327 - The Outcast Writer of a Martial Arts Visual Novel

Chapter 3 - Gimun Twenty years ago. There stands before me someone who remembers a court lady who departed for Joseon (Korea). That someone is Hyanga. She was a woman who had fallen in love with the Danggaju, resulting in a tragic end with an illegitimate child. She was also the mother I had created as part of my character's backstory in the Danga Fengyun issue. So, Hyanga was involved with the Hao Mon? Considering she was an apprentice courtesan, like Lim Hayeon, she could have been from Gimun, but to think she'd been a disciple of the Gimun Hyangju. “I, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just an ordinary person from Joseon.” The fact that I was the illegitimate child of the Danggaju was a secret. I deliberately stammered and feigned confusion. I needed to extract more information first. I could not acknowledge anything until I knew whether it was true. When interrogated, it's crucial to piece together information from what is asked. “You claim to be so, yet you consumed the accursed delicacy, only eaten by those with purple hair?” “How do you know about that?” Could they really know that I ingested such a dreadful poison, something I detest even thinking about? “A pot-bellied fool came by not long ago. He said you were the Danggaju's illegitimate child and asked if there was anyone you could remember. He even requested, should his thoughts be correct, for us to help you.” The brewing grudges in the martial world are so intricately tangled that one can never find their beginning or end. Yet, could it truly be that the Gimun Hyangju was Hyanga's master? I turned around, momentarily pausing to explain myself to an astonished Lim Hayeon — perhaps expecting a shocked reaction to hearing I was the Danggaju’s illegitimate offspring. Lim Hayeon, why do you look so composed? “I knew.” “How?” “Have you ever seen me react when you use Danga’s martial arts?” Oh, that’s right. Had the news of me eating pineapple pizza spread to the Hao Mon side in Yichang? I nodded, then shifted my attention back to the Gimun Hyangju. “To my knowledge, the only illegitimate child of the Danggaju is the one borne by my disciple Hyanga, who once hailed from Joseon.” Gimun Hyangju seemed half-convinced. If the Hyangju truly was Hyanga's mentor. Let’s think for a moment. Discussing illegitimacy is not something to boast about, but right now, I needed the Hyangju’s assistance. Should I acknowledge it and seek help? Yes, I’m Hyanga’s son. Please assist me. No, that's too basic. ‘If he was willing to attempt negotiations with me even after learning that I was the son of his disciple, then simple acknowledgment won’t suffice.’ I need to forge a more meaningful connection with the Gimun Hyangju. Recalling the memoirs of Hyanga, bits meticulously retained in my brain to avoid any contradictions in my fabricated backstory. I remember her life in Wuhuan. Do her diaries offer any pertinent insights now? There was no mention of Hao Mon. Then, was there anything about her mentor? Yes, there was. “Gimun Hyangju.” I addressed him in a respectful manner, as befitting a child speaking to their mother's teacher. “Yes.” Over twenty years ago. Hyanga pondered amidst a cold roadside after being cast out from the Danga. Her body, heavy with a child, forced her to rise. Though rejected by the man she loved, she escaped from the structured confines. She shed the identity of a courtesan to become an ordinary woman. Where should she go? What should she do? To avoid hunger, should she return to becoming a courtesan by choice? Should she return to Joseon to raise her unborn child? Hyanga ultimately chose her child over herself. She left a note lamenting that she couldn’t face her mentor and apologized before leaving. Yes, there was a mention of the Gimun Hyangju in that part. “Could your name be Chuyeon?” I asked with an expression of disbelief, deliberately putting on a show as I looked at the Gimun Hyangju. Simply admitting to being Hyanga's son would be too trivial. If the Gimun Hyangju was indeed Hyanga’s mentor, her maiden name would be Chuyeon. If I could display previous knowledge of the Hyangju, the emotional bond between us could strengthen. “My maiden name is not Chuyeon.” “……” Emergency! Critical Emergency! I'm doomed. Should I claim it was a mistake? Or say my childhood memories are hazy? Oh? Not suppressing my bewilderment and looking at the Gimun Hyangju, I noticed a pleased smile subtly forming on their lips. “Chuyeon is not my maiden name. Chuyeon is my name.” “Ah.” A woman who became a courtesan lives under her courtesan name unless liberated from such life conditions. Her true name is rarely revealed, signifying profound familiarity. So indeed. “It seems you are truly Hyanga’s child.” Gimun Hyangju, for the first time, slowly stirred from a reclined position to sit up straight. “I greet my mother's mentor.” I kneeled on one knee, bowing my head as I greeted the Gimun Hyangju. “Did Hyanga, who returned to Joseon, fare well?” How should I put this? The Hyanga I know is solely from the diaries. I must avoid unwarranted suspicion. Joyful chatter would be imprudent. Minimal words—this must be my approach. Let me start with an emotional portrayal. Wearing an expression of someone burdened by a sorrowful