The Outcast Writer of a Martial Arts Visual Novel
Chapter 22: The Black-Haired Storyteller Of Chilgok County (1)

Chilgok County.

Located at the edge of Hubei Province, it served as a gateway to Anhui Province. While Hubei Province was typically associated with the famous Mount Hua Sect, Chilgok County lay far to the east of it.

However, being on the route connecting Hubei and Anhui Provinces, it saw considerable traffic. This meant active commerce and a lively flow of money.

With such conditions, surely there would be people willing to pay to hear the tales of a storyteller.

But despite arriving in Chilgok County with high hopes, I had been unable to start my storytelling job for a whole month.

“Mr. Wang! Is this really what you’re doing?!”

I raised my voice at the plump Mr. Wang of the Chilgok County cloth merchant shop, whom the Master Carpenter had introduced to me.

“Look, it just can’t be done!”

“You promised to sell it at a fair price! Do you think this price is reasonable?”

“I went to great lengths to get these items! How can you say it’s unreasonable!”

“This much money could pay for two months of meals and a soft bed at an inn. How can I pay this price?”

“Then you shouldn’t have asked me to get it! Do you know how hard it is to find Korean products?”

The reason for our argument was my request to Mr. Wang to procure Korean goods.

I had thought it would be easier for him to find what I needed, being a cloth merchant. But I never expected such an exorbitant price.

“Mr. Wang, when you first agreed to get these, you said it would take three days, right?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then when I came back after three days, you said you couldn’t get them and asked me to wait a week. I waited, and then you still couldn’t get them. Now it’s been over a month. I trusted only you.”

Just showing up in the middle of the street to start storytelling would end with me labeled as a madman.

Even personal broadcasting streamers prepared, and I needed to do the same.

I had requested Mr. Wang’s help for this preparation, but never expected a delay of a month.

“I’m sorry about that. It was tougher to get the Korean goods than I thought.”

“Mr. Wang, I live in a shack now. I’ve been surviving on a single piece of mantou and salt each day. Why do you think I did that? Because the goods you promised in three days never arrived. I’ve been waiting, hoping to afford them, but how can I with such an outrageous price? If I buy these, I’ll have to starve tomorrow.”

In truth, I wouldn’t have starved. The Master Carpenter had given me enough. Living in a shack felt like bliss. At least I no longer had to sleep in the rain.

But I needed to lay my pitiable situation at Mr. Wang’s feet.

“I’m sorry, but this is really just breaking even for me. If I consider the effort I put into getting these, it’s actually a loss. Do you think I would cheat someone introduced by the Master Carpenter?”

He looked like someone who would in his business dealings. But the truth was, he was the only person I could trust here.

“Of course not. A close friend of the Master Carpenter, as noble as he is, would surely be a person of character.”

“Hm, yes.”

Mr. Wang coughed awkwardly, perhaps embarrassed by my flattery.

“Mr. Wang, if you absolutely must sell the goods at this price, may I ask you for one more favor?”

It was time to bring up the reason I raised my voice in the first place.

“What is it?”

“As you know, my appearance is quite shabby right now. My clothes are worn and torn, almost beggar-like. Could I possibly get some old clothes you don’t use anymore?”

I hadn’t paid much attention to my clothing while struggling to survive the past year. Although I washed them often whenever there was water, my clothes had become quite tattered. In my current state, I couldn’t start my job as a storyteller.

“…Alright. You’re an acquaintance of the Master Carpenter, and it wouldn’t do for you to walk around so shabbily. I feel bad for the delay, so I’ll give you some clean, old clothes from my collection.”

“Thank you!”

“Since you’re here for the Korean goods, come inside and try them on.”

I followed Mr. Wang into the cloth shop.

After cleaning up and changing into the provided old clothes, I gathered the Korean items.

“Well, well. You’re quite tall and good-looking,”

The rotund Mr. Wang commented as he looked at me.

“Thank you. The clothes are surprisingly nicer than I thought.”

