Chapter 11: First Customer
All of a sudden, she asked if I knew how to raise silkworms.
So I answered that I did.
Then, Eun Hwaran immediately grabbed my hand and pulled me along.
“Who's that little brat?”
“The Trading Lord brought him personally.”
“Isn’t he the one who passed the warehouse assistant test?”
The Jamsil—the most important facility of the trading company.
The workers here also looked uneasy at the unexpected visit of a child.
But who could be more bewildered than me, who still had mulberry juice around my mouth?
“You said you’ve raised silkworms before, right? Not as a joke, but for real.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
I answered while glancing around the generally chaotic interior of the facility.
Despite being a silkworm breeding room, I could barely hear the rustling of mulberry leaves.
“Then, could you take a look at the silkworms here? We need to figure out what’s wrong.”
A Trading Lord of the Ten Great Trading Companies held the hand of a thirteen-year-old and made such a request.
On her face, there was a desperate look, like someone grasping at straws.
“Just taking a look, sure.”
I nodded, thinking it wasn’t a difficult task.
But I shouldn’t have.
Just ten minutes were enough to see the complete mess of this place.
“…It’s a total wreck.”
Yeah, it was a wreck.
If you gathered people who knew nothing about silkworms and told them to raise them, this is exactly what it would look like.
“Workshop Chief. How did the silkworm egg hatching go?”
“…I’m ashamed. Only managed to keep about half alive.”
The workshop chief pointed toward the hatching room.
It was the place where silkworms were born in their most fragile state, but the lighting, airflow, and humidity—none of it was properly maintained.
I even saw direct sunlight pouring in through a window and slapped my forehead.
Silkworms enter dark, tight spaces to spin their cocoons and then emerge to lay eggs.
Why? To maximize the survival rate of their offspring.
But this damn workshop chief, claiming it was to provide Yang energy, set up the hatchery under blazing sunlight.
That’s one stack of absurdity.
“Jeez, they’ve pooped a whole load… Gotta change the mulberry leaves.”
One worker, trying to offer fresh mulberry leaves, forcefully pulled the silkworms off the leaves.
Silkworms do that to anchor themselves to the leaves so they can molt, and being pulled like that was practically murder.
Crunch—
That’s the second stack.
“Workshop Chief, what should we do with these dead ones?”
A worker lifted a silkworm tray full of shriveled corpses.
Their softened skins and dark spots suggested something like pus or rot disease.
One thing was certain—both the silkworms and their housing had been contaminated with bacteria, so every facility they touched had to be sterilized or replaced.
“What do you mean what? Burn the silkworms, and dry the trays in the sun to reuse them.”
But in this era, without the concept of microorganisms, they only bothered to burn what was visibly bad.
No wonder silkworms kept dying off in batches every now and then.
Maybe it was lucky they’d at least UV-sterilized the trays while trying to drive off Yin energy.
Anyway, that was the third stack.
Overall evaluation: hopeless.
“Mujin, how was it? Do you think you know what the problem is?”
“……”
I didn’t know where to even start, so I stayed silent in response to Eun Hwaran’s question.
Judging from the installed silkworm beds and facility level, the basics seemed in place—so why was the silkworm rearing technique this pathetic?
It was like watching people headbutt bare ground.
Rustle.
A worker transferred newly hatched first-instar silkworms using the same basket that had been used earlier to discard dead ones.
So that’s how the lingering germs spread.
I couldn’t hold it in anymore and reacted irritably.
“Ah—seriously, that’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”
Maybe my voice was too loud.
All the workers suddenly froze.
And all eyes turned toward me.
…Well, damn.
***
Hwang Geolgae stuffed a dried-out dumpling into his mouth.
Its crumbly, stale taste reminded him of the destitute days of Ilgyeol.
Sluuurp.
“Heh heh, trying to steal this old man’s snack, are you?”
He noticed Dan Mujin slipping one into his robe and snatched it back again.
The boy probably didn’t even realize his pocket had been picked while dodging the flying fists.
After all, dumplings stolen in secret always tasted better than freshly steamed ones—such was the truth of the world.
“I should’ve smacked him around a bit more.”
Swallowing the dumpling, Hwang Geolgae muttered with regret.
Using punches imbued with inner power, he had pounded Mujin’s acupoints and meridians to clear the blockages and awaken his body’s latent potential.
But the cheeky brat had yelped like he was dying and avoided his delicate touches.
“Sure, I hit him a little hard, but it was all for his own good, tsk tsk.”
Every time he smacked his back with a loud ‘Splat!’, the kid jolted like a freshly caught fish.
