Urban Vagabond: Reload

“Ugh, just let me have one more drink before we goooo.”

Kim Bokja, drunk out of her mind, sagged over my shoulder and slurred like some middle-aged uncle. freewёbnoνel.com

I had that lump of dead weight slung over my shoulder and was hauling her back toward her workshop.

“...I seriously did not see that coming. Who drinks that much beer-and-soju at a spicy rice cake place?”

“Hey, you’re the one who came late! Everybody was staring, it was embarrassing, I had no choice!”

“You ever consider they were staring at the pile of empty bottles in front of you?”

“Who told you to drink, huh? Underage brats can scram! Your big sister’s gonna stay and drink some more!”

“Finish the rest at home.”

Kim Bokja hissed like a cat and clawed at my back, but there was zero impact, so I ignored it.

That was when a chill suddenly crept down my spine.

“Bite him!”

A mass of black smoke that had been circling above Bokja’s head in the air suddenly dove at me and sank its teeth into my forearm.

Kyaaaa—

Its true identity was the very same evil spirit that had possessed Kim Hyunseung.

The moment Kim Hyunseung vomited up the talisman and it fell away from him, Bokja had quietly bound it for herself.

It had all happened in the brief window when everyone’s attention was glued to unconscious Kim Hyunseung.

Knew it. She really is a crazy-talented freak.

If there had been a shaman or a spell-caster on-site, she might’ve been caught, but while martial artists can sense ghosts, the number who can actually see them is tiny.

So why can I see it so clearly?

Right now, the formless, pitch-black evil spirit was perfectly visible to my eyes.

...And it’s not like I’d raised my inner strength or extended my qi sense or anything.

I could only guess it had something to do with my regression to the past.

“Quit it. You’re itchy.”

I flicked at it with the opposite hand like shooing a bug, and the evil spirit yelped and fell off.

Huh. That works?

Bokja immediately started grumbling that her very first bound anomaly was way too weak.

“Damn it. Why is this thing such a weak little shit?”

“If you know how to bind anomalies, what the hell have you been doing up to now?”

At my question, Bokja mumbled back in a suddenly small voice.

“...You gotta go find them and subdue them first to bind them, right? That part’s harder for me.”

From the sound of it, she knew how, but she’d been too scared of facing anomalies to actually do it.

So she really was a coward.

I combed through my pre-regression memories, roughly recalling the places and times where strong anomalies had shown up, and said:

“Let’s go catch a few together sometime.”

I had no idea how strong an anomaly she’d be able to bind, but there are always mid-tier things hanging around a really strong one.

If she could catch and bind even one of those, there’d be a lot fewer places where she’d get beaten bloody from now on.

“For real? Really? Heehee! You adorable little thing! Get over here!”

“Stop yanking on my cheeks. I’ll kill you.”

“Ahaha? What, are you embarrassed your big sister’s doting on you?”

Bickering with Kim Bokja like that, we finally reached her place.

A few people sneaked glances at us on the way, but I had my mask and hood on in advance, so nobody recognized me.

“Hey. We’re at your place.”

I stuffed Bokja more or less by force into her workshop and let out a long sigh.

She sprawled on the sofa, yawned, and groped around in her jacket pocket.

“How much was the taxi? I’ll pay you back.”

“Forget it. Just lock the door properly. Oh, and I’m borrowing this.”

“The goggles? Huuuhm. Do whatever you want.”

Once I stepped back outside, I heard the lock click from the other side of the door and turned away.

“The spicy rice cakes were great! Let’s hang out again!”

A laugh slipped out at Kim Bokja’s needlessly cheerful voice behind me.

“She’s hammered. Completely gone.”

*****

The next morning.

I pulled on the goggles and the face mask I’d grabbed from Bokja’s workshop the day before, dressed in a black training suit, and headed back to Namdaemun Market.

I had my sword at my waist and, just in case, a few tools packed into the backpack on my back.

