The Eternal Flower Beggar King Chapter 73 – The Peak (Part Three)

 The Eternal Flower Beggar King Chapter 73 – The Peak (Part Three)

A month had passed.

The estate was now fully established as Pungnyu-gak's base. No plaque yet hung above the front gate, but people called it "the Pungnyu-gak estate." Each time Jinhwa heard those words a strange feeling stirred, but he said nothing.

And Jinhwa stepped back from performing.

He found a new member to play the geomungo. He would devote himself to conducting alone. He thought it might at least ease the rift between Geumsoo Eulsaeng and the Gakju.

'If I stop playing the geomungo… I can forget Geumsoo Eulsaeng. If I live only as the Gakju… this emptiness will disappear.'

But that was a delusion. The moment he set the geomungo down, Geumsoo Eulsaeng died completely. All that remained was the shell called Gakju. And with nothing left but life as Gakju, an unbearable hollowness surged over Jinhwa at every turn.

Today was the day of a grand banquet at the estate.

The first large-scale event Jinhwa was hosting. The invited guests—dignitaries of the murim, magnates of the merchant world, aristocrats from every region—numbered over two hundred. The estate's wide courtyard and great hall had been lavishly decorated to receive them.

From early morning the servants moved in a rush. The cook sweated over food in the kitchen. The members checked their instruments and rehearsed the pieces for the day. Jinhwa sat in the second-floor study, looking down through the window. Below, Cheongpung's loud voice could be heard issuing orders.

"The tables need to be wider! Make sure the guests can sit comfortably!"

"Is there enough wine?"

"Have we checked the instrument layout?"

Jinhwa allowed a small smile and rose from his seat. Today he had to be flawless as Gakju. Receive every guest. Display Pungnyu-gak's standing. That was the role given to him now.

He put on his silk robe, fastened the sash, and looked in the mirror. A neat, composed man stood in the glass. He looked like a Gakju. But Jinhwa found the face unfamiliar.

'Today I am the Gakju. Not Oh Jinhwa.'

When the sun reached its peak, the guests began to arrive.

The gate opened and carts rolled in. Distinguished figures in fine clothes stepped down one by one. Jinhwa stood before the great hall to greet them, bowing in courtesy. Each guest took his hand and expressed delight.

The branch chief of the Murim Alliance eastern division was the first to approach Jinhwa. A satisfied smile spread across his face.

"Gakju-nim, what a splendid estate you've acquired. Pungnyu-gak's standing is now unmatched in all the world."

Jinhwa bowed politely.

"You are too kind, Branch Chief."

"Not kind—truthful. The rumor that you are a master of organizational management proved correct."

Jinhwa smiled and answered, but a corner of his chest sank under the weight. Organizational management. The words circled in his ears. The branch chief patted his shoulder and went inside.

Next the caravan master of the western trading house appeared. He beamed the moment he saw Jinhwa.

"Gakju-nim! There is no group under heaven to rival Pungnyu-gak! Our caravan has much to learn from you!"

Jinhwa answered with courtesy.

"Thank you, Caravan Master."

"I have high expectations for tonight. A performance conducted under the Gakju-nim's hand—my heart is already racing!"

Jinhwa nodded, but inside he thought.

'My conducting. Not my geomungo.'

The great merchant of Gangnam arrived. Dozens of attendants trailed behind him. The merchant seized Jinhwa's hand and spoke.

"A rare talent who combines artistry and management. If someone like you, Gakju-nim, had been in our merchant world, what a boon that would have been!"

Jinhwa smiled and answered.

"I am merely a musician."

"No, Gakju-nim, you are more than a musician. You are the head of an organization recognized by the entire world!"

Jinhwa bowed at those words, but inside, a cold hollowness spread.

'More than a musician. Then where is… the musician?'

When every guest was seated, the great hall and courtyard were packed. Jinhwa took the stage and began his opening address.

"It is an honor to welcome such distinguished guests today."

Applause broke out. Jinhwa continued.

"Pungnyu-gak has come this far thanks to your support. I hope the performance we have prepared will bring you a small measure of joy."

Applause again. Jinhwa stepped down from the platform and signaled the members. Ten musicians took their places, readied their instruments, and steadied their breathing.

Jinhwa stood before them and raised his hand. When it came down, the sound burst forth.

Tungso, daegeum, piri, bipa, haegeum, geomungo, yanggeum, saenghwang, drum, and song. Ten sounds merged into one. The harmony was flawless. Gasps of admiration rose from the audience.

Jinhwa listened and conducted. The members followed his gestures. Everything flowed according to plan. But within it, Jinhwa could not find the sound of his own geomungo.

