We never drink until we’re completely wasted. Being drunk means you’re asking to die at the hands of your enemies. The same went for Yeo Un-byeok, so we stopped after drinking moderately.
I looked Yeo Un-byeok in the eyes and said,
“Master Yeo, I’d be fine with us parting ways here and never seeing each other again—living our lives without any trouble.”
“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”
“But if a truly peaceful time does come, let’s share a drink again like today.”
We exchanged glances and nodded once to seal the promise.
“I’ll send the Muga Sword as promised. I’ll have it delivered to Yongdu Cheolbang, so confirm it there.”
I went to Jomsoi and paid the tab. Maybe he was getting used to my face and name now—he looked a little less nervous than before as he bid farewell.
“Take care, Pavilion Lord.”
I gave him a slight nod, then parted ways with Yeo Un-byeok. I walked through the streets of Muga, now returned to their ordinary routine, alongside these villains. From time to time, I exchanged brief bows with passersby who made eye contact.
Only after we’d left the street behind did the Drunk speak up.
“Never thought I’d get my hands on such a fine sword. Life really is unpredictable. I was hoping for a big fight, though.”
The Lecher seemed more interested in the martial prowess of scholars than in sentiment.
“How does Master Yeo’s skill compare to the Blind Scholar—the one our third brother killed?”
It wasn’t a question I could answer precisely.
“I’ve never fought him, so I don’t know. They give off a similar feeling. But if a real fight broke out, Master Yeo probably would’ve been in serious trouble.”