When he mixed killing intent into the techniques to provoke him, he even saw the Heaven-Slaying Star go wild inside.
It was a repeat of that moment in the alley when Mujin instinctively countered his grab technique.
No matter how lightly he had used his strength, Mujin had been someone who didn’t even know martial arts just a while ago.
Perhaps sensing a life-threatening crisis, the boy even clumsily displayed body movement techniques he’d only learned in theory.
Hwang Geolgae couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh.
It was like watching the legendary Heavenly Martial Body, said to be born for martial arts.
“Of course, that kid’s body holds no harmony of the Three Forces, Five Elements, or the Taiji—only murderous intent.”
So what he had seen must have been the Heaven-Slaying Star absorbing martial arts to kill even more people.
Such terrifying growth speed—it must be a martial talent granted by the heavens.
Though the intent and motive behind it were likely worlds apart.
“If only I could guide that talent to be used for the right cause…”
For some reason, the boy defied the fate of becoming a murderous spirit, maintaining a clear and focused mind.
If by chance he could be guided onto the righteous path, it might become a great blessing for the Orthodox Murim.
Of course, if he failed, then he would’ve personally raised the worst murderer ever seen.
Therefore, If he is not the right person, do not teach him. Whether he was one to kill or save had to be constantly tested.
“Hmm? Why does my shoulder feel heavy all of a sudden…?”
Probably because I was overthinking things.
So, to ease my mind, I guzzled down the Shaoxing wine I had swiped from the warehouse.
The fiery alcohol burned my tongue and throat. Hwang Geolgae let out a guttural sound and put the bottle down.
“Heh, come to think of it, maybe all this is fate… just as that man said.”
Back when my qi and blood were twisted from a Qi Deviation, inner power running rampant and bleeding from my eyes, nose, and ears.
At the brink of self-destruction, a Daoist strolled down from the night sky as if on a walk.
A Daoist with a celestial presence, clad in snow-white robes, and a majestic beard.
He looked pitifully at my bloated meridians, damaged by inner demons, and recited a chant from a certain heart cultivation technique.
An unprecedented method that allowed one to store starlight within the body. Surely, it was a secret built on long realization and understanding.
Yet he showed no hesitation in saving a stranger before him.
That detached demeanor of his.
When I asked if it was okay to grant something like that to someone he had just met, he said there were no coincidences in the universe, and that this too was part of the Primordial Heavenly Lord’s design.
He said it was the will of heaven leading to something greater, and then vanished like the wind.
So perhaps the arrival of a boy carrying the Heaven-Slaying Star to someone like me, who controls the power of stars, was also part of heaven’s will.
“Click.”
I tapped my neck and felt the strong burn of Shaoxing wine slide down.
When that kid returns, I’ll finish the Meridian Stimulation and Acupoint Clearing for him.
This time, not as a beating, but more gently.
He’s sturdy enough to take it, and last time, I may have let my emotions slip into my punches.
“But where the hell did that brat run off to, not coming back at all.”
Today’s supposed to be time to train in Starfall Heart Cultivation Method.
He ran off saying he couldn’t take it anymore, but it’s about time he returned, and he’s nowhere in sight.
“Hope he’s not getting into trouble somewhere.”
After spending a few weeks with him, I realized—he’s completely unpredictable.
And that peculiar tone of his sometimes gets on people’s nerves.
“Well… I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Worrying won’t do much good anyway.
When he’s hungry, he’ll probably sneak in to steal something.
So, Hwang Geolgae decided to just finish his Shaoxing wine.
“Ahhh.”
There are always people who love to tell others what to do.
In public, they’re known as Backseat Gamers.
When things are already going poorly, and someone chimes in saying this or that was wrong—it’s bound to piss you off.
Even if they’re right, or it’s advice from someone experienced.
“What does a little brat like you know…?!”
“Where does a snot-nosed kid get off criticizing adults!”
Already ashamed from all the dying silkworms and feeling miserable, now this unknown brat was meddling too—so the managers’ and workers’ anger exploded.
And their complaints all led to one conclusion.
“You think this looks easy?”
“Have you ever actually raised silkworms? Huh?!”
“If you’re so smart, why don’t you try it yourself!”
The workers and technicians fired back with the classic rebuttal to backseat gaming: “If it bothers you so much, do it yourself!”
And that wasn’t even a hard challenge.
Back in modern times, I had read plenty of professional resources with just a few searches, and even tried raising them myself.
So I stepped forward and said this:
“Then, how about we make a bet?”
Even with the adults pressuring me, I didn’t back down and boldly stood my ground, which made the workers of the silkworm house flinch.