'Where is my sound? One among ten. And even that… I cannot hear.'

When the performance ended, the audience rose as one. A standing ovation poured down. Cheers filled the estate. Jinhwa bowed alongside the members. The guests fell over each other to heap praise.

"The greatest under heaven!"

"There has never been a finer performance!"

"The Gakju-nim's conducting is art itself!"

Jinhwa listened and smiled. But the smile grew heavier with each word.

After the banquet, when the guests had gone, the members gathered in the great hall to drink and celebrate the day's success.

Cheongpung raised his cup and cried out.

"Today was a triumph! Gakju, it's all thanks to you!"

Cheolsan laughed and chimed in.

"Your conducting was flawless. With you leading, the performance was truly perfect!"

Yeona came over to Jinhwa and said.

"Gakju-nim, I'm so proud. I never imagined we'd come this far…"

Jinhwa listened, nodded, and tipped his cup. But the wine slid down his throat without any taste at all.

Hyangnan sat beside him and asked.

"Gakju-nim, it's such a wonderful day—why are you so quiet?"

Jinhwa shook his head with a smile.

"No, I am glad."

"Then you should be smiling!"

Jinhwa forced a smile. Hyangnan seemed satisfied and moved away. Jinhwa sat and listened to the members' laughter. He felt it growing more and more distant.

'Everyone is happy. I should be… happy too. But…'

As the night deepened, Jinhwa rose and climbed the stairs to the second floor. He passed through the corridor and entered the study. He lit a candle. The geomungo caught a faint glow. He sat before it. A geomungo losing even the name Heuknoe.

He reached out and touched the strings. But he did not play. He only touched them and looked out the window. The empty plaque frame above the gate showed in the moonlight.

He thought.

'Everyone sees me. But no one sees Oh Jinhwa. The geomungo cannot be heard. Only the Gakju's words are heard.'

He looked out the window and murmured.

"Was I always… this small-hearted a man?"

From the next day, a procession of courtesy visitors began.

People from various sects came wishing to meet Jinhwa. Merchant magnates proposed exclusive contracts. Aristocrats begged him to attend their events. Jinhwa received them all with courtesy, served tea and conversed, and never let the Gakju's dignity slip.

One afternoon, an elder of the Namgung clan came to call. The moment he saw Jinhwa, he bowed deeply.

"Gakju-nim, I have come after hearing the rumors. Our Namgung clan would also like to partner with Pungnyu-gak."

Jinhwa answered with courtesy.

"I am honored, Elder."

"Your organizational leadership is something even the murim should emulate. How is it that you bind so many people into one?"

Jinhwa paused before answering.

"I simply… try to walk together with them."

"How modest! If someone like you were in our school…"

Jinhwa drank his tea and listened. The elder went on praising, but the words rang hollow in his ears.

'I am respected. But for what? They respect the Gakju. No one remembers Geumsoo Eulsaeng.'

After the elder left, the vice-master of a great trading caravan came and proposed a lavish exclusive contract.

"Gakju-nim, please have Pungnyu-gak handle every event for our caravan. We will match whatever terms you set."

Jinhwa nodded and answered.

"I will look into it."

"It would be an immense honor to work with someone like you, Gakju-nim!"

Jinhwa smiled and bowed, but behind the smile, the emptiness was deepening.

In the afternoon, several young musicians came to call. They knelt before Jinhwa and said.

"Gakju-nim, please accept us as your disciples!"

Jinhwa shook his head.

"Pungnyu-gak is too busy. I have no room to take disciples."

"Still, we wish to learn under you, Gakju-nim! How to lead an organization. How to gather people. That is what we want to learn!"

Jinhwa paused at those words. How to lead an organization. How to gather people. Not a word about wanting to learn the geomungo. Not a word about becoming a musician. Only about becoming a Gakju.

Jinhwa spoke slowly.

"Think it over again. The path of a musician… is not easy."

"We want to succeed like you, Gakju-nim!"

Jinhwa said no more. He sent them away and stood alone, looking out the window.

'Have I… succeeded? I feel this hollow, yet everyone calls it success. If they say so, then is this success?'

A fortnight passed. The estate was now fully the center of a social world.

Every day, visitors filled the great hall. The servants never stopped moving. Banquets never ceased. Jinhwa managed it all and performed his role as Gakju flawlessly. People looked at him and marveled. He was introducing prominent figures to one another, brokering important occasions, generating new revenue streams.

"The Gakju of Pungnyu-gak is truly extraordinary!"

"To manage an organization like that!"

"Unmatched under heaven!"

Jinhwa listened and smiled, bowed with courtesy. Everything looked perfect. But inside, a hollowness was growing larger and larger—large enough, now, to swallow him whole.

