The Eternal Flower Beggar King — Chapter 94: Leasing the Shop

 The Eternal Flower Beggar King — Chapter 94: Leasing the Shop

The sun had already tilted west. Too late to walk back.

Jinhwa hired a horse nearby and headed for the estate. He arrived when darkness lay thick across the land.

He pushed the gate open. The familiar creak. His steps across the yard toward the study were tired but not heavy. Somewhere in his chest, a strange excitement was stirring. Jinhwa opened the study door, sat at the desk, drew the pouch from his clothes, and set it on the table. He loosened the cord slowly and began taking out the coins one by one.

"Two hundred…"

He murmured, counting.

"Fifty-two nyang."

What remained after spending forty-eight on rent. He had started with three hundred — by no means a large sum — but Jinhwa believed it was enough. In the clothing-shop days he had staked his entire fortune at once. In the Pungnyu-gak days he had poured money into splendor. And so when everything collapsed, nothing was left.

But this time was different.

Jinhwa spread a sheet of paper and picked up the brush. He ground the ink, filled the inkstone, wet the brush tip, and began writing slowly. He calculated as he went, allocating the budget item by item.

Signboard — ten nyang.

Cleaning and repair materials — fifteen nyang.

Furniture — two display shelves, a counter, plus a cot and a small shelf for the back room — forty nyang should cover it.

Initial inventory — one hundred fifty nyang.

Transport costs — ten nyang.

Reserve — twenty-seven nyang.

Jinhwa checked the figures once more. Ten, fifteen, forty, one hundred fifty, ten, twenty-seven. The total came to two hundred fifty-two nyang. An exact fit.

"Tight, but…"

He murmured softly.

"Enough."

The Jinhwa of the past would have been anxious. He would have told himself the reserve was too thin, the inventory too scarce, the shop not lavish enough. He would have driven himself. But now it was different. He could start small and build slowly. If something ran short, he could replenish. Above all, he was selling what customers needed — not selling splendor.

And there was still the estate.

Jinhwa took out another sheet and began listing the goods he would need.

Lamp oil.

The most important item for a shop that stayed open at night. He needed to keep the lanterns burning. Customers would seek oil too. He had to stock it generously.

Wound salve.

The item murim people sought most. He needed several grades. People came for it in emergencies, so it had to be on hand at all times. Without it, murim fighters had no reason to visit.

Bandages and styptic powder.

Used together with wound salve.

Dried rations.

Jerky and hardtack. Food travelers sought in a hurry. Caravans needed it too. Turnover would be fast — and shelf life was long relative to how quickly it sold.

Straw sandals.

They wore out and needed replacing often. In his inn-worker days, he had seen bundles of spare pairs tied to travelers' packs. Clearly in high demand.

Water flasks, rope, flint stones.

Small things, but uncomfortable to go without.

The brush tip flowed across the paper, listing items one by one. Jinhwa recalled what inn guests had asked for in a hurry. He remembered what he himself had needed most during his wandering days. Not a single item was splendid. Not a single one was expensive. Just necessities. And that was exactly the direction Jinhwa wanted.

When the sheet was full, it was still dark outside.

Jinhwa looked out the window. A star hung in the blue-tinged sky. From here on, preparations had to begin in earnest. The signboard. A wholesaler to deal with. Cleaning the shop and arranging furniture.

"Now it begins."

Jinhwa decided to catch what sleep he could, then move.

The next morning, Jinhwa rose before dawn.

He had slept barely two or three hours. His body was heavy.

He washed, ate a quick bite, and left the estate. His steps toward the market district were brisk. He reached the signboard workshop as the sun was rising. The shop had not yet opened, but the sound of hammering came from inside. Jinhwa knocked.

"Who is it?"

A thick voice from within.

"I've come to have a signboard made."

The door opened and the craftsman stepped out. He looked to be in his fifties. He brushed sawdust from his hands and studied Jinhwa. "Diligent, coming this early in the morning," he muttered.

