OGHOU C24

Chapter 24

The innkeeper had gone strange somehow.

Fortunately, as the cook’s condition improved, he seemed to regain a bit of energy too, but perhaps because of the heat, he kept doing incomprehensible things. Sitting blankly muttering things like “The world is a circus” and “I shall live, I shall live,” or sprawling anywhere on the inn floor—those were the basics.

At times he even hung himself from the clothesline like laundry, giving a fright. When asked what he was doing up there, he said he was washing and drying his brain. Dragging the innkeeper down, limp as a soaked cotton quilt, was truly hard work.

One day he even sent all the laborers home who were working to fill the hole in the wall. In any case, the hole got blocked, but the surface was still bumpy and crumbling because the job wasn’t finished. He said he liked it that way and would leave it as is.

He even brought some wooden blocks from somewhere and called them chairs, or stacked bricks haphazardly and called it a table. Of course, being a clever man, he must have had a plan, but there was no helping a bit of worry.

“Mm… If left like that, the table is lower than the chair—wouldn’t that make it uncomfortable to eat?”

“That’s what’s called sensibility.”

“Pardon…?”

Did that word have another meaning I didn’t know? Jeha pondered for a long while.

Another day he brought a wide plank and scribbled something across it. Jeha stared and asked,

“What are you doing?”

“Making a menu.”

“Ah! Then we won’t have to explain the dishes every time—how convenient.”

Truly a wise and kind person. To reduce the burden on the staff this way.

Jeha gazed at the menu in admiration. But what was this? It was full of squiggly lines—impossible to tell letters from pictures.

“Uh… what does this say?”

“Kung Pao Chicken.”

“Kung Pao Chi… what?”

“Gongbao Jiding.”

Jeha pointed to other letters below it.

“And this?”

“Dumpling.”

“Dum—”

“It means mandu.”

“…And below that?”

“Carbonara.”

Were there such dishes in the Central Plains? In any case, the innkeeper would know food far better than he.

“But written like this, won’t it be hard for customers to understand?”

“It’s fine. The extras only ever order bamboo leaf wine and noodle soup anyway.”

“…Yes. The exras do tend to be like that.”

Clearly, I was too young to keep up with the innkeeper’s breadth of knowledge and depth of intent. Jeha resolved to study harder, broaden his horizons, and strive to have intellectual conversations.

Not long after, the innkeeper shoveled the door open and reopened the inn. He seemed in a rush for some reason. When asked how he could run the place alone with no staff, he said he had his methods.

“For now there won’t be many customers, so it’s fine. As for cooking, I can throw something together.”

Thus the inn opened, and the first guests seemed a bit startled by the place, then gingerly took seats on the stump-like chairs.

Master, who had been devoted to treatment, came down upon hearing the noise and asked the innkeeper,

“Why such haste?”

“I need to make some money.”

“Is there some urgent matter…?”

“I’m going to make money and run.”

At that, Jeha grabbed Cheongyeon’s arm in shock.

“Run? Where to? Why would you run away, innkeeper?”

“…It’s come to that.”

“Are you leaving now? If so, I—”

“Not right away. Sometime within ten years.”

“What about the inn?”

“I’ll sell it off.”

Sell the inn? Run away? Every word was a thunderbolt to Jeha.

In ten years, he’d have only just passed the age of twenty. What use was adulthood if the innkeeper wouldn’t be there?

Just then, a guest stood up in anger and strode over.

“Hey, innkeeper!”

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you taking orders?”

“Ha…”

With an obvious sigh, Cheongyeon pressed his palms together before his chest and said,

“Please place orders by sound transmission.”

“…What?”

“It’s written there—didn’t you see?”

Indeed, on the wall were the words, “Orders by sound transmission only.”

Then what about those who couldn’t transmit sound?

Of course the innkeeper must have his reasons, but Jeha worried that at this rate they might get into fights with customers.

“Innkeeper, where’s the privy?”

