The Rival's Eyes

A short while later.

The moment Dal-jae arrived at Life Tavern, he could scarcely believe his own eyes.

"Wh-what in tarnation is all that?"

Though the lunch rush had long since passed, a line of people still wound around the corner of the wall and out of sight.

It stood in stark contrast to Sanmaru Tavern, where not even the shadow of a customer could be seen.

People lining up? To wait? At a tavern?

In all his years of running a tavern, he had never once witnessed such a sight. A tavern was simply a place you walked into and sat down. You barked out an order for one gukbap, ate, and left. Nothing more was needed.

And yet here they were, queuing up and waiting their turn.

It defied every rule of common sense Dal-jae had ever known.

What on earth could this place have that's so special...?

He found himself unable to quell his curiosity. If it got out that the owner of the rival tavern had come snooping around here, his position would surely become awkward — but he couldn't very well turn back with nothing to show for it either.

"Ahem. Ahem."

Covering his face with a hand, Dal-jae slipped into the very back of the line.

That was when it happened.

"Is this your first time with us?"

Out of nowhere, a woman who appeared to work here approached him. Not knowing that she was Hayun, Dal-jae ducked his head and answered.

"Ah, yes. Yes."

"Please have a cup of cool sungnyung while you wait. I'll guide you to your seat as soon as one opens up."

Hayun handed him a bowl of the roasted-rice water and disappeared. Dal-jae couldn't hide his astonishment at the sheer courtesy of it.

She came all the way out here just to hand me a cup of sungnyung?

It was a service Dal-jae had never once performed in his life. No — quite the opposite. Even when customers came, he was too busy drinking to pay them any mind, and his tavern had gotten along just fine regardless.

Because that was simply what a tavern was.

Glug, glug!

"Ahh!"

As he gulped down the cool sungnyung, the fumes of alcohol began to fade from his head. Dal-jae cast a suspicious eye around his surroundings.

But there's no way this alone could draw a crowd like this...

A short while later, when his turn finally came, Dal-jae at last understood why people flocked to this place.

"Next guest, please come in!"

At Hayun's voice, Dal-jae stepped inside the tavern. Despite the lunch hour being well past, the place was bustling. Warm, cheerful chatter rose from every wooden table, and the faces of the customers digging into their gukbap were lit up with contented smiles.

"Nothing beats the gukbap here, I tell you!"

"You said it. I'll have to come back next week."

"Jumo! One more bowl of makgeolli over here!"

"And another portion of pollack jeon, if you please!"

An overall air of warmth suffused the tavern. It was the kind of place that could rouse even a deadened appetite. And what's more, for all the crowds, everything was kept so immaculately tidy that anyone could guess someone was working hard to manage the place.

"Hm..."

By contrast, at Sanmaru Tavern, the drinking table Dal-jae had been clutching not long ago still sat abandoned where it was.

He didn't need a side-by-side comparison to know the answer already.

Hmph. Nothing special after all.

But Dal-jae turned his face away from that truth and went looking for the reason somewhere else.

Let's see just how great this gukbap really is.

He was just about to order on that defiant impulse when—

"Hey there! One gukbap over here—!"

"One moment, sir!"

Hayun swiftly cut him off and brought over the menu board.

"Th-this...!"

The sight of the Charimpyo left Dal-jae speechless. It was nothing short of revolutionary — a thing this world had never seen before.

"Please look over the menu and call for me whenever you're ready to order."

Once Hayun vanished, Dal-jae stared hard at the menu board.

This much food? And the prices are all written out too?

Naturally, in this era so many people could not read that a menu board could hardly serve its full purpose. But Hayun had accounted for that as well. She had drawn small pictures symbolizing each dish, and marked the prices with coin icons so that anyone could understand them at a glance.

Dal-jae couldn't help but be stunned by such a trifling detail.

Who could have made this? The jumo in that kitchen? Or that fellow Mun-sik?

Dal-jae glanced around. Mun-sik and Ok-bun, busy as bees, seemed entirely unaware that he was even there.

No. If they knew, they wouldn't have managed it.

Even if those two were somehow capable of producing such a thing, he could never expect such finesse from them. The strange lettering written at the entrance of the shop was the same — and the vivid paintings adorning every corner of the tavern were surely the work of someone with professional training.

The moment that realization struck him, Dal-jae's gaze shifted.

Don't tell me... that woman?

Dal-jae studied Hayun closely. Short hair, cropped by no hand he could place. A fervor in the way she rolled up her sleeves and threw herself into the work without hesitation. Even a peculiar accent from a region he couldn't quite pin down.

Where in the world does a woman like that come from...?

A young woman — alone, no less — settling down to work at a tavern she'd never set foot in before. That could only mean one thing.

A criminal? Or a runaway slave?

Whatever path had brought her here, it was hardly one she could walk with her head held high. Otherwise, would a woman that lovely be laboring in a place like this? And in such outlandish garb, at that?

A woman from who-knows-where appearing one fine day at a tavern at the end of a remote mountain road. That was no coincidence — it was a story with hidden roots.

Hmph. So that's how it is, eh?

Dal-jae fixed Hayun with a look of suspicion.

"Sir, are you ready to order?"

"...!"

Just as Hayun drew near, Dal-jae hurriedly placed his order.

"One Life Gukbap here. And a bowl of makgeolli as well."

"Of course. One moment, please."

A short while later.

"Here you are — one Life Gukbap and one makgeolli. Enjoy your meal."

Hayun set down the steaming earthenware pot and slipped away, and Dal-jae grumbled under his breath as he picked up his spoon.

