Urban Vagabond: Reload

As the crowd thickened and the noise swelled, someone from the Martial Alliance finally came over and dispersed people.

“Please quiet down, the award ceremony will begin shortly! Contestants who are award candidates, please come inside now!”

The mid-tier sect representatives turned away with regret written all over their faces, asking me to please visit their sect at least once and to contact them any time, before they reluctantly headed off.

“Then I’ll see you later.”

Oh Jungmin went into the ceremony hall with the Songwol Gate people. I took the chance to exchange numbers with him.

In that short time, my parents had ended up with several dozen business cards from mid-tier sects and just stood there, completely stunned.

“Good lord, what on earth is all this...?”

“This isn’t a dream, right? This is real, isn’t it?”

It seemed they still couldn’t quite believe that those high-nosed martial artists had just been trying to compete over recruiting me.

I had already been a late-bloom prospect under the spotlight, but until I got my constitution retested, I’d been nothing more than an unproven rough stone.

Plenty of teenagers saw their dreams shattered by their constitution test results and either gave up or changed paths because of injuries and the like.

If I hadn’t shown that intense performance at the competition, and if it hadn’t gotten around that I had a pretty decent Level 4 constitution, I wouldn’t have drawn this much attention either.

Even taking that into account, this is still unusual, though.

From the last competition up to today, I was pretty sure we’d basically collected the business cards of most mid-tier sects under the Martial Alliance.

I suddenly felt like messing around a little, so I lifted my chin in a deliberately arrogant way.

“How are you going to survive if you’re already this shocked? The Kim Muhyuk recruitment war is just getting started. Don’t you dare look at anything that isn’t top conditions.”

“Hey! You can’t be too greedy.”

Mom sounded like she was on guard, worried I might get full of myself this early.

Dad, on the other hand, couldn’t control his dopey grin or his slack jaw at all.

“I don’t need anything more. Somehow my son has finally stepped into the world of martial artists. Now all that’s left is seeing you go to the World Martial Arts Tournament and win...”

“Sounds like you want a little too much, though?”

Even as I stared at him in disbelief, Dad just kept spinning fantasies about the future all by himself.

“Hey, honey. Since Muhyuk’s all grown up now, why don’t we quit our jobs and use our savings to open a little café? You’ve always wanted to do that, remember?”

“It’s ten years too early for that. We don’t even have any savings to speak of. What café?”

“With my retirement payout and yours...”

I quietly slipped into the conversation.

“I’ll open you a café later.”

Both my parents looked at me at the same time with extremely skeptical eyes.

“Oh, please. Just focus on taking care of yourself.”

“We’re not planning on mooching off our son already. Your mom and dad are still plenty spry, you know?”

They shot me down flat, but there was a smile tugging at their lips that wouldn’t leave, like they still found what I’d said adorable.

I made a firm promise to myself.

You’ll see. I’ll set you up with a great café and bring home a World Martial Arts Tournament championship trophy too.

Laughing in high spirits, we went into the ceremony hall, and I got a long line of congratulations and envious looks from all sorts of people.

Thanks to that, my shoulders went up another notch.

If this isn’t filial piety, what is?

The award hall was wide enough to use as an auditorium, and with the award candidates from both the High School Division and the General Division (under 25), plus all their families as guests, it was packed.

Invited guests on the left, mid-tier sect martial artists on the right, and the front of the stage is... the seats for the Eight Great Sects, huh.

The Eight Great Sects.

Eight martial sects that represented Korea, organizations with so much capital and power you could call them conglomerates and not be wrong.

If you added in all the branch families and subsidiary sects that spread out from them like a spiderweb, it was no exaggeration to say the influence of the Eight Great Sects covered the entire Korean martial world.

The Martial Alliance only ended up as an organization that’s all shell and no substance because the Eight Great Sects’ influence grew too big.

Because I knew the future, I was painfully aware of the bitter fact that while the power of the Eight Great Sects kept increasing, the Martial Alliance was going to weaken—its current Alliance Leader getting replaced and all sorts of humiliations like that.

“There was a time when I dreamed about being a hero of the Martial Alliance...”

“Hm? What was that?”

“Nothing.”

They weren’t openly discriminating, but if you looked closely, there was an invisible line between the martial artists from other sects and the ones from the Eight Great Sects.

I was sitting with my parents, quietly observing the Eight Great Sects’ side, when—

“Hey! You crazy bastard!”

A voice that boomed out like it didn’t give a damn what anyone thought.

It sounded weirdly familiar, so I turned around thinking no way, and sure enough, a familiar big frame was striding toward me.

