In all his forty-five years of life, the innkeeper had never once seen a single person consume so much food. He was certain that neither his father, who had passed the inn down to him, nor his grandfather, who had first opened it, had ever witnessed such a spectacle. He was sure of it.

As if he truly had a hungry ghost dwelling in his stomach, the slender young man had single-handedly devoured a quantity of food that would have sated a large party of porters,¹ and even now, he was still eating.

The first thing the innkeeper said to the young jeomsoi, whose legs were trembling, was this: “The money? You got it upfront, right?”

He smacked both jeomsoi on the back of their heads as they stared at him with bewildered eyes. Then, casting a wary glance around, he hissed in a low voice. “You goddamned sons of bitches…! You two picked today to run this inn into the ground, didn’t you…?!”

The younger jeomsoi, clutching the back of his head, whimpered in an equally low voice, “No, master…! I’m telling you, that man… he was strange from the moment he walked in…!”

“You crazy bastard…! Isn’t that all the more reason to get the money first…?!”

As the innkeeper raised his hand again, the senior jeomsoi hastily intervened. “Master, that’s not what he means! It’s not just that he’s strange—there’s something eerie about him…!”

“Eerie…?” The innkeeper’s thick jowls twitched. “Is he a martial artist?”

If he was a martial artist, then caution, and then more caution, was the only correct approach. Martial artists and inns. For some unknown reason, when those two elements came together, it had the effect of pouring oil on a fire. The Luoyang Innkeepers’ Association even had a name for it—the ‘Inn Effect’—and strongly advised all its members to be vigilant. Wasn’t that the very reason his own father was missing an arm?

“No, sir! That’s not it…!”

The innkeeper scowled. “Then is he the son of some high official?”²

The sons of high officials[1] were easy enough to identify by their clothes and demeanor, but when trouble broke out, they brought a far greater disaster. Hadn’t his own grandfather been dragged before a government official after a run-in with a noble’s son, only to die from an infection after being flogged?

“No, he didn’t seem to be one of them either, sir.” The younger jeomsoi, who knew the faces of all the trouble-making nobles’ sons in Luoyang, shook his head.

“Then what is he…?!”

The jeomsoi cried out in a low, convulsive whisper. “I told you, he’s a hungry ghost…! Didn’t I tell you…?! One of those hungry ghosts from hell…!”

“You cowardly little shits, spouting such nonse—”

Both jeomsoi waved their hands frantically. “Agh, master, you say that because you don’t understand…!”

At this point, the innkeeper couldn’t just keep scolding them. Smacking his lips, he strode up the remaining stairs. “I’ll go see for myself.”

“Aigoo, master, be careful…!”

“Master…!”

They fretted, but neither of them tried to stop him.

Come to think of it, this is strange, the innkeeper thought. Though they had been trying to be quiet, there was no way the man sitting with his back to them, showing only a narrow frame, could have missed their conversation. The man, dressed in the shabby robes of a scholar, seemed utterly oblivious to his approach, his head buried in his food as he furiously shoveled it down.

Had the creaking of the floorboards ever sounded so grating? The innkeeper wiped a stream of cold sweat from his brow with his sleeve and tugged at the collar of his shirt, which suddenly felt too tight.

“H-Hmphm!”

He stopped about five or six paces away and cleared his throat, but the man showed no reaction.

“Master…! You have to get a little closer…!”

“Be careful…!”

Those rotten bastards, so brave when it’s not their problem.

For some reason, he didn’t want to take another step, but he summoned the experience and grit he had built over thirty-five years. Each step felt like an eternity, but he finally came to a stop directly behind the scholar. Even then, the scholar paid him no mind.

Gulp. He swallowed a dry lump in his throat. “E-Excuse me…”

Glancing at the scholar from the corner of his eye, his own eyes widened. The scholar wasn’t even using chopsticks. He was grabbing the food with both hands and stuffing it into his mouth. The innkeeper stood speechless for a moment, then wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. By now, his entire body was drenched in a cold sweat. But this was what it meant to run a business in the heart of the great city of Luoyang. He had seen what had become of his grandfather and his father, and yet, he had managed to keep this inn running until today.

“Excuse me, Young Master…”

Why did his voice sound like the buzzing of a mosquito? He tried to clear his throat.

But just then…

“…This isn’t it. This isn’t enough. This isn’t what I need. This isn’t it. This isn’t enough…”

A violent chill shot through the innkeeper’s entire body. The sound of the man ravenously devouring his food was echoing throughout the inn, and he was watching him shove food into his mouth without pause with his own two eyes. So who was making that incessant whispering sound?

“…This isn’t enough. This isn’t what I need…”

And if one listened closely, there was something in that whisper that was fundamentally different from a human voice…

Suddenly, the scholar’s hands stopped. “—!!” And his head began to turn, slowly, toward the innkeeper. The innkeeper’s pupils had long since dilated, and his legs were trembling so badly they felt as if they would give out at any moment. He wanted to scream, but his body was no longer under his control. Trapped in a state of paralysis, he watched as the scholar faced him.

And his mouth opened. “That should be enough. What is the total?”