"I wanted to ask a rush favor, so I came early."

Jinhwa reached into his clothes and produced a sheet of paper. The characters he had written out neatly again the previous evening. 地愛水. Three characters, clear on the page.

The craftsman took the paper.

"Ji-ae-su…"

He read it aloud and nodded.

"A good name. There's meaning in it."

"Thank you."

"What size would you like?"

"About a foot and a half. Not too large, but visible from the road."

"Material?"

"Pine, please. Sturdy and long-lasting."

The craftsman stroked his chin.

"I'll carve the characters in regular script, clean and sharp. Black ink — will that do?"

"Yes."

"Three days. The price is ten nyang."

Jinhwa nodded.

"I'll come back in three days."

He paid ten nyang in advance. The craftsman pocketed it and said, "I'll make you a fine signboard." Jinhwa bowed and left the workshop.

All morning Jinhwa visited wholesalers in the market district.

He went to three. At each he checked the goods they carried and their prices. He spoke with the owners, trying to build trust. The first wholesaler had low prices, but the quality of the goods was questionable. The second had fine quality, but the prices were far too high. The third offered reasonable prices and quality both, and the owner made a decent impression.

"Would credit be possible later on?"

Jinhwa asked carefully.

The third wholesaler studied him for a long moment, then nodded.

"You seem like a man planning to do this for a long time. I'll trust you. But we start with cash. Once you've built credit, I'll extend terms."

Jinhwa pressed a bit further.

"And — would it be possible for you to deliver goods to my shop? I'll pay for the transport."

The wholesaler looked slightly put off.

"What, are you planning to sell all night? No time to come pick up your own stock?"

"Yes. I'm planning to sell all night."

Jinhwa answered squarely.

"You really mean it… All right, five nyang per cartload. If the distance is far, I'll ask for extra."

"Thank you. I'll do that."

Jinhwa showed him the list of goods he needed and described the approximate location of Ji-ae-su General Store. The owner checked each item, nodding as he went. "I'll have it delivered in about five days. Leave a deposit before you go." Jinhwa bowed and paid ten nyang as a deposit — enough to show good faith — then left.

The sun stood at its peak.

Jinhwa bought a bowl of noodles at a roadside stall. Time to head to Sarojin. The shop needed cleaning. Everything had to be ready within days. There was no time to waste.

It was late afternoon when he reached the Sarojin shop. The sun was tilting west.

Jinhwa stood before the door and inserted the key into the lock. A click — the lock opened. He pushed the door. Creeeak — the groan and a wave of dust. Inside was still dim, still draped in cobwebs, the floor still thick with dust. Jinhwa stepped in without hesitation.

"Cleaning first."

He muttered, then went back outside.

At a nearby sundry shop he bought a broom, rags, and a water bucket. He also bought oil, nails, a hammer, and several sheets of window paper. Fifteen nyang altogether. Right on budget.

He carried everything back to the shop.

Cleaning took longer than expected.

Jinhwa picked up the broom and started with the yard. The accumulated dust rose like clouds. He pulled weeds, cleared stones, and made space for a cart to park. Sweat ran down his back, but he did not stop. He kept going until the sun had fully set and darkness settled in.

When night came, he could clean no more.

Jinhwa sat in a corner of the yard and took a sip from the water bucket. He caught his breath roughly and looked up at the sky. Stars were scattered thickly overhead. His body was exhausted, but his mind was at ease. Working up a sweat was not a bad thing. Just watching the shop change little by little was enough to feel a quiet pride.

"I'll continue tomorrow."

He murmured and stood.

The road back to the estate was dark. Only starlight lit the way. Jinhwa walked slowly.

The next morning before dawn, Jinhwa headed for Sarojin again.

