***
- Crash! Thud!
Inside the inn, which had been neither quiet nor particularly rowdy.
From behind me, as I quietly ate my noodles, came the sound of something breaking and collapsing.
'More martial artists...'
Having experienced all there was to experience in this place over the past few months, I carefully set aside my bowl of noodles and slipped directly under the table.
This was a place where the romance and savagery of those called martial artists—waving their blades around—coexisted.
For someone like me, utterly devoid of any ability, it was a place where quietly keeping my head down was the best option.
"Hey! Hey! Come to your senses!"
- Slurp, slurp, slurp.
The sight of blood splattering and flesh flying was still not familiar. However, rather than being surprised by the situation, I chose survival.
These noodles, the only meal I could barely afford in a day, were incredibly precious to me.
"I said come to your senses! My friend! Ugh!"
"Innkeeper! Innkeeper! Waiter!"
The sounds coming from outside began to change.
No more sounds of breaking, just the shouts of bystanders.
I cautiously poked my head out and surveyed the scene.
Fortunately, I didn't see any armed martial artists. All I saw was a man in luxurious clothes collapsed on the ground, surrounded by other men in similarly fine attire.
And nothing but bewilderment on their faces.
The man collapsed on the floor groaned incessantly, convulsing as he vomited. His hands were clutching the exact center of his abdomen; it seemed he was suffering from severe stomach pain.
'Oh. Is that...?'
Having fully emerged by now, I cautiously approached the man and assessed the situation.
His symptoms overlapped significantly with something I knew.
"Ugh..., ugh..., urk...!"
The man couldn't string words together, only groans. And whenever his groans broke off, what came out was vomit.
What on earth had he eaten so much of? The contents were endlessly varied.
"Why is Ichi like this! Isn't he someone who should have plenty of tolerance left compared to his usual capacity!"
"No, why is Ichi suddenly like this?"
His companions who had come with him didn't know what to do at his condition. Before I knew it, I had approached them and was observing the man intently.
'He drank less than his usual capacity, and he drank slowly.'
Because what I heard was pointing to one reason. I turned my gaze toward the table where they had been drinking.
There, liquor bottles matching the number of people sat beside their cups.
'One bottle per person?'
They didn't seem to be short on money. In this era where liquor wasn't cheap. Moreover, what they had ordered was baekju.
Unlike hwangju, a fermented liquor simply brewed, baekju was a distilled liquor that didn't come cheap even in this era.
"Might I ask a question? Did you perhaps each drink one bottle?"
"Y-yes, we did. But, who are you?"
"A passing traveler. Was what you were drinking indeed baekju?"
"...?"
"Please answer. I may be able to save this man."
I'm not the type to stick my nose into matters in places like this. If only it hadn't involved liquor. If only these weren't symptoms I knew.
It was truly something I would have just passed by. However, since they were symptoms I knew, and it involved liquor, I couldn't just let it pass.
"Are you a physician?"
"I'm not... a physician. Anyway. Is everything I said correct?"
"Correct! We each ordered a bottle and drank at our leisure!"
"Hmm."
Having come this far, the answer was roughly clear. Having been here for over three months now, there were things I could anticipate.
I discreetly sniffed each of the bottles they had drunk from, almost confirming my suspicion.
For a slightly more definitive answer, this time I approached the collapsed man.
"Sir. Can you hear me?"
"U-urk..., urk...!"
"If you can hear me, just nod. Can you hear me?"
The man, still collapsed, nodded with difficulty. He wanted to speak, but the vomit filling his mouth prevented words from coming out easily.
"Please rinse out all the vomit stuck in his mouth. Quickly!"
"H-hey! Waiter!"
Fortunately, his companions began reacting quickly to my words. Some seemed to have noticed I had been drinking separately, and because I handled such a person with apparent nonchalance, I must have looked like a physician.
The reality was entirely different, of course.
To be clear, both now and before.
I had never once been a physician.
While the waiter went to fetch water, I propped up the man's upper body and examined his eyes.
And.
"Can you see?"
"Ugh..., ugh..."
"If you cannot see, please nod."
When asked, the man trembled as if deliberating, then didn't move his head.