past, simulating the act of unburdening old grief. Simultaneously, offer what the audience seeks. “She was a compassionate mother. The wisest wife in our village. Yet, sometimes, she'd sit me on her knee, gazing at the western night sky to recount tales of a noble hero who once rescued her.” “...Foolish girl. She never forgot, even till the end.” Despite the displeased look on the Hyangju’s face, their voice was heavy with nostalgia. “As a child, I didn’t understand. Only as I grew did I realize why she gazed so longingly at the western night sky.” “Where is Hyanga now?” “When the village was plagued by a terrible epidemic, she could not escape the clutches of the disease.” With tears almost welling from my eyes and a smile on my lips, I conveyed the profound yearning for someone not returning. “Did… did Hyanga die?” Surprised enough to drop the pipe, I see. “I apologize for not bringing better news.” Once more, I bowed my head. “No, I have upset your heart. Yes, I heard you had been to the Danga. Although returning as an honored guest, why don't you still bear the Dang name?” "My father is Mr. Kang. After hearing of his passing, how could I possibly abandon the surname of the man who raised me with love from birth?" "If you had taken on the Dang surname, you might not be in this predicament at all..." That's all nonsense. If the Danga were to discover it, I wouldn't escape with just a dose of poison. "I've settled the old disputes. I asked them to perform a memorial rite for my mother every year." I replied to the Gimun Hyangju, who looked at me with sympathy, offering a calm smile. "That wretched man must have nodded as if nothing happened." There aren't many who would dare to call the illustrious hero and Danggaju, Dang Baek Ho, a wretch. As Hyanga's mentor, she must harbor significant resentment. "I thought it was an opportunity for a worthless son to pay his respects to his late mother." Reverence for one's parents is universally acknowledged no matter the era. I looked boldly at the Gimun Hyangju, confident that I had fulfilled my duty as a son, to which he nodded, albeit reluctantly, as if acknowledging I had done well. "...Have you ever heard anything about me?" No, aside from your name, I'm clueless. This is troublesome. If I admit to knowing nothing further, he might be offended and refuse to help. Is there a way to cleverly blend truth and fiction to satisfy him? Yes, there is. I conjured a visage of longing, as one reminiscing about a departed mother, before speaking. "I only heard your name. However... she often reminisced with the look of someone cherishing parents, saying that a teacher is akin to a parent. She advised me to always respect and follow a mentor, never doing anything that would drive a stake into their heart.” “And yet, a child who knows such principles has driven a stake into their teacher’s heart…” The Gimun Hyangju's eye twitched ever so slightly. “I can only offer my apologies.” “It’s not a matter for a child to apologize for.” “...” The Hyangju picked up the fallen pipe. Was he reliving memories of Hyanga? Needing perhaps time to process emotions, the Gimun Hyangju puffed away until the surrounding air resembled a fox's den before speaking with a bitter expression. “Huhhhh. Hyanga was a bright child. If she hadn’t fallen for that wretched man, the Hyangju of Gimun might not be me today, but her.” “Though this may not please the Hyangju, the outcome is that I am now holding hands with Miss Hayeon because of it. I can only be thankful to my mother.” I intentionally clasped Lim Hayeon's hand tightly. “You…” Wait, Lim Hayeon. Now isn’t the time for you to be moved. This is a natural segue from Hyanga to Miss Hayeon. "Huhhhh. A mother sacrifices everything for her child, and the son forsakes everything for love. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Was he searching for Hyanga’s face beyond mine? His eyes, seemingly worn by life as a courtesan, were full of nostalgia. "Gimun Hyangju..." "Yes. If that child considered me akin to a mother, then as a mother with a foolish daughter, I must fulfill my duty. I will help you." "Thank you." "Thank you!" Lim Hayeon came forward, kneeling beside me and bowing deeply. Alright. It seems we've reached a resolution. "I shall strive to annul this child's fugitive courtesan status and aid in reclaiming her dignity. However, one thing troubles me." The Gimun Hyangju propped his chin as he looked at Lim Hayeon. "What is it that troubles you?" "Do Mun deployed too much force just to capture this child. In Yichang, the Lu Qing Escort Agency, and now here. It’s especially strange that yesterday they mobilized all their forces to seize her." "If Do Mun attacked the Wusan branch, they’d have no excuse if retaliated." “If that were the case, they’d have tried to kill her, not capture her.” “Indeed, the dead tell no tales.” That's puzzling. Why try to capture her? If they aimed to eliminate any witnesses to the Wusan attack, they should have intended to kill her. "What reason could they possibly have for targeting her...?" "I can explain from here." With a loud bang, the door swung open from behind. "Simun Hyangju?" There stood Simun Hyangju, bearing a face much like that of a hunter who’d just caught his prey. "Let me tell you the full story of the recent events."