He left the estate before first light. He arrived at the shop as the sun was rising and picked up where he had left off. Inside, he sprinkled water on the floor. He wiped it down with rags, scrubbing away the dust. He found a long stick and swept the cobwebs from the ceiling. He scrubbed the walls. He oiled the door hinges to quiet the creaking. He found planks and patched the sagging section of the roof.

At midday Jinhwa sat in the yard and ate the dried rations he had brought.

He chewed jerky and watched the main road. A merchant cart passed. Two murim fighters rode by on horseback. A peddler walked past under his load. They will be my customers. At night they would see the lantern and stop by. They would buy what they needed in a hurry. Word would spread, little by little.

"Slowly."

He murmured.

"No haste."

He cleaned through the afternoon.

Where the window paper was torn, he replaced it with fresh sheets. He scrubbed the back room clean. By sunset the entire shop looked passably tidy. It was still empty — no furniture, no goods — but at least it was fit for someone to step inside and do business.

Jinhwa walked the shop floor slowly, measuring the space.

A display shelf against that wall. Another on the opposite wall. A double-sided display stand in the center — customers can browse from both sides. The counter facing the entrance. In the back room, a simple cot and a shelf… I can sleep here and greet customers as they come.

"Tomorrow I'll order the furniture."

He murmured and stepped outside.

On the road back to the estate.

An old man stood waiting before the gate. Beside him stood the broker. When Jinhwa approached, the broker waved cheerfully.

"You're back!"

The broker called out.

"This gentleman has come to see the estate."

Jinhwa stopped and looked at the man.

He appeared to be in his late forties. His clothes looked wealthy. His features were gentle. A merchant, it seemed.

"How do you do."

Jinhwa bowed politely.

The man nodded and replied.

"I heard the estate was on the market."

"Yes, that's right."

"May I look inside?"

"Of course."

Jinhwa opened the gate and led the man and the broker in.

The man inspected the estate thoroughly.

He walked the yard, checking its size. He peered into the side hall and nodded. When he saw the practice room, he muttered, "This room could be repurposed." He toured each room. He checked the roof. He examined the trees in the yard. Jinhwa followed in silence, guiding him along.

After a long while the man stopped in the middle of the yard.

"It's been well maintained."

A compliment.

"Thank you."

"I'll buy it for three thousand nyang."

The price Jinhwa had expected.

"Thank you."

"When can you vacate?"

Jinhwa thought for a moment.

The signboard would be ready in three days. Inventory arrived in five. Furniture still needed to be built and installed. Everything arranged. Ten days… that would be enough.

"I can have it ready in ten days."

The man nodded.

"No rush on my end. I planned to move in after fifteen days. Ten is more than enough."

The broker stepped in.

"Then let's draw up the contract in three days. You receive the deposit then, and the balance upon handover in ten days."

Jinhwa nodded. The man agreed.

"Let's do that."

They shook hands.

The man and the broker left. Jinhwa remained alone in the yard, looking at the estate. Once it had symbolized Pungnyu-gak's golden age. Now it was preparing to welcome a new owner. Jinhwa tried not to sink into sentiment. The past was the past. The present was the present. He had to move forward.

"Ten days."

He repeated inwardly.

"Enough."

On the fourth day, Jinhwa visited a carpenter's workshop in the market district.

He arrived early in the morning. He explained the furniture he needed and showed a rough sketch on paper. Two wall-mounted display shelves. One double-sided display stand for the center of the shop. One counter. A simple cot and a small shelf for the back room.

The carpenter studied the sketch and nodded.

"Simple enough. Nothing fancy?"

"No. Sturdy and practical will do."

"Pine all right?"

"Yes."

The carpenter counted on his fingers.

"Two display shelves… one double-sided stand… a counter… a cot and shelf… forty nyang should cover it."

Jinhwa was relieved — right on budget.

"When will they be finished?"

"I'll have them done by tomorrow. I'll bring them to your shop the morning after."

"Thank you."

He handed over forty nyang. The carpenter pocketed it and said, "I'll make you good furniture."