“Shin Kangheon?”

As I stood up, Shin Kangheon grinned at me like he was genuinely happy to see me.

“Hahaha! You seriously won a prize in the General Division?”

“Did you just call me a crazy bastard?”

“Of course I did! I’ve never met anyone as crazy as you in my life!”

Why the hell is this guy so hyped?

He’d suddenly just called me a crazy bastard, but I didn’t particularly feel pissed off or anything.

Because between guys, “crazy bastard,” “crazy son of a bitch”—those are usually compliments.

Of course, an insult is still an insult, so nothing nice came out of my mouth either.

“Look who’s talking. You’re the lunatic here.”

“I get that a lot. Still don’t think I’m on your level, though.”

The way he laughed, loud and unrestrained, pulled up the image of the Shin Kangheon I’d seen in the future.

Even the way he poked at me and picked fights felt less annoying and more just absurd.

This was the guy who would someday be called Korea’s Greatest Blade, and right now, he was burning with competitive spirit at me.

“Let’s have a match someday. What do you say?”

The smile on Shin Kangheon’s face, the way he glared like he wanted to eat me alive, radiated boiling fighting spirit.

I’d already been planning to meet him again soon anyway, so I held out my phone to him.

“Put your number in so we can set a time.”

“Nice! I’m saving you as ‘Crazy Bastard.’”

Humming a little tune, Shin Kangheon saved my contact as Crazy Bastard right in front of me.

I was just saving him in my phone as Lunatic when—

“Shin Kangheon! Get over here, now!”

At the voice from behind us, Shin Kangheon—who had looked like he wasn’t afraid of anything in the world—flinched.

Over there, a man who looked a lot like Shin Kangheon was glaring in our direction.

So that’s the uncle Bokja talked about.

—That Shin Kangheon kid... I’m pretty sure his uncle is bleeding him dry.

It hadn’t been a pleasant story, so it stuck with me—and apparently the uncle had come along to the ceremony today too.

“Damn. It was just getting fun... Hey. I’ll call you later, so make sure you pick up.”

Grumbling in annoyance, Shin Kangheon turned and left, and I sat back down.

Calling me a crazy bastard? How many people do you think there are who think and act as reasonably as I do?

I tried to settle down and wait calmly for the ceremony to start, but...

“Muhyuk, you! Who said you could make that kind of promise on your own?”

“What if you get hurt right before the license exam next year?”

“No, that’s not what this is...”

Until the ceremony started, I had to sit there and get chewed out by my parents, eyes blazing.

*****

The High School Division awards for the competition started first.

“The Gold Prize in the High School Division goes to... congratulations! Shin Kangheon!”

“Wooooooo!”

Charging up onto the stage with a roar, Shin Kangheon showed off his attention-loving side to his heart’s content.

He got so carried away that when he went to grab a judge in a big hug, the judge reflexively countered and pressed a vital point, and Shin froze in a ridiculous pose that got captured in dozens of photos.

“What an idiot...”

I shook my head at his pathetic display.

Silver in the High School Division went to Pi Seunghwa, Bronze went to a contestant whose name I’d never heard. Kim Hyunseung couldn’t even attend.

But even after the High School Division awards ended, most of the winners didn’t leave and stayed in their seats.

Yep. They’re all staring at me.

Judging from how they were whispering my name every other sentence, they’d made some kind of bet among themselves about what prize I would get.

“Then we’ll begin the General Division award ceremony shortly.”

After a few predictable, boring ceremonial steps—

No Gucheon, the Martial Alliance elder who had served as head judge for the General Division, walked up onto the stage.

As his eyes swept the crowd, they met mine for a brief moment.

A faint smile.

That strange smile on the Martial Alliance elder’s face made me tense up just a little.

He did ask me who I’d learned my sword from after he saw my style.

As if that moment had been my imagination, No Gucheon’s gaze slid past me and went back to the gathered seats.

“It’s an honor to have met the young late-bloom prospects who are the future of Korean martial arts, and to be able to present them with these awards. I won’t talk at length; let’s move straight to the announcements.”

No Gucheon paused, then unfolded the certificate he was holding and called out the first winner.

“Then we’ll start by announcing the Special Award. Contestant Kim Muhyuk, congratulations.”

As I stood up right away, applause washed over me.

The only people who hadn’t predicted I would at least receive the Special Award were my parents; they’d been sitting there with their hands clasped tight in nervous prayer and now their faces suddenly brightened.

“Th-that’s... that’s my son! Hahahaha!”

Dad was all smiles, and Mom clapped so hard it was like she had motors installed in her palms.

