Chapter 10
“Ilpil Hwiso! Show yourself, oh great author who has gifted this young maiden with the tale of the Eastern Lands!”
Like a newlywed who’s lost her husband in a crowded market, the woman cried out with desperate longing.
This woman was none other than Chu Yongwol of the White Scroll Antique Bookstore—no, the White ScrollMerchant Guild.
Yang-hwi raised the corner of his lips into a small smirk as he watched her.
‘First test: passed.’
As Jeong In-Hwa once said, tall tales and urban myths aren’t exactly the kind of stories that rake in huge profits.
And yet, for her to be this desperate—it meant she recognized the value of the novel Yang Hwi had written. More than that, she believed she could capitalize on that value.
‘As expected of someone who stood out as a financial genius in my past life.’
While Yang Hwi mused over this, the estate steward, Han Seok-Eon, stepped in front of Chu Yongwol.
“And who might you be, young lady, to cause such a commotion the moment you arrive at the Baek family estate?”
Only then did Chu Yongwol snap back to her senses.
“I am Chu Yongwol, sent by the White Scroll Bookstore of Namchang. I’ve come in response to a letter from the Baek family.”
She clasped both hands together and gave a formal, respectful bow.
“I sincerely apologize for the disturbance. I was in such a hurry that I forgot even the most basic courtesy.”
As she had arrived early in the morning, Baek Mu-ryang, head of the Baek family, was currently out in the martial training grounds instructing the Baek siblings.
“There’s no need to fret. It can happen,” Baek Mu-ryang replied graciously, easily forgiving the offense.
Han Seok-Eon, however, who had also come out due to the noise, wasn’t so quick to let it go.
“So then, Miss Chu. What’s the reason for your visit? And what was all that about Ilpil Hwiso?”
Chu Yongwol’s eyes darted around the courtyard before fixing on Han Seok-Eon.
“Again, I beg your pardon. The letter stated that the sender had a matter of utmost secrecy and wished to speak in private.”
“…Is that so?”
Han Seok-Eon’s expression twisted with mild irritation, but Yang Hwi’s satisfaction deepened.
‘Second test: passed.’
He had never mentioned anything about secrecy in the letter.
Her mistake was obvious—the fact that she shouted Ilpil Hwiso as soon as she arrived meant she believed everyone was in the know.
‘She probably assumed it was common knowledge because it was written in the letter, but reading the room, she quickly realized it wasn’t.’
That kind of keen perception comes from being a sharp thinker.
Such people are less prone to failure because they think before they act, and they’re more likely to come up with effective strategies for success.
“Father,” Yang Hwi called out.
“Yes, Hwi. You’re here,” Baek Mu-ryang responded immediately, catching on in a single breath.
Han Seok-Eon’s face instantly lit up with delight.
“Another venture, young master?”
“Mmm. The way you say another makes it sound like I’ve caused trouble again, but yes—it’s me.”
Han Seok-Eon couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.
The reason was simple.
“How much are we talking this time?”
As the estate’s head steward, Han Seok-Eon was in charge of all internal and external financial affairs. Naturally, he had already been informed about the mysterious money that had come into the family coffers a few days prior.
From that point on, Han Seok-Eon had become Yang Hwi’s biggest supporter.
‘How many sleepless nights have I spent, struggling to stretch our pitiful income!’
And now this boy had brought in two thousand five hundred silver nyang?
A child earning what would amount to half a year’s income for the entire Baek family, all on his own!
For estate stewards, loyalty is easily bought—if you bring in gold, even a demon from the demonic cult would be worth trusting.
Naturally, Yang Hwi had become his favorite person in the world.
“At least ten thousand nyang, minimum,” Yang Hwi whispered into his ear.
Han Seok-Eon’s eyes snapped open like he’d been struck by lightning.
Without hesitation, he gave Yang Hwi a shove toward Chu Yongwol.
“Ahem. Young Master Hwi, please escort Miss Chu inside.”
Though his tone was calm, he made sure to flash a secret hand signal where only Yang Hwi could see it, hidden from Baek Mu-ryang.
The meaning was clear: “Milk her for everything she’s worth.”
‘Ah, Sir Han… you really must’ve had it rough.’
