The Eternal Flower Beggar King Chapter 18 — The Drifter's Life

 The Eternal Flower Beggar King

Chapter 18 — The Drifter's Life

Imja Year. Winter deepened.

More than a month had passed at the Blue Cloud Inn.

Jinhwa had grown accustomed. Drawing water, washing dishes, splitting wood — all of it.

But the owner remained cold, and there was still no pay.

One day, Seokho told him.

"The boss is cutting staff."

"…What?"

"Business must have slowed down. Looks like you'll have to go."

Jinhwa nodded.

He did not feel much regret. Apart from Seokho, none of them had ever warmed to him — and with no wages, there was little to hold him.

Can't be helped.

He packed his bundle.

Fifteen nyang of silver. That was everything.

Seokho followed him to the door.

"Take care of yourself."

"…Thank you for everything, Brother."

"We'll meet again someday."

Jinhwa bowed his head and left the inn.

He stood on the road again.

So… I'm leaving. Again.

The First Inn — Spring

Gyemyo Year, spring.

Jinhwa walked east.

He could not say why he kept heading east. The direction where the morning sun rose — it simply drew him.

After several days of walking, he reached another village.

A sign read: Boknae Inn.

Let me try here.

He pushed the door open and went in. The smell of scallions frying in oil drifted from the kitchen, laced with grease.

The owner was a woman in her forties. Thin, with sharp eyes.

"Here for work?"

"Yes."

"How old?"

"Thirteen."

"Small. Are you strong?"

"…I'll work hard."

The woman looked him up and down.

"Fine. Three nyang a month. Two meals a day. You sleep in the stable."

"…Thank you."

It was better than the Blue Cloud Inn. At least there was a wage.

The stable part worried him a little.

The work was much the same.

Drawing water, washing dishes, sweeping.

But the woman was more exacting.

"What is this? There's still grease on the bowl!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Wash it again!"

"Yes!"

Jinhwa scrubbed the bowl a second time.

His hands began to crack. Too many hours in cold water had split the skin.

It hurts…

The fissures in his fingertips stung every time he gripped a dish, every time his hands touched water.

But he endured.

There were four workers at the inn.

Three others besides Jinhwa, and all of them were quiet.

At mealtimes, Jinhwa ate alone in the corner. The others talked among themselves but never spoke to him.

There's no one like Seokho here…

It was lonely.

A month passed.

The woman handed him three nyang of silver.

"Keep it up next month."

"Yes."

Jinhwa tucked the coins into his bundle.

Eighteen nyang now.

A small sum was building. But it was still far from enough.

I need to save more.

Not long after, the woman called for him.

"Jinhwa."

"Yes."

"I'm closing the inn."

"…What?"

"Business is dead. Everyone has to go."

Jinhwa could not find words.

Again…

He had to leave. Again.

The Second Inn — Summer

Gyemyo Year, summer.

The heat was relentless.

Jinhwa was back on the road.

Sweat ran down his face. His clothes were soaked through, and his throat was parched.

Water…

He ducked into a roadside tavern and asked for a bowl of water.

"One pun."

He paid and drank. It was lukewarm, but the thirst eased.

More money gone.

Three days of walking brought him to a large town.

A sizable inn stood there — the Taepyeong House.

This one's big.

He went in and asked for work.

The moment he stepped through the door, the mingled smell of sweat and liquor hit him. The place was packed with customers.

The owner was a heavyset man, his face slick with perspiration.

"You any good?"

"Yes."

"Two nyang a month. Two meals. You sleep in the attic."

Worse than the Blue Cloud Inn. But he had no choice.

"…Understood."

The work was harder.

A large inn meant more hands were needed.

From dawn to deep into the night, Jinhwa had not a moment's rest.

"Water here!"

"Wine here!"

"Dishes — faster!"

The shouting never stopped.

A month passed.

His body ached in every joint. His shoulders were knotted, his lower back throbbed.

At night he collapsed onto the attic floor more than lay down.

So tired…

He received two nyang.

Twenty.

It was growing, slowly.

But in the second month, the owner summoned him.

"Jinhwa — you're too slow."

"…I'm sorry."

"Starting next month, I'm cutting you to one nyang."

"…Yes."

There was nothing to say. Jinhwa had felt it himself. No matter where he went, he knew he was slow.

One nyang…

Far too little. But finding another place was no easier.

Three months in, Jinhwa was wearing thin.

The same work, day after day. Endless labor.

How long… do I have to keep this up?

One night, he sat alone in the attic.

Stars showed through the window.

At Mount Hua… I used to look at those stars while I trained.

A sudden pang of longing. At Mount Hua, his struggles had been about how to move forward, why his martial arts would not improve. On the road, the struggle was simply staying alive.

Four months in.

The owner called for him again.

"Jinhwa — sorry, but."

"…Yes?"

"I'm cutting people next month. You'll have to go."

