Despite having his brush suddenly snatched away, the military official didn't blame the man. It was because he knew who the man was. No, not just him—all the military officials who had come here knew the man.
As long as it wasn't mad, a hunting dog with good jaw strength was the best. Moreover, this one who covered his eyes with his bangs was outstanding even here. Over the past year, hundreds and thousands of Wanderers had died, but he had survived for just as long. Wanderers who volunteered as mercenaries were typically lower-class Wanderers, but despite his good skills, he continued to do mercenary work. For the military, he was the perfect hunting dog to use.
The military official chuckled as he looked at the register.
There, the three characters of the name the man had written with a single stroke were inscribed quite splendidly. He didn't know what the man used to do, but if he was such a master calligrapher, there must be some story behind it.
'But it's none of my business anyway.'
To a hunting dog's owner, only the dog's teeth mattered—whether the creature was purebred or not wasn't worth considering at all.
The man's name was.
Kang Dal-hui.
"So Ear Ghost is going too, I see."
Ear Ghost.
The other Wanderers around called him that.
It was a new nickname that Kang Dal-hui—no, Dong Bong-su—had acquired here.
While everyone else cut off ears to make money, it was a nickname given because Dong Bong-su cut off many ears as if there was meaning in the act of cutting ears itself.
"If Ear Ghost is going, the work will go a bit more smoothly."
"Right."
"Then let's join in too."
With Ear Ghost's participation in the harvest, dozens of other Wanderers who had been hesitating joined as additional mercenaries.
Watching them, the military official sneered inwardly.
'Idiots. Do you think Ear Ghost will fight for you? Or die for you?'
It was a fitting mockery. In reality, harvests that Ear Ghost participated in had low survival rates for mercenaries. Even though Ear Ghost survived, countless other mercenaries died. The military officials recording the volunteer register all knew this fact well. Only the mercenaries didn't know it.
The military officials silently recorded the names of the additional personnel. More mercenaries meant more hunting dogs to die in their place, didn't it? They had no reason whatsoever to tear off the dogs' name tags.
A moment later.
Ultimately, approximately fifteen hundred names were recorded in the volunteer register. Thanks to Ear Ghost, they were able to conscript far more mercenaries than expected. Satisfied, the military officials stopped recruiting mercenaries.
"In two days, we depart for Guisui at the Hour of the Dragon. Assemble in front of the Datong Military Command by then."
Though none of the Wanderers were listening to their voices anymore, the military officials finished their duties to the end.
"That is all."
Having finished their work, the military officials left the Wanderer Market one by one.
The Wanderers who had secured work also streamed out of the place in droves. Among them was Ear Ghost Dong Bong-su. While the Wanderers headed noisily toward Datong's taverns or blue houses and red houses, chattering away with acquaintances they'd happened to meet, he was alone. No one approached him, nor did anyone offer a greeting.
Respectful distance, or should it be called fearful distance?
Even battle demons like mercenaries had things they feared.
Death.
Like everyone else, dying was frightening. Though they killed others without mercy, they were terrified of their own deaths. Because of this, the madness of death and the fear of it naturally permeated their bodies. So they naturally gathered among themselves to vent such emotions.
However, some among the Wanderers were special. He wasn't sure if such a thing should be called special, but in any case, there were peculiar ones.
Those who enjoyed the act of killing itself, those who had professionally killed since birth as their trade, or those who had been martial world experts but had hidden here after being branded as criminals for a momentary mistake or learning Demonic Arts.
These were people who were very familiar and accustomed to the thing called death. Wanderers didn't associate closely with them, even if they were fellow Wanderers. They couldn't. Their skill levels were different from the start, so the work itself was different. Lower-class Wanderers had to take any work that came their way without being choosy, but those people were personally employed by the martial world or the government to do more 'high-class' work. If lower-class Wanderers received money per head or per ear, they received money per job, and the amount was also vastly different from that of ordinary Wanderers—like heaven and earth.
Naturally, even if lower-class Wanderers didn't deliberately avoid them, they would automatically grow distant.
But Ear Ghost was different. Despite already being classified as top-grade in this Wanderer Market, he still continued to do mercenary work and go out on harvests.
Next time, next time, yes, next time for sure I'll skip it, definitely...
But this time too, Ear Ghost participated in the harvest without fail.
Various rumors circulated, but no one knew anything accurate about him. Because no one here was close to him.
Dong Bong-su trudged along toward his wooden house in the Wanderer Village located in Datong's outskirts.
