The Accusation

A short while later, Dal-jae set out for the government office in a nearby county.

In his hand hung a plump, well-fed native chicken.

Knock, knock.

"Master Ibang, it's Dal-jae, sir. I was hoping to have a word with you."

"Come in."

Dal-jae carefully opened the door to the Ibang's chamber.

Screeeeech.

Inside, the gaunt-framed Ibang sat hunched over his desk, squinting at a ledger. Dal-jae sidled up and set the chicken down quietly beside it.

"Well now, Master Ibang, sir. Won't you hear an old man out?"

"What is it this time?"

"You've heard that rumor going around lately, haven't you?"

"What rumor?"

"Oh, come now. The one about that tavern—Life Tavern, or whatever it's called—doing terrifyingly well for itself."

"Ah, I have heard something of the sort. Word is their gukbap is remarkably tasty."

At the Ibang's words, Dal-jae clapped his hands together with a sharp snap! and flew into a theatrical commotion.

"Yes! Yes! Forget the taste! That's not the point—those people have gone and stolen every last one of my customers, that's what!"

"Stole your customers? Whatever method could they have used to manage that?"

"Ah! Well, that's a bit complicated to explain, see…"

Once the Ibang showed interest, Dal-jae began confessing everything there was to tell about Life Tavern.

How it had been freshly renovated from the ground up. The various services it offered. Even everything he knew about Hayun herself.

"…And would you look at that—a woman with no lineage to speak of went and overhauled the whole place, can you believe it?"

"She used her head rather well, it seems."

"And how is the market supposed to find order this way, I ask you? What are the other taverns meant to live on? Surely you see it my way, Master Ibang?"

"Hmm…"

Hearing Dal-jae out, the Ibang fell into a moment's contemplation. Choe Hyang-seo had been the single greatest contributor to Dal-jae's Sanmaru Tavern becoming the finest establishment in the county.

In exchange for looking after his interests, Dal-jae supplied Choe Hyang-seo with money and all manner of entertainment, and under that patronage, Sanmaru had held the top spot for years.

Until just recently, that is.

"Hmm…"

But now Sanmaru Tavern teetered on the edge of ruin—a candle flickering in the wind. And that was not an unalloyed misfortune for Choe Hyang-seo either.

Because it meant his own cut was shrinking.

Indeed, Dal-jae had been faithfully delivering a fixed share of his profits to Choe Hyang-seo every single month.

"Hmmm."

Even so, Choe Hyang-seo was reluctant to involve himself in this matter. Powerful as he was, Ibang or no, wielding the machinery of administration ultimately required the magistrate's sanction—and if he went groveling over some petty dispute like this, a reprimand was sure to come down on his head.

Something bigger was needed if he hoped to win the magistrate's approval.

Having weighed it all, Choe Hyang-seo shook his head.

"That is a matter for the merchants of the market to sort out among themselves. Not mine to meddle in. I have no pretext for stepping in."

"No pretext? Didn't I just tell you, sir?"

What Dal-jae intended to report was not fraud at Life Tavern. It was the status of Hayun—the very heart of it.

"There's a woman working there whose origins no one knows, I'm telling you! She ought to be seized and interrogated this very instant!"

"Doesn't know her own origins? What are you saying?"

When Choe Hyang-seo's interest revived, Dal-jae lowered his voice.

"There's a young woman working there, and her manner of speech, her way of carrying herself—nothing about her says she's from this region."

"Not from this region?"

"No, sir. Her hair is cropped short—don't know where she had it done—and what's more, she claims she's lost her memory and can't recall her hometown. A likely story, wouldn't you say?"

"Hmm…"

Choe Hyang-seo stroked his chin and sank into thought for a moment.

"She's clearly some runaway slave who fled from somewhere. If she weren't, there'd be no reason to spin such a lie. Isn't that so, Master Ibang?"

"A runaway, you say…"

Of all things, Choe Hyang-seo had his own bitter memory of chasing down a slave who had fled years ago with a good chunk of his property.

By a stroke of luck he had caught the wretch in some village, and though he couldn't recover everything, he reclaimed a portion of his assets. The shortfall he made up by selling the man off to a salt merchant.

The foul taste of that episode came seeping back up from memory.

"In that case, the matter takes on a different color."

In Joseon, a slave was a form of resource—one with its own added value. Capturing a runaway slave therefore counted as a significant public service.

And as a bonus, depending on whose household the slave belonged to, ancillary rewards could follow. Should one be fortunate enough to capture and deliver a slave of some great noble's house, one might earn a promotion, or lay claim to a favor to be called in later.

At last, with his interests properly aligned, Choe Hyang-seo slammed his palm down on the desk with a sharp crack!

"Excellent! First thing tomorrow morning, I shall send constables to verify that woman's status."

"Thank you, Master Ibang! Truly, thank you!"

