WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Hunting Genius of the Japanese Colonial Era

Chapter 34

──────

Welcome to Sebeom Valley (2)

But a little while later, the one who actually brought out the tea was not Kim Tae-yang.

It was a flunky whose face was covered in pockmarks, the one who handled the dirty work under Pi Sun-dae.

"Here."

Thunk! The cup was set down so roughly that the unheated tea splashed over the rim.

Han San pretended not to notice—or pretended not to care—and went on talking.

"For now I've laid in as much makgeolli as I could get. Mother will handle the gukbap. From time to time I'll head into town and bring in more goods. But to do that, I'm a little short on cash."

Pi Sun-dae was smiling.

"You want me to put up the money?"

"Yes. Isn't that the business you run, hyung?"

"You sure about that? My interest runs a bit steep."

"Cut me some slack. We're partners, after all."

Han San said it with a boldness that bordered on shameless.

Watching from a distance, Kim Tae-yang sucked in a sharp breath, and the flunky who'd brought the tea scowled, but Han San didn't even glance their way.

He looked only at Pi Sun-dae—at Pi Sun-dae alone.

Pi Sun-dae kept smiling as he watched him.

Then, out of nowhere, he changed the subject.

"That crowd of yours—won't it be a rough bunch?"

He was still smiling as he said it.

Han San nodded, smiling as well.

"They'll be rough."

Drifter hunters swarming in from all eight provinces. Just like those snake-catchers who'd supposedly knifed a man over ten won in Pocheon, they'd be scum who turned into dogs when drunk and robbers when broke.

But.

"I'm confident I can handle them."

In short, weren't they no different from what he'd once been himself?

Han San knew exactly what such men thought, where they itched, what they feared.

On top of that—

'And if it ever gets to be too much for me, I can just ask Father for help.'

Han San was not alone now. He had an elder he could trust without question.

Pi Sun-dae stared at him, that smile unchanged, and once again steered the talk elsewhere.

"Han San. But, you know."

"Yes."

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I asked you earlier too. That wolf—Ginsei, or whatever it's called—the one they want caught. You got any thought of catching it, or not?"

"Haha. A chance would have to come my way first."

Han San laughed it off and brought the tea to his lips once more, then drew it away.

'Not now, though.'

Of course he would catch Ginsei in the end.

The three-hundred-won bounty, naturally, plus the renown of having taken down a once-in-an-age man-eating wolf that had claimed six lives. And on top of that, completing a commission tangled up with an Imperial baron.

The moment all of that came together, a vast [standing] would attach itself to him.

The risk was worth taking—more than enough.

But.

'It's a monster that turned a whole construction project site into a wasteland.'

Take on a thing like that by stepping to the front line with nothing but a Type 38 infantry rifle he couldn't even bring out under the sun?

How badly would a man have to underestimate the world to try that?

'Know your place.'

Han San was cold-headed. He looked ahead with the eyes of a seventy-four-year-old mountain man.

Soon this whole area would turn into a quagmire.

The drifter hunters he'd mentioned would tear up the mountain, the viper Sawada Kazuo would lead the military police detachment in to rummage through the forest, and beyond all that the Empire's Silver Fox, Baron Kannoizuna Toono, would stand with his arms folded.

Did he need to be the one to take the first bite?

'I need scout dogs.'

Han San's eyes narrowed.

The hunters who would pour in from across the country—they were not competitors, and they were not simply a source of money either.

'I'll set those men to play the part of scout dogs.'

Just as he'd used Kim Tae-yang as a chess piece.

Those drifters would beat through the forest and drive the wolf, and they'd scream and mark its position. They'd bleed and wear down the target's strength, and they'd snag the military police by the ankle all over the place.

In the meantime, he had only to quietly close in on his hunt from behind.

Until the perfect moment came.

'And when that time comes,' Han San thought, gripping the teacup tight, 'I drive in a single shot for the kill.'

Of course.

Once again, there was absolutely no need to spell out this black scheme of his to the slippery old gangster in front of him.

"In any case, I'll handle all of it myself. Just put up the money. And the place."

The words had barely left his mouth before the air changed.

Starting with the one who'd brought the teacup, all through the conversation, one by one, men had been walking out of the red brick house.

They prowled around Han San and Pi Sun-dae like a pack of feral dogs. The harsh tobacco smell that clung thick to their bodies and clothes spread like the stink of beasts.

Still, Han San set the teacup down, pretending not to notice—or not to care.

