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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Demon Valley Clinic
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Han Ibi had learned the old man's true identity, and for a while, he lived in constant fear.
He had no idea when the man might change his mind and decide to kill him.
But as they say, humans are creatures of adaptation.
With the passage of time, Han Ibi gradually grew accustomed to life with the old man.
Then one day...
When he woke in the morning, he noticed a set of clothes neatly placed by his bedside.
They were Song Myeong-cheon's clothes.
And they looked in far better condition than the rags Han Ibi was currently wearing.
Only then did Han Ibi realize his own garments were so caked in blood that he couldn't even tell if they had originally been red or blue.
A surge of emotion welled up inside him.
"Elder! Thank you. Thank you so much."
Song Myeong-cheon replied curtly.
"What are you dawdling for?"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Han Ibi hurriedly changed into the new clothes. Quick as a trainee rushing through a bath in boot camp.
Song Myeong-cheon confirmed it with a glance, then stepped out of the hut.
Han Ibi followed right behind.
But then...
"Elder... what's this?"
Song Myeong-cheon abruptly thrust something toward him.
Han Ibi knew exactly what it was.
It was the shoulder yoke the old man had been carrying on his first appearance—the long pole for balancing two water buckets on either end.
Song Myeong-cheon's response was as terse as ever.
"Carry it."
"Yes, sir..."
Han Ibi slung the empty yoke over both shoulders and trailed after him.
But something felt off about their direction.
"Elder. Isn't that way... down the mountain?"
Song Myeong-cheon said nothing, as expected.
What could he do?
Han Ibi grumbled curses under his breath and followed along.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
They must have descended for over an hour— at an incredible pace, no less.
Thank goodness it was mostly downhill.
Finally, Han Ibi and Song Myeong-cheon reached the mountain's base.
A little farther on, open plains came into view. People bustled about here and there.
At last, he could see proper humans again.
Most were shabby-looking folk, but after spending so much time with nothing but that gruff old man blowing cold winds his way, even these "real people" filled Han Ibi with joy.
That said... where the heck were they headed?
Han Ibi was dying of curiosity but held his tongue. He knew from experience that pestering the old man with questions wouldn't get him anywhere.
About half an hour passed like that.
Proper buildings began to appear.
At first they were sparse, but soon they clustered tightly together.
Snot-nosed kids formed gangs and ran around playing in front of houses.
Yes.
Song Myeong-cheon had led Han Ibi to the village at the foot of Demon Valley Mountain.
Han Ibi tilted his head in surprise, thinking,
'That's weird. I figured this old geezer hated people so much he avoided them like the plague...'
As they headed toward the village center, the number of passersby doubled.
This place truly felt alive with people.
Only then did Han Ibi understand why the old man had given him fresh clothes.
Strutting into a village like this covered in blood-soaked rags would draw eyes in seconds.
That was when it happened.
Song Myeong-cheon, who had been marching at a blistering speed, suddenly slowed his pace.
Then he veered toward a particular building.
Han Ibi looked up at the signboard.
Though it was in Hanja, thanks to his synchronization with Jong Ri-mae, he read it effortlessly.
- Demon Valley Clinic
Hmm... so basically a hospital in modern terms.
Or since they didn't separate medicine and pharmacy here, maybe clinic-cum-apothecary...
Song Myeong-cheon strode up and flung the door open without so much as a knock.
No one was inside. It was early morning, so no patients had arrived yet.
"Who's there?"
A voice called from behind an inner side door.
Song Myeong-cheon answered.
"Me."
Short and sweet, as always.
Someone emerged from behind the side door.
Judging by his attire, he was the clinic's physician.
Mid-forties, maybe.
His massive build... jiggling belly... and ruddy face like a heavy drinker left a strong impression.
Spotting Song Myeong-cheon, he said,
"Oh! You've come!"
Song Myeong-cheon merely nodded lightly by way of greeting.
But the physician burst into hearty laughter, grinning ear to ear.
"I was just thinking it was about time you showed up."
Song Myeong-cheon managed only an awkward smile.
Undeterred, the chatty middle-aged physician kept talking.
"So... did you manage to gather all the herbs we agreed on?"
Finally, Song Myeong-cheon spoke.
"Nine-tenths, but not all of them."
"Heh heh. Even a veteran herb gatherer like you slips up sometimes. Well, let's see what you've got."
Song Myeong-cheon reached out toward Han Ibi.
Han Ibi instantly understood and untied the bundle from his waist, handing it over.
Only then did the physician notice Han Ibi and smile warmly.
"Ah, you've brought company today. Who's this? An apprentice?"
As Han Ibi opened his mouth to reply, Song Myeong-cheon cut in.
"You could say that. A friend's nephew who's come to learn the herb trade."
The physician nodded knowingly.
"Smart move. Very smart. The man you serve is the best in the business. Learn well, and it'll benefit you greatly."
Han Ibi blinked in mild bewilderment but nodded along vigorously.
"Yes, exactly, Physician. I'm always grateful."
