As Cheon Sa and Min Ho stepped inside, the wooden doors groaned behind them, sealing them in with an eerie finality. The air was thick with the scent of damp wood and the lingering trace of old smoke, as though a fire had long since burned out, leaving only the ghost of warmth. Dust clung to the low tables, undisturbed, and the wooden floor bore the weight of silence rather than footsteps.
A single lantern flickered at the far end of the hall, its feeble light casting long, distorted shadows that crawled across the walls like grasping fingers. The flame trembled, as if stirred by an unseen breath. Beyond it, darkness loomed, the open doorways of guest rooms yawning like hollow mouths, their hanji paper screens slightly torn and curling at the edges. A slow creak echoed from the rafters above, the old wood groaning as if something unseen shifted overhead.
Then, without warning, a figure emerged from the dim corridor beyond the lantern's glow. Min Ho flinched, barely suppressing a yelp.
The innkeeper.
A hunched old man shuffled forward, his face half-obscured by shadow. His robes, loose and tattered, clung to his thin frame like forgotten drapery. His eyes, dark and unreadable, flickered between the two travelers as if weighing their presence against something unseen. His gnarled hands pressed together in a slow, deliberate motion.
"You've come late," he murmured, his voice dry and brittle like parchment left in the sun.
Min Ho tensed beside Cheon Sa, his fingers gripping his friend's sleeve. It wasn't a manly gesture, but Cheon Sa didn't comment. His gaze remained locked on the innkeeper, though his eyes flickered briefly toward the lantern. The flame wavered, and for a moment, he thought he saw something, someone lurking in the shifting shadows. Just his imagination… or was it?
From what he could tell, only the three of them were present in the inn at that moment.
"As you can see, the rooms are empty," the innkeeper said, his lips barely moving. "Stay if you wish, but it's twenty copper coins per night."
"What? What?" Min Ho's voice shot up an octave, breaking the silence like a blade through silk. "That's theft! How can a night be so costly? Twenty?!"
The inn should have been full because of its location, it was located at the junction which means travellers from different direction might end up there to rest for the night. The moment Cheon Sa saw it, he had expected to see Dong Ha's with the group he probably went with resting here, likely the ones with the cart. But the place was deserted. Too deserted. He had heard voices on the way here. The old man was lying.
The lantern's weak glow barely illuminated the room, and shadows stretched unnaturally, hiding unseen corners. Was the emptiness of the inn a trick? A snare waiting to be sprung?
Cheon Sa relied on his sharp senses to detect any foul play. The air carried nothing but dust, devoid of any odorless toxins that could cloud his mind. His body felt normal, no signs of dizziness or sluggishness, confirming the air was clear. Straining his ears, he detected no movement within the inn, reinforcing the belief that they were alone. But then, a light sound came from outside and if he wasn't listening attentively he might not have catch it and it was a sound he couldn't ignore.
Footsteps.
They were not alone anymore.
"Don't be ridiculous," Min Ho scoffed, shaking his head. "I'll give you five copper coins, and you'll serve us at least four meals today." He raised four fingers to gesture to the inn keeper. "This place is deserted anyway. You should be glad for our company."
"Min Ho." Cheon Sa called.
"Is this how you want to run an inn..."
"Min Ho."
"What?" Min Ho turned, his brow furrowing at the interruption.
"We should leave," Cheon Sa said firmly, his voice brokering no argument.
Min Ho's expression softened. "Don't worry, Cheon Sa. I'm good at this. We'll sleep here tonight."
Cheon Sa's jaw tightened. Could Min Ho not see it? The unlit fireplace, the way their voices echoed, the dust on the tables and chairs, the unswept floors. It was an abandoned place masquerading as an inn and the inn keeper he was talking to voice was too sharp not fitting his appearance.
"No," Cheon Sa said, already turning toward the door. "Min Ho we are leaving."
But when he didn't hear Min Ho's footsteps following, his stomach knotted. Had they already caught him? Whipping around, he saw Min Ho forcing five coins into the old man's hand.
The change was immediate.