For a man who usually carried himself with such propriety to make a gambler’s gesture—it was telling.
Although if he knew the deal was for ten thousand gold nyang, not silver, he might just faint on the spot.
Ten thousand gold nyang. Even one of the Five Great Clans would hesitate at such a sum.
But the potential value of today’s business was far greater than that.
“Miss Chu.”
Yang Hwi greeted her with a formal martial salute.
A flicker of surprise lit up Chu Yongwol’s eyes.
“And you are?”
“I’m Yang Hwi of the Baek family. I know the whereabouts of the person you seek. Please, follow me.”
Chu Yongwol glanced swiftly around once more, the flicker in her eyes now turning into a full gleam.
‘The child takes the lead while the head of the house and the steward stand by silently… This boy is no ordinary child.’
“I appreciate your courtesy, Young Master.”
Yang Hwi led her to his room and firmly shut the door behind them to prevent any sound from leaking out.
“Young Master? Didn’t you say you knew where Ilpil Hwiso was? But we’re the only ones here.”
Though she wore a look of confusion, Yang Hwi knew she had already realized the truth.
Since she hadn’t mentioned Ilpil Hwiso again after reading the room—yet suddenly brought up the name now—it meant she’d figured it out.
“When there is emptiness, there is nothing to fear.”
A line from Eastern Dust, Western Soil, a conversation between the protagonist and his master Ii-lrihaeng, discussing openness and honesty.
Chu Yongwol froze, her face stiff with shock.
But even then, she didn’t drop her guard.
“You know a passage from Eastern Dust, Western Soil, but that still doesn’t prove you’re Ilpil Hwiso. For all I know, you could be just a proxy. So please—show me proof.”
A fair request.
Without hesitation, Yang Hwi pulled out a blank manuscript he had prepared in advance and picked up his brush.
It only took two incense sticks’ time for him to write the third installment of the story in full.
“I’ve titled it… The Sword That Pierces Ten Thousand Miles. Please, have a read, Miss Chu.”
With trembling hands, Chu Yongwol accepted the manuscript.
And soon, her entire body began to shake.
As Chu Yongwol turned the final page, she let out a long, steady breath.
“So this is why they call you Ilpil Hwiso, isn’t it?”
To write an entire volume in one sitting—it was a skill that truly lived up to that legendary title.
And the content wasn’t just well-written—it was rich with insight and entertainment.
“A feat so unbelievable, even with my own eyes... How can someone so young accomplish this...?”
Yang-hwi offered a confident, almost cheeky reply.
“The world may be vast, but there has never been a shortage of geniuses capable of shaking it.”
The truth, of course, was that he had memories from a past life. But he answered without hesitation or shame.
Chu Yongwol let out another breath as she studied him.
“Are you claiming to be a once-in-a-generation genius? Arrogant as it sounds, I can’t say you’re wrong. Then let me ask—why did you send me that letter?”
Now it was time for the real discussion to begin.
“Well, obviously… to sell my book and make money.”
“Are you aware that novels like this—nangseol japseo, fanciful tales and folklore—are usually passed on orally by storytellers, not printed as books?”
“I’m well aware.”
“To sell them as books, you’d need a woodworker to carve thousands of characters into blocks. Then you’d have to print them onto expensive paper and bind them—all very costly.”
In short, publishing such books was not a cheap endeavor.
“Even if you manage to sell them, most people would prefer to hear the stories from a storyteller rather than read them in a book.”
And she wasn’t wrong. Selling nangseol japseo as print media wasn’t typically profitable. The overhead was high, and the market was small. From a business standpoint, it didn’t make sense.
But—
‘Ilpil Hwiso in my past life shattered all those constraints—purely through the sheer power of storytelling.’
Chu Yongwol likely came running to the Baek estate this morning for the same reason.
She’d recognized the value of the story. She saw its commercial potential.
Her current doubts and criticisms—just part of a seasoned merchant’s pre-deal routine.
“If that’s what you believe, then why did you come here?”
“…Curiosity. It’s been a while since I encountered such an entertaining tale.”
‘One more tug, is it? You won’t beat me that easily, Miss Chu.’
“Ah, so it was the author you came to meet. Well, now that you’ve met him, are you planning to leave just like that?”
