Part 46 - Medicine King
Medicine King.
One sentence was enough to describe him.
The pinnacle of all physicians.
He visited Wongakjeong.
***
The Sword of Stealing the Ghost whispered to Jeong-a.
"Is that really him? The one who can revive even the dead, so long as they can swallow medicine and drink a decoction?"
"Yes. That's what I've heard as well."
The Sword of Stealing the Ghost whispered again.
"The one the Imperial House itself granted the title Medicine King?"
"Yes."
The Sword of Stealing the Ghost shook his head.
"…To my eyes, he just looks like a senile old coot."
Where his gaze landed, an old man was busy harassing the twin maids guiding the way.
"Ahem, ahem. I, the Medicine King, am offering to examine you in person—are you refusing?"
"…Touch my butt one more time and I'll cut that hand off."
"Oh dear. Terrible, terrible. Then how about the young lady walking ahead? You haven't been having chest pains lately, have you? If I just give you a little feel, I can fix it right away."
Jeong-a turned back with a smile.
"My health is always looked after by my master, so you needn't worry."
The shabby old man, nose red as a radish, sprang up.
"What? That bastard personally checks a young lady's great big soft-looking chest?! How shameless—how enviable—what an unforgivable fellow!"
Jeong-a burst out laughing.
The Sword of Stealing the Ghost let out a sigh.
Whatever his medical skill might be, the old man's mental state was dire.
***
After spewing vulgarities for quite a while, the old man suddenly stopped—right where the forest path ended.
Where the path gave way to a breathtaking vista, like a utopia from legend.
A place where anyone who stepped into it would inevitably stop at least once.
One of the twin maids sneered inwardly at the Medicine King.
Hmph. So, old man—how's the taste of Wongakjeong's scenery?
She'd only arrived half a day ago herself, yet she was already puffing up with pride.
Wanting to see his reaction, she looked up at his face—then quickly turned away.
"..."
In the old man's eyes as he stared at the view, there lay a depth of regret and longing so heavy a young girl like her couldn't even measure it.
"…Do you know?" he said, rubbing his reddened nose. "Wongakjeong was originally So-yu's residence."
Something clicked in Jeong-a's mind, and she asked.
"By 'So-yu', do you mean the First Young Master's mother—Lady Yakseonnyeo?"
It was The Sword of Stealing the Ghost who answered.
"That's right. I've heard the First Young Master was born here, and that's why Wongakjeong still belongs to him even now."
The Medicine King moved forward in silence.
The others followed behind him, also in silence.
Everything his eyes fell upon bore traces of a mother and son's touch.
Every cedar tree, every single blossom—each began with their hands.
Everyone was curious what relationship the Medicine King had with the First Young Master and his mother.
But no one dared to ask.
Though no one guided him, he walked ahead and arrived at Yeon Sang-hyeon's quarters.
For a moment, the old man seemed to study every corner of the building, as if trying to take it all in.
Just as the quiet, wistful air threatened to make everyone's chests ache—
The old man suddenly bellowed.
"You brat! Your master has come all this way—are you so stingy with your steps that you won't even come out to greet me?!"
One mystery was solved.
He was Yeon Sang-hyeon's master.
"What did you just say?"
The door slid open, and Yeon Sang-hyeon appeared—dressed, as always, in The Scholar's attire.
In a flat voice, he continued.
"Who are you calling your disciple? I attained all of my medical art by myself."
And the mystery began again.
The old man hopped in outrage.
"I taught your mother, and you learned from your mother, didn't you?! And you must have studied the medical books I wrote, too!"
Unspoken but now implied: Pan So-yu, who had been called the incarnation of Bhaisajyaguru (Medicine Buddha), seemed to have been the Medicine King's disciple.
And Yeon Sang-hyeon's medical art had been learned from his mother.
While everyone else raced through deductions, Yeon Sang-hyeon snorted again.
"Don't be ridiculous. My mother never taught me medicine. And your so-called books were such low quality I skimmed them once and used them in the privy."
The listeners' heads started to spin.
"Here we go again! You rude little wretch!"
"You're the one starting again, you senile old man!"
Face flushed bright red, the Medicine King shouted at Jeong-a.
"Bring me every drop of alcohol you have! Today—today I'll make this insolent brat understand who his master is!"
Yeon Sang-hyeon sneered coldly.
"You're just here to guzzle down the liquor my mother left behind."
"You miserly little bastard! A master comes to honor a departed disciple, and you begrudge him a single drink?!"
"You useless drunken sot. Even a cup of water is wasted on you."
Watching the Medicine King shriek and hop about—and seeing a side of the First Young Master no one ever saw—Jeong-a laughed out loud.
"What a fond relationship you two have."
At that, the twin maids and The Sword of Stealing the Ghost stared at Jeong-a as if she'd grown a second head.
Ignoring them, Jeong-a gave the twin maids an order.
"You go bring the others and prepare a lavish drinking table. I'll handle the liquor. I have a good idea where it is."
One of the twin maids nodded, then asked.
"Then what should we do about serving tea?"
Jeong-a shrugged.
"My master will probably prepare the tea himself."
"…Do you really think so…?"
The twin maid's gaze drifted to the two men.
"Lecherous old bastard."
"Defective idiot, are you?!"
Yeon Sang-hyeon said icily.
"Come in. It's cold to argue outside."