"Then, are your eyes growing blurry?"
At the following words, the man nodded violently. At this point, I transitioned my suspicion into full certainty regarding the man's symptoms.
"Here's the water!"
The waiter quickly brought the water and handed it to the companions. Before I knew it, the innkeeper had approached too, wandering around with anxious eyes.
"What should we do, Physician?"
"First, rinse out all the vomit in his mouth. Wash around his mouth with water too. You need to clear his mouth so something can go in."
"Yes!"
The companions followed my instructions, washing around the man's mouth and pulling out the vomit inside.
Once his mouth was clean, I turned my attention to the innkeeper.
"Innkeeper."
"...Are you speaking to me?"
"Do you have any baekju?"
"What do you mean...?"
Was he asking me to find valley water on a mountain? The innkeeper and the companions tilted their heads at my question.
I threw my words at the innkeeper more essentially and explicitly.
"I mean real baekju, not the fake stuff this man drank."
!!
"W-what do you mean! F-fake!"
"I'm not trying to blame you. I'm trying to save a person first, so answer honestly. Shall we argue after removing the corpse?"
"Well..."
The innkeeper faltered and mumbled at my question. And he glanced at the collapsed man's companions.
The companions glared at the innkeeper with fire in their eyes. Because the innkeeper's attitude was a kind of confession.
"Could it be...! Did you sell bootleg liquor! And you said it was received directly from Seokgajang!"
"Faults can be discussed later! First, call a physician. And bring baekju. Real baekju, not fake, quickly!"
"Ah, no..."
"Waiter! Hurry!"
The innkeeper had no answer. Sensing that, I shouted to the waiter trembling innocently beside me.
The waiter made a briefly conflicted expression, then ran to the kitchen and came out holding a carefully stored bottle.
"Here it is!"
Taking the bottle, I stuck my nose in and smelled the aroma. Unlike the liquor on the table, the deep aroma this time confirmed it was real alcohol.
"What is his usual drinking capacity, this man?"
"He's strong! He can drink countless hwangju, and probably about three bottles of baekju!"
"Fortunately. Understood."
Finishing my words, I immediately opened the collapsed man's mouth and prepared to pour the bottle in.
At that.
"What in the world is this...?"
One companion startled and tried to stop my hand.
"If I don't act properly now, he will lose his eyesight. Is that alright?"
"H-his eyesight?"
"Step aside!"
I added a bit more firmness to my voice. At that, the companion bowed his head deeply and released his grip.
With my hands free, I poured the entire bottle of baekju into the man's mouth. Pressing his tongue down with my hand, I forced it in, and he swallowed it all.
"Now we have no choice but to wait. Have you called for a physician?"
"Ah, no! Is this truly a valid method?"
The companions stared blankly at me, having watched me empty the entire bottle. Perhaps because of my resolute gaze, they didn't say much.
At a glance, this might look like eccentric behavior. However, what I had done was a standard emergency procedure.
Because the symptoms the collapsed man was displaying were typical of methanol poisoning from drinking fake liquor.
Methanol is a component commonly found in bootleg or fake liquor. The thing about methanol is that it gives off a smell similar to ethanol, the core of alcohol, and even tastes somewhat like liquor.
When making distilled liquor called baekju, there is an initial distillate called the foreshots. This is because methanol's boiling point is lower than ethanol's, so it vaporizes first, then cools and becomes liquid.
Truly good liquor is made by removing these foreshots, or if they are collected separately, they should only be added when distilling again.
However, bootleg liquor was different. Saving time and costs by whatever means was the fate—the very nature—of fake liquor.
Fake liquor that didn't bother separately collecting the foreshots and mixing the hearts and tails sometimes had foreshots filling an entire bottle as-is.
Literally, if you drew the wrong one, this lottery sent you straight to your grave—that was the risk of drinking fake liquor.
The reason the other companions were unharmed despite drinking the same fake liquor was likely that their bottles contained hearts or tails rather than foreshots.
And suppressing this methanol toxicity, strange as it may sound, is ethanol.
This is not an antidote but rather prevents the toxicity from spreading. Because the element that decomposes methanol breaks down ethanol first, preventing the methanol from decomposing and releasing its toxicity.