The sunset had fallen, as it happened. Lit from behind, Pi Sun-dae's smile cut deep.

"So, Han San."

"Yes, hyung."

"How are you going to split it?"

"Let's make it eight to two."

Silence.

"Eight to two?"

"Yes. With me as the eight, of course."

"I lend the money and our side provides the place too?"

"In return, whatever I make, I pay off the loan first. Gambling, the cut for table space, that whole field—I won't lay a finger on it."

I don't really know much about gambling anyway, Han San added.

Pi Sun-dae's smiling face had now gone deep as a ravine.

"Heh heh, yes, yes. Han San! Funny fellow. Boys! What do you all think? Should we split eight to two nice and fat with our Han San here, or not?"

The moment those words dropped, a gravelly voice cut in straight from behind.

"Aigo, hyung. Listening to all this, ain't it a bit much?"

It was the one who'd brought the teacup.

He bent only at the waist and peered sideways into Han San's face.

"Sure, I'll grant he brought back some information or whatever. But that's something you'd find out with one trip into town, ain't it? And cooking? Putting out liquor, gukbap—who here can't do that? Am I wrong?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. But we put up the money and provide the place too? Heh, really. While he's at it, why don't he ask us to bend over and offer up our backsides too?"

"That's right, that's right. Where does some wet-behind-the-ears greenhorn come rolling in and go—what? Eight to two? Shit, the only thing of yours that's split eight to two is the crack of your ass."

"It stings, it really stings. You split the take like that and us little brothers feel slighted, Sun-dae hyung."

The others chimed in too, one line each. Like the whole pack baying at once.

These were the ones who held the murky air of the Lower Hamlet in the palms of their hands, Pi Sun-dae's loyal flunkies.

Pi Sun-dae clicked his tongue as if put out.

"Hey, hey! You bastards, what kind of mouth is that in front of a guest? This Han San fellow's no ordinary man. Word is he hunts down wolves and all—a real interesting friend."

He said as much, yet he didn't lift his backside from where he sat. If anything, he brought the teacup to his lips and narrowed his eyes.

His meaning was plain.

Amid the growling of the two-legged feral dogs, Han San gave a quiet snort inside.

'Gangster bastards, the lot of them.'

Lose ground here and eight to two would be the least of it—he'd have his idea stolen and be driven out. Or else made to slave away for no pay at all.

"Whew."

Han San let out a short breath.

He took his hand off the teacup. Then he slowly rolled up his sleeve.

"Slighted?"

The veins stood out on his bared forearm.

"Can't have that—you feeling slighted."

"What?"

The instant the teacup-bringer's face screwed up, Han San moved.

Crack!

The back of his fist drove into the teacup-bringer's cheekbone. The sound that rang out was almost an explosion.

"Guh—"

Without even getting a scream out, the teacup-bringer's head snapped first, then his neck, then the body below, all of it flung in a heap. The big man tumbled across the ground like a struck stone.

"You—you little bastard!?"

The rest of them cried out in alarm. But by then Han San had already launched off the spot.

"When you bark," seventy-four years of experience burst out through an eighteen-year-old body, "do it while you move."

Whump!

A clean roundhouse kick sent another one flying.

"You—" only then did another grit his teeth and rush in. "What." Han San slipped the fist with just a tilt of his head. The punch grazed past by the width of a sheet of paper, and he grabbed the wrist with one hand, the shoulder with the other, and spun his whole body around.

He threw him.

"Waaaah!"

A flunky went sailing through empty air.

Crash!

A jangdok jar[1] sitting in a corner of the yard shattered. The smell of ganjang hit hard.

"Ah, shit, the jar stand!"

Pi Sun-dae ground his teeth, his teacup still in his hand.

It made no difference to Han San. He kept moving.

It wasn't over. The ones who'd been rolling on the ground, the ones who hadn't dared rush in yet—only now did they grit their teeth and pile in. Brooms, rocks, whatever they could grab was in their hands.

"You young little shit!"

"You're dead, you bastard!"

A yard sunk in dusk, a brick house red as blood, the mountain shadow stretching in from far off.

Five against one.

Han San wasn't rattled. If anything, a strange smile hung at the corner of his mouth.

In the end, this too was just a slightly noisy hunt.

Every move of these two-legged feral dogs—slower than a pheasant, simpler than a badger—lay bare before the eyes of a seventy-four-year-old mountain man.

"Still feeling slighted?"

Han San began to hunt the men coming at him, one by one, but surely.