“Wh-Wh-What…?”

The pale-faced scholar wiped the sauce from around his mouth with his sleeve and asked again. “You are the owner of this establishment, are you not?”

The innkeeper answered reflexively. “Y-Yes, that is correct.”

The scholar nodded and rose from his seat. His robes were a mess, stained with spilled food and sauce, but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest. He casually took out a money pouch and asked again. “I asked you for the total.”

A short while after the scholar had left, the two jeomsoi were seen running through the night streets of Luoyang, carrying their fainted master on their backs in search of a physician. It was said that when the innkeeper awoke the next day, no one tried to stop him from spending a fortune to hold a massive exorcism.

***

“Strange. This is very strange.”

After leaving the inn, the scholar, Yeon So-hyeon, repeated the word to himself. As an experiment, he had tried to eat until he reached his limit, but no matter how much he consumed, the feeling of fullness never came. Moreover, after eating such a vast quantity, he should have at least thrown up, but it was as if everything he pushed down his throat simply went in. It felt as if the food vanished somewhere after passing his gullet.

Deep in his heart, he was beginning to feel a certainty. No matter how much of this stuff he ate, his hunger would never disappear. He shook his head. Then what was he supposed to eat?

Just then, his nose caught a scent. A smell…

It was a fragrance unlike any he had ever encountered before, overwhelmingly aromatic. A truly delicious scent. It was a scent that stoked the embers of his hunger.

What is this smell…?

His question was irrelevant; his body was already moving, led by instinct. His steps carried him toward the dark back alleys of Luoyang, and soon, his form melted into the shadows and was gone.

***

Since ancient times, Luoyang had been a great city of profound history. Though it had been engulfed in the flames of war time and again through numerous dynasties, it still stood firm today as one of the great metropolises representing the Central Plains. And as befitting a city that boasted a population in the millions, it also harbored an entertainment district of enormous scale. Despite the late hour, brilliant oil lamps[2] painted the streets in a kaleidoscope of colors, making one forget it was night.

But where there is bright light, there must also be a correspondingly deep darkness. Behind the beautiful facade of the entertainment district, an ugly and twisted order held sway. If one were to name a part of that order, it would be the underworld boss known as Geum-jil, the Golden Leech[3].

And right now, in this filthy, damp back alley, the order created by Geum-jil was functioning perfectly.

“Strip him down and shake out everything he’s got.”

“Yes, boss!”

Whether it was misfortune or simply reaping what he had sown, a middle-aged man who had squandered his family’s fortune on gambling tried to put up a feeble resistance.

“This son of a bitch…!”

“Beat him down!”

What he received, naturally, was a severe pummeling from the thugs. A short while later, the middle-aged man, aside from the fact that he was still breathing, looked no different from a lump of minced meat.

“Found it, boss!”

Finally, a thug pulled a small wooden plaque from the man’s undergarments and held it up. It was an identification tablet, a identification plaque. To take a man’s identification tablet, on which was recorded his address and family details, was to declare one’s intention to take everything he had: his small shop, his wife, and his children.

“Ahhh… please…”

A deep despair settled over the face of the man who now resembled minced meat. In contrast, cruel smiles deepened on the faces of the thugs. Desperate men like this fell for the rigged games day after day, and by disposing of the fools they had tricked, the thugs increased their wealth. This was one facet of the underworld order known as Geum-jil.

“Did you really think you could walk the streets of Luoyang unscathed after trying to skip out on a debt to the Old Man?”

Of course, these thugs, including the one called ‘boss,’ were far from being direct subordinates of Geum-jil; they had never even seen his face. They belonged to one of the many groups Geum-jil outsourced work to. But as long as they operated under the authority of his name, they were the kings of this back alley.

“Aigoo, please, sirs…”

It was then. “A whistle?”

It was a whistle with a strange melody. It was sorrowful, yet tragic; exciting, yet desperate. If one had to describe it, one might say it was tinged with madness.

“Who the hell is that?!” the thug who had been gloating over the man’s identification plaque shouted in a booming voice. Normally, his companions would have enjoyed the way his powerful voice intimidated their targets, but for some reason, his shout now seemed weaker than the thin, reedy whistle.

The thug tossed the identification plaque aside and drew his weapon. “Which one of you fucking bastards is it?! Show yourself, now!”

The others reacted convulsively, drawing their weapons and shouting into the darkness.

“You want to die?!”

“Who’s screwing with us?!”

“This son of a bitch…?!”

Just then, the man they called boss barked a low command. “…Everyone, shut up!”

At the sound of his voice, which had managed to retain some composure, the other thugs fell silent. “Shut up and stay still…!”

A flicker of anxiety crossed his eyes. His men weren’t overreacting. He himself had almost joined their shouting, unable to bear the whistling sound for a moment longer. He didn’t know who it was, but to be able to shake a person’s very spirit with nothing but a whistle was an enormous danger signal.

He adopted the most respectful posture he could manage and performed a fist-and-palm salute[4] to the surrounding darkness. “I do not know which esteemed master you are, but do you have some business with us?”

And as if on cue, the moment his words ended, the whistling stopped.