Jinhwa nodded.

A thought surfaced. The owner of the Blue Cloud Inn. The woman at the Boknae Inn. The man at the Taepyeong House.

They all… let me go.

Was it because business was bad?

No.

Jinhwa shook his head.

They just… didn't want to keep me on anymore.

A bitter smile crossed his face.

Still… I was grateful, at the time.

He packed his bundle.

Twenty-four nyang of silver. Four months' wages.

Back on the road.

Sleeping Rough — Autumn

Gyemyo Year, autumn.

Jinhwa stood on the road once more.

The leaves were beginning to turn. The wind had grown cold.

It's getting colder.

He walked, searching for the next inn.

But it was not easy.

"Don't need anyone."

"Too young."

"You don't look strong enough."

Turned away, every time.

Five days passed.

His money kept draining. Food, lodging.

At this rate…

The silver dwindled. Twenty nyang remained.

I have to save.

One night, the cost of a room felt like too much to part with.

Tonight… I'll sleep outside.

He found a shed on the outskirts of a village. Straw was piled inside.

This will do…

He lay on the straw. It smelled of mildew — damp and musty.

The night was cold.

Wind came through the walls. A single layer of clothing was no defense.

He curled into himself.

It's freezing…

His teeth chattered. He realized then that a shed or a storehouse on the edge of nowhere — one not meant for sleeping in — was a different kind of cold altogether.

Sleep would not come.

Tomorrow… I have to find work.

The next morning.

His entire body felt frozen solid.

He tried to stand, but his limbs would not obey.

Ngh…

After a long, flailing struggle, he managed to rise.

I'll die out here if this keeps up…

That day, he made the rounds of the inns again.

No work.

Why… does nobody need me?

Night.

The shed again.

This time he piled more straw over himself.

Still cold.

He was hungry too. He had skipped dinner.

Just bear it…

The third day.

Jinhwa was nearly spent.

Days of hunger and shivering in the cold had taken their toll.

A fever set in.

I'm sick…

But there was nowhere to rest.

I have to find work… I have to.

The Third Inn — Winter

Gapjin Year, winter.

Jinhwa arrived at a small village.

A weathered old inn stood there — the Anpyeong Inn.

Even here…

He pushed the door open.

Warm air flowed out to meet him. The smell of wood burning in the hearth.

The owner was an old man. Stooped, with a quiet voice.

"Here for work?"

"Yes…"

His voice was hoarse. The fever had stolen it.

"Are you ill?"

"…I'm fine."

The old man studied him carefully.

"You've had a hard time, haven't you."

"…"

"Can you work?"

"Yes. I'll do my best."

The old man nodded.

"Two nyang a month. Three meals a day. I'll give you a room."

"…Thank you!"

Jinhwa bowed deeply.

The old man's warmth washed over him like relief.

He thought, suddenly, of Elder Cheongheo and the Medicine King Elder.

Did they… feel this way too?

The room was small, but warm.

A fire burned in the ondol hearth.

It's warm…

Jinhwa lay down on the heated floor.

For the first time in what felt like ages, his body began to thaw.

I'm alive…

He started work the next day.

The old man ran the inn alone. His age made the heavy tasks difficult.

Jinhwa drew the water, washed the dishes, swept the floors.

The old man cooked and greeted the guests.

Between the two of them, they kept the inn running.

Business was quiet.

Not many customers — three or four a day.

The work was not hard.

If anything, there was time to spare.

This place is… easy.

The old man was not one for talk.

But now and then, he would ask Jinhwa something.

"Where's your hometown?"

"…A small village near Mount Hua."

"Were you with the Mount Hua Sect, by any chance? Watching you work… you carry yourself like someone who's trained."

"…Yes. But I was never able to learn martial arts."

The old man nodded.

"Still — Mount Hua's a fine place. Why did you leave?"

"…Because I was ordinary."

"Ordinary…"

The old man thought for a moment, then said:

"Even ordinary people find their way in the world."

"…Yes."

The words were a comfort. He had heard similar things before, many times. But somehow, coming from this old innkeeper, they reached him differently.

A month passed.

He received two nyang.

Nineteen.

A little less than before. The days of sleeping rough had cost him.

It's alright… I'll build it back up.

Two months in.

Jinhwa began to recover, little by little.

Three meals a day and a warm room to sleep in — his body mended.

The fever broke. The cough stopped.

I'm… alright now.

In the evenings, the old man would bring tea.

"Drink up. Keep yourself warm."

"Thank you."

Jinhwa accepted the cup and drank. It was slightly bitter, with a ginger bite.

Warmth slid down his throat.

This taste… it's been so long.

But his heart remained heavy.

At night, alone, he thought.

How long… do I have to live like this?

Drifting from inn to inn, scraping by.

Is this… my life?

Snow fell outside the window.

