Seo-joon washed his face in cold water before meeting Jang Deok-su.
Not because he cared about looking clean.
Because dirt made men dismiss you too quickly.
He still looked poor. His clothes were patched, his body thin, and the bruise on his cheek had turned dark yellow. But his hair was tied back neatly, his face was wiped clean, and his eyes looked awake.
That mattered.
A starving beggar could be ignored.
A starving beggar with calm eyes made people uncomfortable.
Mak-bong watched him from the shrine entrance.
"You really going?"
"Yes."
"You might not come back."
Seo-joon wrung water from the cloth and looked at him.
"Then keep the pot hidden."
Mak-bong swallowed.
Min-seo stood near her mother, holding a basket against her waist. She had been quiet all morning.
Finally, she said, "You shouldn't bring the money pouch."
Seo-joon glanced at her.
"Why?"
"If they see you have coins, they'll take them."
"They already know I have coins."
"Knowing and seeing are different."
Seo-joon paused.
That was true.
He looked at her for a moment, then removed most of the coins from the pouch. He left only three mun inside and tucked the rest beneath a loose floorboard near the back of the shrine.
Min-seo noticed where he hid them.
He noticed her noticing.
Neither of them said anything.
Trust was not built by pretending secrets did not exist.
It was built by seeing if people betrayed them.
Old Lady Wol arrived shortly after sunrise and led him toward Deok-su's place. Mak-bong wanted to follow, but Seo-joon refused.
"If I need to run, you'll slow me down."
Mak-bong looked offended.
Old Lady Wol snorted. "He's right."
Deok-su did not live like a noble, but he lived better than everyone in the slums.
His house sat near the edge of the market, behind a wooden gate guarded by two men with short clubs. The roof did not leak. The walls stood straight. There were storage jars lined beside the entrance, and a servant girl swept dirt from the front step.
To people in the capital, it might have looked simple.
To the slums, it was a palace.
Seo-joon understood immediately.
Deok-su did not need to be noble.
He only needed to be richer than desperate people.
That was enough to become king.
The guards searched him roughly and took the three mun from his pouch.
Seo-joon let them.
One guard laughed. "This all?"
Seo-joon lowered his head slightly.
"For now."
The guard stopped laughing.
Inside, Jang Deok-su sat on a low wooden platform, eating rice mixed with vegetables. He was not as large as Seo-joon expected. That made him more dangerous.
Big men often used size because they had nothing else.
Deok-su looked ordinary. Middle-aged. Broad face. Short beard. Plain robe. Calm hands.
His eyes, though, were sharp and empty.
Beside him sat Kang Yul, the bookkeeper. Thin face, neat clothes, brush and ledger resting near his knee.
Gu Chil stood near the wall.
When he saw Seo-joon, he smiled.
"There he is. The root merchant."
Seo-joon bowed.
Not too deep.
Deok-su noticed.
"So you're the one causing noise in my market."
His voice was soft.
Seo-joon kept his gaze lowered.
"I sell food to hungry people."
Gu Chil laughed. "Hear that? A saint."
Deok-su raised one hand.
Gu Chil went quiet.
That told Seo-joon everything.
Gu Chil had muscle.
Deok-su had command.
Kang Yul looked at Seo-joon over the ledger.
"Name."
"Seo-joon."
"Family name?"
Seo-joon hesitated for half a breath.
In Joseon, family names mattered. Lineage mattered. Class mattered.
He had none here.
"Only Seo-joon," he said.
Kang Yul's brush paused.
A man without family was a man without protection.
Deok-su smiled faintly.
"No family. No master. No guild. Yet you sell in my market."
Seo-joon said nothing.
Deok-su picked up his chopsticks again.
"Where do the roots come from?"
"Poor gatherers."
"Which poor gatherers?"
"Different ones."
Gu Chil stepped forward. "He's lying."
Seo-joon looked at him for the first time.
"Yes."
The room went still.
Gu Chil's smile vanished.
Deok-su slowly lowered his chopsticks.
Seo-joon continued, voice calm.
"I am lying because telling the full truth gives away my supply line. A man who reveals his supply to strangers deserves to be poor."
Kang Yul's eyes sharpened.
Deok-su stared at Seo-joon for a long moment.
Then he laughed.
It was quiet.
More dangerous than loud laughter.
"You admit lying in my house?"
"I admit understanding business."
Gu Chil moved fast.
His fist slammed into Seo-joon's stomach.
Pain exploded through him.
Seo-joon dropped to one knee, breath crushed from his lungs. His vision blurred, but he did not fall fully.
He forced himself to stay upright.
Gu Chil grabbed his hair.
"You speak too much."
Seo-joon's fingers dug into the floor.
Pain was information.
Gu Chil was easy to provoke.
Good.
Deok-su watched without expression.
Seo-joon coughed, then spoke through the pain.
"If he hits me before hearing the proposal, he costs you money."
Gu Chil's grip tightened.
Deok-su lifted one finger.
Gu Chil stopped.
"Proposal?" Deok-su asked.
Seo-joon slowly looked up.
"Yes."
Kang Yul leaned closer to his ledger.
Seo-joon took a breath. His stomach screamed, but he forced his voice steady.
"Right now, Gu Chil taxes sellers by mood. Some days one mun. Some days five. Some days ten. That makes sellers hide sales, leave the market, or sell elsewhere."
Gu Chil's face darkened.
Seo-joon continued before he could interrupt.
"That lowers total market volume."
Kang Yul's brush stopped moving.