"Fine! I brought excellent tea leaves—out of pity for you, I'll let you enjoy the fragrance!"
"Hah. So you're trying to make me look like some miser who doesn't even serve tea to a guest."
As the two went inside—almost companionably—the twin maid looked utterly dumbfounded.
Jeong-a made a See? face at her and left.
"I truly can't understand it", the twin maid muttered as she left as well.
Left alone in that spot, The Sword of Stealing the Ghost murmured.
"…What about me?"
***
As Jeong-a poured liquor into the Medicine King's empty bowl, she spoke.
"So, the two of you are evenly matched—good rivals in the realm of medicine?"
The Medicine King downed the bowl and exploded.
"What are you talking about?! I've placed needles hundreds of millions—no, billions—more times than that brat! How could you compare the Medicine King to some little blood-drop like him?!"
Yeon Sang-hyeon snorted and drank from the cup Jeong-a filled.
"What matters is doing it precisely even once. Do you think the number of times matters?"
"Ah, so you two are the kind of pair who can cover each other's weaknesses and draw out each other's strengths!"
"No!"
"Absolutely not!"
As the twin maid set down fresh side dishes, she silently clicked her tongue at Jeong-a's words.
No, how does she make it sound so convincing every time?
Eyes gleaming, Yeon Sang-hyeon provoked the Medicine King.
"If you're so confident, then take this girl's pulse and name her constitution."
"Hah! If you think I, the Medicine King, would struggle over some rare constitution, you are gravely mistaken, you brat!"
The Medicine King seized Jeong-a's wrist and began pulse diagnosis.
"Ohho. This is…"
He smacked his lips.
"First, looking at the overall state of your blood channels, it does resemble a Jeol Meridian. Hmm. And it seems you've been treated once already."
He nodded repeatedly.
"This handiwork belongs to that deficient disciple of mine."
"I'm not your disciple."
As expected of the Medicine King—he was the real deal.
Jeong-a was impressed.
"But then… what is this?"
His eyes flew wide.
Within those deep eyes was thick, unmistakable suspicion.
"To hold a dragon inside a human body… what in the world are you?"
At that moment, Yeon Sang-hyeon swiftly yanked Jeong-a into his arms.
"Hah! Old man—so you really did notice."
The Medicine King jumped in place.
"You little punk! Stealing a patient in the middle of pulse diagnosis—what kind of outrageous rule is that in all the Central Plains?!"
Holding Jeong-a—now red-faced—Yeon Sang-hyeon spoke to him.
"Well? Don't you want to try fixing her Jeol Meridian?"
A deep smile spread across his face.
"Aren't you curious what will happen to the dragon she's harboring if you do?"
The Medicine King trembled.
He was the sort of man who could never defeat curiosity.
"Y-you brat. I lost. So let me take her pulse again."
Yeon Sang-hyeon wore a smile that looked downright villainous.
"If you're going to ask that, then grant me one request."
"What?!"
Ignoring the old man's reaction, Yeon Sang-hyeon stated his demand.
"Give me the whereabouts—or at least a clue—about my mother's acquaintances."
Exasperated, the old man shouted.
"You brat! You know this already! Those people are all at the Yakseon Sect!"
Yeon Sang-hyeon shook his head.
"No. Not those pathetic fools."
"…!"
For the first time, Yeon Sang-hyeon's face was serious.
"Not the ones who use 'family ties' as an excuse to do trashy things. I mean my mother's real acquaintances."
The old man swallowed hard.
"You… what are you plotting?"
Yeon Sang-hyeon chuckled.
"I'm sick of this life. And with everyone yapping about this 'Swordless' nonsense, I'm starting to get irritated."
"Don't be ridiculous."
The old man's face hardened.
"You? Even if someone came to persuade you—acting like you were Laozi himself—you'd spend day and night endlessly preaching about non-action and letting nature take its course."
Yeon Sang-hyeon shrugged.
"Aren't I in my teens, swayed by my moods? I want to try living a new way."
The old man set down the bowl he'd been holding.
"Enough nonsense. Speak properly. What are you really thinking?"
Yeon Sang-hyeon set Jeong-a down at his side.
"…I just want to take responsibility."
The old man's gaze deepened.
"Are you serious?"
"I am."
After hesitating a long time, the old man spoke again.
"…Then you must also know what sacrifice your mother paid."
Yeon Sang-hyeon's expression stiffened.
He fetched a bundle of documents from one corner of his room.
"This will answer you."
The old man began to read.
"A report on the Heavenly Slaughter Star newly appearing in the True North position…!"
The documents were reports delivered to Yeon Sang-hyeon—supervisor of the institution—by the astronomical officials of the Sword Clan Astronomy Pavilion.
The old man read the report again and again, as if he couldn't believe it.
"This…!"
He opened his mouth several times, only to close it again.
After shutting his eyes for a long while to sort his thoughts, he finally nodded.
"Fine. I'll tell you what I know about them."
"Thank you for understanding."
"But before that, I have a condition too!"
The old man's voice rose.
Yeon Sang-hyeon's eyebrow twitched.
"Say it."
Staring at Yeon Sang-hyeon, the old man spoke.
"First, I need to take your pulse."
There wasn't even a trace of drunkenness on the old man's face.
His eyes—deep and full of unfathomable mysteries—wavered.
"Sang-hyeon… what have you done to your body?"
At those words, Jeong-a swallowed sharply beside them.