To another guest’s question, Cheongyeon answered,

“Ha… If you ask in that tone, I can’t respond. Please equip some basic concepts.”

Clearly, the innkeeper valued manners. But why keep putting his palms together? Had he perhaps once taken the Buddhist path?

And so, while Cheongyeon behaved as if a screw were loose somewhere and the customers were at first greatly flustered, strangely enough, day by day the inn became crowded to overflowing. Without reserving early, it became difficult even to find a seat.

Sitting on uniformly uncomfortable chairs with hunched backs and ordering “powder-bonara” became a trend among young martial artists, and before long rumors said other inns began to imitate the trend.

“I shall live, I shall live…”

Blue the sky, yellow the earth. Leaning against the wall, Cheongyeon stared out the wide-open door and muttered meaningless words.

Perhaps the life of people is the same no matter the world. He styled the inn like the café he had run before possessing this world—and it met with great success. By now “sensibility inns” had grown so common he’d reverted it to a more ordinary look.

Anyway, thanks to Somyeong’s efforts, Haewoo regained consciousness and Haeryeong recovered strength. With a little more time, everything might return to how it was.

“Can it really return…?”

Resetting the exterior wouldn’t soothe the heart.

Whenever he wondered how Muho might be doing now, his heart crumbled. If, as in the original, he became the Heavenly Demon; if war followed; then in the end Jeha would have to kill Muho.

After berating himself again and again, it felt easier to just empty his mind and live like a madman.

“Innkeeper, what are you thinking about today?”

If not for Jeha, striking up conversation with a sweet face, he might truly have gone mad. Cheongyeon looked at the boy and smiled.

“Jeha.”

“Yes?”

“Last time you said you would protect me. Does that still stand?”

A shameless adult might as well rely on the protagonist’s buff. Anything to avoid the torture ending.

“Of course! I’ll become strong and protect the innkeeper!”

Good child. Cheongyeon patted Jeha’s head.

What had felt burdensome before—his overprotection—had now become essential for survival. Truly, one never knows what life will bring.

Anyway, with one insurance policy in place, was it alright to feel a bit relieved?

“Reassuring. I’ll count on you.”

“I will protect you… So, please don’t run away, innkeeper. I don’t know why you’re saying you’ll flee, but… I will be by your side.”

“……”

“I want to be by your side. When you’re happy, of course—but also when you’re like this, sad.”

Say those fine words to your master instead.

Cheongyeon pinched Jeha’s cheek, set in a resolute expression.

“I’m fine. I’m not sad at all.”

“You stare out the door every day—like you’re waiting for someone…”

“I’m just waiting for customers.”

“Ah, then why is there not a single customer today?”

“There’s a reservation.”

“A reservation?”

“Mm. A certain clan sent a retainer earlier and asked to book the entire inn. Not sure how great a clan it is, but good for me—big money. I’m really rich now, aren’t I?”

“……”

Right then, an eeeeek sounded outside as several carriages pulled up in a line before the door.

“They’re here.”

To greet customers who were as good as a stream of wealth, Cheongyeon stood and headed out. There were three carriages in all. From the last, several retainers disembarked and began carrying luggage into the inn.

Another retainer approached the front carriage and respectfully opened the door. Three disembarked—boys who looked to be in their teens. At a glance, the highest-grade silk garments and brilliant ornaments dripped with elegance; they could easily have been sons of a prestigious clan.

The youngest-looking glanced at Cheongyeon, bowed, and smiled. His neatly tied hair swayed, and his fine eyes curved into crescents.

“Let’s go in, young master.”

“Yes. You brought all my brushes and books?”

“Yes. Everything has been moved.”

Watching the boy speak with the retainer, a bad feeling flashed through Cheongyeon’s mind.

No way…

Cheongyeon sidled up to the coachman still atop the carriage and asked softly,

“Um… from which region and which clan have you come?”

“How do you not know?” the coachman retorted bluntly, as if it were impossible not to know.

“From the Namgung Clan of Anhui.”

“…I’m screwed.”

The Namgung Clan has come.