The gate opened.
The smells of lantern oil and liquor hit his face all at once. In the wide courtyard, a dozen or so tables had been set beneath the roofed hall, their lantern light swaying yellow above them. Unfamiliar faces sat at every table. As was always the case with those who came and went through Everblue Estate, they were difficult to classify—neither orthodox sects nor merchant houses. Some hired escort bureaus. Others had ties to financial houses. Three more men of that sort were seated here tonight.
The attendant led the Gatekeeper to a seat just below the place of honor. Everyone's eyes turned that way.
"There you are."
Jwa Woryang beckoned with his cup in hand. His face was redder than before. Several rounds of liquor had clearly passed.
"Sit."
"I'll stand."
"I said sit."
"A Gatekeeper doesn't sit on the job."
Jwa Woryang laughed under his breath. When the sound spread between the tables, the others laughed along. The only one who didn't was a middle-aged man in the corner, quietly swallowing his liquor. He had the eyes of someone who had spent a long time traveling on escort contracts—the eyes of a man who read the situation before the people in it.
"Did you all hear that?" Jwa Woryang waved his cup at the room. "The Gatekeeper of Everblue Estate buried one of my guards in the mud today. Without even laying a hand on him. Isn't that amusing?"
"Tell me honestly." Jwa Woryang leaned forward. "Which sect did you come from?"
"I have no sect."
"Lies aren't interesting."
"It's the truth."
"A man with no sect used that kind of swordsmanship?" Jwa Woryang tapped the table with his chopsticks. Clack. Clack. The sound was perfectly rhythmic. "I saw a few men like that ten years ago. Small places that could hardly be called sects, places that vanished without a name. I wonder where people like that all went."
Jang Isu's right thumb brushed once between his index and middle fingers. Just once. Nothing showed on the outside.
"I don't know."
"You don't know?" Jwa Woryang grinned. "Fine. Let's put on a little demonstration in front of the bureau masters here. That trick from earlier."
"This isn't a place to perform for guests."
"When I tell you to do something, you do it." Jwa Woryang raised his voice. The liquor cups on the table trembled faintly at the sound. "These bureau masters will be deciding their escort contracts for next year right here. Do you think it's better for word to spread that one of my men was beaten by a Gatekeeper in front of them, or should I set the record straight myself, right now?"
The middle-aged man in the corner set down his cup. Silently, but with such precision that everyone felt it.
"There's no need to set anything straight," Jang Isu said. "What happened earlier isn't worth spreading."
"I decide that." Jwa Woryang rose from his seat. His body tilted slightly, then straightened. "Stand up and face me."
By the time Jwa Woryang stood, a short sword was already in his hand. It was the dagger he always wore at his waist for self-defense. His fingers gripped the hilt with practiced ease. A man who had risen to the position of Vice Chief couldn't possibly be completely helpless with a sword.
"Don't be frightened. I'm not trying to kill you." Jwa Woryang laughed under his breath. "All I want is for you to stop one of my sword strikes with that skill of yours from earlier. If you do, I'll remember your name after tonight. If you can't…"
He didn't finish. The tip of the sword darted briefly toward Jang Isu's shoulder.
It wasn't fast. But it was the sword of a man confident in his own ability. Slightly unsteady with drink, Jwa Woryang put his weight behind the blade. If his opponent retreated, he would pursue. If he blocked, Jwa Woryang intended to use the force to drive him back.
Jang Isu didn't retreat.
He merely turned the tip of his foot a fraction. All he did was shift his center of gravity by the width of a finger from where he stood. That was enough.
The sword tip failed to graze the place it should have passed. Jwa Woryang's weight carried him straight in the direction he had committed himself to. His body lurched forward. His liquor-weakened legs couldn't withstand the force.
Jwa Woryang didn't even realize he was falling.
The table flipped over. Bottles, cups, and soup bowls spilled all at once. Jwa Woryang went down on top of them, red liquor spreading across his silk robe. Broth ran down his sleeve. The room fell silent for an instant.