Jinhwa left the workshop and headed for Sarojin again.

All afternoon Jinhwa prepared the shop for the furniture.

He wiped the walls clean. He marked where the display shelves would stand. He decided where the double-sided stand would go in the center. The counter would face the entrance — visible the moment a customer walked in. In the back room he swept and scrubbed the floor once more. He replaced the window paper with fresh sheets.

As the sun set, Jinhwa stepped outside and looked toward the main road.

A merchant cart was passing. A murim fighter rode by on horseback. The evening glow stained the sky red. Tomorrow the furniture arrives. The day after, the signboard. And in five days, inventory to receive and display.

"Little by little…"

He murmured.

"Step by step."

On the fifth morning, as the sun rose, the carpenter arrived at the shop with a cart.

On the cart sat two display shelves, the double-sided stand, the counter, the cot, and the small shelf. "Where do you want them?" the carpenter asked. Jinhwa pointed and guided him, one piece at a time.

One display shelf went against the left wall. The other against the right. The double-sided stand was placed in the center so customers could browse from both sides. The counter was positioned facing the entrance. The cot went into a corner of the back room. The small shelf was fixed to the wall behind the counter.

When every piece was in place, the carpenter dusted off his hands.

"Built them solid. They'll last you a long time."

"Thank you."

The carpenter left with his cart. Jinhwa stood alone and looked around the shop slowly.

The moment furniture entered the empty space, it began to look like a shop. He stood before a display shelf and ran his hand along the wood grain. He circled the double-sided stand, checking both faces. He stood behind the counter and looked toward the entrance. He could picture it — a customer pushing the door open. A murim fighter asking for wound salve. A caravan buying lamp oil. A traveler choosing dried rations.

"Now…"

He murmured.

"Just fill it with goods…"

That afternoon he went to the signboard workshop.

Three days had passed. The signboard should be finished. He opened the workshop door and the craftsman greeted him warmly, pointing to a board leaning against the wall. "Here it is."

地愛水.

Three characters, carved sharp and clear in regular script on a pine plank. Painted in black. The strokes had strength. The size was just right. Jinhwa stood before the signboard and stared for a long while.

"Does it please you?"

The craftsman asked.

"Yes."

Jinhwa nodded.

"Thank you."

He lifted the signboard. Heavier than expected, but manageable. He shouldered it and left the workshop, walking the road to Sarojin at an unhurried pace.

By the time he reached the shop, the sun was tilting west.

Jinhwa found a ladder. He climbed to the eaves. He checked the spot where the signboard would hang, centered above the entrance. He drove nails and fixed the board firmly in place. He climbed down, stepped back, and looked up.

地愛水.

It was visible from the main road. In the fading light of sunset, the characters glowed softly. Wind blew in. Jinhwa stood there for a long time, looking at the sign.

"Ji-ae-su…"

He read it aloud.

"Anyone can see it's the name of a general store. Now it truly begins."

From the following dawn, Jinhwa moved without rest.

He had already organized the shop, so when the wholesaler arrived with his cart, unloading went smoothly. Items came off one by one. Ten bottles of lamp oil. Twenty packets of wound salve in several grades. Fifty rolls of bandages. Twenty geun of jerky. Fifty pieces of hardtack. Twenty pairs of straw sandals. Ten water flasks. Five coils of rope. Thirty flint stones.

He handed over one hundred fifty nyang. The wholesaler counted, nodded, and said, "I hope business goes well for you," before leaving.

Jinhwa began carrying the goods inside.

Arranging the displays took the entire afternoon.

The lamp-oil bottles were heavy, so he placed them on the lower shelves. Wound salve went at eye level where customers could see it easily. Dried rations were grouped near the counter. On one face of the double-sided stand he placed bandages and styptic powder; on the other, water flasks and flint stones. Straw sandals and rope he hung from the ceiling.

