846 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

First and foremost, these siblings don't appear human. Anyone can see they resemble beggars. And beggars, as some might say, aren't quite people. Just look at the receptionist's response. "Oh dear, my lord. Although we pride ourselves on being a rather upscale inn, admitting beggars could be... well, problematic. I appreciate your kind heart, yet these folks are from the White Race Gang, known for spreading diseases. Who would wish to stay at an inn that houses them?” The receptionist feigns distress with an exaggerated frown. In response, the older beggar looks resentful, while the younger one appears on the verge of tears. Qing attempts to speak, then hesitates. Though Qing is aware that the White Race's smallpox is a ploy of the Blood Cult, the commoners genuinely believe in it, regardless of how baseless it truly is. Explaining this to them would be futile. Moreover, with the headquarters of the Wudang Sect bustling with Blood Cult members just up ahead, it's tricky to convey such sentiments. While the premise of the receptionist's argument may be flawed, the conclusion is logically sound. No one would want to stay at an inn with sick lodgers. Alas, what can be done? When one is thirsty, they dig their own well. Surely there's an inn nearby willing to accept White Race beggars somewhere in the village? "Is that so? We'll find another inn, then. Didn't I pay a ten-day deposit? I'll vacate the room, so deduct two days from yesterday and today—" "Now that I think of it, there aren’t any sick anywhere else in the city, and not all of the White Race carry disease. Wouldn’t someone have caught it by now if that were the case?" Of course, just the mention of vacating the room led to a swift change of heart. In a time when business isn’t thriving, who would risk losing a customer who books the finest suite and spends generously? Admittedly, that money was a token left by the Wudang disciples, who, before meeting their end, wished for vengeance. Indeed, even in death, villains leave behind their wealth. “Prepare some bathwater, and let's eat first, shall we? What's fresh today, receptionist?” “Hehe, today we have…” Thus, the success of entering the inn. Qing doesn't particularly fancy private rooms. Dining in a confined space feels stifling, and she prefers observing the outside world while eavesdropping on the surrounding conversations. And sometimes, if luck strikes, an evildoer might stir trouble, offering a chance to relish the experience. Wearing a veil while eating has become second nature now, so it's hardly bothersome. Usually, if she's with company, especially those with dismal table manners embarrassing enough for others to overhear, she'd opt for a private room. However, the inn requested it this time, so there was no other option. After all, it would be problematic for the inn to have plague beggars in a prime spot visible from outside—it's an awkward sight for a place where expensive dishes are well showcased. Therefore, Qing enters the private room and removes her veil. “Wow…” The younger beggar exclaims in awe. Qing’s face, after all, is like a thousand praises in itself, an unparalleled, dazzling beauty that shines without any spotlight. The young beggar appears entranced. Qing giggles, snapping her fingers. “Hey, don’t stare too much or it’ll wear out my face. So, what’s your name? I can’t just call you Big Beggar and Little Beggar, you know. Maybe Little Beggar and Littler Beggar, but that’s too long, isn’t it?” The boy stands and falters slightly but eventually greets with a formal salute. “Pardon our late introductions. I am Jong Moon-Woon(종문운).” “And I am Jong Moon-Gan(종문간),” “Uh, how about you, savior?” “Hmm, I can’t really reveal my name at the moment due to some circumstances. Let’s just stick with ‘savior’. So, how did you end up as beggars? You don’t look like you were originally.” No one is born a beggar, after all. However, given that the characteristic despair of young beggars—a resigned helplessness—was absent, they clearly weren’t lifelong beggars. “Well, that’s…” Suddenly, a voice interrupts. -“Milord, the dishes prepared earlier will be served first.” In Zhongyuan, dishes are quickly prepared using high heat and oil. Therefore, the more upscale the cuisine, the more time it usually takes to prepare. But with pre-cooked portions ready, it shouldn’t take long. Qing covers her face again with the veil. If word gets out about a beauty inside, curiosity seekers would start pretending to stroll by, milling around and causing a stir. Soon, dishes are placed briskly upon the table. The older beggar looks at Qing with