Until then, a rookie Wanderer who had been watching quietly muttered resentfully.
"Tch. That young bastard acts so high and mighty. Should I chase after him and slit his throat?"
Thwack.
A veteran Wanderer standing nearby who heard his muttering struck the rookie hard on the back of the head.
"This bastard's gone mad."
"You crazy bastard! Who the hell are you to hit me? Huh?"
The rookie who got hit on the head couldn't hold back and talked back. Then another veteran drew his sword and said.
"When a life senior gives you advice, you should listen well and take it to heart. But there's always a dickhead like this who has to get tangled up."
Thunk.
A cold blade was already touching below the rookie's neck. Only then did the rookie shut his mouth.
"Now, listen carefully to what I'm about to say. I don't want to taste the milky red broth that comes out of that filthy head of yours. Got it?"
"..."
"I said, got it, you tiny greenhorn?"
The rookie had no choice but to nod even though he knew it was scratching his neck. If he didn't, it felt like his throat would really be cut.
As a trickle of blood began to seep from the rookie's neck, the veteran opened his mouth and began to talk about Ear Ghost.
"It must have been about a year ago. When some scrawny, shabby beggar-looking guy appeared here..."
***
A boy. Perhaps a youth who had just reached his coming of age.
Though he was utterly wretched, the very existence of a boy was rare prey in Datong.
Though there were many courtesans in Datong, they were almost all retired courtesans. Old prostitutes whose bodies had deteriorated to the point they could no longer arouse men's lust or whose eyes had long lost their vitality. Wanderers reluctantly used them instead of their own hands to relieve their lust, but sometimes they were worse than their hands.
A young and fresh boy's buttocks had more value here than the sagging breasts of old courtesans. So it was an unwritten rule here to pounce like wolves when such young prey appeared.
On the first day Dong Bong-su appeared.
Five or six starving Wanderers dragged him into an alley. Beastly desire glinted in their eyes, and they grabbed the boy's arm with rough hands. And another dozen or so Wanderers drooled outside the alley, just waiting for their turn. Some were already fiddling with their waistbands, lost in lewd fantasies.
Hehehehe...
Deviant lewdness overflowed in the lower-class Wanderer Village located in one corner of Datong. Air mixed with the smell of rotten alcohol and sweat seethed like a filthy festival.
However,
That atmosphere was broken before even a quarter-hour had passed.
Step, step.
Light footsteps. They weren't those of burly Wanderers. Soon the owner of the footsteps revealed himself outside the alley.
It was Dong Bong-su.
"...!"
The Wanderers who had been straining their lower bodies were shocked. It wasn't simply because Dong Bong-su came out first.
Drip, drip, drip...
Blood was dripping steadily through Dong Bong-su's tightly clenched right hand. The blood pooled and fell to the dirty Wanderer Village floor, making sounds like falling rain.
The blood wasn't his. It belonged to the owners of the chunks of meat clutched in his hand. Perhaps because Dong Bong-su had gripped them too hard, the chunks of meat were clumped together and mercilessly crushed, but the Wanderers all recognized what the chunks of meat were.
Noses.
They were noses. Everyone could guess whose they were without having to ask.
Squelch.
Dong Bong-su spread his sticky hand once, mixed with snot and blood, then clenched it again. Red liquid splattered everywhere.
After that, Dong Bong-su calmly approached a Wanderer who had been waiting for his turn and said.
"I heard these are money here. Where should I go to exchange these for silver coins?"
His voice was low and calm. No, it seemed more accurate to say it was difficult to tell whether it was or wasn't.
The Wanderer, taken aback by Dong Bong-su's too-calm attitude, unconsciously raised the hand that had been holding his lower body and pointed toward the Wanderer Market where the ear brokers gathered. His lower body had already drooped down, living up to its name.
"Thanks."
Dong Bong-su offered a meaningless thanks and disappeared toward the Wanderer Market. There were dozens more Wanderers there, but no one said he had cut off the wrong thing.
Half an hour later.
Dong Bong-su returned to the Wanderer Village and, as if nothing had happened, went into the alley, cut off the ears of the noseless Wanderers, and went to the Wanderer Market again. Until then, no one had cut off the ears of the newly dead.
With the money he earned that day, Dong Bong-su bought an empty wooden house in that Wanderer Village. That was Dong Bong-su's first day in Datong, and the beginning of the nickname Ear Ghost.