Chapter 3

The first things I remember.

Cold, and loneliness. And hunger.

A winter daybreak, a cold wind driving in. I was huddled in a corner of a shaded street, getting through one more night, and I remember the hand that reached out to me.

“A little thing like you… where are your parents?”

That voice was as warm as the daybreak light spilling down behind him.

“Here. Eat this, at least.”

The cold griddle cake in his hand was more delicious than any delicacy in the world.

“Order over here!”
“Yessir, coming right up!”

The Peace Inn had reopened, and business was booming. I do have a bit of a touch in the kitchen, if I do say so myself.

“Gwang-seon! One stir-fried bok choy over here!”
“Yessir! Right out!”

And with the newly bought wok thrown in on top of that, there was nothing that could stop us. Cooked in it, the food somehow felt like it was coming out better. No, not a feeling. A fact. The boss, who had eaten my cooking every day of his life, went wide-eyed and fired off a thumbs-up¹.

But where business thrives, vermin gather.

The door banged open and a pack of vicious-looking thugs came calling.

“Who gave you permission to do business here? Tell the boss to get out here.”

The Black Dog Gang had never been the only black-path thugs around, and with them gone, thugs of every other stripe had started throwing their weight around instead.

That was when Big Bro Un-cheon, who’d been waiting tables, stepped forward.

“If you’ve got a complaint, bring it to me.”

The bruisers snorted.

“And who the hell is some waiter to—”

Big Bro Un-cheon lightly bent back the hand of the thug reaching for his collar.

— Crrrack!

“Gyaaagh!”

Then he threw an arm around the man’s shoulders and steered him outside.

“Let’s step out and talk.”
“Kurk! W-wait—”

— Crash-bang!

— Aaaagh!

— Creeeak—

Big Bro Un-cheon had laid them all out without breaking a sweat, and he came back in grumbling.

“I don’t know what it is about this town — black-path scum everywhere you look.”

“Ha ha, isn’t that the truth. It’s because we’re a middling little backwater, I expect,” said the boss, setting food down in front of the customers.

“What’s the backwater got to do with it?”
“There’s no big sect worth the name around here, so every sort of rabble springs up.”
“There’s something in that.”

After a few rounds of that, the thugs who came around talking about protection fees stopped showing up. Business was good and there was nobody to pay off, so at long last money began to pile up. A smile settled on the face of our poor boss, who until then had done nothing but look ready to cry.

And so, for once, peaceful days went by.

“Two stir-fried bok choy over here!”
“Yessir! Right up!”

— Fwoosh!

The wok swung in rhythm with the snap of my wrist, and the flames danced.

Whoaa— A cry of admiration went up.

“Oooh!”
“What did I tell you? That boy’s got real skill.”

The customers marveled at the sight of me cooking, and my shoulders went up all on their own.

Nothing about the way I cooked had really changed. Someone had simply opened up the closed-off kitchen a little, so the customers could get a good look at me working. And that someone was none other than Big Bro Un-cheon.

A few days ago, he’d been watching me cook, and said:

— No matter how many times I watch it, it still gets a sound out of me. How is it that showy? And that exquisite touch, never dropping so much as one thing outside the pan in the middle of it — what about that? A man could stand here gaping at it all day.
— Haha. Thank you.
— It’s a waste for me to be the only one seeing this. Let’s let the customers see it too.
— Sorry? How?

— CRASH!

— Like this.

— …

At the time I thought he’d lost his mind, but looking back on it now, it was foresight.

The customers were happy to watch me cook while they waited for their food, and the number of people badgering us about where their order had got to dropped off dramatically. Some even started coming in just for the flashy fire show.

“Gwang-seon. There’s a mountain of orders and not enough hands. Shall I lend one?” said the boss, quietly taking hold of the idle spare pan by the handle.

I swatted the boss’s hand away before it got anywhere near the pan.

“Ah-ah! Don’t you even start — that won’t fly with me! Boss, I told you, go take the orders.”
“…”

The boss trudged off to take orders, crestfallen, and Big Bro Un-cheon laughed at the sight.