The physician chuckled at his words.
"What manners for a young fellow these days. Anyway, make the most of it. Now, let's take a look at those herbs. You must've gathered them together, right?"
Hah... this guy's a real talker. If only he had half of Grandpa Song's quietness.
Han Ibi replied,
"Yes, but I just tagged along carrying the load."
"Hahaha. Everyone starts that way. Even I did when I first learned the trade."
Han Ibi politely presented the herb bundle.
The physician took it carefully, spreading the contents out on a table corner.
"Let's see... Poria, here Stephania... hm, Atractylodes... Platycodon, Ophiopogon, Chinese yam... Excellent. Common stuff, but all top quality. As expected from a legend."
Song Myeong-cheon asked,
"How much?"
The physician's expression hardened slightly for the first time.
"You know how it is... herbs from other regions are flooding in lately. Competition's fierce. Yesterday, some peddlers brought in a few varieties..."
"So how much?"
"What I'm saying is, prices have dropped a lot. For this lot... maybe 500 wen in copper coins..."
At that, Song Myeong-cheon marched to the table and began gathering up the herbs.
"Good to know. I'll find another clinic then."
The physician rushed forward in a panic.
"Hey, come on! At least hear me out."
Song Myeong-cheon paused, eyeing him.
"But... considering our long business history, I'll give you fair value. 700 wen."
Song Myeong-cheon reached for the herbs again.
"Wait! Heh, you're quite the hothead."
The physician blocked his hand.
Song Myeong-cheon said,
"I'm in a hurry. Decide."
The physician pondered briefly, then nodded decisively.
"Fine. One tael of silver. That's my limit. Generous, even."
Song Myeong-cheon seemed satisfied and fell silent.
Fearing he'd change his mind, the physician quickly pulled a tael of silver from his bosom and handed it over.
Song Myeong-cheon pocketed it.
With the deal sealed, Han Ibi glanced around the clinic.
Hospitals were just as depressing back then as now.
A place you never wanted to visit.
The physician scribbled something tiny on paper, chatting with Song Myeong-cheon—likely listing herbs for the next deal.
And finally...
"Let's go."
Song Myeong-cheon said to Han Ibi.
"Yes."
Han Ibi bowed to the physician as he followed.
"Farewell, Physician. Until next time."
The physician waved with a grin.
"Take care. Learn well and bring back a wild ginseng root next time."
As he trailed Song Myeong-cheon, Han Ibi finally realized it.
The old man's livelihood came from selling these herbs.
'Ugh. Making ends meet is tough no matter the era or place...'
Song Myeong-cheon strode ahead confidently.
He clearly knew the area well.
'But... why'd he make me carry this yoke? And this isn't the way back to Demon Valley Mountain...'
About half an hour later,
The scenery had shifted to the lively bustle of a marketplace.
People hurried about preparing for the day's trade.
Then Song Myeong-cheon's steps slowed once more.
Instinctively, Han Ibi looked up at the sign overhead.
- Clear Stream Inn
A place selling liquor and food, with rooms for travelers.
As the pair entered, a teenage waiter scurried over.
"Welcome... Ah! It's been a while, sir."
He recognized Song Myeong-cheon and greeted him warmly.
But Song merely nodded once and headed straight to a corner table, sitting down with practiced ease.
This wasn't his first or second visit.
He barked at Han Ibi, who stood frozen.
"What are you doing? Planning to stand there all day?"
Han Ibi jolted, set the yoke down, and quickly took a seat.
Gurgle...
The delicious aromas wafting through made his stomach rumble in protest.
The waiter smiled.
"Brought a companion today, I see."
Song Myeong-cheon said nothing. Han Ibi gave an awkward smile in solidarity.
"The usual?"
Song nodded.
"What wine shall I bring?"
Song Myeong-cheon shot him a look that said, Why ask?
But the bold waiter pressed on with a grin.
"Right, Fen wine as always."
He picked up the yoke Han Ibi had carried.
"Top shelf stuff—you'll love it. I'll fill it right up."
Han Ibi felt a bit awkward, sitting face-to-face across the table like this.
It was like dining alone with an uncomfortable boss.
At least Song Myeong-cheon seemed in a decent mood.
Which made sense—this was basically payday for him.
Soon the waiter returned with food.
"Your water basin mutton, as ordered."
Steam rose invitingly, and Han Ibi's gut twisted harder.
'Whoa! What's this?'
Like most Koreans, Han Ibi's Chinese food knowledge topped out at jjajangmyeon, jjamppong, and sweet-and-sour pork.
But this presentation...
A massive basin—way bigger than cold noodle bowls—brimming with veggies and chunks of slow-boiled mutton broth.
Beside it sat a huge flatbread, browned and crispy in spots, looking irresistible.
He might've ignored it back home, but after ages without a proper meal, it was heaven.
Tears of emotion welled in his eyes.
Han Ibi quickly stood, ladling meat and broth into Song Myeong-cheon's side dish.
Activating his respect-for-elders skill.
(To be continued in the next installment)