One night, when every engagement was finished and he sat alone in the study, Jinhwa looked at the geomungo and thought.

'When did I last play?'

The memory was hazy. He had played during performances—but alone… he could not remember when he had last played for himself. The geomungo simply sat there.

He reached out slowly and touched the strings. Cold and hard against his fingertips. He tried to play. His fingers would not move.

'What would I play? For whom? Geumsoo Eulsaeng's sound… is already gone.'

He pulled his hand back, walked to the window, and looked at the gate. The empty plaque frame was still there. Moonlight fell on it.

'Should I hang Pungnyu-gak? Or Oh Jinhwa? No… it has already been decided. Pungnyu-gak. Because that is what everyone calls it.'

Through the window the garden was visible. The plum tree had not yet bloomed. The pond was still. Jinhwa looked at the scene and recalled the past.

The day he first played the geomungo at an inn. The day the audience cheered and cried "Once more!" The day he received the epithet Geumsoo Eulsaeng. The time when people came to hear Jinhwa's geomungo.

All of it was gone now. There was no Geumsoo Eulsaeng. He was a conductor more than a musician. People came to see only the Gakju.

Jinhwa stood before the mirror.

A man in silk stood in the glass. He looked like a Gakju. But his eyes were empty. Jinhwa looked at the reflection and murmured to himself.

'Is this person… me? Oh Jinhwa? The Gakju? Or… neither?'

The candle flickered. The shadow stretched long across the wall. Jinhwa turned from the mirror, went back to the window, and looked at the gate.

'At last… I have succeeded. Martial arts failed me. Business failed me. But now… I am the Gakju. Everyone respects me. I have an estate. I have servants. I have fame. I have succeeded. But…'

That night, unable to sleep, Jinhwa walked through the garden.

Moonlight fell on the pond. The water rippled faintly. Wind stirred the branches of the plum tree. Jinhwa stood at the edge of the pond and looked at the surface. He saw his own face reflected there.

A Gakju in silk. But the face was unfamiliar. He could not be certain it was truly his.

He turned around. Light leaked from the windows of the main building. The members' rooms. Laughter drifted from inside. Everyone looked happy. Jinhwa watched the glow and thought.

'Everyone is happy. Pungnyu-gak has succeeded. I have… succeeded too. Then why… am I this empty?'

A wind blew. Jinhwa's robe fluttered. He raised his head and looked up at the sky. The moon hung overhead. Stars were shining. But Jinhwa felt their light did not reach him.

'I am respected. But for what? They respect the Gakju. No one remembers Geumsoo Eulsaeng. The geomungo has become an ornament. And I… have become a shell.'

Jinhwa stood at the edge of the pond for a long time, then walked slowly back to the main building. He climbed the stairs and entered the study. The geomungo was still there. He did not touch it.

'There was a time when I played alongside the members and laughed. Whether it was the Gakju's seat that did this, or my own small heart, a distance crept in before I noticed…'

He sat at the desk and looked out the window. The empty plaque frame above the gate caught his eye. He looked at it and slowly opened his mouth. His voice echoed faintly through the silent study.

"At last… I have succeeded."

But there was no joy in his voice. It was neither the marvel of a man who had triumphed nor the lament of a man who had failed. It was the hollow confirmation of a man who had gained everything and lost himself.

The candle sputtered. Jinhwa leaned his arm on the desk and watched the small flame. Wind rapped against the window. Outside, the sound of branches swaying. He listened and thought.

'But can I call this success? Everyone calling me Gakju. Being respected. Living in an estate. Having servants. Is this… success? Then… why am I this hollow?'

The moon reached its zenith. The garden was still. Jinhwa sat alone in the study. The geomungo was within arm's reach, but he did not play it. The plaque above the gate was still empty. In that emptiness, Jinhwa asked himself.

At last, I have succeeded.

But is this… truly success?

Everyone sees the Gakju. But Oh Jinhwa… where is he?

Has Geumsoo Eulsaeng… been forgotten?

The candle burned low. The study sank into darkness. Jinhwa sat alone in that dark, looking at the gate.

The empty plaque.

What should hang there?

Pungnyu-gak? Oh Jinhwa?

Or… has it already been decided?

Jinhwa lowered his head slowly. A small sigh slipped from his lips.

"At last… I have succeeded."

The words were a confirmation. And at the same time, a question.

I have succeeded. But what have I lost?

I have gained everything. But where… am I?

Moonlight lit the study. Jinhwa sat alone in its glow.

A Gakju who had succeeded.

But an Oh Jinhwa who had vanished.

And a Geumsoo Eulsaeng who was dead.

[End of Chapter 73]