I went up on stage, accepted the Special Award certificate and trophy, and gave a short acceptance speech.

“Thank you. I’ll take this as a sign I should work even harder and keep striving. And Mom, Dad—I love you.”

When I finished my brief speech and came back down, Dad, who had just started recording video on his phone, groaned in despair.

“Why’d you come back so fast? You should’ve talked for at least three minutes!”

“They need to move the ceremony along. The Special Award isn’t even the main part.”

“You brat! Any award you get is the main event!”

“Which is exactly why they need to move it along.”

“What was that?”

Instead of answering, I leaned back in my chair, relaxed, and watched the Bronze and Silver awards get handed out one after another.

“...Next we’ll announce the Silver Prize. Contestant Oh Jungmin of Songwol Gate, congratulations!”

And just as Oh Jungmin’s Silver Prize acceptance speech was wrapping up, I whispered to Dad.

“Dad. If you’ve still got any of those calming pills you brought, you should take one more now.”

“...Why?”

To my dad, sulking because my earlier speech had been too short, and to my mom, who was just as disappointed, there was something I really wanted to say.

The Special Award can be given together with another prize, you know.

But I held my tongue and just grinned.

“Lastly, we’ll announce the Gold Prize!”

As the remaining award candidates who hadn’t yet been called, and their families, all held their breath, my eyes happened to meet No Gucheon’s again.

He looked like he was trying not to laugh, as if he’d heard my little conversation with Dad.

“The Gold Prize in the General Division (under 25) goes to... congratulations. By unanimous decision of the judges, Contestant Number Forty-Two, Kim Muhyuk!”

The moment his inner-qi-laced voice rang through the hall, the gasp and uproar of the crowd hit a peak.

“Heuuk...!”

Dad’s eyes were wide, and he was shaking like he was about to have trouble breathing.

“Mom, please keep Dad from making a scene.”

“For heaven’s sake... I’m barely holding myself back from screaming right now too, you know...?”

I squeezed each of my parents’ hands once, then went up onto the stage for the second time.

The looks aimed at me had changed from when I’d received the Special Award.

Before, it had been more of a well, I guess that happens kind of reaction. Now, most faces were wearing expressions of outright disbelief.

“...A high schooler got the Gold Prize?”

“Has that happened in decades?”

“He’s incredible...”

Even the martial artists from the Eight Great Sects, who had been sitting there with bored expressions, finally showed a hint of curiosity in their eyes.

The martial artists from the mid-tier sects were looking at me with even more naked desire.

I looked straight at the gathered crowd and opened my mouth.

“It’s an honor to receive such an undeserved award. There are plenty of people who are far more skilled than I am. I think my luck and condition were just a little better that day.”

I gave Dad, who had frantically started recording again, a quick smile, then took my time delivering a proper acceptance speech.

“I’m grateful that so many people have asked me today about my future. A lot of great sects have given me their cards and said very kind things.”

Right now, everyone was focused on me.

A late-bloom prospect who had just taken the Gold Prize in the General Division as a high schooler.

An event as shocking as anything since Richard Han.

But this was only the beginning.

“So I’d like to take this opportunity to say one thing.”

When I paused and looked at my parents, they were both nodding at me with faces that said they would support whatever decision I made.

I fully intended to repay that trust.

“I don’t want to decide my future path just yet. I want to focus on the martial-artist license exam next year, after I graduate.”

The martial-artist license was a qualification that proved you were a martial artist anywhere in the world, and once you graduated high school and turned twenty, you could take that exam through the Martial Alliance.

In the exam, they evaluated your constitution, your physical frame, and several practical assessments as a whole to determine whether to issue a license.

There were three kinds of license.

First-rate. Second-rate. Third-rate.

What license you earned when you first stepped into the martial world became the basic measure people used to judge that martial artist’s future potential.

It was also my first major milestone on the way to the World Martial Arts Tournament.

“In the martial-artist license exam, I’m going to earn a first-rate license. As for my future path, I want to think it over again after that.”

At my words, even some of the great-sect martial artists who hadn’t shown much interest up to this point now wore expressions ranging from sheer disbelief to open irritation.

“What did he just say...?”

“What grade is that kid’s constitution again?”

“Even someone with a Level 1 constitution couldn’t guarantee that kind of thing...”

“His confidence is excessive.”

Up until now, there had never been a single case of a candidate who hadn’t gotten Level 1 on the constitution test earning a first-rate license on their very first attempt at the exam.

Which meant, in other words, my statement could be taken like this:

I’ll go get a first-rate martial-artist license. Then we can talk terms again.