strange, slightly disgruntled eyes. “What, why?” “No, it’s nothing.” Jong Moon-Woon glances between the extravagant dishes in front of Qing and the single bowl in front of him. It’s simply plain rice porridge, devoid of anything but rice, purely cooked with water and rice. It certainly seems unfair to anyone with eyes. To see a lavish array of expensive dishes before oneself, while offering a beggar a mere bowl of rice porridge, might be unnecessarily cruel? They say one can earn curses even from charity. Qing laughs heartily at the scene. “If you eat something you’re not used to, you’ll get sick. After feeding on plain leftovers for so long, suddenly consuming rich food can cause major issues. You might just have a stomach ache if you’re lucky, but, you could end up with a hole in your stomach and die?” “Ah…” Unfortunately, considering Jong Moon-Gan’s poor condition, while Jong Moon-Woon might be robust enough to remain upright, their overall state likely wasn’t much different from each other. “Eat porridge today and build your energy. Then enjoy more delicious food tomorrow. Today is just plain rice porridge, tomorrow you’ll have something tastier, and the day after you can have less rich meals.” Jong Moon-Woon’s expression visibly relaxes in relief. Was he worried they wouldn’t get anything to eat? While food is crucial, how could one think otherwise of someone saving lives? Of course, Jong Moon-Woon was relieved more at the prospect of the future meals rather than the present one. --- **New Terms:** 1. Jong Moon-Woon(종문운) / Jong Moon-Gan(종문간): Surnames and given names: - The names were kept phonetically to maintain authenticity and cultural touch. Jong is a common surname, while Moon-Woon and Moon-Gan depict their individual identities. - They were differentiated using slight variations in their given names which maintain their narrative roles in the story. 2. White Race Gang(백족): - Literally means "White Clan/Tribe." Used here to portray a marginalized group known for disease spread, painting them as part of a sinister plot by the Blood Cult. **Puns/Wordplay:** No specific puns or wordplay noted in this passage that affects translation. **List Suggestions:** Given that the list does not directly encompass the new names or terms encountered in this section, it might be beneficial to detail individuals or groups like Jong Moon-Woon, Jong Moon-Gan, and the White Race Gang with their related context for consistency in further translations. Hearing that Qing wouldn't simply provide a meal and send them away, the siblings felt a wave of relief. Naturally, a sense of peace descended upon them as they began their meal. --- "Brother, it's hot..." "Bear with it a little longer." "But it's so hot..." The heated bath seemed quite uncomfortable for the younger sibling. After all, it was natural for young children to feel such discomfort. However, that discomfort gradually faded. The sensation of the hot water enveloping their bodies, like a swarm of ants burrowing through their veins and easing the accumulated fatigue, soon turned into a pleasurable warmth. As time passed, the fatigue melted away, reaching their head, and their body relaxed into a comforting languor. And what followed was a vaguely dreamy feeling, a pleasant sense of tranquility. "Hehe, brother, the porridge was delicious..." "Yeah." "I want more..." The boy recalled the rice porridge. A clean, warm porridge without any foul smell or sharp tang. The more he chewed, the nuttier and subtly sweeter it became. Was rice porridge always this delicious? Perhaps the most delicious bowl of porridge in the world. And that hand. - Hmm, is plain rice porridge too bland? Here, this should be fine, right? Promise you won’t blame me if your stomach hurts later. The sight of slender, white fingers delicately shredding chicken breast meat and then placing it atop the porridge was mesmerizing. Jong Moon-Woon gulped unconsciously. Granted, it was chicken breast meat stripped of any fat or juices, leaving only a dry texture. However, to the boy, those morsels were exquisite treats, illuminating his world as he chewed. The chicken was just so tasty... The boy thought back to his savior. To think such a gallant hero truly existed. And, moreover, she was an extraordinarily beautiful woman he had never seen before. The sort of hero that appeared in stories—or rather, one that didn’t even exist in stories. Typically, beautiful women in tales were the ones saved by heroes, not the heroes themselves. Based on her demeanor and speech, he initially thought she could be as old as his mother, but seeing her youthful appearance made him realize she was probably just past twenty, leaving