“The two of you have got your roles switched, haven’t you. Well — fair enough. With a chef as fine as you around, they might as well swap for good.”
“It isn’t especially that my cooking is good. Our boss has always been a soft-hearted, faint-hearted sort.”
“It’s a wonder he managed to run an inn among those rough black-path types.”
“Isn’t that the truth.”
“But why won’t you let him cook? He looks like he can manage well enough, even if he’s no match for you.”

I shook my head. Without, of course, my cooking hands ever stopping.

Oooh— The astonished cries of the customers watching the fire show reached me.

“Our boss. He’s a horror at cooking.”
“That bad?”
“Yessir. Burns everything, without fail. Our boss was born under a fate that says he must never, ever hold a pan.”
“Hmm… is that so?”

What’s he taking so long to say?

I narrowed my eyes at Big Bro Un-cheon, who stood leaning against the wall with his arms folded. He hesitated a long while, then spoke up carefully.

“Do you think… I could learn to cook, too?”

My eyes went wide.

“You, Big Bro? Cooking?”
“That’s right. Is it that surprising?”

When I just stared at him, he scratched his head, looking sheepish.

“A bit, is it? A man who’s killed people, cooking. Cooking with blood on his hands.”
“No, that’s not it. It’s just so unexpected, that’s all.”

A murim warrior who cooks? I’d never once imagined such a thing. A frog that could fly would be less strange.

“Does it not suit me much?”
“Not much — a lot.”
“Is it that strange… So. Does that mean you’ll teach me?”

He must have meant it. His eyes shone with expectation as he looked at me.

I shook the wok and said, in a distinctly unenthusiastic voice:

“Er, um. I don’t know. I’m not sure a man like you needs to go learning to cook of all things.”

What could a murim master like Big Bro Un-cheon possibly be short of, that he’d learn to cook? He could just have someone else do it.

And to be honest, it also sounded like a hassle. Business had picked up lately with all the extra customers as it was, and there was no spare moment for it.

But Big Bro Un-cheon wasn’t backing off easily. He mulled it over, and then he made me this offer.

“Then how about this. You teach me to cook, and in exchange I teach you martial arts.”
“…Martial arts?”

The offer was tempting. It’s easy to forget, with Big Bro Un-cheon lounging around here like an idler, but he was a murim warrior who’d put down a ring of black-path thugs in an instant. Bare-handed, at that. A formidable master I couldn’t presume to even look at.

A chance to learn martial arts from a master like that doesn’t come easily. No. Wasn’t this the first and last chance of my life?

I still had no idea what a man like him could be lacking that he’d ask me to teach him to cook, but the trade was overwhelmingly in my favor. Even if I absorbed only a tenth of what he taught me, I wouldn’t be getting beaten up wherever I went.

Not bad for self-defense, actually.

Realistically, there was no guarantee this murim warrior with a wandering star on him would stay here for life. Far more likely, one day he’d up and leave without a word.

And I can’t lean on the laser forever. Last time, if it hadn’t been for Big Bro Un-cheon, there’s no telling how it would have ended.

I leaned out a little and looked past the kitchen. Our boss was out there smiling and chattering away with the customers.

If I learn martial arts… I can protect our inn.

Our kind-hearted boss, who took me in when I had nothing. He’s a terrible cook, granted. But I wanted to protect that smile.

I never want to see our poor boss crying again.

“Okay. Bet.”
“Okay? Bet? What are those supposed to mean?”
“Huh. Good question. Anyway — I’m in. No take-backs?”
“Same to you.”

Hm. Ever since I got hold of the laser gun, strange words keep surfacing in my head. I’ve no idea why.

Anyway.

“Then it’s a promise.”
“Of course. A man’s word outweighs a thousand pieces of gold — haven’t you heard?”
“Good. We start today.”

After we closed up, I learned martial arts from Big Bro Un-cheon out in the yard. He had me try this and that, and then.

“…Hmm.”
“Well?”
“I’ll be honest with you. You’ve got no talent for martial arts.”
“…Sorry?”

