Episode 93: The Gentleman Thief

The situation was undeniably absurd. Yet, with Namgung Myung’s demeanor so intensely serious, Dang Moo-jin found himself compelled to take the mask.

“Try it on.”

Dang Moo-jin nodded and slipped the mask over his face. It felt a bit stifling against his skin, but beyond that, there was nothing remarkable about it. Namgung Myung, visibly tense, asked, “Do you feel anything? Anything strange?”

“Not really.”

“Just wait a moment.”

Namgung Myung stepped outside and returned with a shiny brass bowl. It was an unusual item to find in an inn, and Dang Moo-jin couldn’t fathom why it was there or why Namgung Myung had brought it.

Namgung Myung wiped the bottom of the bowl with his sleeve and held it up to Dang Moo-jin’s face. The reflection of a masked man appeared on the bowl’s surface, serving as a makeshift mirror.

The image of the masked figure was as small as the bowl itself, trapped within its confines. It was clear that this figure posed no threat to anyone.

There was no surge of anger or murderous intent. Just a peculiar sense of calm.

Namgung Myung, arms spread wide as if ready to perform some grand gesture, asked, “How is it?”

“It’s fine. I think it’ll stay that way.”

“Then don’t just stand there. Move around a bit. Raise your hand or something.”

Dang Moo-jin raised his hand, and the masked figure in the bowl did the same.

He couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing.

“I don’t see any difference.”

“Don’t stop. Keep moving.”

He slowly shook his head from side to side, leaned forward, then back. He made a few odd faces and waved his hands around.

The movements of the man reflected in the brass bowl never deviated from Dang Moo-jin’s own.

It was only natural, yet strangely, it brought him peace.

Dang Moo-jin realized once more where his inner turmoil stemmed from.

Whenever he looked at the masked figure, he felt as if he was donning his guilt all over again.

If only I had acted sooner and killed Baek Chuseo. If I had been a better disciple. If I had followed the master more astutely, he might still be alive.

He let out a deep sigh, exhaling what felt like three times the air he had inhaled. Yet somehow, his mind felt clearer.

As Dang Moo-jin removed the mask with a satisfied expression, Namgung Myung looked surprised.

“You’re taking it off already?”

“I feel a bit better now.”

“No, no. This isn’t something that disappears in an instant. It’s not just about understanding it in your head; it’s about slowly erasing the anxiety and fear etched into your body. It’s not about realization; it’s about getting used to it.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course. The more accustomed you become, the less resistance you’ll feel, and the cleaner your mind will heal. Wear the mask for the rest of the night.”

Namgung Myung’s intentions were transparent. Dang Moo-jin chuckled softly.

It wasn’t a laugh of derision, but one of genuine amusement.

Having a friend who would go to such lengths to cure his inner demons was a blessing.

Why not play along for a night? It wouldn’t hurt.

“You want to sneak over the Cho family’s wall together, don’t you? Become thieves together?”

“Let’s call it being gentleman thieves.”

Namgung Myung didn’t deny it. Dang Moo-jin chuckled again.

“When do we go?”

“Anytime. How about right now?”

“Alright. Let’s go.”

The two donned their night attire and quietly slipped out of the inn.

Late at night, in a small village, the streets were deserted. The merchants had long since closed up shop, and the farmers were fast asleep in their homes.

Yet Namgung Myung repeatedly reminded Dang Moo-jin, “Shh. Move quietly and stealthily.”

“But there’s no one around.”

“I told you, getting used to it is important. You need to move as if you’re a real masked figure. Act as if someone might be watching from somewhere.”

“Alright, alright.”

The two fools chose to run across the rooftops instead of taking the easy path. It was the most fitting action for a masked figure.

They moved as if they were spies infiltrating the martial arts alliance or thieves attempting to steal the prized weapon of a cult leader.

Their steps naturally became stealthier, and their presence diminished to the point of surprising even themselves.

Sometimes, enlightenment comes without rigorous training.

Dang Moo-jin asked Namgung Myung, “I’ve always wondered, why do you enjoy thievery so much?”

It didn’t seem to be due to a lack of money.

Namgung Myung didn’t possess much in terms of personal wealth or belongings, and the items he pilfered from the city were more like souvenirs or trophies than anything of significant value.

A high official’s hat string, the red tassel from a sect leader’s sword hilt, a wealthy lady’s leather shoes.

He often returned these items to their original places a day or two later, a task much harder than stealing them in the first place.

Thanks to these antics, rumors of a mysterious thief had recently spread through the city.

Instead of earning a prestigious title befitting the eldest son of the Namgung family, he had gained the moniker of a shadowy thief. Only Dang Moo-jin and Namgung Myung knew the true identity of the city’s mysterious thief.

“It gives me a sense of freedom.”

“Freedom?”

“Yes. It’s something I could never have imagined doing while living in the Namgung household. It feels like I’m choosing a path that no one else has forced upon me.”

“If you ever get caught and word reaches the Namgung family, won’t it be the end for you?”

“That’s what makes it thrilling and fun. I even think I have a knack for it.”

Perhaps it’s not freedom but a taste for rebellion or indulgence.

But Dang Moo-jin didn’t argue. Namgung Myung was well aware of the risks, so there was no need to warn him again.

“Have you always had this hobby?”

“No. The first time was when I sneaked in to take your sword. My mind was buzzing, and my heart was pounding, but the thrill wasn’t unpleasant.”

Namgung Myung grinned as he spoke.

Dang Moo-jin felt a faint sense of responsibility. Of course, he hadn’t done anything wrong, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had played a small part in Namgung Myung’s life taking an unusual turn.