Maybe they sensed something from my confidence. Their chatter started to die down.
“Kid, do you really know how to raise silkworms?”
Eun Hwaran, who had been silently watching the tension, suddenly asked.
“Yes, I do.”
“This is about many people’s livelihoods. Even if you're the old man’s disciple, if you're joking, you could face severe punishment.”
Because the fate of the trading company was on the line, she tried to put on a stern expression, hoping for certainty.
To prove it, I pulled out a dried-up silkworm from one of the trays and answered.
“Didn’t the silkworms start dying in groups during the third instar? Unable to molt?”
I saw them being pulled off mid-molt earlier.
This wasn’t some pest or disease like rot. It was clearly a man-made disaster from lack of knowledge.
“How did you…?”
Her eyes trembled slightly, as if I had given the correct answer.
Then, the flustered workers began murmuring too.
“H-he probably just guessed.”
“Silkworms die off in clusters at various stages anyway. It’s probably just coincidence…”
Clusters dying, huh? Funny and sad at the same time.
In war, losing 40% is called annihilation, yet here they kill over 80% every time.
No wonder they couldn’t tell the difference between advice and interference.
They just didn’t want to entrust such an important matter to a kid like me.
But luckily, they weren’t the ones who made that decision.
“Noona, I heard the government inspector is coming to evaluate the silkworm facility soon, right?”
Something about official verification—if it fails, the entire operation is shut down with massive losses.
“…That’s right.”
The dark circles under her eyes hinted at the pressure she was under.
“You know this place is hopeless as it is. So you’ve got nothing to lose, right? Just give me full authority—I’ll pull it out by the roots.”
It was already a desperate situation. That’s probably why she grabbed me when I said I knew about silkworms.
If so, then support that last straw and let it do its job.
“Nothing to lose, huh…”
That line seemed to strike a chord with her. Eun Hwaran tapped her slim chin with her fan.
“You said something about a bet earlier? What are the terms?”
A bet—a contest where both sides stake something.
I was fairly confident. Just blocking that idiotic direct sunlight would double the hatch rate.
And since I was just some no-name brat from the streets, she’d want a proper collateral.
In return, I could extract something valuable from the great Trading Lord.
“Madam, you’re not seriously thinking of trusting that warehouse assistant brat, are you?”
“You’re siding with a troublemaker who just barged in over us?”
The workers pushed back.
If their sericulture had shown any results, she wouldn’t be facing this dilemma.
“I’ll ask Master to let me stay as a guest a little longer. Say I want to continue training here for a few more years.”
“…!”
After the Nangabong Monster incident nearly ruined the Escort Agency, Eun Hwaran deeply realized the importance of a powerful expert.
But Hwang Geolgae was a man of no attachments—like a living embodiment of freedom—who couldn’t be bound with wealth or status.
So when his disciple, who was like a son, made a request, she had no choice but to listen.
“Is that possible?”
“Of course.”
Of course, it wasn’t.
That was just how it was portrayed to outsiders. If I were ever consumed by the Heaven-Slaying Star, he’d take my head without hesitation.
But they didn’t know that.
They just thought Hwang Noya had taken me in as a disciple, recognizing my innate martial talent.
Well, as long as I solved this silkworm issue, there would be no problem.
It’s a win-win situation.
“You must have something you want in return too, right?”
Whether it was the sericulture or escort business, she probably figured at least one would be saved depending on the result.
So she asked about my terms.
“If I succeed, give me a reward you think is appropriate.”
In other words, I’d take my compensation omakase-style.
This was a negotiation trick I learned while doing freelance work.
Though she was a respected master known for her sword qi, she seemed to carry a bit of guilt toward Hwang Geolgae, who helped without asking for a penny.
Something about owing a debt to the previous Trading Lord—though no one really knew what it was.
So I’d carry that emotional burden for her.
It’s similar to a bribe. If they refuse, just shove it on their spouse or kid.
Of course, that guy wouldn’t care whether I accepted it or not.
“…Alright. I understand what you’re saying.”
Thankfully, the prospective client seemed to get my point.
I rubbed my hands together and waited for her next words.
“I’ll give you full authority—try raising the fifth instar silkworm survival rate to 70%.”
At last!
I clenched my fist.
From climbing high starts from low to grinding an axe into a needle. This felt like regaining my true calling.
Solving others’ problems and receiving thanks and money—the beginning of a troubleshooter’s work.
“You can do it, right?”
“Ah, just trust me! Dear customer!”
Customer satisfaction first. Return-worthy kindness and service.
The historic moment of Dan Mujin Troubleshooter’s very first client had arrived.