As he set each item in its place, Jinhwa thought of the past.

At the clothing shop, he had displayed fine silks and jade ornaments. He had tried to dazzle customers' eyes. He had tried to sell expensive things. He had tried to make a fortune in one stroke. And so he failed.

At Pungnyu-gak, he had filled every corner with splendid instruments and decorations. He had tried to broadcast his reputation. He had boasted of being the finest under heaven. He had been drunk on splendor. And so it collapsed.

But this time was different.

Everything on these shelves was modest. Nothing was expensive. Nothing was splendid. But everything was necessary. Everything was what people in a hurry would seek. Everything was what Jinhwa himself had needed most in his wandering days.

Jinhwa stood before the display shelf and ran his hand along the wood grain. He circled the double-sided stand, checking each item. He stood behind the counter and looked toward the entrance. The shop that had been empty was now filled with goods. The signboard was hung. The furniture was in place.

"This should be…"

He murmured.

The sun was tilting west.

On the seventh day, Jinhwa began the last remaining task.

Setting up the back room.

He laid clean cloth over the cot. He placed spare clothes and washing supplies on the small shelf. In one corner he stood Heungnoe — the geomungo — carefully upright. He replaced the window paper. He prepared a small lantern for use at night. He scrubbed the entire room one final time.

The back room was small.

Beyond the cot, the shelf, and the space for Heungnoe, there was no room to spare. Just large enough for one person to lie down. The window was small. But for Jinhwa it was enough. From here he could wake and reach the counter the moment a customer came. Night business required exactly this kind of layout. And above all, living simply was the way Jinhwa now chose to live.

Jinhwa sat on the cot and looked around the room.

Spare clothes hung on one wall. Washing supplies sat on the shelf. In the corner, Heungnoe stood in quiet stillness. Through the window he could see the yard, and beyond it the main road. The faint sound of passing footsteps drifted in.

"This is where…"

He murmured.

"I'll sleep and greet my customers."

He left the back room and surveyed the shop one more time.

Display shelves on both walls. The double-sided stand in the center. The counter facing the entrance. The back room behind. Cleaning was done. Furniture was in place. The signboard was hung. Inventory was stocked. All he had to do now was open the door.

Jinhwa stood behind the counter and drew a sheet of paper from his clothes.

The checklist he had written when he first laid the plan. He went through it, one by one.

Cleaning — done. Furniture installed. Signboard hung. Inventory received. Back room set up.

Everything was complete.

Jinhwa took out his remaining coins and counted. The twenty-seven nyang he had set aside as reserve — and a little more. Every part of the plan had come in on budget.

"This should be…"

He murmured.

"Enough to hold out for a while."

He opened the shop door as a test and looked outside.

The sun was tilting west. Sunset light stained the main road red. A merchant cart rolled past, its wheels turning. Three murim fighters rode by on horseback. Jinhwa stood in the doorway and watched.

Those people will see this shop's lantern when night comes.

They will spot the only light burning in the darkness and stop by.

When they need something urgently, they will come.

His heart began to beat a little faster.

"Once the estate is settled…"

He murmured.

"I open for real."

He closed the door and went back inside. He stood behind the counter and looked over the shop once more. He checked the goods on the display shelves. He circled the double-sided stand slowly. Everything was ready.

Jinhwa went into the back room and opened the window. Evening wind blew in. Sounds from the main road drifted faintly. Stars were beginning to appear, one by one.

"Now…"

He murmured.

"Just settle the estate…"

On the eighth morning, Jinhwa returned to the estate.

The broker arrived at the appointed time. The buyer came with him. They drew up the contract in the study. Jinhwa signed. The buyer signed. The broker witnessed. The buyer drew a heavy pouch from inside his coat and set it on the table.

"The deposit — five hundred nyang."

Jinhwa took the pouch and felt its weight.

"Thank you."

"You'll hand over in ten days?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll pay the balance at that time."