The innkeeper straightened naturally like he was tired of bending over. His fingers that clenched around the coins opened. His lips curled in disgust as he raised a coin to see better.
"Is this a joke?" His voice had sharpened like a blade. "You dare give me five copper coins
and old ones at that? They changed the coin structure two years ago. These are worthless." He said as he threw the coins on the floor.
"How can you throw it away!" Min Ho almost yelled as he bent running after a coin rolling. "What do you mean? They changed? Coins don't just change, do they?" He finally caught the coin and started picking the rest in a hurry.
Cheon Sa's heart pounded as realization struck. The old man was smiling, no, grinning as if watching Min Ho scramble for the coins he had thrown was the most delightful spectacle he had ever witnessed. There was something unsettling about it, something almost manic, though the dim lighting obscured his expression. But Cheon Sa didn't need to see clearly to know the truth.
They had walked into a trap.
Two figures stepped through the entrance, blocking the exit. A towering, broad-shouldered man and a short, stocky one. The tall man's fingers brushed the hilt of his sword, while the shorter one twirled a dagger with practiced ease. Their eyes glinted like those of predators closing in on cornered prey, their head shaved round leaving only a little at the middle and it was tied into a high pony tail.
"Well, well." The stout man grinned, showing yellowed teeth. "What do we have here?"
"They're useless," the innkeeper sneered. "They even have old coins."
Min Ho shot up to his feet in an instant, his body tense with alarm. The innkeeper's hand extended toward him, fingers curling as if to seize him, but before he could make contact, a sharp smack sent his hand recoiling.
Min Ho paled, stepping back toward Cheon Sa, who had already begun shifting into a defensive stance.
The innkeeper lit another lantern, but rather than offering warmth, the additional light only made the room feel more suffocating. The shadows stretched deeper, swallowing the corners of the inn. The place felt smaller, closing in on them like a beast drawing its breath before devouring its prey.
"Staying here is suffocating. Sooner or later someone will probably notice we disposed the original innkeepers and if they are quick on their feet and report, the authorities will come." The innkeeper that now confessed he isn't the original innkeeper said casually, straightening his back as he bent backward. "It's better to get rid of these two as well. I'm sick of this disguise."
"If they don't have anything valuable," the stocky man added, "we can sell them which is way better than discarding them." He laughed, a wicked sound that grated against the thick air like he was talking about selling chickens.
A new figure emerged from the shadows, a man with an extremely short, buzzed head. Unlike the others, his presence exuded confidence, a quiet but unmistakable danger. He didn't bother with the door; instead, he pried open a window from the outside and slipped in effortlessly, moving with the ease of someone who had done this many times before. His grin stretched unnervingly wide, as if the mere sight of them amused him.
"Take them," he ordered, his tone laced with boredom. Then, without a hint of urgency, he strolled over to a chair and sat down, settling in as if he were about to enjoy a show.
"Yes, boss," the tall man said with a deferential nod.
The boss's gaze settled on Cheon Sa and Min Ho like a butcher evaluating livestock. "Or do you have anything valuable?" His voice was calm, almost lazy and he let his tongue dangle to show the three rings piercing on his tongue, giving him a more dangerous look. "Or should we just capture you gently?"
The stout man chuckled darkly. "Gently," he repeated, as though the word itself was a joke.
Min Ho swallowed hard, inching closer to Cheon Sa. "Our coins are useless, we can't fight them all. They won't listen if we beg. The only way is to fight or create a distraction and run. Got it?" He whispered in a shaky voice.
Cheon Sa exhaled slowly. He hated being backed into a corner. He hated being hunted and he hated that someone could make Min Ho to be afraid because now Min Ho had slipped his sweaty shaky hand in his and squeezed it like an assurance.
"What are you two whispering about?" the boss asked, amused. "Come now. Let's not make this difficult."
Cheon Sa's expression hardened. "Not every stone in the river is gold, and not every leaf on the tree is green." His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Let us leave, or you die. Now choose."
Silence filled the inn but no one laughed. Then, the stout man grinned and gripped his dagger tighter.
