Ma Sayeon's Chillingly Stiff Documents

The document Ma Sayeon set down on the desk was rigid enough to feel cold. Across paper beaten from mulberry bark and starched with glue, the terms for transferring the debt on the Gugok Floodgate were written out in stark black ink: half of Hoeryu Gate's toll revenue for the next ten years, plus a copy of the sect leader's seal. Accepting the offer would solve the immediate funding crisis. But the moment a stamp touched that paper, Hoeryu Gate's administrative authority and finances would fall entirely into the merchant guild's grip. I pressed my left thumb hard against the scar on my palm. The backlash from forcing the floodgate sill up yesterday had scraped up through my knuckles and left my shoulder throbbing. The numbness lingering in my fingertips dulled the feel of the brush in my hand.

"Senior Cha, what reason is there to refuse this offer. Right now there's no wage money for the workers, the grain routes are blocked off, and even the branch elders have turned their backs on you. One sheet of paper can silence every one of those screams."

Ma Sayeon set down his teacup and smiled at ease. Watching the tea ripple in the cup, he added.

"Doesn't it feel like you can hear the roof tiles of Hoeryu Gate caving in from here. Filling the blanks in a ledger takes money, not principle. Sign it. I'll take care of the rest."

Instead of answering, I picked up my brush and opened the ledger. In it were the four-beat calls the workers had shouted yesterday, taking turns to haul the rope, packed tight line after line. I tapped a fingertip against the seal space on the document Ma Sayeon had offered.

"I can't hand over the sect code in exchange for the guild's backing. The right to decide the workers' wages and safety is the last shred of pride Hoeryu Gate has left. Perhaps Guildmaster Ma doesn't realize how much more that stamped seal sticks to the hand than dried blood."

As if my refusal caught him off guard, Ma Sayeon gathered up the thin sheet of paper and rose from his seat. Outside the door, Do Gyeom stood facing Nam Gyuhan of Cheolmun Hall. Before setting foot inside, Nam Gyuhan clicked his tongue, eyeing the state of the floor. Do Gyeom stepped forward, gripping his sword hand tight. I caught his shoulder and held him back.

"Junior, now isn't the time to draw a blade. We won't monopolize the floodgate protection rights. We'll put them up for open bidding. Whoever prioritizes the workers' wages and guarantees their safety gets it, whether that's the guild or Cheolmun Hall."

Do Gyeom turned to look at me. Nam Gyuhan burst out laughing and crossed his arms.

"An open bid. That sounds like Hoeryu Gate kicking its own rice bowl over. Cha Yeonho, I didn't think you had that kind of nerve in you. But who decides who's fit to bid. Who would trust conditions set by a sect as rotten through as yours."

Seok Muan walked out carrying the workers' roster.

"Scribe Cha, an open bid or anything else is fine by us. Only, this time make sure the bidding terms specify priority payment of wages and a safety officer's right to halt work. Our workers' share won't be pushed to the back again. When martial artists were swinging swords, we were the ones holding the ropes and bearing the weight. We won't hand over so much as an inch of the floodgate's toll rights to anyone who dismisses the weight of that rope."

I nodded. I tore the document Ma Sayeon had left behind in half and threw it in the trash bin. It was evidence of a rigged contract. I picked the paper back up and tucked it into my sleeve.

"The bidding starts at noon today, in Gugok Floodgate square. Whether it's Cheolmun Hall or the guild, whoever is ready to accept the workers' labor conditions gets the floodgate protection rights. The terms are clear: no delayed wages, and the on site safety officer holds veto power."

Do Gyeom shoved past me and stepped forward. Instead of a sword, he raised the thick repair rope used on the floodgate toward Nam Gyuhan of Cheolmun Hall.

"Nam Gyuhan, let's see if Cheolmun Hall actually has what it takes to hold this floodgate. Not a sword fight. A bet on who can raise the floodgate sill by one chi with less backlash. Whoever loses withdraws from the bidding. Scared?"

Nam Gyuhan let out an incredulous laugh but didn't refuse. The moment the rope went taut, I ignored the pain in my left hand and fixed my eyes on both their footwork. Seok Muan blew his whistle.

"One, two, three, pull!"

Do Gyeom leaned back in time with the call. The rope snapped taut with a sharp sound that cut through the air. Nam Gyuhan had to take the full resistance of the current pushing back from the other side with his whole body. With a crack, his shoulder twisted out of place. In the end, he let go of the rope.

"What do you think you're doing, Do Gyeom. Repairing a floodgate isn't a martial artists' sparring match. It's work that people's livelihoods depend on. Don't throw your strength around carelessly."

I said coldly. Nam Gyuhan clutched his shoulder and left the square. I pulled the copy of the receipt from my pocket and handed it to Seok Muan.

"Cross reference this against the archive's ledger. We need to confirm where the deleted backlash figures and the workers' wages actually went. The trail Sayeon left behind is shallower than he thinks."

A dull vibration rumbled from upstream. The floodgate sill groaned, unable to hold against the current. An Sobin came running, shouting urgently.