Because the place I had business with today was The Dark Den, a spot the underworld frequent like it has a revolving door.

“Welcome— ...Goggle Killer?”

The counter kid flinched when he recognized me and muttered the nickname.

“Which bastard stuck me with that dumb nickname?”

“I’m sorry, sir! Right this way!”

I followed the kid, who was bowing politely, inside.

The Dark Den was quiet. I’d deliberately picked an hour when there wouldn’t be many customers.

A short time later, the owner of The Dark Den, Hwang Suksu, appeared, his face shining with oil and welcome.

“Well, well! Look who it is! The Goggle Killer, enforcer of the up-and-coming Blue Wolves of the underworld!”

“...You’re the one who coined that nickname?”

“Hahaha! One of the few hobbies and privileges of a duel-betting addict like me!”

I hadn’t done anything, so how the hell had Blue Wolves become some rising power in the underworld already?

The thought crossed my mind, but when I considered it, that actually made it easier to get things done, so I let it slide.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

I had two reasons for coming back to The Dark Den.

I smacked my lips and gave him the first.

“I can’t stop thinking about the braised pork belly here. It’s the best I’ve ever had.”

At the praise for his cooking, a satisfied smile spread over Hwang Suksu’s face.

“Hahaha! Come, have a seat over here. I’ll have some ready in no time!”

He led me to the bar counter.

After a short wait, the kid brought over braised pork belly, steam billowing, and before I knew it I was shoveling it in. When I came back to myself, Hwang Suksu was already sitting across from me.

Watching me eat with a pleased look, he asked in a sly tone:

“How is it? Compared to last time?”

“It’s gotten more tender. Not just from cooking it longer, feels like you changed the meat.”

“Hahaha! See? You make it worth cooking good food for. I used some especially good cuts this time.”

“I liked the old one better, though.”

“...Huh?”

Not long after I’d first become a vagabond, I’d taken a liking to The Dark Den’s braised pork belly and came to eat it pretty often.

For a poor, struggling vagabond, it was a comforting taste.

A few years later, Hwang Suksu suddenly died and I could never eat it again, so getting to taste it again when I dropped by last time had really hit me.

I picked up the last piece of braised pork belly with my chopsticks and popped it into my mouth.

“This is good too, sure.”

“...You’re a weird one, you know that. Anyway, enough about braised pork belly.”

Narrowing his eyes, Hwang Suksu lowered his voice.

“You didn’t come all this way just to eat.”

“Sharp as ever.”

“Ten years as an underworld broker, you can tell from how a customer holds their chopsticks. So? You here for duel betting again like last time? Or is it a job?”

Unfortunately for him, it was neither.

I took something from my pocket and set it on the table.

“You know who makes these?”

It was a piece of the talisman paper Kim Hyunseung had vomited up the day before.

Hwang Suksu picked up the scrap with the faint remains of the character for “demon” and examined it closely.

“Hmmm...”

He studied it for a moment, then nodded like it was obvious.

“Yeah, that’s a talisman from Ghostshade House.”

Ghostshade House?

A name I didn’t recognize.

In other words, small fry.

“They’re a nasty bunch. Mostly deal in haunted talismans, and I hear they sometimes deliberately stick evil spirits on kids, then say they’ll introduce a miracle shaman and scam the parents.”

I translated that as: pests I could stomp without remorse.

Hwang Suksu wasn’t a professional information broker, but I knew what came out of his mouth was more reliable than most.

He might look like a pot-bellied middle-aged store owner now, but he’d once been a pretty big-name freelance vagabond.

Just the fact that a vagabond who’d scattered grudges everywhere had managed to retire with all four limbs attached and run a shop was proof enough of Hwang Suksu’s skill and savvy.

“So why’d you bring me a talisman from Ghostshade House? And one that’s torn up and useless at that.”

“...A friend of mine got fucked over thanks to that thing.”

“Well, shit. They picked the wrong mark if it was one of your friends.”

