WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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Chapter 118: January 1, 1934 (1)

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The Gap-sul Year was approaching.

As the razor-thin business showdown between Han San and Myo San, at least in Myo San's own estimation, raced toward its climax, the year turned.

January 1, 1934.

The first day of the solar new year.

For Koreans who reckoned dates by the lunar calendar, it was not yet [New Year's Day] but [the final days of the Gyeyu year]. Still, the peninsula was under the rule of the Japanese Empire.

At this time of year, government offices that observed the Japanese New Year closed their doors, and people commonly put up pine decorations called kadomatsu or something like that in keeping with the offices' schedule. Shops generally closed on January 1 as well.

Myo's Myriad Commerce did not.

Not only did it remain open, but Myo San, the sajang of Myo's Myriad Commerce, arrived at a tiled house on the outskirts of Chuncheon before first cockcrow.

A man dressed head to toe in white was already seated in the room the women led him into.

Myo San took out a white handkerchief, wiped his cheek, and bowed deeply.

"Greetings, Do-yusa Yi."

"Hm. To you as well."

Yi Gyeong-deuk, Baekbaekgyo's second-in-command, sat in the warmest part of the room and nodded.

"May the Great Magistrate's white light remain with you in the new year as well, Do-yusa."

"Yes, yes. Happy New Year to you too... Damn it. I have to curse on the very first day of the year."

Yi Gyeong-deuk frowned.

"That fucking Lee Beom-ik. Business showdown my ass. Do you have any idea how much money I poured into securing gold mine excavation and explosives-handling permits?"

Strictly speaking, Mun Bong-jo's organization had poured in that money.

But now that Do-yusa Mun Bong-jo had departed for the New World, did that money not belong to the sole survivor, Do-yusa Yi Gyeong-deuk?

The moment Mun Bong-jo died, Yi Gyeong-deuk immediately carved up Mun Bong-jo's organization. Cult leader Jeon Yong-hae took one handful, another was offered to the Government-General to grease its palms, and all Yi Gyeong-deuk had managed to claim were a few scraps. Now they were trying to take even those away!

How could the exploitation be this brutal?

Yi Gyeong-deuk ground his teeth.

"Your role is important, Yeongchunsa Myo. The gold mine and explosives. If we can't work the mine, where will we set up the shelters? How will we launder gold? If we can't handle explosives, what happens to the customers who bought them? And how are we supposed to deliver [judgment] when the need arises?

"There are believers in Gyeongseong who have both, of course. But those belong to the Great Magistrate, not me.

"Those two permits are mine. Make sure you protect them. Understood?"

Myo San ground his teeth as well, but only inwardly.

'Why are they your permits? They're mine, you bastard.'

Outwardly, he smiled politely.

"Of course. How could I fail you, Do-yusa?"

"Good. How's it going?"

"To be honest... it's a little difficult."

"What did you say, you bastard?"

Yi Gyeong-deuk glared.

Myo San lowered his head as he wiped his cheek and said nothing.

He knew well enough that people who believed in sham religions were all emotionally unstable. If he offered excuses now, Yi Gyeong-deuk would only get angrier and ask whether he was talking back.

After Myo San remained bowed for a while, Yi Gyeong-deuk snorted a few times and calmed himself.

"Right. He isn't someone to underestimate. He's the bastard who snatched the entire Chuncheon street-cleanup initiative right out of our cult's mouth.

"I hear he's also the one who tipped off the military police about us..."

Myo San jolted.

"Is that true?"

"Who knows? And what does it matter whether it is?"

Come to think of it, it did not matter.

"That little bastard. Tch. In the old days, we could've just sent the Thunderbolt Masters and welcomed him into a shelter. But thanks to that fucking operations chief, we can't make any big moves now...

"Yeongchunsa Myo. How did the world end up like this? The exploitation gets worse by the day. Religious freedom is suppressed more and more every day. Judgment needs to come soon so the New World can open."

After pouring out his complaints, Yi Gyeong-deuk looked at Myo San.

"So you're not telling me you're going to lose, are you?"

"I'll win."

Without a moment's hesitation, Myo San declared victory!!! Then he proudly held up three fingers.

"I have three strategies."

"Oh. Three?"

"Yes."

Myo San folded down one finger.

"First, we keep doing what we've been doing. We copy everything he puts out exactly.

"We only fell about ten days behind on his ganjang seasoning, but since then, if he releases fried pollock, we put out fried smelt within a day or two."

Myo San considered it the return of the unbeatable formula he had used on every target until now.

'It does seem to cost more money than before, but why should I care? It's not as though Han San is the one pocketing that money.'

Such an absurd possibility was not worth considering, so Myo San smiled and continued.

"Copying might seem simple, but it's terrifying, Do-yusa.