I hadn't learned this from medicine or chemistry, but for those who handled liquor, such measures were common knowledge.
After roughly two hours, the man's condition gradually began to improve.
The convulsions were gone, and he only complained of slight stomach pain. Though he was still lying down, he was now capable of some communication. His eyesight was no longer growing blurry either.
"To think he recovered after being fed liquor when he drank poisoned liquor, how can this be..."
"Think of it as fighting poison with poison (以毒制毒). However, this isn't a complete cure. A proper physician needs to arrive quickly..."
"If it's a physician, someone was sent to fetch one. Soon..."
Then.
"Make way! Make way!"
Someone began shouting while pushing through the surrounding crowd. And through them appeared a physician.
"I-I'm the physician!"
The physician appeared, surrounded by several stalwart men in the rear. The men were all dressed in identical martial uniforms.
"I believe the toxicity mixed in the fake liquor has taken effect. Stomach pain, vomiting, and abnormalities in the eyes. I've temporarily suppressed it with an antidote."
I didn't look elsewhere and first explained the condition to the physician.
The physician listened to my explanation, took his pulse, and immediately ordered the man moved to his quarters.
I heard something about the poison being temporarily halted inside the body. It was a roughly similar diagnosis, so I simply nodded.
The companions repeatedly expressed their gratitude and hurriedly moved their friend.
In the spot they left, only the men in martial uniforms, onlookers, and the innkeeper remained.
The innkeeper trembled, trying to subtly avoid the men.
"Are you the innkeeper?"
The one who appeared to be the leader among the martial-uniformed men glanced at the owner once the inn had been cleared. At his waist rested a wide long sword.
The man approached the table where the collapsed man had been drinking and examined the bottle.
When he lifted it, the clearly visible characters "Daeseok" engraved on the bottle.
This meant Daeseok Brewery. That is, liquor made by the brewery operated by Seokgajang.
"Th-that's not it...! Just once...!"
"Arrest him!"
"Yes!"
The martial artist, certain after examining the bottle, shouted to his subordinates. His subordinates quickly seized the innkeeper. They were all armed with swords and broad-shouldered.
"Gather all the bottles too. Search the warehouse, search everything!"
The leader-like martial artist roughly settled the interior, then went around to various places offering words of apology. Together with a small purse as compensation.
And finally, he approached me.
"I heard on my way here. An unsavory incident nearly occurred related to the name of Seokgajang, but you provided assistance. I wish to convey my gratitude."
"Not at all. A human life is important, so it was only natural to step forward."
"That is not as easy as it sounds. Moreover, I heard you identified the fake liquor immediately. You took appropriate measures as well."
"Fortunately, it was within my area of knowledge."
"Are you a physician?"
"I am not. Merely a passing traveler."
He seemed to be expressing thanks on the surface, but carefully inquired about my identity. He was gentlemanly, yet the presence he exuded as a martial artist made my spine grow cold.
"If you could tell me where you reside and who you are, I would like to express my gratitude again later."
"The place I'm staying is a small hamlet beyond the eastern valley. I have no status to speak of."
"Your name, at least..."
It was true that the momentum the martial artist emitted made me feel a bit cold. But wasn't this digging too openly into my background?
I shut my mouth briefly and stared steadily at the man before me with a displeased expression. It was an obvious intention of asking, "Who are you to ask?"
"Ah. My apologies. Given the circumstances. I am called Cheolhwan, working as an escort warrior at Seokgajang."
"So you were Hero Cheol of Seokgajang. I am I Jeonghwan."
"I Jeonghwan... Master I. Understood. We will need to investigate further, but once the matter is clearly resolved, I will pay my respects separately."
"Ah. Yes. Then may I take my leave?"
"Of course."
Cheolhwan, having seemingly heard all he needed to hear, subtly cleared the way and told me I could go.
He sent a slight glance to his subordinate, but I couldn't tell its meaning.
I took only the purse they had offered and carefully left the inn.
The cost of noodles was covered, and on top of that, the purse.
Having saved a person, it was a day when fortune naturally followed.