A short laugh escaping from the corner broke the silence. The man who had laughed hurriedly covered his mouth, but it was already too late.
"…What is the meaning of this?"
Jwa Woryang pushed himself up, his face soaked. Broth dripped from his robe. He glared at the Gatekeeper, who hadn't touched him. The laughter from moments ago was still stamped in his eyes. All three bureau masters—all the men who held the fate of the escort bureau in their hands—had seen him like this.
"I had no intention of killing you," Jang Isu said quietly. "I've never learned a sword like that."
It wasn't a lie. Old Man Yoo's martial arts had never included a killing technique to begin with. But tonight, that was enough.
Jwa Woryang couldn't say a word. The hand clutching his wet sleeve trembled. Too many eyes were watching for him to vent his anger, and if he cut down a mere Gatekeeper here, that would become another rumor in its own right. He roughly gathered up his robe and turned away.
"…That's enough for tonight."
Even after he left, the bureau master in the corner didn't move from his seat. He stared for a long time at Jang Isu's face—not the overturned table or the wet floor. They were the eyes of a merchant, measuring whether what he had seen in this room tonight could be sold somewhere.
Jang Isu didn't avoid his gaze. Instead, he bowed, turned, and walked toward the door. From behind him, someone muttered in a low voice.
"…What did you say that man's name was?"
When Jang Isu returned to the red front gate, he stood in the rain again. The rain had thinned a little by then. He rubbed his wet hands against his robe and looked up at the sky.
What had been sold inside this gate tonight was information. Someday, it would be Jwa Woryang's turn to have it come back to him. Until then, there was no need to hurry.
The last lantern burning inside the gate went out. Jang Isu barred the gate.
The sound of the gate bar rang unusually loud.
Footsteps still remained in the courtyard. Attendants bustled about cleaning up the overturned table, wringing out wet silk. Someone passing by said with a low chuckle that Jwa Woryang had already been moved to the detached building in the rear courtyard. Just washing the face that had been shoved into a soup bowl would take half an hour, they said, and the voice carried over the wall.
Jang Isu's expression didn't change even after he heard the laughter.
Instead, he went back beneath the eaves and wrung out his wet robe again. Water dripped to the ground. It was a movement he had repeated for three years, and tonight it was no different. What had changed was not his fingertips, but the name those fingertips remembered.
'Jwa Woryang.'
The first name had crossed the threshold twice tonight. Once on the way in, and once on the way out. He wouldn't be walking out; he would have to be supported. That was enough. Jang Isu hadn't killed him, and he had never intended to draw his sword. But a single image had been etched into the eyes of the three bureau masters who had been here tonight: the image of the Vice Chief of the Celestial Blossom Gang covered in mud and broth before a mere Gatekeeper.
The harder Jwa Woryang tried to erase that image, the farther it would spread.
Footsteps approached again. This time, they were hurried. It was Wang Ho. Unlike before, he hadn't brought the three swordsmen. He was alone, traces of where he had knelt still caked in mud on his face.
"The Vice Chief… wants to see you again."
"I'll decline."
"This isn't a position where you can decline!" Wang Ho's voice cracked. "This time, he says to meet outside the estate. Somewhere without the bureau masters."
Jang Isu didn't release the hand gripping the gate bar.
"The gate outside the estate isn't mine to guard."
"Then you're finished at this mountain estate tonight!"
"Maybe."
Wang Ho couldn't continue. He stared into the Gatekeeper's eyes for a long while, then finally turned and ran back inside. Only the falling rain remained where his back had disappeared.
Jang Isu leaned his back against the red gate. From beyond it, a low groan came from the direction of the detached building. It belonged to Jwa Woryang.
By tomorrow, word of tonight would spread from the mouths of the three escort bureau masters. And wherever that rumor reached, a second name would tremble along with it.
Wang Ho.
The lanterns inside the gate went out one by one. Even after the last one died, Jang Isu remained standing there for a long time. The rain did not stop, and the red gate did not open again.