It was like a bolt from a clear blue sky. I hadn’t expected to have any great martial gift, but for him to declare it that flatly?

“Second-rate is your ceiling², at best. And you’ve started late, besides.”
“L-late? I’m a teenage boy with a bright long life ahead of me and a head full of dreams, thank you very much?”
“That is what late means. Do you know what age the children of the great orthodox sects start learning martial arts?”
“What age do they start?”
“Ten at the latest. As early as five, some of them.”
“Whaaat?”

…What was I doing at that age. Eating dirt, probably.

Thinking about it, I have no memories of my childhood at all. Clean, as though someone had cut them out with scissors.

What had my parents been doing, to drift all the way out here to Fallen Star Village? I’ve never even seen their faces. Come to that, am I even from here at all?

“And they do it stuffing themselves with elixirs, keeping their qi and blood scrupulously clear. Whereas you…”
“…”
“Well. This is the normal state of things, mind.”

He patted my slumped shoulder by way of comfort.

“Still, if you keep at it steadily you’ll be able to run off the roughnecks who bother the business without much trouble. Don’t fret about it.”
“…Really?”
“Of course.”

Big Bro Un-cheon spread his arms wide.

“The gangho is wide. The Imperial Army, the Demonic Cult, the Five Great Families and the Nine Great Sects, the unorthodox sects scattered wide as grains of sand, nameless recluse masters besides… there are more men stronger than me than you could count. But don’t worry. Those great men are busy doing great things. Do you imagine gentlemen with that many affairs to attend have the leisure to look in on a little inn in a backwater like this?”
“Are you looking down on our Peace Inn right now?”

Big Bro roared with laughter.

“For now, repeat this.”

Big Bro Un-cheon hopped back and forth sideways, like a crab. Honestly, it looked a little ridiculous.

“What is this?”
“Every attack and every evasion begins here, at the feet. For the time being, repeat this until you’ve mastered it.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it for today.”

From that day on I hopped diligently back and forth sideways like a crab. There were even times my feet itched in the middle of cooking and I hopped left and right and knocked the food over.

And as for Big Bro Un-cheon…

“How’s that? Cut rather well, wouldn’t you say?”
“…”

Infuriatingly, he had a knack for cooking. More than I’d thought. Was it because he was a murim warrior who’d made his living by the blade? His knife work on the ingredients was out of the ordinary.

After a few tries, wasn’t he cutting at precisely even intervals? Near enough to perfect. I thought he was a machine. Honestly, good enough that it felt rude to our boss to make the comparison.

“What? You can say whatever you like. When it comes to cooking, you’re a peak-stage master.”

I let out a deep sigh.

“I wasn’t staring because you’re bad at it. Quite the opposite.”
“Then what?”
“You did well. We can move straight on to the next stage.”
“Yesss!”

Delighted, Big Bro Un-cheon clenched his fist.

Heaven really is heartless. Why did heaven give the world our boss, and then go and give it Big Bro Un-cheon as well?³

That evening.

After a hard session of crab-step training I washed in cold water and went up to my room on the second floor. Bright moonlight was coming in through the window. I set the laser gun on the windowsill and looked out, and a pleasant, cool night wind blew in and stirred my hair.

“…Still, I’ve got this laser gun.”

Two bars left, so surely it’ll save my life twice more. I was busy consoling myself with that thought.

— Beep—

The third bar of the battery gauge marked along the side of the laser gun blinked, then lit up.

“…Huh?”

I blinked.

“Why has this thing suddenly charged?”

I fiddled with the laser gun, a baffled look on my face, and found a button I’d never seen before. Or maybe I’d just missed it. No idea.

Anyway, let’s press it.

— Beep—

“What did you say?”

— Shrrrrrk!

Thin wires shot out of the gun and wound tight around my wrist like living creatures.

“Wh-what the hell?”

Pulling at them did nothing.

A strange voice rang out through my head.

— Bzzzzzzt!

“Gyaaagh…”

That was the last thing I remember before I lost consciousness.