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“You say there’s no money?”
……
“I’ve never in my life heard that this household has no money.”
“Well, that’s because you haven’t been here long.”
“Does that make any sense?”
Bukgung Yoon frowned at Yeon Mujin’s question.
“Guard Yeon. Did you finish escorting the attendants properly?”
“Of course.”
“You finished earlier than I expected.”
“Don’t dodge the question—do you have no money?”
“…Yes.”
It was true. A fact with no room for excuses.
That’s why they’d cut staff and reduced the monthly stipends.
“Why?”
“Well…”
Bukgung Yoon calmly explained what had happened.
With Wang Ga-hwa and Jeong Yeo-gwang dead, the person Bukgung Yoon could trust most in the manor was Yeon Mujin—after all, he had put her in her current position.
As Yeon Mujin listened and fit the pieces together, he clicked his tongue.
“Tsk.”
‘So it’s because of me.’
Bukgung Cheon never handed his children money when he sent them off. He provided only the foundation—the vast manor that came with the Bukgung name. The sons and daughters could use the estate as an asset: trade, hire artisans, or simply wield the Bukgung name to extort others. Some did resort to such things. But in truth, they hardly needed to act. Separated offspring—especially those eyeing the next family lord position—naturally drew opportunists. The siblings could just seize the streams of income that flowed to them: stalwarts of orthodox sects, heads of unorthodox sects, and worse.
This Flying Swallow Manor, however—
‘—had no revenue streams.’
In a way, it made sense. Who would attach a string to a kite whose string had been cut? Even those still around were being driven off.
‘I didn’t think of that.’
In his previous life, Yeon Mujin hadn’t worried about such things; he only had to catch the eyes of other young lords. They already had backing and wealth, so the only difficulty was winning favor—a harder, bloodier process than here. But whatever the case.
“Then where did Flying Swallow Manor’s money come from until now?”
“That, too, is connected to Lady Wang.”
It was news to him: Wang Ga-hwa came from a merchant family renowned in Taiyuan. When she began seizing real power in Flying Swallow Manor, she tied the manor’s revenue to the Wang Family Trading Company. Backed by the Bukgung name, the trading company grew even larger.
But that connection became a poison for the manor. They should have gradually reduced Wang Ga-hwa’s influence while diversifying income… instead, because she was toppled abruptly, the revenue streams were severed.
So, in conclusion.
“You’re saying it’s because of me.”
“It’s not because of the Chief.”
“If it happened because of me, then yes, it’s my fault. Anyway, so?”
“If this continues, within a few months even the servants’ stipends will be precarious. We must secure income quickly…”
At the mention that monthly stipends might vanish, Yang Gwan-wol and Seo Nak-il, standing nearby, went pale.
They had barely accepted a halved stipend—now they might not even get that?
Yeon Mujin called the two of them over.
“You two.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Captain?”
Bukgung Yoon repeated the unfamiliar title.
Yeon Mujin explained he’d renamed the guard unit.
“External Protection Troops—good name. From now on I’ll call Guard Yeon ‘Captain Yeon.’”
Yeon Mujin nodded, looked at the two, and spoke.
“I’m only the nominal captain; in practice these two will hustle to run the External Protection Troops.”
“What? No, um? Captain, you didn’t say that…”
“I just decided.”
It was an absurd appointment. Even Bukgung Yoon bobbed and greeted the two.
“You two will be deputy captains, then. I look forward to working with you.”
“Oh my, well, um… I look forward to working with you.”
The snatched appointment left them dazed.
At times like this, Yeon Mujin and Bukgung Yoon worked well together.
“Alright. Deputy Yang and Deputy Seo. As Captain, I’ll assign your first task.”
“Yes?”
“So suddenly?”
Yeon Mujin asked with a solemn expression fit for a Great Lord.
“Do you have any money stashed away?”
“…”
They shared the same incredulous look.
“If you’ve got hidden money, set an example and hand it over. It’s an order from the Great Lord.”
“Captain Yeon, please stop.”
Bukgung Yoon covered her flushed face and tried to dissuade him.
“Even if you ask, there’s no money to give.”
“What? You spent all the stipends you received up till now?”
Mr. Yang and Seo both nodded.
“What scoundrels.”
“And you, Captain…?”
“I, of course, have none.”
“Then why are you so confident?”
“This is what it means to have a man’s largesse.”
The men gathered from the family said to be the wealthiest in the world were all penniless.
Bukgung Yoon felt a headache rising. A lifetime of poverty she had never been destined for. Three burly men talking about empty pockets made her head spin.
“All three of you stop. I’ll try to sort this out somehow.”
“Boss, do you have a plan?”
Yang Gwan-wol asked.
“Even if we have to ask for help…”
Yeon Mujin shook his head.
“No. Don’t. It won’t help at all. And the family lord won’t willingly assist either.”
He knew Bukgung Cheon well—perhaps better than anyone.
‘The moment you seek Bukgung Cheon’s help, you’re instantly disqualified as a candidate for family lord.’
If Bukgung Yoon truly wants to become family lord, she must, at the very least, avoid accepting Bukgung Cheon’s aid.
“If she intended to ask the family lord for help, she could have done so long ago. Isn’t she the young lady who hasn’t sought help for years?”
“…That’s right.”
Bukgung Yoon felt a vague pride; she knew what Bukgung Cheon expected of her.