If they hadn’t crossed paths on the river, how would Namgung Myung be living now?

Dang Moo-jin and Namgung Myung traversed every rooftop in the village. It was a rooftop stroll, avoiding their destination.

Eventually, they climbed over the Cho family’s wall and hid in the shadows.

The Cho family estate had three buildings. One small building served as a kitchen and storage, while the largest building echoed with the loud snores of its occupants.

The medium-sized building was more elegantly decorated than the others. Its straight pillars and neatly cut foundation stones suggested it was where the head of the Cho family resided.

There was only one room with a light on. Dang Moo-jin and Namgung Myung cautiously approached the window and peered inside.

A man sat upright, examining a small box about the size of two palms.

The box was filled with gold pieces and other valuables.

He occasionally jotted something down on paper, likely calculating the value of the treasures inside.

“Taking… I mean, acquiring that is the true act of a gentleman thief. If we take all that money, the villagers won’t have to live under the thumb of the Cho family head and his thugs.”

While not entirely incorrect, the greed in Namgung Myung’s eyes was unmistakable.

Dang Moo-jin and Namgung Myung quietly entered the building, careful not to wake the sleeping occupants in the unlit rooms.

They whispered softly to avoid disturbing anyone.

“What now? Are you going to kill the Cho family head?”

Knowing the man’s reputation, it was a fair question. But Namgung Myung shook his head immediately.

“No. Killing or harming people to take their belongings is the way of bandits or assassins.”

“Then?”

“We take the goods without harming anyone and slip away. A gentleman thief is still a gentleman, and a gentleman doesn’t harm others lightly.”

“But how? As soon as we enter the room, the Cho family head will surely scream.”

“We wait until he falls asleep.”

“And when will that be?”

“Who knows.”

Namgung Myung shrugged. Sometimes, you have to leave things to chance.

But Dang Moo-jin had an idea.

“I have a way to take that box before he falls asleep.”

“How?”

“Watch closely.”

Dang Moo-jin pulled a needle from his sleeve. At the same time, a transparent poison oozed from his fingertips, coating the needle.

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not lethal or crippling.”

Dang Moo-jin stood still, focusing his mind. The light seeped from the room at the end of the hallway, about twelve paces away.

He took a slow breath and held it.

With a flick of his wrist, the needle, glistening with poison, flew through the air.

Just before it embedded itself in the wall at the end of the hallway, Dang Moo-jin’s palm twisted sideways.

In an instant, the needle changed direction mid-air, heading into the room. Through the thin thread of internal energy connected to the needle, Dang Moo-jin felt it strike something.

This was the first time Dang Mujin had used this technique in a real situation, and Namgung Myung had never seen anything like it before.

“Is that… air manipulation?”

“Yes.”

In the past, Namgung Myung had taught Dang Mujin the basics of manipulating objects in the air. What he had shown was merely how to shoot small pieces of wood faster, but Dang Mujin had practiced tirelessly, developing a new skill of his own.

Of course, it was a trick that only worked with objects as light as needles.

The two men held their breath and listened intently. A moment later, a low, dull thud echoed. Thump.

“It’s done. Let’s go.”

Dang Mujin and Namgung Myung entered the room where the lights were on. The master of the house lay collapsed to the side, a needle stuck in his arm, drooling.

In front of him was a chest filled with treasures.

Namgung Myung silently expressed his joy with a gesture and took the chest.

Dang Mujin picked up a brush that lay before him and left a note on a piece of paper.

[I will return.]

With this, perhaps the master would leave the village without causing further trouble.

The two men quickly slipped out through the window.

Dang Mujin felt a mix of emotions—an awareness of having done something daring, a sense of accomplishment, and a faint guilt for stealing. It was a complex feeling, different from mere greed or avarice.

It was the sense of liberation Namgung Myung had once described.

The two climbed onto a nearby rooftop.

Though the moonless night was dark, Dang Mujin didn’t think it was gloomy.

A cool breeze swept over the roof, drying the sweat on his neck. He took a deep breath, savoring the breeze.

The gentle wind seemed to carry away a large piece of the heaviness that had been lodged in his chest.

He felt inexplicably happy and strangely exhilarated.

Instead of leaving immediately, the two sat on the roof, chatting for a long time before disappearing into the darkness.

Limping Song awoke to the sound of a rooster crowing.

He tried to sit up, reaching for the cane by his bedside. It was a habit formed after being beaten by the master of the house, which left him with a limp.

The memory of being beaten and having his jade ring stolen was still vivid. The jade ring, a keepsake from his mother.

He had never thought he would never sell it. He had considered selling it if times got tough, but he had kept it safe because he hadn’t been in dire straits.

Yet, in just one day, Song lost the jade ring and his means of livelihood.

A farmer with a limp—how could he possibly make a living?

‘He could have just said he wanted the jade ring.’

If only the ring had been taken, he would have been angry but not as hopeless.

A farmer can survive with a strong body and land to till.

But the master had beaten him without warning, taken the ring, and even broken his ankle.

Song sighed deeply, groping around his bedside. His hand closed around the cane. He felt lost about how to get through today, let alone the future.

But as he grabbed the cane, he heard a clinking sound.

Turning his head, he saw a dozen or so yellow objects scattered beside it. Gold pieces. More money than he had ever held in his life. Enough to ensure he wouldn’t starve if he spent it wisely.

And next to them lay a clear jade ring.

Song stared at the sight, scratched his head, and lay back down.

‘Must be a dream.’

With a nonchalant expression, he lay down, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

Song hoped this wasn’t a dream.

At the same time, he thought it was too vivid to be just a dream.