Watching it pile up, white and silent, Jinhwa thought:

Next year too… and the year after that…

There was no end in sight.

One Night

Gapjin Year, deep into a winter's night.

Jinhwa sat alone in his room.

The candle flame wavered.

He opened his bundle.

Twenty-one nyang of silver. Three months of wages, accumulated.

What can I… do with this?

More than a year had passed since he left Mount Hua.

In that time, he had drifted through inn after inn.

Wandered. Slept in the open. Fallen ill.

It was hard…

He looked at his reflection.

The face of a fourteen-year-old stared back.

Thinner than before. His cheeks had hollowed, and shadows sat beneath his eyes.

I've… changed so much.

He looked at his hands.

Thick calluses. Burst blisters that had healed into scars.

When I was at Mount Hua… they didn't look like this.

He thought of Bang Dal, suddenly.

Is Bang Dal… doing well?

When they had met in Cheongpung Town, Bang Dal had looked happy. Working with the merchant group, earning money, content with his life.

Could I… ever have something like that?

Just then, the old man knocked on the door.

"Jinhwa."

"Yes."

He opened it. The old man held out a cup of tea.

"Drink up. Keep yourself warm."

"…Thank you."

He took the cup and drank. It was warm.

The old man asked:

"What's been on your mind lately?"

"…Nothing in particular."

"Is it hard?"

Jinhwa nodded.

"…Yes."

The old man sat down.

"It's hard for everyone when they're young."

"…Yes."

"It was the same for me. When I was young, I wandered from place to place, doing every kind of work there was."

Jinhwa looked at the old man.

"But if you keep living… a path reveals itself."

"…A path?"

"Mm. You can't see it now, but someday you will. Some people know their destination from the start and walk straight toward it. But others find their way by wandering."

The old man patted Jinhwa on the shoulder.

"Don't be in a rush. It's alright to go slowly."

"…Yes."

The old man rose and left.

Jinhwa sat alone.

It's alright… to go slowly.

But for how long?

A year? Ten years? A lifetime?

Will I ever… see the end?

He opened his hands.

Calluses. Scars. Cracked seams.

What… am I becoming?

He looked out the window.

Snow was falling.

White and endless.

It's alright to go slowly…

The old man's words circled in his mind.

Yes… slowly.

But a corner of his heart remained uneasy.

If I keep going like this… will a path really appear?

Reassurance and anxiety, arriving together in the same breath — it was a feeling Jinhwa had never known before.

Leaving Again

Three more months passed.

One day, the old man spoke.

"Jinhwa — I'm sorry."

"…Yes?"

"I've decided to close the inn."

"…I see."

"I'm too old… I can't keep going."

The old man's face was apologetic.

"You'll have to move on, I'm afraid."

Jinhwa nodded.

"…It's alright."

He was used to it by now.

He packed his bundle.

Twenty-seven nyang of silver. Three more months of work.

It never ends.

The old man followed him to the door.

"Take care of yourself."

"…Thank you for everything."

"Someday… you'll find your path."

Jinhwa bowed deeply.

"Yes."

He left the inn.

He stood on the road again.

Snow was falling. He walked along a road blanketed in white.

So… where to now?

A Fourteen-Year-Old's Winter

Gapjin Year, winter.

Jinhwa was fourteen years old.

A year and a half since leaving Mount Hua.

He had drifted through many places in that time.

He had grown a little taller. His shoulders were broader than before.

But he was still young.

His voice was still thin, his face still boyish.

And yet — the time spent alone had matured his thinking far beyond what it had been. Feeling the world, encountering its people, he was learning things that Mount Hua had never taught him.

When will I… become an adult?

He walked, and he thought.

Life on the road is a lot like training in martial arts.

You don't know if it'll work out, but you try, you fail, and you try again.

Back when I agonized over whether to leave Mount Hua — and now, drifting from one familiar inn to the next.

Earning a few coins, then moving on.

Does it… ever end?

Elder Cheongheo's words surfaced in his mind.

The promise that the Elder and Mount Hua would remember him.

And then another thought: Will the owners of the places I've worked — will Seokho, will the old innkeeper — remember me too?

Many thoughts rose and fell as Jinhwa walked on, aimlessly.

I have to survive.

He needed to eat. He needed to sleep.

And though he did not know where the road led, he had the feeling that he would reach his destination in the end.

Just as the old innkeeper had said.

The next village came into view.

A large one. Several inns were visible.

Let me… try there.

Jinhwa moved forward again. Stepping through the snow, slowly.

Today, too… I keep going.

He stood before an inn.

He looked up at the sign.

What will this place… be like?

He reached for the door, then stopped.

It'll be… the same thing again, won't it.

Draw water. Wash dishes. Sweep.

And then leave.

How long… will this go on?

A sigh escaped him.

But he pushed the door open.

Even so… even still… I have to keep moving.

[End of Chapter 18]