He let a flying broom slide past with a flick, crack, kicked a shin out and dropped the man to his knees. The hand reaching for his collar—snap—he caught the fingers, bent them back, and into that jaw screaming "Aaaah!" he drove an uppercut.

"Guh!"

"Hgkh!"

Flashy martial arts? Sharp-looking stances? None of that.

Strike the vital point, wrench the joint, break the balance.

Just so the two-legged feral dogs could no longer stand on two legs—repeating only that, over and over.

"You—you shit...!"

The last man left roared, his face a bloody mess. His hand groped at his front, as if to pull out some kind of tool.

Naturally, Han San gave him no chance to draw the steel claws.

He launched off.

He caught the wrist, twisted it, and with the other hand grabbed a fistful of hair and slammed the head into the wall.

Crack!

"Khhhh...!!"

The moment the man dropped to his knees, whites of his eyes showing, clink—the bit of steel fell to the ground later than his knees did.

Silence settled.

The yard was now wholly swallowed by mountain shadow. Only faint, whimpering moans hung low over it.

"Now then."

Han San brushed the dust off his clothes. He raked his mussed hair back and said,

"Not feeling slighted now, are you?"

Step, step, thunk.

It was the sound of Han San coming back and sitting down before the tea table.

"They say they're not feeling slighted, hyung."

Han San said it, looking Pi Sun-dae straight in the eye.

Pi Sun-dae was baring his teeth. There was no longer any smile on his face.

Watching from afar, Kim Tae-yang had long since lost the strength in his legs and slid down clinging to the veranda post.

'Crazy... he's insanely strong...'

And he'd tried to strong-arm wire away from a man like that? Without meaning to, Kim Tae-yang clutched at the throat that had been throttled that day.

At the same time, a realization cracked across his mind.

'So that's Baekdu Mountain style fighting!'

Just what kind of place was Baekdu Mountain? Before he hurt his leg, how much of a master had San's dad been? The more he thought about it, the more Kim Tae-yang's chest swelled with awe...

"What do you say, hyung?"

Han San asked.

"Eight to two. Feeling slighted?"

Pi Sun-dae was looking at Han San.

Han San was smiling again, but Pi Sun-dae needed time before he could smile again.

It took a little while.

"Heh heh..."

Pat, pat, pat.

It was the sound of Pi Sun-dae slapping his own thigh with his palm.

"Aigo, Han San! Spicy! Your fists are downright spicy. With fists this hot, where's the room to feel slighted, eh?"

"Thank you."

"Yes, yes. Me, working with a spicy-fisted fellow like you—I'm grateful, real grateful."

Pi Sun-dae bellowed at the underlings sprawled on the ground.

"Hey, you bastards, is now the time to be lying there sleeping? You not getting up quick? Get going and help boss Han San get the tavern ready! Smashing jars, spilling ganjang—useless little shits!"

Only then did the flunkies groan and haul themselves up. They didn't dare even glance Han San's way. Their spirit was completely broken—not feral dogs now, but whipped mutts.

Pi Sun-dae flashed Han San a grin. There was no more testing in it, no more sizing up.

"Fine, eight to two. No, you could take another 0.3 and I'd have nothing to say."

Han San grinned too.

"No, eight to two. Just drop the interest."

"Heh heh heh. Yes, yes. How much do you need?"

"Around thirty won for a start? Ah, and if you've got a donkey or a cart, lend me that too. To haul goods over from town."

"You got it! Let's earn ourselves a fat fortune."

The deal was struck.

The next day, April 19th.

At the entrance of the Lower Hamlet in Sebeom Valley, a big signboard went up in a prime spot.

A wolf skull with one eye socket smashed in, polished to a shine by Kim Tae-yang through the night, hung up top, and below it a wolf hide draped down like a curtain in place of a door. A strange tavern.

[Wolf-Catching Tavern]

Beneath the sign, its lettering crude but full of force, the smell of liquor and boiling gukbap rose.

"Wolf-Catching Tavern! Nice name."

"The hide's real too! And the skull—wow! Bet this place'll bring a man some luck."

From the evening of that very day, customers from out of town began to pour in.

Han San dressed in comfortable clothes, took up the bowls, and smiled.

"Welcome, gentlemen!"

The feast had raised its curtain.

[1] A jangdok (장독) is a large traditional Korean earthenware crock used to store and ferment soybean paste, ganjang, and other seasonings, typically kept outdoors on a raised terrace.

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried