Standing Guard (3)
We immediately followed the servant and inspected the security boundaries of the Jeong Family Estate. The estate was divided into two sections: the outer compound, where servants, maids, retainers, and laborers lived, and the inner compound, where only family members resided.
Both areas were enormous. I was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the estate.
It's almost as big as my university.
Even though the university I attended was considered small by Seoul standards, the idea that a single private household could be this vast was astonishing.
At this size, you'd still need at least twenty people to cover it.
There were no CCTV cameras here. Guards would have to rotate continuously. To maintain 24-hour security, you'd need at least that many. That was the quick calculation running through my head.
"This place is so large, I'm not sure our escort agents alone can handle it."
"Indeed."
The Maeyang County branch of Baekun Escort Agency had roughly thirty escort agents in total. Regular escort missions—temporarily suspended at the moment—usually deployed ten to fifteen men. Considering shift rotations and irregular missions, that was why they maintained that number.
Which meant there weren't many to spare. Factoring everything in, it seemed we would need to recruit at least ten more people to manage this place properly.
"It's fine for now, but once regular missions resume, we'll need more manpower to cover this estate."
"We may have to request reinforcements from another branch. I'll keep it in mind."
As I mentally calculated how much it would cost to rotate twenty men day and night, I suddenly caught a strange scent in the air.
…Something fragrant, delicate, with a faint, almost nostalgic note.
As I looked around to see where it was coming from, I spotted a woman walking slowly toward us from afar, without a single maid accompanying her.
The servant guiding us hurried forward and bowed deeply.
"Oh my, Madam! What brings you all the way here…?"
"It's been a while, Jangsam."
Madam?
The moment I saw her face, I could guess her identity.
She was stunningly beautiful.
She must be the second wife who had recently caused that incident.
I can understand Jeong Chusan's feelings.
She had a slender, delicate figure and a pure, refined aura.
She resembled an orchid in bloom.
There was even a faint sense of melancholy about her—something that stirred an instinct to protect her. Truly, she was a beauty capable of toppling a nation.
If such a woman were to look up with sorrowful eyes and say, "I was wrong… please forgive this humble one…" what man could possibly refuse?
I get it now.
Comparing her to Baek Reunghwa, whom I had seen not long ago, was difficult. They were different types of beauty. If Baek Reunghwa was like a dazzling idol at the height of her fame, this lady had the mature allure of an actress in her early thirties.
As that thought crossed my mind, the servant, flustered, said anxiously,
"Madam! How could you wander the outer compound alone without even bringing a maid?"
"It's all right, Jangsam. I simply wished to take a short walk. I didn't want to trouble anyone."
"You'll give us heart attacks at this rate… oh dear…"
Still fussing to himself, Jangsam gestured toward us and explained who we were. The woman glanced at us briefly, then bowed gracefully.
"So you are from Baekun Escort Agency. It is a pleasure to meet you."
Jwagun Pyeong cupped his fists in greeting and spoke in his usual heavy tone.
"You must be Lady Nanhwa. I have heard much about you."
I also returned the greeting. She accepted it with a profoundly sorrowful smile.
What should I call it? Just looking at her made me feel sad myself, like I wanted to say, It's okay—don't cry.
"…Then I shall take my leave."
After casting us one last wistful look, she turned and left. In this world, it was considered improper for a woman to converse long with unrelated men.
The servant, Jangsam, muttered to himself like a man afflicted with rheumatism, then glanced at us.
"I must escort Madam back. Please wait here for a moment."
And with that, he hurried after her.
Whew…
It had only been a brief encounter, yet for a moment it felt as though my breath had been taken away.
Honestly, ever since coming to the martial world, I hadn't felt particularly nervous around women.
Why would I? Most of them just felt like neighborhood aunties. I'd never felt tense or stirred by them.
No one gets flustered around restaurant ladies, right?
But seeing a beauty like that after so long… how should I describe it? It felt like my chest tightened. An unfamiliar, indescribable sensation washed over me.
It wasn't even something I had felt when I saw Baek Reunghwa at the interview.
…A mature married beauty really is dangerous.
Baek Seungil.
Brother thinks he understands you now.
When standing guard duty, everyone brings along a bundle of stories to pass the time.
Most of these are topics with broad appeal.
You know—talking about women, baseball or soccer, celebrities. And of course, gossiping about incompetent seniors or officers was always a top-tier subject.
But since the military gathers all kinds of people, there are times when mismatched topics make guard duty a nightmare.
The craziest senior I ever met once talked about Pokémon all day long. He went on for over an hour about base stats alone. Listening to that, I could understand why deserters exist.
That's how painful guard duty can be when the topic doesn't click.
But there's one cheat-code subject that anyone can talk about for hours.
