Chapter 65. Ear Ghost
The military officer did not blame the man even though his brush was suddenly snatched away. Because he knew who the man was. No, not only him—every military officer who came here knew the man.
If you're going to go crazy, the best hunting dog is the one with strong jaws. Moreover, this fellow who covered his eyes with his bangs was outstanding even here. Over the past year, hundreds and thousands of wanderers had died, but he had survived as much as that. Wanderers who supported themselves as mercenaries were usually lower-rank wanderers, but despite his skill, he kept doing mercenary work. From the army's perspective, he was the perfect hunting dog to use.
The military officer snickered and looked at the roster.
There, three characters of the man's name were written in one swift stroke, looking extremely fine. He didn't know what the man used to do, but with handwriting like that, there must be some story behind him.
'But it's none of my business anyway.'
To a hunting dog's owner, only the dog's teeth mattered. Whether the mutt was purebred or not had no value worth considering.
The man's name was.
Kang Dal-hee.
"So even Ear Ghost is going, huh."
Ear Ghost. A ghost of ears.
The other wanderers around called him that.
That was the nickname Kang Dal-hee—no, Dong Bong-su—had newly obtained here.
If everyone else cut ears to make money, Dong Bong-su cut so many ears as if cutting ears itself were the purpose, and that was why he got that nickname.
"If Ear Ghost is going too, things should go a bit more smoothly."
"Yeah."
"Then let's join too."
With Ear Ghost's participation in the hunt, dozens of other wanderers who had only been watching joined as mercenaries.
Watching them, the military officer sneered inwardly.
'Idiots. Do you think Ear Ghost will fight in your place? Or die in your place?'
It was a fitting sneer. In fact, hunts that Ear Ghost participated in had a low survival rate for the mercenaries. Even if Ear Ghost survived, countless other mercenaries died. The officers writing the recruitment rosters all knew that fact well. Only the mercenaries didn't.
The officers silently took down the additional names. More mercenaries meant more hunting dogs who would die in their place, didn't it? There was no reason for them to step in and remove the dogs' name tags themselves.
A little later.
In the end, roughly about fifteen hundred names were written on the roster. Thanks to Ear Ghost, they were able to conscript far more mercenaries than expected. Satisfied, the officers stopped recruiting.
"In two days, we depart for Guisui at 7 am. Until then, assemble in front of the Datong General Command."
Although no wanderers were listening to their voices anymore, the officers finished their duties to the end.
"That's all."
Having finished their work, the officers left the wanderers' market one by one.
The wanderers who had gotten work also poured out of the place. Among them was Ear Ghost, Dong Bong-su. The wanderers headed to Datong's taverns or green houses and red houses, chatting noisily with those they had met along the way, but he was alone. No one approached him, nor did anyone greet him.
Should it be called keeping one's distance out of respect, or fearfully keeping one's distance?
Even battle-crazed ghosts like mercenaries had things they feared.
Death.
Like anyone else, dying was frightening. They were ruthless when taking others' lives, but their own deaths were unbearably terrifying. Because of that, madness toward death and fear of it seeped out of their bodies without them realizing. So naturally, they stuck together and vented those feelings among themselves.
But among the wanderers, some were special. It was hard to say whether they should be called special, but in any case, there were strange ones.
Those who enjoyed killing itself, those who had made killing their profession since birth, or those who had been martial arts masters but made a single mistake or learned demonic arts and were hunted publicly and hid here, and so on.
They were people extremely familiar and accustomed to death. Even though they were all wanderers, the others did not get close to them. They couldn't. To begin with, their levels were different, so the work they did was different. lower-rank wanderers had to take any job that came their way, but they were personally hired by the martial world or the authorities to do more 'high-class' work. If lower-rank wanderers were paid per head or per ear, they were paid per case, and the amount was worlds apart from ordinary wanderers.
Naturally, even if lower-rank wanderers didn't deliberately avoid them, they would end up drifting apart anyway.
But Ear Ghost was different. He had already been classified as top-tier in this wanderers' market, yet he was still doing mercenary work and going on hunts.
Next time, next time, yeah, next time for sure I'll skip it, definitely.
That's what he said, but this time too, Ear Ghost participated in the hunt without fail.
All sorts of rumors circulated, but no one knew the exact truth about him. Because no one here was close to him.
