the mountains, and I was too young to remember what came before.

I took a sip.

It was lukewarm and bland on my tongue, but once it went down my throat, my insides began to burn.

A moment later, warmth reached the pit of my stomach. My brow furrowed without my meaning to. My breath caught once in my throat, but I made no sound.

Munhwi saw the sight and snickered.

"Is this your first time drinking too? You really did live a sheltered life in those mountains."

"Try living your whole life on nothing but wild greens. I guarantee you wouldn't last more than a few days, Brother Mun."

I gave a rough reply and went back to eating.

After a couple more sips of wine, my earlobes slowly grew hot, and it felt as though a layer of dullness had settled over my head.

Munhwi kept drinking cup after cup, but even then his mouth never stopped moving.

He went on about how he was finally eating food fit for a person, and how this place's red-braised pork was cooked so tenderly that one could hardly find its equal elsewhere. I only half listened.

When we had cleared most of the food, I called the waiter over again. When I asked the price, he counted on his fingers as he told me. I had no idea what kind of calculation it was. I took a piece of silver from my money pouch and handed it over.

The waiter accepted it, judged its weight with his fingertips, then brought over a small scale from one side of the room and weighed it. He cut off one corner of the silver, then returned the rest along with a handful of coins.

I watched the scene quietly. It was the first time I had learned silver could be cut and weighed like that.

I swept the returned coins into my money pouch and looked up. As if possessed by the ghost of a man who had died without a drink, Munhwi was grinning as he repeatedly poured wine down his throat.

Something suddenly came to mind.

I had once asked Jang Sam about Yeongpa. He had shaken his head, saying he had never even heard of such a place. The name could not have reached someone for whom the mountains beyond the village were the whole world.

But this man might be different. Judging by the way he carried himself, he seemed to have traveled to no small number of places.

"Brother Mun. Do you know Yeongpa, by any chance?"

"Of course I know Yeongpa. Isn't it the large town by the sea?"

There was neither hesitation nor uncertainty in his voice. At those words, something in my chest sank strangely. It had been ten years since I had met someone who knew that name.

"Do you know the way there?"

"I do. But it's quite a distance from here. Very far."

"Even so, I have to go. My family is there."

He stared at me for a moment. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but he took another sip of wine and looked into his cup. Then he looked at me again and crooked a finger.

"Give me a few coins."

I did not know why, but I took out a handful from my money pouch and handed them over as told. He counted them in his palm, left only ten coins, and pushed the rest back toward me. Then he beckoned the waiter over and placed the remaining coins in his hand.

"Find out whether any escort agencies have a protection convoy heading to Yeongpa. If there is one, tell this friend where he needs to go."

The waiter glanced at the coins in his hand, his eyes brightening as he nodded and hurried away.

Not knowing what a protection convoy was, I asked him about it.

"If you set out alone looking like that, you'll be stopped again before you even make it past the next checkpoint, never mind Yeongpa."

He told me there were places called escort agencies. They guarded goods or people while traveling long distances. If there was a protection convoy, it would be much easier to join it as a guard than to travel alone.

He added that since I knew how to use a sword, they would likely take me if I asked to join a convoy bound for Yeongpa.

"Thank you."

"No need. Consider it payment for the meal."

He told me this place also offered lodging, then got to his feet and slung his bundle over his shoulder. After a brief pause, he added in his usual light tone,

"I hope you meet your family safely."

"I don't know what business you have, Brother Mun, but I hope it goes well."

He gave a faint smile and turned his back. His broad figure disappeared into the crowd, and before long, he was out of sight.

Once I was alone, the bustling noise suddenly seemed much louder.

They say you may not notice when someone arrives, but you always notice when they leave. We had only traveled together for two days, yet his absence felt quite empty. Perhaps it was because he had never stopped talking for even a moment.

I did not sit for long. The inn was packed with people, and the waiter seemed too busy carrying empty dishes and refilling wine to look into the matter of the escort agency right away.

I stood up and stopped the waiter as he cleared the table, asking about a place to stay for the night. Without stopping his work, he asked,

"Would you like the communal dormitory or a guest room? We have superior rooms available as well."

I did not know what either a communal dormitory or a superior room was.