"Senior, what do you plan to do after you leave the escort agency?"
The topic of discharge.
For days, as we patrolled along the wall, Jwagun Pyeong had barely responded to anything I said. But at this question, he paused briefly before speaking.
"…Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering if you had any plans. I was curious what the seniors might do after retiring."
"Hmm. That's a fair question."
Like most quiet people, he nodded slowly and took his time choosing his words. Just when I began to wonder if he'd forgotten we were even talking, he finally spoke again.
"I've never thought about life outside the agency. I don't have many talents."
"Really? Then perhaps you're aiming to become a head escort?"
In the military, plenty of people consider reenlisting or becoming career non-commissioned officers. You get used to it, and at some point you think, maybe this isn't so bad.
I'd thought the same thing myself—wondered if it might have been better to just stay in the army. Before leaving, you long for civilian life. But once you're out, you sometimes think the military wasn't so bad after all.
He shook his head.
"Head escort… that would be difficult. I've given up."
"Why? If you have the experience and the skill, isn't it possible?"
"I cannot read."
Ah.
Only then did I understand the fleeting emotion that had crossed Jwagun Pyeong's face when he asked me to sign the contract on his behalf.
It had been shame.
"Ah… I see."
"Yes."
Illiteracy was common in this era.
To read Chinese characters, one had to memorize thousands of symbols wholesale. Without someone to teach you, you couldn't even begin. Self-study was practically impossible.
In modern Korea, at least you could have Hangul annotations underneath—heaven cheon, earth ji, black hyeon, yellow hwang—and try to learn on your own by reading books.
But not here.
You had to gather money and go to a village school, begging the teacher to instruct you.
Yet people who struggled just to survive day by day had neither money nor time. So they simply lived without knowing.
There were countless people who knew only how to write their own names. Ordinary farmers often didn't even know that much.
It was an age where effort alone wasn't enough.
"I didn't realize."
"It's nothing remarkable. It seems you can read."
"I learned back in my hometown."
If you didn't know, you got beaten.
It had been that kind of era—like a fighting game where ignorance meant punishment—so I had grown fairly confident in my classical Chinese.
"You must have had a good teacher."
For a moment, I remembered "Mad Dog Kang," always wearing modified hanbok and carrying a wooden flute.
Teacher Kang, are you doing well?
Thanks to you, I can read here and live somewhat like a proper person. I'll confess it now—the one who reported you to the education office for taking bribes? I bet you looked hard for the culprit.
It was me.
Still, you went too far.
You texted my mom asking for premium liquor for Teacher's Day.
"He wasn't exactly a good teacher, but I did learn a lot."
"I envy you."
"Me?"
"I… worry what will happen when I grow old like this. All I know is a bit of martial arts, and it's not enough to make a name for myself in the jianghu. It's too late to start farming—I know nothing about it. The thought of leaving the escort agency… frightens me."
Farming was a highly specialized skill. Farmers might seem ignorant, but they absolutely weren't.
From sowing to harvesting, it required immense know-how.
A warrior couldn't just become a farmer because he had nothing else to do. That was why Jwagun Pyeong looked so lost.
"I can't do business either. It would be nice if I could guard a wealthy estate like this, but once I age, even that will be difficult. Then I'd have to live as a servant in someone else's house… I can't picture it. Myself living like that."
"…."
No matter where you went, old age was the real problem.
I spoke carefully.
"Senior, then… if you don't mind…"
"What is it?"
"Could you teach me some martial arts? In return, I'll teach you how to read."
Jwagun Pyeong might not look it, but he was more skilled than I was. Not a master by jianghu standards, but he had spent several more years in this world than I had.
People like that possessed not just techniques, but real combat know-how—experience you couldn't easily buy with money.
His eyes lit up.
"Truly?"
"Yes. With my current level, I feel a bit uneasy. I'd like to learn under you."
"If you would do that, then—"
Just as he brightened and stepped closer, a rustling sound came from somewhere.
—Fssht. Fssht.
What was that?
A chill ran down my spine, like an icy hand brushing the back of my neck.
Without realizing it, my hand moved to the sword at my waist. I looked at Jwagun Pyeong. He must have felt it too, because his hand went to his weapon as well.
"Who's—"
—Slash!
"Urk!"
Before he could finish, blood erupted from his chest like a fountain. He collapsed.
The scene filled my vision in slow motion.
What…?
Just moments ago, we had been talking peacefully. Now he lay cut down. The unreality of it swallowed my sight.
I immediately drew my sword, trying to take a fighting stance—
"Quiet."
From the darkness, a man in black martial robes—who had literally flown more than ten meters to strike Jwagun Pyeong—leveled his blade at me.
"Quiet. Drop your sword."
Baek Seungil…!