They shook hands.

The buyer and the broker left. Jinhwa sat alone in the study. The contract lay on the table. Five hundred nyang rested inside his coat. Through the window, the yard was visible.

A place where the glory of Pungnyu-gak and countless memories lived.

The members had gathered here to rehearse. The women had walked through laughing. Splendid banquets had been held. But now it waited for a new owner. Jinhwa was preparing to leave for a new place. The past had to remain in the past.

Jinhwa left the study and walked into the yard.

Sunlight poured through the windows. Branches swayed in the wind. A quiet morning. Jinhwa stood in the center of the yard and looked slowly around him. The side hall. The practice room. Each room. The great hall. The study. Every corner was full of memories, but now it was time to go.

"Now…"

He murmured.

"It's really over."

He tried not to sink into sentiment.

Looking back served no purpose. He had to move forward. Ji-ae-su was waiting.

"Time to pack."

He murmured and returned to the study.

Over two days Jinhwa put the estate in order.

He discarded everything he did not need. He chose only what to take. He packed. A few changes of clothes. Washing supplies. Heungnoe. The Cheongheo plaque, the Yeonhae Japyeong, and the cultivation manual. That was all.

On the tenth day, the buyer returned.

He handed over the balance — two thousand five hundred nyang. Jinhwa received it and slipped it inside his coat. He handed over the key. They shook hands. "Good luck," they said to each other. Jinhwa picked up his bags and walked out of the estate.

He did not look back as he passed through the gate.

The past was finished. A new beginning was waiting. There was no reason to linger.

When he arrived at the Sarojin shop, the sun stood at its peak.

Jinhwa set down his bags and looked around the shop. A week since his last visit — everything was as he had left it. Goods sat neatly on the display shelves. The double-sided stand was untouched. The counter was in its place.

He went into the back room and unpacked.

He hung his clothes on the shelf. He set out his washing supplies. He stood Heungnoe carefully in the corner. Elder Cheongheo's Hwasan plaque, the Yeonhae Japyeong, and the cultivation manual he placed in a small box and stored beneath the cot.

When everything was in order, the back room began to feel like his room for the first time.

Jinhwa sat on the cot and looked through the window at the main road. A merchant cart was passing. Murim fighters were walking by. The sun was beginning to tilt west.

"Now…"

He murmured.

"It truly begins."

He left the back room and stood behind the counter.

He looked toward the entrance. Soon the sun would set and he would light the lantern. Night would come and he would open the door. He would welcome his customers.

Jinhwa drew the silver pouch from his coat.

Three thousand nyang from the estate sale. Five hundred in deposit and two thousand five hundred in balance. It was heavy. With this he could hold out for a long time. He could replenish inventory. He could grow the business slowly.

He placed the silver in the counter drawer and locked it.

Then he looked toward the entrance once more.

The sun had fully set. Sunset stained the sky red. People still came and went along the main road. Evening was approaching.

Jinhwa walked to the shop door.

He opened it and looked out. The last light of sunset fell on the signboard. The three characters — 地愛水 — glowed softly. Wind blew in and brushed his collar.

"Ji-ae-su."

He read it aloud.

"Starting today…"

He paused and looked at the main road.

"We are open."

Twenty-eight years old. A day near the end of spring.

Jinhwa had moved without rest for a week — cleaning the shop, bringing in furniture, hanging the signboard, stocking inventory, setting up the back room. And now every preparation was complete.

Pungnyu-gak had been splendid, but it blazed fast and turned to ash.

Ji-ae-su was small. Not splendid. Not grandiose. Simply modest. But it was solid. It would be built slowly. And it would burn for a long time.

Jinhwa stood behind the counter and looked toward the entrance.

Tomorrow, customers would come.

They would see the lantern at night and stop by. They would buy what they needed in a hurry. Word would spread, little by little.

This time was different.

This time — slowly.

And for a long time.

[End of Chapter 94]