I was quite surprised when I looked in the large mirror at the fabric store. It had been practically a year since I had dressed this neatly, so it felt even more special.

As expected of the foremost prodigal son of the Joseon Kang family. Kang Yun-ho’s popularity with the gisaengs wasn’t just because of his wealth.

“Is it because he is a Joseon person? Dressed in Joseon clothes, he certainly looks more like a nobleman on a foreign tour than a barbarian.”

“Haha. That’s not it.”

Actually, that was correct. I was a nobleman from a wealthy family in Joseon. But I had been ruined due to treason.

What I had asked the fabric store owner to find for me were items that would unmistakably identify me as a Joseon person.

More precisely, a bamboo hat, durumagi, and a fan.

“I could easily find the durumagi since Goryeo-style was once popular, but the bamboo hat and the fan were challenging.”

A bamboo hat was made of bamboo.

What we often see in historical dramas were those made of horsehair, known as heukrip. The main material of heukrip was horsehair, specifically the tail hair of horses. Imagine how expensive a hat made from horse tails would be.

Even the noblemen of the Joseon Dynasty, if not from a rich family, would repair and wear the same hat for a long time. It’s almost like a luxury bag made of crocodile skin.

There was no way I, who lived on just a meal of bread a day, could afford such a thing. But I needed something to make me look like a Joseon person.

So, I chose the Joseon bamboo hat. I would wear old clothes inside and a durumagi as an outer garment.

I held a Joseon fan made of bamboo slats—a fan that could be opened and closed by attaching paper to the slats. This too was expensive for a swindler like me.

Snap!

I opened the fan at once to cover my face, then snapped it shut against my palm.

Looked pretty cool.

Just like a Joseon scholar.

I felt as if I could sit leisurely in a pavilion, shouting “Sareori sareori latda, Cheongsan-e sareori latda,” and drink wine.

“Hehe. When you asked for Joseon clothes in your beggarly state, I thought you were some strange barbarian. But now you truly look like a nobleman from Joseon.” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ n0vᴇl(ꜰ)ire.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

“I had to do at least this much. It cost me a lot.”

I had spent most of the money I had earned on the construction site here, living in a shantytown in Chilgok County yet dressed like a nobleman.

This was total car poor.

If a car poor person impressed women with a luxury car, now I had to impress the people of the Central Plains.

“So, are you starting your storyteller job now?”

“Yes. It’s late today, so I plan to start tomorrow.”

“Alright. I’ll spread the word in advance. A storyteller has come from Joseon with rare tales.”

“Thank you.”

I thanked him and left Mr. Wang’s fabric store. Maybe I should go eat something in preparation for tomorrow.

“Welcome. Oh, a foreign prince has arrived.”

As I entered the inn, the waiter was surprised by my appearance and spoke.

When I came to the inn in shabby clothes to buy mantou, they told me to get lost, calling me a barbarian. But now that my attire had changed, so had their reaction.

That was why what one wore was important.

“Waiter. What’s famous here?”

I called the waiter as I took a seat. It had been a year since I had been living here, but I had hardly ever ordered anything other than mantou at the inn. You needed money to order something.

But tomorrow I started my job as a storyteller. To eat well and sleep soundly, I was willing to splurge on a meal for a change.

I wondered what was famous.

If they had something I didn’t know, I would just order something like somyeon or jukyeopcheong.

“The hangover soup is famous here!”

“What did you say?”

“The soup is thick and the meat is plentiful, so it’s called the premium hangover soup.”

Just hearing about it made me feel like I could eat five or six bowls in one day.

Right. This wasn’t a martial world. It was a place that even served carbonara. Suddenly, I realized I wasn’t in a martial arts world but in a martial arts visual novel world.

“Then, give me a bowl of that hangover soup. With extra meat, please.”

“Yes! One hangover soup for 30 copper coins.”

As I handed over the money and waited for my hangover soup, I overheard a group of men chatting nearby.

“Have you heard about the Sung family in Daehung County?”