“…”
Chu Yongwol couldn’t bring herself to say yes.
Seeing her hesitation, Yang Hwi let out a sly grin.
“There’s no need for all this back-and-forth, not between people who understand each other, Miss Chu.”
She paused for a moment at that.
Understand each other? Did a boy under ten just say that?
“…You’re certainly not your age, are you, Young Master?”
“Why, thank you. Now, shall we speak frankly?”
“Let’s. I’ll be direct—I’d like to publish your story as a book under White Scroll Antique Bookstore.”
“I accept.”
His instant reply made Chu Yongwol blink.
For someone who’d acted so shrewdly up to now, the sudden eagerness to close the deal was unexpected.
“I never intended to sign with anyone except White ScrollBookstore. You’re the only one I sent a letter to.”
Though she kept her composure, Yang Hwi could read it all in her face.
Pride. And satisfaction.
‘Still a little green, but impressive. I hope she passes the final test too.’
Yang Hwi looked at her intently, as if gauging the next move.
A moment later, Yang-hwi smiled inwardly.
“Twenty percent of net profit. That’s the best our White Scroll Antique Bookstore can offer.”
“Accepted.”
“…Pardon?”
“Oh—just a slip of the tongue. I meant to say, that sounds agreeable.”
His earlier remarks—about sending the letter only to White Scroll and having no other options—hadn’t been arbitrary.
They were his way of saying: I have other choices, but I won’t haggle.
Chu Yongwol caught on quickly.
“Twenty percent, then. Agreed.”
After finalizing the contract details, Yang Hwi posed a question.
“Now that we’ve signed, may I ask—how exactly do you plan to market the books?”
“We’ll display the novels prominently at our bookstore, right near the entrance.”
“A standard retail approach, then.”
“Why? Did you have a better plan in mind, Young Master?”
Of course he did. Well—technically, it wasn’t his plan. It was something Ilpil Hwiso from his past life had done to dominate the book market.
“You’ll be printing them via woodblock, correct? And if the books sell well, you’ll produce more editions?”
“Correct. Mass printing from the start would require too much capital.”
“In that case, here’s what I’d do—mark each print run by sequence: First Edition, Second Edition, and so on.”
True to her sharp business mind, Chu Yongwol immediately understood.
“You’re adding value through scarcity and hierarchy… That’s brilliant!”
“Additionally, I’ll sign just ten copies from each print run.”
Yang Hwi picked up his brush and, with a graceful hand that betrayed none of his youth, wrote eight elegant characters across the page:
The author’s name, signed in a single stroke.
His handwriting was so refined that one would hardly believe he was only eight years old.
“The signed copies will be given only to the first ten customers of each edition.”
“…Young Master,” Chu Yongwol said, a spark in her eyes.
“Yes?”
“Would you consider becoming part of White Scroll Antique Bookstore?”
She was genuinely awestruck by his business acumen.
By giving rare editions symbolic value, he elevated the worth of every copy. He sparked people’s desire to collect, not just read.
It was clear now—
“You’re not just trying to sell books, are you? You’re selling intangible value through them.”
His plan wasn’t simply to publish a compelling story. It was to stir the hearts of the people—to make them want to own the book itself.
To ensure that listening to a storyteller wouldn’t be enough.
To build a system that made ownership the most coveted prize.
“Brilliant. Simply brilliant. In that case—we should embellish the books with golden thread, bind them luxuriously. We have to match the perceived value.”
“And raise the price accordingly. That way, both our profits will grow.”
“Perhaps we can also consider a membership-based sale model—wait, no. Not immediately feasible. Still… if we did… we’d need more starting capital… but… but…”
Chu Yongwol began pacing and muttering to herself, already spinning intricate plans.
Watching her, Yang Hwi smiled warmly.
“Miss Chu. I’d like to make one more deal with you.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“If we pursue this premium route, the burden on White Scroll will only grow. I’d like to shoulder that risk with you. I’ll invest four thousand silver nyang into the White Scroll Antique Bookstore.”
“…What?!”
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
---The End Of The Chapter---
Love the story💖? Read 20 chapters early, skip the ads, and help keep the translation going!
Comments