"Senior, the floodgate rope is about to snap! Looking at the ledger Elder Seo Eunseol sent, all the repair materials for the floodgate were swapped out for defective ones! If we leave it like this the bank will collapse!"

I ran straight out to the square. Muddy water was already spilling over the bank.

"Seok Muan, get the men in position. Keep the rhythm. Do Gyeom, hold the center of the floodgate sill and spread the force out. Everyone share the load! Don't let go of the rope!"

The disciples took hold of the rope at my command. I opened the ledger in front of all of them.

"This is the authority of Hoeryu Gate that we're trying to protect. One line in a ledger sold off our workers' lives and our fellow disciples' injuries. What's holding this floodgate right now isn't our martial arts, it's the labor of setting this ledger's lies straight. Martial arts is nothing but a support for pulling this heavy rope!"

Forgetting the pain in my left hand, I leaped toward the center of the floodgate sill. At the entrance to the square, Sect Leader Jin Mugyeol appeared, leading the discipline disciples. Jin Mugyeol walked into the middle of the square, muddy water splashing around him.

"Yeonho, your way was admirable. But rebuilding a sect isn't sentimental labor, it's completed through cold hard deals. I've decided to hand the floodgate over to the guild. Let go of the rope now."

"Master, is this what you mean by rebuilding the sect. Trading the workers' sweat for the guild's debt, is that the authority of Hoeryu Gate? I'm protecting this floodgate as a disciple of Hoeryu Gate. I didn't take up the sword to become a slave to the guild."

Instead of answering, Jin Mugyeol threw down a disciplinary notice issued under the sect leader's authority. I let it drop to the ground without even opening the envelope. Ma Sayeon stepped toward me.

"Cha Yeonho, you may believe you've won, but Hoeryu Gate's ledger is already in our hands. Leave now. Your little labor movement ends here."

Seok Muan threw the wage payment roster he'd meant to hand out to the workers at Jin Mugyeol's feet.

"We aren't disciples of Hoeryu Gate. But every name written in this roster belongs to someone who worked to repair this floodgate together. Senior Cha, the rhythm you promised us isn't over yet. They look at ledgers. We look at the flow of water."

What Seok Muan held out was the real breakdown of the toll records. Written in it was the record from that night before my regression, the night the sect was annihilated. Jin Mugyeol looked at the ledger and his face went white, stumbling back a step.

"How dare you!" Jin Mugyeol staggered backward. Mud splashed up onto the sleeve he swung out. "This is fabricated! How dare you try to shake the sect leader's authority with a pile of garbage paper like this!"

I stared straight into his eyes and stepped closer.

"If this is garbage, then what was it that you couldn't manage to burn on the night of the sect's annihilation, Master? The smell of smoke still clings between these pages. Just who exactly are you trying to fool?"

Seok Muan stepped in front of Jin Mugyeol, blocking his path, and smiled coldly.

"Sect Leader, water doesn't lie. The flow of tolls recorded in this ledger has been verified by our workers' calluses and bloodstains. Do you really believe the numbers you toyed with at the tip of a pen weigh less than the rope we're holding in our hands right now?"

He stamped his foot down on the disciplinary notice lying on the ground and crushed it.

"This disciplinary action is void. Anyone who doesn't understand the value of labor has no right to be master of this floodgate."

I lifted the ledger high. Everyone in the square saw it. The rain grew heavier, washing the dust out of the square.

"Make your decision, Master. Whether to protect Hoeryu Gate's name, or to pay off the debt rotting inside it. I swore today that I would protect this floodgate. Not with Hoeryu Gate's martial arts, but together with the people holding this rope."

I walked across the square and out into the rain. Do Gyeom, An Sobin, and Seok Muan followed behind me. Nam Gyuhan of Cheolmun Hall was flustered, but the wall of workers blocked his way. In the rain, I forgot the pain in my left hand. Rainwater poured down like a waterfall over Hoeryu Gate's crumbling roof tiles. I gripped the rope. The coarse hemp pressed into the scar on my palm, but I lifted the corner of my mouth as if savoring the pain. We weren't disciples of a sect, we were companions gathered to raise a collapsed floodgate back up. I shouted into the rain.

"Keep the rhythm! If we stop here we all get swept away! Three, four! Pull again!"

At my shout, the disciples and the workers all pulled the rope together. The rope drew taut, and the floodgate sill settled into a perfect level. At that moment, Transmission Elder Im Bokjin hurried over and pressed an old letter into my hand. It was an audit notice from the Central Oro Genealogy Institute, sent by the Settlement Hall elder. Only three days remained before the audit team arrived. I looked at Do Gyeom. Within three days, we had to finish repairing the floodgate and settle every worker's wages. I clenched the letter tight in the rain. We began preparing to write out a new sect code, pushing through the rain of Gugok Floodgate. I scraped my thumbnail against the red seal on the audit notice Im Bokjin had handed me. Black ink bled out across the wet paper beneath it. Now Hoeryu Gate's ledger had to be written all over again. By our own hands, directly.