"I like you. You sound like a fighter, the kind that will resist until the very end. I love breaking people like you." The stout man grinned, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade. "That sharp tongue of yours, though, it has to go."
He had barely finished speaking when the man they called 'boss' tensed, his upright posture faltering ever so slightly. The shift was subtle, but Cheon Sa caught it. His gaze flickered between them, his instincts flaring as he wondered why the man seemed to be uncomfortable.
"Wrong choice," Cheon Sa murmured, his body moving before the first blade had even been drawn. Like a flash of lightning cutting through a storm, he was already in front of the stout man, knocking his weapon high into the air. In the same fluid motion, he twisted, his fingers catching the blade mid-air with practiced ease. Without hesitation, he thrust it downward, aiming straight for the stout man's throat.
But the boss had already launched himself from his seat, an unnatural desperate speed driving his movements. He collided hard into the stout man's shoulder, sending them both tumbling to the ground. The dagger missed its mark by a fraction of an inch, burying itself deep into the wooden floor instead.
"Wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait!" The boss's voice was sharp with urgency as he rolled away, dragging the other man with him.
The rest of the group stared, confusion painted across their faces. None of them understood what had just transpired, least of all Cheon Sa. He had been in countless life-and-death situations before, this should have ended in blood. But this hesitation, this sudden change in demeanor… it was unexpected.
"Boss?" The fake innkeeper called out, his voice laced with disbelief.
The boss exhaled sharply, straightening himself with deliberate slowness. His eyes were locked onto Cheon Sa, calculating, uncertain as he watched Cheon Sa stood up, the dagger in his hand. "Before we fight," he said, his voice now composed but quiet, "I need to confirm something." He hesitated, then, with an unusual softness, added, "Please… let me approach you."
Cheon Sa remained still, uncertain of the man's intent. But curiosity won out, and he allowed the boss to step closer, his grip on the dagger tightened ready for any slight shift that might harm him. The man reached for his face with slight shaky hand, tilting it slightly toward the dim lantern light. As soon as he got a proper look into Cheon Sa's eyes, all the color drained from his face. His breath hitched.
Then his entire body trembled.
The sweat glistening on his skin wasn't just from the humid night air. Cheon Sa could see the way his chest rose and fell, his breathing turning shallow. His fingers curled slightly, as though grasping for something unseen, and then, as if his body could no longer support his weight, he dropped to his knees.
His forehead touched the floor.
"Please forgive us." His voice was hoarse with sincerity, stripped of all pretense. "We will leave this inn to you."
The room was thick with silence. Then, the boss lifted his head slightly and called out, "Hu, Lee, Shifter! come this instant and ask for forgiveness." He ordered.
The others hesitated. None of them knew what had caused their boss to break like this, but the sheer gravity in his voice made disobedience unthinkable. Slowly, hesitantly, they followed his lead, lowering themselves to the ground and bowing deeply.
"Please forgive us!" they chorused, their voices uneven but urgent.
Cheon Sa regarded them with an expression of cold detachment. "You're smart," he finally said, his tone unreadable. "You made the right choice. You may leave but if I so much as see a shadow of you or your men again, I won't hesitate."
"Yes! Yes, of course!" The boss's voice was filled with frantic gratitude. He continued to bow, murmuring repeated thanks as he gestured for his men to leave. One by one, they filed out, their backs hunched, their steps hurried. The air in the room shifted, the tension lifting like a dissipating storm.
Once the last man disappeared into the night, Min Ho exhaled sharply, his breath uneven. "What the hell just happened?" he asked, still trying to steady himself. "Should we leave too? Maybe the authorities are coming."
"No," Cheon Sa said, his voice firm. "We're staying." He glanced toward the abandoned inn. "Find something to eat, light the fireplace. We'll be fine."
Min Ho hesitated, still rattled, but ultimately nodded. As he moved to gather supplies, Cheon Sa lowered himself into a seat, his mind still lingering on what had just transpired.
Who exactly was that man? And what did he see in his face that made him bow in fear? Cheon Sa doesn't think he looks familiar but he had definitely seen someone once with tongue rings but since they were not important he didn't bother to keep them in his memory.