“For now, we’ll handle it ourselves. If the manor collapses from lack of funds, wouldn’t the Bukgung descendants be mocked for generations?”
Yeon Mujin folded his arms and thought for a moment, then asked the deputy captains.
“What happened to the Wang Family Trading Company—the family of the deceased Wang Ga-hwa?”
Seo Nak-il answered.
“Well, it seems the entire Wang family was massacred. Overnight.”
“Massacred?”
At that, Yeon Mujin and Bukgung Yoon’s eyes met.
They were thinking the same thing.
The family’s annihilation coincided with Wang Ga-hwa’s scandal breaking.
‘It’s the Sixth Young Lord’s doing.’
Yeon Mujin was certain.
He said to Bukgung Yoon, “Boss.”
“Yes, Yeon Captain.”
“I’ll look into it.”
Bukgung Yoon nodded, her face set.
The signboard of the Wang Family Trading Company lay half-destroyed, rolling on the floor. Items were scattered; bloodstains and charred wood testified to the violence here.
Yeon Mujin climbed into an empty pavilion and looked down at the ruined trading house.
“It’s a noisy mess,” he murmured.
They had slaughtered people so brutally that a long streak of blood ran along the blue stone, as if corpses had been dragged about. It had been a long time since Yeon Mujin had seen such messy traces.
“Only one bastard handles things with this kind of mess…”
He glanced at a pillar beside him and immediately identified the culprit.
Three claw marks carved at regular intervals.
A peculiar mark not commonly seen.
Yeon Mujin knew exactly who left them.
“So that Un bastard got here after all.”
It was the work of Chief Un, the Sixth Young Master’s closest aide, and the Lonely Claw Troops he led. The Lonely Claw Troops were the worst—bloodthirsty scoundrels who reveled in slaughter and plunder.
“Kak, spit—what an unlucky bastard.”
Yeon Mujin loathed Chief Un intensely. Seeing that sullen, haughty face made him want to crush it. Un excelled at dirty deeds from the shadows—outwardly courteous but secretly sharpening his knife: a petty villain.
“But why would Un come himself?”
Chief Un was not one to move for ordinary matters. In Yeon Mujin’s previous life, when he served the Sixth Young Master, Yeon handled most affairs while Un handled schemes and plots. If Yeon was the blade, Un was the wit.
If someone like him moved personally—
“It’s not mere vengeance.”
The problem was—
‘—what could possibly make Un step forward himself…’
Yeon Mujin groaned and scratched his head. He wasn’t the sort to discover everything by fretting. If he didn’t know, he’d find out—from someone who would know.
“Chun-sik, what are you doing right now?”
Yeon Mujin left the Wang Family Trading Company’s ruins and headed for Taiyuan city.
Ten Flowers Guesthouse, north of Taiyuan city.
This place was actually a hidden Cocoon Silkworm Clan headquarters. Jang Chun-sik, owner of the Ten Flowers Guesthouse, surveyed the newly renovated interior with a satisfied smile.
He’d moved the clan’s headquarters to this empty alley, changed the name from Hwayang Guesthouse, and covered their tracks. It was a flawless laundering of identity.
“At this rate, no one will come looking, right?”
Especially that bastard—the one who had appeared like a bolt from the blue and emptied Jang Chun-sik’s pockets.
Crackle!
Jang Chun-sik ground his teeth at the thought.
Using the Cocoon Silkworm Clan’s intelligence, he’d learned the fiend was Bukgung’s guard at Flying Swallow Manor—Yeon Mujin, or now the Chief Guard. Beyond that, nothing about Yeon Mujin’s past turned up. He had no ties to the Bukgung Family. He’d fallen from the sky, killed two influential figures at the manor, and taken the chief guard post. Odd, rough, dangerous.
“I really hope I never see him again.”
There were two reasons Jang moved Hwayang Guesthouse to Ten Flowers. First, to avoid Yeon Mujin. Second, to escape the danger of the information Yeon Mujin had last requested.
Jang Chun-sik had three iron rules: self-preservation first, personal profit second, and avoidance of trouble third. The Cocoon Silkworm Clan never dealt in physical evidence; they traded only information that could vanish like mist, allowing them to cut their tails and flee.
One rule had been broken because of Yeon Mujin.
“He might have picked up our trail…”
Jang hadn’t yet earned enough to live comfortably after retiring. Though he’d amassed money, it was dust compared to his greed.
“Just five more years, then I’m out.”
For that sake—
“Everyone, be careful for a while. Keep your heads down and your voices low. That’s how the Cocoon Silkworm Clan survives.”
“Yes, Leader!”
“Answer quietly, you lot!”
Then—
Screeeech!
A guest arrived at Branch Two of the Cocoon Silkworm Clan. Jang Chun-sik hadn’t invited anyone.
“Who’s there! This inn doesn’t do business—out with you!”
The newcomers were strange. They wore large rain cloaks that hid their bodies and pulled hoods deep over their faces.
‘Is it raining?’
But the sun shone outside, and their cloaks were dry.
“An inn that doesn’t do business?”
The man at the front smiled.
“Looks like you’ve come to the right place.”
Something ominous clicked from inside his cloak—tadadadak! Like iron striking iron.
“…!”
Jang Chun-sik felt an inexplicable chill. A man who’d lived by avoiding trouble and self-preservation had developed sharp instincts.
“Are you Jang Chun-sik of the Cocoon Silkworm Clan?”
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