"Think about it. A merchant racks his brain for days, comes up with a new idea, and releases a new product. Then, one or two days later, the exact same thing is displayed in the shop right across the street. What greater living hell could there be for a merchant?

"The harder he struggles to win, the more he ends up helping his enemy. The more he thinks about it, the more he'll feel like a clown."

"Right, right!" Yi Gyeong-deuk slapped his knee. "You said every one of those people you devoured ended up like that, didn't you? Pressure, self-loathing, emptiness..."

Myo San chuckled.

"That Han San bastard probably can't even sleep properly."

Yi Gyeong-deuk laughed with him.

"Or he's having nightmares! Breaking out in cold sweats!"

At that same moment, at Han's Myriad Commerce's Chuncheon office.

"Yaaawn! A strong and vigorous morning!"

Han San, who had slept soundly, stretched luxuriously.

When he went downstairs, the Chuk Brothers and the other employees were already there.

"Sajang! You're awake!"

"Did you sleep well?"

Han San took a sip of water and widened his eyes.

"Why are you all here? I said we're taking the day off. You should've slept in."

"Well, it's just..."

The employees scratched the backs of their heads. They exchanged glances, then Im Baechil, no longer looking like a newcomer, stepped forward.

"S-Sajang. Can we really take the day off today...?"

"Of course you can. Why wouldn't you?"

"But the showdown lasts until February 14..."

"Come on."

Han San waved a hand.

"That's one thing, and this is another. If we can't even rest on a day like this, what was the point of working ourselves to the bone?

"Anyway, it's a day off, so get plenty of rest. Walk around Chuncheon and enjoy yourselves at your own pace. You've all made money, but you haven't had time to spend it."

Their sajang was so relaxed that color returned to the employees' faces. They really had done nothing but work since arriving in Chuncheon, without a moment to spend their earnings.

With his hands clasped behind his back, Han San smiled in satisfaction.

"Try to avoid gambling, though. At the very least, don't go too big. If you absolutely have to, go to our orphanage and bring Gomchi and the others with you. Then at least you won't get taken for a ride while wide awake.

"I won't arrange any company dinners or anything either. If you're really in the mood, go to Myo's Fried Chicken and buy a few Pride Fried Chickens to have with drinks. Put it on the company account."

"Still, there's no need to go out of our way to buy their chicken..."

"Food made by someone else always tastes better."

That was true too.

"One condition. If you buy it, don't let them know we're the ones buying it. Have someone else do it. They might put something strange in the food. I doubt they'd go that far, but we need to prepare for everything we can."

Seeing their sajang take such thorough precautions, they realized he was not being careless.

Chuk Hong-cheol, finally at ease, looked puzzled.

"But Sajang, why were you up so early?"

"Miss Ayame begged me to go watch the sunrise with her. She's young, all right. Her energy is something else.

"What can I do? She's the orphanage's biggest donor, so I have to entertain her. That's part of being a sajang."

The employees' expressions turned strange.

"Hajama San..."

"Oh, honestly."

When their sajang raised his eyebrows, the employees snickered and scattered.

Han San smirked, wrapped a scarf around his neck, and left the office.

While every employee of Han's Myriad Commerce considered how best to enjoy the sweet taste of a New Year's holiday, Myo San and Yi Gyeong-deuk's meeting continued.

"The second strategy is to strike at their company itself."

"The company?"

"Yes. I've looked over their company structure while conducting business."

Once Han's Myriad Commerce had grown as large as it was now, paying cash on the spot became difficult.

It issued promissory notes payable in ten days or a month and received the goods first. When the due date came, its business partners brought the notes to Han San and received cash, and he had never once delayed payment.

"Han's Myriad Commerce's promissory notes have quite a high credit rating."

Yi Gyeong-deuk, who knew nothing of business, frowned.

"Why are you suddenly praising the enemy? Are you laying the groundwork to tell me you might lose?"

"That's not it," Myo San said patiently. "This is their weakness."

"What? Why would that be a weakness? You just said their credit is high."

"Promissory notes with good credit start circulating among people."

The concept of currency itself was nothing more than credit given physical form.

The notes issued by Han's Myriad Commerce, backed by its established credit, had begun circulating between business partners like cash. When one partner urgently needed cash, they would go to another business partner with money to spare and sell the note at a discount.

In other words?

"Even at this very moment, promissory notes bearing the name [Han's Myriad Commerce] are circulating."

Myo San threw away his soaked handkerchief, took out a second one, and wiped his cheek.

"We quietly buy up those notes, even if we have to pay a premium. At the same time, we identify when their cash reserves are running dry.

"Then, when the time comes, we shove all those notes in front of them at once... Even a healthy person gets a stroke if one blood vessel clogs. What do you think will happen to a company?"

Myo San spoke with confidence.

"Once even one promissory note defaults, business partners change their attitude at once. They'll say they won't hand over goods unless they receive cash that day. But how can you run a business entirely on cash? Not even banks can operate on cash alone."