"Hmph. A filthy runaway slave, playing at hostess..."

Slurp.

The instant the first spoonful of broth entered his mouth, his eyes went wide as saucers.

Hm. The broth certainly is refreshing...

Rich stock. Tender meat. A clean, uncomplicated taste. Objectively speaking, this tavern's gukbap could rank among the top three he'd had in his life.

Dal-jae, in desperate need of a hangover cure, polished off the bowl without leaving a drop.

Still, it's not so different that I'd call it a crushing gap, is it?

Dal-jae tilted his head. The gukbap at his own Sanmaru was plenty delicious too — it lost nothing significant in comparison. After all, Sanmaru Tavern had been founded on the strength of his wife Yang-ssi's superb cooking.

Then why, in blazes, are people pouring in here?

The quality of the food was nearly identical. Which meant the cause lay somewhere else entirely.

Dal-jae swept his gaze around the tavern once more.

Ah...

And then it hit him at once — the fact that nine-tenths of this place's sales passed through Hayun's hands.

From her gracious hospitality to the menu board she had created, there was not a single corner of this tavern her touch had not reached. Come to think of it, the greatest difference between this place now and how it used to be was precisely the presence or absence of one person: Hayun.

So that wench was the culprit all along.

Having at last identified the cause of his own tavern's utter ruin, Dal-jae glared at Hayun. A short while later, he approached her under the pretense of settling his bill.

"That hit the spot. Here's eight jeon."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now then, if I might ask you something."

"Pardon?"

At the sudden question, Hayun lifted her head and looked at Dal-jae.

"Who is it that turned this place upside down like this? It didn't used to be this way, I'm told."

At Dal-jae's question, Hayun scratched her head.

"Embarrassing as it is to say — it's all my handiwork."

"Yours?"

Dal-jae's eyes sharpened.

"You're telling me you overhauled this entire place, and it was you who made that menu board and all the rest of it?"

"Yes, that's right."

"My, my. Quite impressive."

Dal-jae pressed the conversation along with barely veiled sarcasm.

"Though, your way of speaking is rather unusual. Where might you hail from?"

"Ah, my hometown is Daegu—"

Hayun began to answer without thinking, then caught herself.

"...No, rather, I don't quite remember where it is."

"You don't remember your own hometown?"

Dal-jae looked at her with undisguised doubt.

"No, sir. The truth is, I lost my memory. That's why I'm staying here for the time being."

"Is that so. How unfortunate."

Watching Hayun fumble through her flimsy excuse, Dal-jae's suspicion only deepened.

"Well then, I sincerely pray you recover those memories."

"Thank you."

Having extracted every scrap of information his curiosity demanded, Dal-jae turned to leave.

That was when it happened.

Without warning, Hayun called him back.

"Wait just a moment, sir! You have to take this."

"?"

Hayun held something out in front of him. It was none other than a stamp card.

"Here — a voucher. Collect ten stamps and you get a free bowl of gukbap."

"A free bowl of gukbap!"

At the sight of the card, Dal-jae's eyes trembled. Why had he never thought of something like this? So utterly simple, and yet so effective at luring customers back through the door.

"...Well. That's very kind of you."

Snatching the card as if to make off with it, Dal-jae hurried out of Life Tavern.

Outside the tavern.

Rip! Rip!

The shreds of the Life Tavern stamp card fluttered away on the wind from Dal-jae's hand.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it all!"

It felt as though he'd taken a proper blow to the gut. He had gone simply to find out why his business was failing — and all he'd found there was despair.

The menu board. The stamp cards. Even the gracious hospitality. In a dozen different ways, Sanmaru Tavern was simply no match for Life Tavern.

He wanted, even now, to introduce those same methods at Sanmaru — but the problem was that he had no one who could carry them out. From every corner of Life Tavern her touch had reached, he had sensed a talent he could not hope to overcome. Dal-jae, alas, possessed a little money, but not an ounce of that kind of ability.

And trying to imitate it now would be far too late anyway.

Anger and a gnawing sense of crisis coiled around Dal-jae's entire body.

I can't let this stand. Those people have to disappear.

Dal-jae clenched his fist and glared in the direction of Life Tavern.

"The gall of them... hiding a runaway slave, were they? Not a shred of fear in them."

Harboring an escaped slave in Joseon was a grave offense. It was not a matter that ended with the payment of a few coins in fines. Anyone who concealed a slave or aided their flight was sentenced to one hundred strikes of the heavy paddle — and in some cases, three years behind bars. It was among the gravest of crimes, one that shook the very foundations of Joseon, a kingdom built upon the order of yangban, commoner, and slave alike.

If that wench really is a runaway slave... then that Mun-sik fellow gets dragged down with her.

Mun-sik, the owner of Life Tavern, was famed far and wide for his kindly nature. That was exactly why he had never pestered Hayun about where she came from or what her station in life was. He had taken her in on nothing more than her word that she'd lost her memory, trusting it with his whole heart.

And it was precisely that carelessness that was about to land them both by the scruff of the neck.

"Yes... now I can finally see the road ahead."

A vicious smile curled across Dal-jae's lips. He turned his head and stole a glance at Life Tavern, where cheerful laughter still rang out into the evening air.

"You'd best laugh while you still can. Before long, that laughter is going to cut off mid-note."

After glaring at Life Tavern for a long while, Dal-jae wheeled around sharply. And the direction his feet carried him was not toward Sanmaru Tavern — but toward none other than the Local Government Office.