Dong Bong-su trudged along toward his wooden house in the wanderer village on the outskirts of Datong.
Until then, one rookie wanderer who had been quietly watching muttered resentfully.
"Tch. That brat sure acts all high and mighty. Maybe I should chase him and slit his throat."
Thud.
A veteran wanderer standing next to him, having heard his muttering, smacked the back of the rookie's head hard.
"You bastard, have you lost your mind?"
"Are you crazy, you bastard! Who do you think you are to hit me? Huh?"
The rookie, unable to endure it, talked back. Then another veteran drew his sword and said,
"When an elder in life gives you advice, you should know to listen. There's always some piss-ant who insists on clinging like this."
Clack.
The cold blade was already touching the rookie's neck. The rookie finally shut his mouth.
"Now, listen carefully to what I'm about to say. I don't want to taste that milky red soup that'll come out of your filthy neck. Got it?"
"..."
"Got it, you little piss-smelling brat."
The rookie had no choice but to nod, even as he felt a scratch form on his neck. If he didn't, it felt like his head would really be cut off.
When a line of blood began to seep from the rookie's neck, the veteran opened his mouth and began talking about Ear Ghost.
"It was about a year ago. That scrawny, shabby beggar-looking guy showed up here..."
***
A boy. Or perhaps a youth who had just reached adulthood.
He was filthy beyond measure, but a boy like that was, by his very existence, rare prey in Datong.
Even though Datong had many courtesans, they were almost all retired. Old prostitutes whose bodies were too ruined to arouse men's lust any longer, or whose eyes had long since lost their vitality. The wanderers had no choice but to use them instead of their hands to relieve their desires, but sometimes they were worse than hands.
Rather than the sagging chest of an old woman, a young and fresh boy's buttocks were more valuable here. So when such young prey appeared, it was an unspoken rule of this place to pounce like wolves.
The first day Dong Bong-su appeared.
Five or six hungry wanderers dragged him into an alley. In their eyes, beast-like desire gleamed, and with rough hands they grabbed the boy's arms. And more than a dozen other wanderers waited outside the alley, drooling as they waited for their turn. Some were already fiddling with their belts, lost in obscene fantasies.
Heh heh heh…..
Twisted lewdness overflowed in a corner of Datong's lower-rank wanderer village. The air mixed with the stench of rotten alcohol and sweat boiled like a filthy festival.
But.
That atmosphere broke in less than a quarter of an hour.
Tap, tap.
Light footsteps. They weren't from the burly wanderers. Soon, the owner of the footsteps revealed himself outside the alley.
It was Dong Bong-su.
" ...! "
The wanderers who had been straining with all their might were shocked. It wasn't just because Dong Bong-su came out first.
Drip, drip, drip...
From between Dong Bong-su's tightly clenched right fingers, blood was streaming down. The blood gathered and fell onto the filthy ground of the wanderer village, making the sound of raindrops falling.
The blood wasn't his. It belonged to the owners of the lumps of flesh in his hand. Perhaps because Dong Bong-su had squeezed too hard, the lumps of flesh were crushed together mercilessly, but the wanderers all recognized what those lumps were.
Noses.
They were noses. Whose they were didn't need to be asked—anyone could guess.
Snap.
Dong Bong-su opened his hand once, sticky with snot and blood, then clenched it again. Red liquid splattered everywhere.
After that, Dong Bong-su calmly walked up to a wanderer who had been waiting for his turn and said,
"I heard these are money here. Where should I go to exchange these for silver coins?"
His voice was low and calm. No, it might be more accurate to say it was hard to tell whether it was or not.
Overwhelmed by Dong Bong-su's utterly composed attitude, the wanderer unconsciously raised the hand that had been holding his crotch and pointed toward the wanderers' market where the brokers gathered. His crotch had already shriveled down in name and reality.
"Thank you."
Dong Bong-su offered a meaningless word of thanks and disappeared toward the wanderers' market. There were dozens more wanderers there, but not a single one said that he had cut the wrong things.
Half an hour later.
Dong Bong-su returned to the wanderer village, went into the alley as if nothing had happened, cut off the ears of the nose-less wanderers, and went back to the market. Until then, no one had cut the ears of those newly dead men.
With the money he earned that day, Dong Bong-su bought an empty wooden house in that wanderer village. That was Dong Bong-su's first day in Datong, and the beginning of the nickname Ear Ghost.
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