His jaw dropped in an exaggerated look of surprise, but his eyes were sparkling with interest.

Like he was already picturing what I was about to do.

I lowered my voice.

“Tell me where their base is. And can we pretend this conversation never happened?”

I meant all of it: everything we’d talked about so far, and everything that was going to happen at Ghostshade House after this.

Of course, once things went down, rumors would spread to some extent, but that was different from it coming out of Hwang Suksu’s mouth.

“Hahaha! Now, now. Isn’t it a little much, expecting that level of loyalty from me? If you promised to enter the duel tournament I’ll be organizing, maybe I could...”

He tried to slime a deal out of me, so I offered him a different price.

“That’s not happening. Instead, I’ll give you a piece of really good information I know. Something you couldn’t buy with money.”

Hwang Suksu’s expression said he wasn’t impressed, but he looked willing to hear me out.

I plucked the talisman scrap from his fingers and slipped it back into my pocket.

“Watch out for allergies. They say you can die from a bad one, right?”

“...”

For a second, his expression turned strange.

A few years from now, his body would be found on the street. Cause of death: severe allergic reaction.

A man cautious enough to survive over ten years as a vagabond and retire in one piece, dying from some random allergy?

The odds were high it was a murder tied to someone close to him.

A sharp guy like him should get it. That he might have a traitor in his circle.

Hwang Suksu let out an awkward, twisted little laugh.

“Haha... What’s that supposed to mean? I’d like a little more detail.”

“Why don’t I just lay my whole hand on the table while I’m at it?”

“How am I supposed to just take your word for it?”

As he turned serious, I shaped one word silently with my lips.

Strawberries.

The moment I mentioned his strawberry allergy—something almost nobody knew at this point—Hwang Suksu’s face went cold.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Somebody who likes the braised pork belly you make. That should be enough to take it from here on your own, right?”

“...I’ll write the address down.”

I took the slip with Ghostshade House’s base address from him, left the now-grim Hwang Suksu where he sat, and stood up.

“I’ll be back to eat again. Give me the old flavor next time.”

He didn’t answer, or if he did, I didn’t hear it. I just had a feeling that by the time I came back to The Dark Den, a lot of things would be different.

*****

I headed straight for Ghostshade House.

After several turns through alleys that twisted like a maze, I arrived in front of an abandoned building that reeked of gloom.

Every window was boarded up, and the front door was rust-eaten and sealed shut.

“Looks like a place ghosts would love.”

I set my hand on my sword hilt and slowly drew qi up from my dantian.

Can I pull this off?

I hadn’t actually started on a proper inner cultivation method yet, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t manipulate qi at all.

Every human body has qi flowing through it, more or less. Even in my past life, when my constitution had been judged incompatible with martial arts, I’d been no exception.

All it meant was that I couldn’t condense qi to form a dantian; it wasn’t like my meridians were crippled.

On top of that, I’d lived with an artificial dantian in my body for twenty years.

I was used to handling small amounts of qi.

Feels doable.

An inner cultivation method is a systematized way of circulating qi inside the body, refined through the knowledge and experience of a sect or an individual.

Compared to just yanking qi around blindly, the efficiency can be several to dozens of times higher. But in the end, it’s just a method difference.

Even if it’s inefficient, if you can pull qi together—

If you add the skill honed over an entire lifetime on top of that—

“...You can cut.”

CLAAAANG!

I still couldn’t slice through the whole metal door in a single stroke, but a set of rusty hinges? Those I could handle.

I sheathed my sword, grabbed the door with both hands where the hinges had been severed, and ripped it off with brute strength.

The roughly torn-free iron door crashed down with a heavy THUD.

When I strode inside, the group gathered there stared at me with horrified faces.

“Wh-who the hell is this?!”

“It’s a raid—!”

I held up the scrap of talisman paper between my index and middle finger and gave it a little shake right in front of them.

“I’ll keep this short. Who the hell made this thing?”