A vicious smile spread across Dal-jae's lips. He had gotten what he wanted, and only after considerable effort. Even without a drop of drink, he already felt drunk on the calamity about to befall Life Tavern.

It was the hour just before dawn, when the sky was only beginning to pale. Hayun had risen early and sat alone in the empty tavern.

Why am I here, of all places…?

When she had first tumbled into the Joseon era, she'd been too busy simply surviving to entertain such questions. Thrown headlong into another century—something she had only ever seen in dramas and novels—her mind had gone utterly blank. Nothing but the primal instinct to survive, to somehow keep breathing, had ruled her.

But as the tavern steadied itself and she slowly adapted to this era, the questions had begun to surface, one by one. The most fundamental question of all: what on earth had brought her here?

The gogok. That gogok is what led me here.

She remembered the moment of the accident—the gogok surging violently, its radiance coiling around her. And when she had opened her eyes again, it was gone without a trace. Whether it had vanished as the price of sending her to Joseon, or had simply been lost somewhere along the way, she couldn't say for certain.

I have to find that gogok again.

Hayun knew. She knew it existed somewhere in this Joseon of the past. Her father had always emphasized it—the gogok was an artifact discovered from the Joseon dynasty.

And for that, I have to make it big here!

To return to the future, and to find her father's one and only keepsake, Hayun could not afford to stop. Life Tavern had to grow larger. Through that influence, she had to track down the gogok. The success of Life Tavern was, in itself, the key to going home.

In the end, there was only one answer.

Survive. And succeed.

Once the plan took shape, her muddled mind felt clearer, if only a little.

"All right then—time to sell some gukbap with everything I've got today too!"

Hayun had just finished her deliberations and was rising to her feet when—

BANG—!

The tavern door burst open without warning, and constables came storming inside.

"What in the— Mmph!"

Startled by the commotion, Mun-sik and Ok-bun came scrambling out from the back.

"Constables? What brings constables here…?"

"Never mind that—why are they carrying weapons like that…?"

Armed as though they had come to apprehend a traitor to the throne, the constables made Mun-sik approach with great caution.

"F-forgive me, honored officers, but… what business might you have here?"

The one who appeared to lead the constables swept his gaze slowly across the interior of the tavern. When he spoke, his voice was low and heavy with menace.

"So this is the place called Life Tavern."

"Yes, this is Life Tavern, but…"

"Where is the woman with the cropped hair?"

"…!"

At the sudden realization that they were looking for her, Hayun's shoulders drew in on themselves. Mun-sik kept his composure and answered carefully.

"Forgive me, but may we ask why you're looking for Hayun?"

"That is none of your concern. Tell me only where the woman is."

"Well, you see, we…"

Sensing something ominous, Mun-sik hesitated. Answer them truthfully, and they would drag Hayun off on the spot—he could see it in their faces.

At that, Hayun, unwilling to let the couple take any more trouble on her behalf, stepped forward first.

"It's me. I'm the one you're looking for."

"Hm."

The constable compared the bundle of papers he carried against Hayun's appearance. In truth, comparison was hardly necessary—her features were unmistakable. A woman with short, bobbed hair could not exist in the Joseon era.

The constable studied her for a long moment, then spoke.

"An accusation has been lodged questioning your status."

"An accusation, sir?"

With those words, the constable issued his command.

"Produce your hopae. Now!"

"The hopae!"

At the word, the color drained from Hayun's face. The hopae was the identification tag of the Joseon dynasty—a tablet that every person over the age of sixteen was legally required to carry at all times.

A resident registration card would be one thing. But Hayun, a woman of the twenty-first century, obviously had no such thing.

"I, um… the thing is…"

When Hayun faltered, the constables pressed her harder.

"What are you doing? We said hand over your hopae!"

"Ah, well, you see…"

Hayun, who genuinely had no hopae, could only stammer. The constable's eyes narrowed at her in open suspicion.

"Don't tell me—you don't have one?"

"…!"

The moment the constables realized she had no hopae, the atmosphere turned on a knife's edge. Suspicion had hardened into certainty.

At length, the leader barked his orders.

"You there! Bind the woman at once and transport her to the government office!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Aigoo! Hayun!"

"You can't do this! That child has done nothing wrong!"

Mun-sik and Ok-bun threw themselves in front of her, but there was nothing they could do against armed men of the state.

"Stand aside! Obstruct the business of the government any further, and you will share her charge!"

"Ghh—!"

Under that iron ultimatum, the couple had no choice but to retreat a single step. Hayun turned to comfort them.

"Don't worry. Everything will be all right."

"Hayun…!"

"I'll be back before you know it. Until then, please take good care of Life Tavern."

"Aigoo, how are we supposed to…!"

And so Hayun, who possessed no hopae, was hauled off to the government office under the unjust charge of being a runaway slave—and slowly, dark clouds began to gather over the once-bright Life Tavern.