Jang Jimin's Martial Skill
As he divided the coins into one-nyang portions and counted them one by one,
a woman's sharp voice burst from the mouth of the alley.
"You bastards—aren't you done yet?!"
So-un turned his head.
It was Jang Jimin.
It seemed she had not returned with the Cheonsan Wanderer.
There was no need to ask anything.
In a single breath she closed the distance.
The moment her foot touched the ground, she was already before them.
The fat man's jaw snapped sideways first.
The leader's stomach caved inward.
The skinny one's shoulder twisted.
The beggar-like fellow's knee buckled.
Dull thuds rang through the alley in rapid succession.
Everything happened in an instant.
She read the situation with a single sweep of her eyes.
A master was a master.
So-un's mouth fell open.
"Eh?"
Thud. Crack. Ugh. Groan.
Without warning, without a word,
her fists flew toward the alley thugs who had been shaking down So-un.
The self-proclaimed "brothers" had no chance to react.
Sharp fists and knife-hands struck shoulders, stabbed into bellies, and smashed shins.
They were beaten until the stench of liquor mixed with sour vomit filled the alley.
Each blow sent puffs of dust rising from their filthy clothes.
Jang Jimin's strikes were fierce and precise.
Shoulder, stomach, neck, wrist—she bent them one by one.
Bones sounded as if they might snap.
None who rolled on the ground managed to rise again.
Even those knocked down in a single blow were shown no mercy.
If one fell, she struck his belly again.
If he bent over, she twisted his arm.
They dropped one by one.
None rose again.
Gagging sounds,
harsh groans,
tears and mucus mixing with grime soaked into the dirt.
So-un blinked and asked.
Perhaps this was where she released all she had been holding back.
It was better not to let things pile up.
Stress was best discharged in the moment.
Only then did the leader realize something had gone terribly wrong.
She was a martial master—someone they should never have touched.
No matter how bold they were in back alleys, they were nothing before a true martial artist.
Not even worth a single punch.
If such a formidable woman followed a man calling him "Young Master,"
then the one they had tried to extort was no ordinary person.
A single stroke of his blade might have taken their heads.
Their failure to read the situation had brought this on.
The vague suspicion that the "young master" might also be a master swept uneasily through his chest.
While the two argued,
the fat man rolled once across the ground,
then sprang up and fled.
His wobbling body suddenly moved like a lie.
He dashed toward the back of the alley like a rolling ball.
His legs were a blur.
In ordinary circumstances, it would have been the wisest decision.
Here, it was not.
"That bastard's running."
Jang Jimin picked up a small stone and threw it.
The stone flew and struck the fat man's ankle.
Whatever point she hit, his strength vanished.
He pitched forward, face-first, into the dirt.
His face scraped along the ground.
It must have hurt.
When he rolled onto his back, his face was a ruin.
There was no strength left in him.
A saying came to mind—that if you strike a certain point in the leg, the lower body loses all power.
Then the word "master" surfaced.
Then the word "death."
Then the wide courtyard of the government office.
If dragged there, he might be beaten to death.
Those men did not treat people as people.
"Why did you do that, noona?"
"Those bastards… deserve it."
Jimin wrapped up the situation and stood squarely before So-un,
hands on her hips, eyes fixed on him.
"But, Young Master, I have something to settle."
"Why? What is it?"
"Why did you leave me behind?"
She was protesting about last night.
The words sounded strangely intimate,
as if accusing a lover of abandonment.
When So-un had gone to say farewell to the Cheonsan Wanderer,
he had merely meant for them to settle things on their own.
Nothing more.
The fat man's eyes narrowed with a grin.
What could be more amusing—so long as it wasn't his affair?
"When you didn't come down, I thought something urgent had come up.
I believed it best to give you space.
I also had matters to handle.
If that upset you, I ask your understanding."
So-un did not finish.
Jimin cut him off sharply.
"As soon as you went down, I ran down too.
But only those two Lees were there.
When I asked where you'd gone, they said you'd left.
Then the two of them scurried back to their room."
If there had been even a moment's gap, he might have claimed he had waited and then departed.
But that excuse would not work.
She had come down almost at once.
"Ah, I see. When you did not appear, I thought perhaps you did not intend to come. So I left alone. If you felt hurt, please forgive me. It was not my intention."
So-un remained courteous.
Even in chaos, his words held refinement.
The fat man watching could not make sense of their relationship.
An older woman scolding a young boy for abandoning her,
the boy responding calmly.
What sort of pair were they?
"First we strip these bastards.
You negotiated too much on the way here, Young Master. We have no money left for breakfast."
"Understood. My apologies. I have negotiated far too often."
Jimin emptied all five of their pockets.
Coins spilled out.
From the leader's pocket came a gold coin.
She kicked the groaning men a few more times and chased them from the alley.
"Where were you headed, Young Master?"
"I thought that shop over there was preparing food. The place with the longest line is likely the tastiest. There must be a reason so many gather."
"That place is cheap, Young Master. It may not taste bad, but people line up because it's inexpensive. Who knows what it's made of. They scrape together scraps from the butcher's refuse. Some even specialize in collecting such things. You mustn't eat there. Let's go somewhere decent. There might even be human flesh in it—it's too cheap."
The word "corpse" carried more than the meaning of dead meat.
It suggested something forbidden to consume.
Not the carcass of an animal, but the taboo of one's own kind.
"Do you know a place?"
"Of course. I used to prowl these streets in my youth. I know them well. Follow me."
"Did you once live in the capital?"
"A little."