When the notes stopped circulating, goods dried up. When goods dried up, the business could not operate. When a business could not operate, it died.

Again, currency itself was nothing more than credit given physical form. The moment credit disappeared, the means to make money vanished with it.

"That's how I brought down the opponent before last."

As Myo San boasted, Yi Gyeong-deuk's eyes gleamed like snake scales.

"Hey! That's pretty good!"

"Yes, I thought so too..."

"But you bastard. If you had such a good plan, why didn't you use it sooner?"

Myo San froze.

Yi Gyeong-deuk glared at him, brimming with confidence as if he himself had come up with the idea.

"You could've used that strategy long ago, even if you can't send the Thunderbolt Masters. Why the hell have you been dragging this out?

"Use it. Use it right now. Keep using it until they collapse. You idiots, I have to give every single order myself."

Myo San cursed, once again only inwardly.

"It's not that easy..."

"What's hard about it? Is your comprehension just that poor?"

"Well, that's..."

Myo San smacked his lips as he swallowed his anger.

"As I said, Do-yusa, buying up someone else's promissory notes means paying a premium. And if someone catches on, we have to use money to keep their mouth shut now that we can't send the Thunderbolt Masters.

"And waiting for their cash to dry up... If we buy up all the notes, only to find their cash reserves overflowing at that moment, then we've accomplished nothing.

"That's why it's difficult."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yes. When the payment date for a promissory note approaches, it means they received the goods and have been selling them for some time. In other words, it could also mean their cash reserves are at their fullest."

There was only one exception.

When business was bad.

But was Han's Myriad Commerce in that situation now? Even Myo's Myriad Commerce, which copied it, had cash pouring in every day, if one ignored the cost of oyster sauce and smelt. What, then, must the original store be like?

"So waiting for their money to dry up is only part of it. We need to take the lead and dry up their cash flow ourselves."

"How? You can't send the Thunderbolt Masters right now."

"We'll have to spend money."

And that was terribly inefficient.

Using his own money to dry up someone else's cash flow sounded simple, but every method was difficult. He might have to spend ten thousand won just to dry up a thousand won on the other side, and even that might only last a moment.

"To be honest, it isn't even a matter of sacrificing bone to take flesh. It's more like giving up your guts just to stick them with a needle. If we place it poorly, we'll only end up nourishing them a little."

Only then did Yi Gyeong-deuk relax his furrowed brow and click his tongue.

"A needle, huh. Hm. Right. It has to hit the right spot."

"Exactly. As expected, Do-yusa, you're sharp."

Though he swallowed curses inwardly, Myo San never lost his humble smile.

"So, Do-yusa, when I ask for it, please make sure the funding comes through. As I said, this is a very expensive needle."

"Fine. Don't worry. Things are rough for the cult lately, but I can still bring in tens of thousands of won on my authority."

Just as Yi Gyeong-deuk nodded readily, the door opened.

A woman dressed in white entered and whispered something into Yi Gyeong-deuk's ear. After hearing it, Yi Gyeong-deuk grinned and lifted his chin.

"But tell me, is providing money enough?

"To place a needle, you need to know the acupoint. If we have information too, won't we be able to place it perfectly?"

Myo San's narrow eyes widened.

"Of course. Do you have anything that might be useful...?"

"I've been in Chuncheon this whole time."

Right. You've been squatting here the whole time, so I haven't been able to breathe freely. Myo San grumbled inwardly, but flashed a broad smile.

"Thanks to your radiance, Do-yusa, Chuncheon has turned completely white."

"Yes, yes. Anyway, while I've been here, I happened to become buddies with someone from the same village as Han San."

"What? The same village...?"

Yi Gyeong-deuk gestured toward the door with his chin.

"Come in."

The door opened, and someone entered with the cold wind.

"This was to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet. Matthew 4:14."

Father Cho, the oligarch of Sebeom Valley's Upper Hamlet, drew out a cross with a reverent motion.

"Greetings. I am Father Cho, someone who works in religion, just like all of you."

Father Cho, a self-proclaimed priest whose family had inherited a Papal cross for over a century.

Yi Gyeong-deuk, Baekbaekgyo's second-in-command, and his subordinate Myo San, from the peninsula's worst evil cult.

A miraculous religious alliance was formed on the outskirts of Chuncheon, the heart of Gangwon.

"Now that all the hands are gathered, the time has come to hunt.

"Han San. That demon will melt beneath our sacred sun."

Father Cho licked his lips and made the sign of the cross.

Around that time, Han San, the demon wandering Gangwon whom Baekbaekgyo and Father Cho wished to hunt through their Holy Alliance, was watching the rising sun with Ayame.

Ayame rose onto her toes and hopped in place.

"San! Look! It's so beautiful!"

"It is."

Neither of them could have been more at ease.

Footnotes:

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