Dawn broke cold and gray over the gully, the kind of light that made every shadow look guilty. Twenty magistrate officials in dull gray uniforms formed a half-circle around the cave mouth, swords loose in their scabbards. Gu Chil stood front and center, torch still smoking in his fist even though the sun had risen. His scarred face twisted with ugly satisfaction.
"Start digging," the thin official ordered, waving the warrant like a flag. "Every inch. If there's a devil jar or sorcery marks, I want them found before the morning meal."
Seo-joon stood with his back to the cave wall, arms loose at his sides, face blank. Inside, his pulse hammered. The pot was safe in the drainage tunnel half a mile away, buried under mud and broken bricks. The cave itself now held nothing but the ordinary wild roots he had planted in the dark and a few scattered tools that looked like any beggar's. Still, one wrong glance, one planted "evidence," and the lie would collapse.
Gu Chil's dogs moved first, shovels biting into the soft earth. Dirt flew. Roots came up—plain, dirty, exactly what Seo-joon had seeded there hours earlier. The officials examined each one, turning them over, sniffing, muttering.
"These look too clean," one grumbled.
Gu Chil laughed. "Of course they do. The root boy had all night to fix the scene."
Seo-joon stepped forward, voice calm and steady. "Dig deeper. You'll find the same thing. Rain loosened them weeks ago. I just got lucky finding the spot before anyone else. Ask the families I've been feeding. They've seen the roots come out of these ditches with their own eyes."
As if on cue, Mak-bong appeared at the gully's edge with a small crowd of slum families—twenty ragged men, women, and children Chae Jin-gu had gathered. Old Lady Wol stood at the front, basket on her hip, face set like stone.
"We've bought his roots for days," Wol called out, loud enough for every official to hear. "Same roots. Same price. No magic. Just a beggar who knows where the rain washes things loose. You want to call that sorcery, go ahead. But then explain why half the row isn't starving this month."
The witnesses murmured agreement. Social proof—cheap, fast, and impossible to ignore. Seo-joon had learned that lesson in Seoul boardrooms and applied it here in the dirt. Gu Chil's face darkened.
The officials kept digging. More roots. More mud. Nothing unusual.
The thin official's frown deepened. He crouched, fingers sifting through a fresh pile of earth. "These are… ordinary. But the reports said endless supply. The boy disappears into this hole empty-handed and comes out loaded."
Gu Chil slammed his torch into the ground and snatched a shovel from one of his dogs. "Then we dig where he really hides it." He drove the blade into the exact corner Seo-joon had used as a decoy stash the night before. The shovel hit something hard—metal, not clay.
Seo-joon's stomach dropped.
Gu Chil grinned like a wolf and pried up a small rusted tin box Seo-joon had never seen before. Inside lay three silver mun and a scrap of cloth with a crude drawing of a pot scratched into it—clearly planted.
"See?" Gu Chil roared, holding the cloth high. "Devil mark! He buried the proof and tried to move it!"
The officials surged forward. Swords half-drawn. The crowd of witnesses muttered uneasily.
Seo-joon kept his face stone. He recognized the trap instantly—Gu Chil had slipped the box in during the chaos of the night chase. Classic misdirection. But the cloth drawing was too crude, too convenient. He stepped in front of the officials, voice low and cutting.
"That tin wasn't there last night. You all watched me arrive at dawn with empty hands. Ask your own men. Gu Chil was the one circling the cave before first light. He planted it. Same way he plants lies about marked coins and stolen collections."
Kang Yul appeared at the gully rim, ledger under one arm, two of Deok-su's enforcers behind him. "Deok-su has been informed. He says the search continues until noon. But any planted evidence makes the warrant look like a personal grudge. The magistrate won't enjoy explaining that to his superiors."
The thin official hesitated, eyes flicking between the crude cloth and Gu Chil's furious face. The witnesses pressed closer, murmuring louder now. Social proof was shifting.
Gu Chil lunged, grabbing the front of Seo-joon's shirt. "You think dirt and lies save you? The girl's still under Deok-su's roof. One word from me and he hands her over for 'questioning' while we finish here. I'll make sure she screams loud enough for you to hear it in this hole."
Seo-joon didn't flinch. He leaned in until their faces were inches apart. "Touch her and the only thing that gets questioned is how fast your cousin loses his seal when the whole market stops paying taxes. I have the numbers. I have the witnesses. And I have roots that will keep coming long after you're rotting in a ditch."
Gu Chil's eyes burned with pure hate, but the official finally stepped between them.
"Enough," the man snapped. "We dig until noon. No more accusations without proof." He shot Gu Chil a warning glare. "And you—keep your hands to yourself or I'll have you chained again."
The shovels resumed. More ordinary roots came up. The tin box and cloth were set aside "for further review." The search dragged on under the climbing sun, slow and grinding.
By the time the temple bells rang the noon hour, the cave looked exactly like what Seo-joon had engineered: a muddy hole used by a desperate beggar. Nothing more.
The official wiped sweat from his brow and rolled up the warrant with obvious reluctance. "No sorcery found. The cave is cleared… for now. But the root seller remains under watch. Any new rumors and the investigation reopens."
Gu Chil spat at Seo-joon's feet as the squad began to withdraw. "This isn't over. The girl still has a debt to pay. And I always collect."
Seo-joon watched them leave, the wrapped bundle of his remaining roots heavy under his arm. The pot was still hidden. The business had survived another blade. But the cost was mounting—silver, blood, and the slow erosion of trust with Deok-su.
Mak-bong slipped up beside him. "Min-seo's still at the warehouse. Deok-su wants to see you. Says the triple fee just doubled because of the 'trouble' you brought."
Seo-joon's jaw tightened. Another setback. Another price.
He looked toward the drainage tunnel where the pot waited in the dark.
The Ghost-Face Jar had bought him time.
But time, he was learning, was the one thing even the pot couldn't double.