Chương 370: Chapter 343. Oyeon Jik and the Taepyeong Tavern 2

It was the morning of a newly opened world. When Youngwoo stepped into the Taepyeong Tavern, an attendant bowed deeply. The greeting was almost excessively respectful. At the end of the bow, the attendant's eyes drifted toward Youngwoo's waist and settled on the hwando there.

"Welcome." Youngwoo looked around the tavern. The smells of liquor, boiled meat, and damp wood mingled in the air. Signs of people coming and going through the night still remained everywhere, and on one table the watermarks from a hurried cleaning had not yet dried.

"Um... actually, here..." Youngwoo could not immediately think of the right way to refer to her. Calling her a courtesan felt too blunt. Calling her simply a woman was too vague. Even saying she was someone from the tavern sounded awkward. The attendant watched him carefully.

"What can I get you?"

"That is not why I came. I am looking for someone." The attendant's shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. Youngwoo noticed.

"The person who opened the hidden gate yesterday. Last night, I mean." The attendant waved both hands at once.

"There is no such person here." Youngwoo blinked. It was the obvious answer. Someone who had done such a thing would hardly return to the tavern and tell everyone about it herself. If she had, that would have been stranger. Youngwoo tried again. The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Did anyone come in late last night or early this morning? She would have been covered in blood and badly shaken." The attendant answered with the same expression.

"No one like that came here." The reply was firm. Perhaps it was fear. Or perhaps it was simply a lie meant to protect someone inside. Youngwoo swallowed a short sigh. He should have asked Oyeon Jik more carefully before leaving. Her name. Where she stayed. Who worked with her. At the very least, what she had been wearing. The attendant remained standing with his back slightly bent. His eyes were lowered, but his ears were waiting for whatever Youngwoo would say next.

Outside, hoofbeats passed slowly along the street, and the morning light of the Southern Market slipped in through the open doorway. Youngwoo softened his voice.

"I did not come to harm her. I came to thank her. If she had not helped open the hidden gate last night, many more people would have died." The attendant's brows shifted. But he did not answer immediately. His eyes went back to Youngwoo's hwando. The freshly cleaned scabbard looked neat, but not every trace of the night before could be erased. The smell of blood was difficult to wash away. No matter how much one scrubbed, some part of it remained. Perhaps it was something like a mark carved into the soul.

Youngwoo stepped back half a pace.

"If it is difficult to speak now, then please give her a message. Tell her Yi Youngwoo of Goryeo came looking for her and wishes to express his gratitude." For the first time, the attendant raised his head.

"Are you... General Yi Youngwoo of Goryeo?"

"That would be me." The attendant's expression changed. It seemed Youngwoo's name had already spread even this far into the Southern Market. The man glanced toward the rear. Beyond the kitchen, toward a narrow passage where a curtain hung halfway down. Youngwoo did not follow his gaze. He simply waited. As he stood there, the atmosphere inside the tavern slowly changed. After a moment, the inner curtain lifted slightly. A low voice came from beyond it.

"Show him in." The attendant immediately bowed and led Youngwoo toward the back. Only then did Youngwoo see the private interior of the establishment for the first time. The tavern visible from the street was a place for selling food and drink. The space behind it had an entirely different face. Along the walls were the things used for trade and entertaining guests. Wine jars. Small cups. Bowls for incense. Silk cushions brought out for customers. Ledgers and a cash chest gathered together on one side.

Goods for sale were stacked in piles as well. Fine cloth, dried fruit, perfume sachets, combs, ornaments—whole boxes of them. This was not a room meant to be shown to guests. It was where the hidden workings of the establishment were kept. Steam rose as they passed the kitchen. Meat simmered inside a pot, while the short, steady sound of a knife striking a chopping board continued nearby.

Beyond the kitchen, Youngwoo climbed several low steps built like a narrow wooden veranda and came to a room arranged in the Central Plains style. The interior was larger than he had expected. A receiving room occupied the center, with rooms attached on both sides. One side had a raised heated floor laid out almost in the Jurchen manner. The other had a Central Plains-style bedchamber. Like Liaoyang itself, several customs had found their way into a single room. The curtain before the bedchamber was drawn aside.

A woman slowly stepped out. She was the same woman who had been drenched in blood the night before, both hands locked around the hilt of a blade. Today her face was washed and her clothes changed, but there was still no strength in her steps. She sat first on a chair in the receiving room. Even that simple motion was slow. She did not look so much like someone whose body had been wounded. She looked like someone whose soul had not yet found its way back into place.