Good.
The bookkeeper understood numbers.
Seo-joon shifted his focus to him.
"If sellers fear profit, they stay small. If they stay small, there is less to collect."
Deok-su's eyes narrowed slightly.
Seo-joon said, "A predictable fee earns more than random squeezing."
Silence.
Old Lady Wol had said markets were people.
Seo-joon was now speaking to the person who owned those people.
"The root business is small," Seo-joon continued. "But the model can grow. Food delivery to homes. Small bundles for sick families. Market stall supply. Later, dried vegetables. Firewood. Maybe cloth scraps."
Gu Chil spat. "Dreams."
Seo-joon looked at Deok-su, ignoring him.
"Give me seven days. A fixed fee. Two mun per selling day, no extra squeezing. In return, I report sales numbers through Kang Yul and pay a percentage once profit rises."
Kang Yul's eyes moved from Seo-joon to Deok-su.
There it was.
Not a bribe.
A system.
Modern business inside a slum.
Fixed overhead plus revenue share.
Predictability in exchange for growth.
Deok-su tapped his finger against the table.
"And why would I need you? I can take your roots, your sellers, and your route."
Seo-joon expected that.
"Because you can take what exists today. But not what I will build tomorrow."
Gu Chil laughed again, but weaker this time.
Seo-joon pushed further.
"Old Lady Wol sells because people trust her. Min-seo delivers because sick homes open doors for her. Mak-bong hears rumors because children ignore him. I connect them. Remove me, and you get roots for a few days. Keep me, and you get a growing income stream."
Deok-su's face did not change.
But Kang Yul wrote something down.
Seo-joon noticed.
So did Gu Chil.
"You little rat," Gu Chil muttered.
Seo-joon turned his head slightly.
"And Gu Chil is expensive."
The room froze.
Gu Chil stepped forward.
Deok-su said, "Explain."
Seo-joon's heartbeat slowed.
This was the dangerous part.
"If Gu Chil collects ten mun from a business that cannot yet make ten, he kills the business. If he breaks signs, buyers scatter. If he creates debt too early, sellers hide."
He looked at Kang Yul.
"And if he owes gambling debts, drinks on collection days, and keeps side money before it reaches this house, then he is not a collector."
Gu Chil's face went red.
"He lies!"
Seo-joon looked back to Deok-su.
"He is a leak."
No one moved.
Deok-su's expression stayed calm, but the air changed.
Kang Yul slowly placed his brush down.
Gu Chil's hand went to the club at his waist.
Seo-joon knew he had gone far.
Maybe too far.
But retreating now would make him dead later.
Deok-su smiled.
"Do you have proof?"
Seo-joon said nothing.
That was the problem.
Information was not proof.
Dal-rae's words were not proof.
Gu Chil grinned when he saw the silence.
Seo-joon had attacked too early.
Mistake.
Deok-su leaned back.
"You are clever. But clever boys often mistake suspicion for power."
Seo-joon lowered his gaze.
"Yes."
That answer made Deok-su pause.
Seo-joon continued, "Then give me seven days to bring proof."
Gu Chil barked a laugh. "Or I break his legs now."
Deok-su ignored him.
"What happens in seven days?"
Seo-joon's mind raced.
He needed an offer strong enough to keep himself alive.
"If I fail, I give you my route, my workers, and all future supply contacts."
Min-seo would hate him for that.
Old Lady Wol would curse him.
Mak-bong would panic.
But Seo-joon needed Deok-su to believe he was risking something real.
Deok-su's eyes sharpened.
"And if you succeed?"
"Gu Chil stops collecting from my business."
Gu Chil snarled.
Seo-joon added, "Kang Yul collects directly. Fixed fee. Written tally."
Kang Yul's expression barely shifted, but Seo-joon saw interest.
Bookkeepers liked systems.
Systems made bookkeepers powerful.
Deok-su laughed softly.
"You want to put my man under my bookkeeper."
"I want your money to stop leaking."
That was the real bait.
Not fairness.
Not mercy.
Profit.
Deok-su stared at him for a long time.
Then he picked up a piece of vegetable and ate it slowly.
"Three days."
Seo-joon's stomach tightened.
"Seven would allow better—"
"Three."
The word was quiet, final.
Deok-su looked at Gu Chil.
"Until then, you don't touch his people unless I say."
Gu Chil's face twisted.
Then Deok-su looked back at Seo-joon.
"But if you fail…"
He smiled.
"You belong to me."
Seo-joon understood exactly what that meant.
Not employment.
Ownership.
Debt slavery in everything but name.
His body still hurt from Gu Chil's punch, but his mind became very still.
Three days.
To prove Gu Chil was stealing.
To protect the pot.
To protect his tiny business.
To avoid becoming Deok-su's property.
Seo-joon bowed.
"I understand."
As he turned to leave, Gu Chil leaned close enough for only him to hear.
"You won't last three days."
Seo-joon looked at him.
His voice was soft.
"Then you should be less scared."
Gu Chil's face twitched.
Seo-joon walked out before the man could hit him again.
Outside, the sunlight felt too bright.
His stomach throbbed. His legs felt weak.
He had not won.
Not even close.
He had bought three days with his own neck.
Old Lady Wol waited near the road. When she saw his face, she clicked her tongue.
"You look like a man who sold himself."
Seo-joon wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.
"No."
He looked back at Deok-su's house.
"I rented myself."
Old Lady Wol stared.
"And the price?"
Seo-joon's eyes turned cold.
"Gu Chil's head."