Still, the waiter had mentioned the communal dormitory first and the guest room second, while he had added at the end that superior rooms were available.

What was offered last had to be the finest choice. Then a guest room would be somewhere in the middle. If it was neither too high nor too low, it seemed unlikely to be a bad choice.

"I'll take a guest room."

The waiter told me the price. I picked out the right number of coins from my change and handed them over.

After pocketing the coins, the waiter draped a cloth over his shoulder and led the way. We went up a narrow wooden staircase to the second floor. Just as we entered the corridor, one room near the entrance stood open.

The entire wide room was visible inside. Five or six people lay crammed together without regard for their places, so closely packed that their heads and feet nearly touched.

The sounds of people turning over and softly snoring mingled together as they drifted out.

Without realizing it, I slowed by half a step. A faint relief passed down my back.

Fortunately, the guest room was for one person. It held a wooden bed with a mattress and blanket folded upon it, while the faint clamor of the street seeped in through a small window.

The waiter disappeared briefly, then returned carrying a pot of cold tea and a basin of washing water. He lit the oil lamp as well.

"I'll ask around about the escort agency before dinner is brought up. I'll ask you again then."

With those words, the waiter went back downstairs.

After I closed the door, the noise quieted considerably. Perhaps because the tension had left me, the weariness of staying awake all night and walking half the day came rushing over me at once.

I removed my sword and set it beside the bed, then stripped off my clothes and tossed them aside. Though the ceiling was unfamiliar, my eyes closed the moment my back touched the bed.

The noise of the street gradually faded farther away, until I could hear nothing at all.

* * *

I woke up.

Red light slanted in through the small window. It seemed I had slept half the day without waking.

I lay there for a long time, staring blankly at the ceiling. My body felt much lighter, but my head was heavy. Finally, I sat up and picked up the clothes I had thrown aside.

As I began to dress without thinking, I finally noticed their condition. The ragged sleeves and front lapels were one thing, but dark stains of blood remained in places where they had not fully washed out.

I had thought the stream had washed all of it clean, but only when I spread them out beneath the lamp did I see them properly. I thought I finally understood why the gate soldiers had glared so fiercely, and why people on the road had kept glancing at me.

If I crossed the threshold of an escort agency looking like this, they would throw me out before I could even speak. I needed to buy a set of clothes.

I put the ragged clothes back on, strapped on my sword, and left the room.

The inn was quiet when I came downstairs. Perhaps because it was between meals, only three men occupied a table on one side of the spacious room. They appeared to be traveling together, their heads close as they spoke quietly among themselves.

The waiter had been sitting on an empty table to catch his breath, but when he saw me, he jumped to his feet.

"Ah, well... I was just about to go ask around."

It meant he had not yet looked into the escort agency. I had no intention of pressing him, so I only nodded. There was something else more urgent.

"Is there somewhere nearby that makes and sells clothes? I want to buy a set I can wear."

The waiter's expression relaxed at once, and he readily gave directions.

He said that if I left by this road and followed the main street east, there was a ready-made clothing shop at the corner. Its prices were reasonable, and its goods were decent.

He carefully explained the street and even how far I needed to go before turning the corner. As I was trying to commit it to memory, the door was thrown open roughly.

Four men pushed their way in with their shoulders. The sabres hanging at their waists made them look little different from the bandits I had seen a few days before.

The one in front swept his eyes over the inn, then raised his voice.

"I told you clearly it was due today. You made the Black Snake Gang wait without even showing your face?"

The waiter's face went pale. His explanation cut off at once.

"Well, that is... Father isn't here..."

"If your father isn't here, you can hand it over yourself."

The man kicked a table aside and strode closer.

"You keep paying the White Tiger Gang without missing a payment, but you can't pay us?"

The waiter's lips moved as though he were trying to come up with an excuse.

"Both of them... I mean, even one is already difficult, and then there is your share too..."

"That's your problem."

The man tapped the hilt of his sabre. The waiter swallowed and took a step back.

Their eyes shifted to me, standing across from the waiter. They looked me up and down. The man in front rested his hand on his sabre hilt and jerked his chin.

"Who are you? If you don't want to see something ugly, you'd better step aside."

What were these bastards supposed to be now?

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