“What about them?”

“You haven’t heard the famous story?”

“Don’t beat around the bush; just tell me.”

“It’s about Sungjoru, the family head of the Sung family in Daehung County. He passed away suddenly not long ago.”

The deceased family head had quite a unique name. He would have been the subject of teasing if he had gone to school in Korea.

“The wealthy guy died? But deaths happen all the time; what’s so famous about that?”

“It’s not just that. You know the son of the family head, right? He’s of age, but instead of him, Sungjoru’s younger brother became the family head.”

“Why did that happen?”

“You know about Sungjoru’s new wife, right? Not the deceased one. She convinced the family that the son was too naive to lead the Sung family and actively pushed for Sungjoru’s brother, Sungjiru, to take over.”

“That’s strange. Even if she’s a stepmother, shouldn’t she support her stepson to become the family head?”

“That’s why it’s a hot topic these days. But take the rest as a rumor.”

“What is it?”

“They say that Sungjiru’s room was often visited by his new sister-in-law at night.”

Wow. Love and war. I could guess what was going on just by listening.

“She got together with her brother-in-law? What a scandalous act!”

The man who had first heard the news raised his voice in surprise.

“Wow. She didn’t like Sungjoru and got together with Sungjiru. I understand, but the stepmother has really done something despicable.”

It was a common theme in adult novels and comics to get together with your sister-in-law. But in this world, such an act was condemned.

“It’s practically an open secret. Everyone’s keeping quiet, but there’s no other reason to pass the family headship to the husband’s brother. That’s why it’s famous.”

“How could the world come to this?”

“Right. But the hangover soup is here, so let’s eat.”

With that, the men began to eat their soup.

“Here’s your hangover soup!”

The waiter brought my hangover soup. Hmm, the broth was really thick, and there was plenty of meat. Delicious.

But the Sung family, huh?

This could be good material for my storytelling tomorrow.

The next day, a crowd had already gathered around the platform in front of the fabric store.

It looks like Mr. Wang spread the word quite a bit.

“There he is!”

“Look at his attire. He must really be from a foreign land.”

“Isn’t that the black-haired beggar who’s been wandering around lately?”

“Look at that elegance. He’s obviously a foreign storyteller.”

“Is that Joseon clothing? It’s unique but stylish.”

“Hurry up and tell us some rare stories!”

“Excuse me, please.”

I made my way through the crowd and climbed onto the prepared platform. The platform had previously been used by a storyteller to ensure his voice and face were clearly visible.

It was higher than I had expected. But it was spacious enough for a performance.

“Good day, everyone. I am Kang Mo, a storyteller who has come from faraway Joseon to share rare tales with the Central Plains.”

Holding a fan in one hand and pressing it against my chest, I bowed politely to the audience.

“Joseon? Where’s that?”

“It’s where those black-haired people live, the country that produces ginseng. He also has black hair.”

“Ah! That place to the west?”

“It’s to the east, you fool!”

“I know! East! I misspoke!”

“People have been waiting for a while. Everyone, quiet down!”

“Be quiet!”

As I greeted them and stood silently, the crowd, eager for a story, began to quiet those around them.

This felt like a bustling marketplace.

With an expressionless face, I made eye contact with the audience, and eventually, there were no more disturbances.

“Thank you for waiting. Now, I will begin a story from Joseon.”

Snap!

I dramatically opened the fan with a swift motion.

‘A storyteller from Joseon starts his tale with the flourish of an exotic fan.’

I had prepared the fan to spread such a rumor.

The sound it made as it unfolded was impressive, making it a perfect trademark for a storyteller.

“Start with the title!”

“If it’s a story we’ve heard, we’ll just leave, so start with the title!”

A title, huh?

Famous rumors from Chilgok County.

The deceased husband. The brother who seized the family. The lascivious wife.

The unfortunate protagonist.

So, what story should I tell?

“The story I will tell you is about Prince Hamurin from Joseon.”

Indeed, Hamlet.

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