him even more astonished. At that moment, he heard the door slide open. And then a clatter, the sound of stones being knocked together. Turning his head, he barely saw through the steam, his savior standing there, veiled, with an air of mystery around her. Rolling up her sleeves, her long, slender arms looked almost ethereal as she clicked stones together in her hands- “So, have you soaked enough? It’s time to scrub away the dirt. Prepare to have your skin polished today.” “What, w-what do you mean?!” The boy shouted in shock. Yet the savior remained unfazed. “Why? We need to scrub. When else will you get scrubbed? Scrubbing half-heartedly won’t do.” “B-but how can a lady be in here while we’re bathing—no matter how much I appreciate your help, we can handle it ourselves-” “What’s the fuss? I’ve no interest in looking at naked men, let alone boys. You're not men, anyway. You're kids, minors, mentally and physically weak minors.” “Minors? Savior, I’m-” “Oh, come on, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It's natural for adults to look after kids. You’re lucky I’m assisting you now, as you're still kids. Adults have to fend for themselves, you know.” “Well, okay. But still, I can manage…” “What’s that? Being too mature for your age? Do you realize how hard it is to scrub yourself? You should gratefully lay there quietly.” “Really, I can manage, please.” “Seriously, anyone who hears this will think I’m trying to peel off your skin. I’m not here to tire myself out after a full meal. Here, I got you clean clothes, so after a good scrub, get dressed and come out.” With that, the savior departed as swiftly as she came. “Brother, you’re in your sixteenth year…” The term ‘Ji Hak(志學)' refers to the age of fifteen from Confucius’s proclamation of his profound engagement with learning. Thus, he was sixteen this year. According to Zhongyuan’s customs, sixteen is considered the age when a boy reaches manhood and can start a family. “Shush.” “But…” “Let’s discuss it later.” Hadn’t the savior remarked earlier? She’s helping because they’re still kids. Adults have to manage their affairs. Though left alone, the boy recognized that for now, until his brother regained strength, relying on their savior was the only option. Jong Moon-Woon hadn't realized until now that his diminutive stature would be beneficial. Of course, he was mistaken. Qing’s adult standards classified adulthood at the age of nineteen, regarding someone sixteen as a complete child—a real infant even. Back in her homeland, fresh recruits who’d just completed military service were called babies. However, that was the standard there, while in Zhongyuan, only Qing held such a perspective, explaining why the boy couldn’t possibly know. --- “Oh, you’re looking rather noble. I suspected you weren’t beggars from the start.” Sure enough, after a solid scrub, the Jong siblings exuded a noble demeanor, despite their thin appearance. What’s the big deal about noble demeanor? It essentially means they looked handsome. Nature dictates that capable men often marry beautiful women, and their children tend to inherit that beauty. Thus, wealthy families intermarry, and with each generation, they birth children of remarkable appearances. “So, how did you end up as beggars?” The question wasn't posed with deep inquiry. It was a way to engage in conversation. “Well, originally, our father, cough, ahem, I mean, our dad is a big merchant…” What's this? --- **New Terms:** 1. Jong Moon-Woon(종문운) / Jong Moon-Gan(종문간): Surnames and Names: - Consistency maintained as in the previous passage. It was essential to continue identifying them by full names to preserve authenticity and character continuity. 2. Ji Hak(志學): - Translated directly in context referencing Confucius and age, as it indicates being at a scholarly pursuit age historically designated to teenagers entering a mature period, here contextualized with Chinese cultural background. **Puns/Wordplay:** No specific puns or wordplay noted in this passage affecting translation. **List Suggestions:** No explicit additions to the list are necessary from this passage. Characters and terms aligned with existing themes could be noted for continuity and context adherence across translations. Given that Jong Moon-Woon appeared just over ten years old, it was natural for him to refer to his father as "dad" rather than something more formal. Yet why did he seem to speak with such difficulty? His face turned crimson, as if the words were forced out. But those questions were fleeting. As Qing listened to the tale of how they ended up as beggars overnight— “Unbelievable! Such despicable scoundrels!” Qing burst out in fury.