The Outcast Writer of a Martial Arts Visual Novel

Which of the following could the black-haired barbarian do?

- Regeneration Marksman

- Mount Hua Storm Sword

- Chang Clan Bodyguard

- Manual Laborer

“Hey, barbarian! Aren’t you going to carry the materials faster?”

At the construction site, while I was drinking water, the foreman in charge of the site yelled at me.

“I’ll just finish this sip and get back to work.”

“Talking back, you barbarian brat?”

The foreman rushed over and kicked me.

“Ugh!”

I spat out the water I was swallowing and rolled on the ground. Damn it. I had been working for an hour without water, and this happened just for taking a sip?

“Shouldn’t you barbarians be running around so fast your feet don’t touch the ground when given work? What about water? Ha, the world has gotten too kind.”

“…I will get back to work right away.”

I held back the curses rising in my throat; I needed to endure to avoid going hungry today.

“What’s going on here?”

A martial artist with a sword approached.

“Hehe. Nothing at all. Just had to scold a barbarian who was slacking off.”

The foreman quickly changed from his menacing demeanor to a friendly face and spoke to the martial artist.

“This is the construction site for the Chang Clan’s villa. We don’t tolerate disturbances here.”

“That so. I’ll make sure nothing like that happens.”

The foreman groveled as much as possible, rubbing his palms together as if possessed by a fly.

“Be careful.”

After the martial artist returned to his spot, the foreman resumed his menacing tone.

“If I were still as hot-headed as before, I’d be getting rid of a corpse now! If those martial artists weren’t watching, you would have died by my hand, you get it?”

“I will work diligently.”

“I tell you, these black-haired brats only straighten up when beaten! I’ve memorized your face. If you cross me again, you won’t find work in this town!”

The foreman pointed at his eye then at me, gesturing that he would remember me.

I briefly rubbed the spot where I had been hit and ran towards the materials. It was unfair, but I had no choice.

Here, I was neither the eldest scion of the Kang family,

Nor the spoiled fiancé of the Moyong Family,

But a black-haired barbarian.

“Hey, barbarian. Where are you from?”

After stacking the materials and taking a break, a nearby worker spoke to me.

It had been a year since I came to the Central Plains, but I never got used to being called a barbarian.

“From Joseon.”

“Joseon? Where is that country? Do you know where the Jiang family’s Joseon is?”

“Isn’t it somewhere north of Mongolia? Where’s the Huang family’s Joseon?”

“Why are you asking me? It must be either north, west, or east since the south is the sea.”

“Barbarian. Where is Joseon located?”

After questioning everyone in our group of four, they turned to me again. They should’ve just asked me in the first place.

“Do you know Goryeo? It’s a country established where Goryeo used to be.”

“Ah! You should’ve just said Goryeo. I know Goryeo. Isn’t that where ginseng comes from? I knew right away you were a barbarian with black hair, but this guy, he’s a Goryeo barbarian.”

Unlike Yodong Castle or coastal cities close to Joseon, people in the inland often didn’t recognize the name Joseon.

Even though I consciously said Joseon, some understood me better when I mentioned Goryeo.

“Don’t keep saying barbarian. It’s uncomfortable to keep hearing that.”

Mr. Jiang, who had been listening nearby, interjected. Wow, he was like the top 10% of Chinese people.

“It’s because you’re a barbarian. Well, if it makes you uncomfortable, what’s your name?”

The guy who had been calling me a barbarian looked at my expression and then asked for my name.

“My name is Kang Yun-ho.”

I had thought about changing my name when I came to the Central Plains, but this wasn’t Joseon or Yodong Castle. Who would recognize me at a construction site? So, I simply used my real name.

“So, Yun-ho, why did you come to Hubei Province? It’s neither the north nor a coastal port.”

“I came from a village decimated by a plague. My mother and father passed away, and my siblings starved to death. Thinking I was going to die too, I decided to see the vast Central Plains before dying, but somehow, I ended up surviving and drifted here.”

This was the story I always told whenever someone asked why a barbarian was in the Central Plains.

“That’s… I’m sorry.”

Seeing me seriously reminiscing about the past, the guy who had called me a barbarian apologized.

“It’s alright. It’s all in the past now.”

I smiled bitterly.

In fact, none of that happened. It was just a line I used to shake off those who called me a barbarian.

“I knew that guy would cause trouble someday.”

“Why stir up a wounded person’s pain!”

The other laborers nearby scolded the guy who had called me a barbarian.

“Ah, I didn’t know, okay! Ora, I mean, Yun-ho. Anyway, let’s do well for these ten days.”

“Yes, I will do my best.”

And so, I started working as a laborer at the construction site.

It has been a year already.

Not something to light candles and celebrate, but a year had passed since I escaped the Moyong Family.

Then, after acting desperately, I walked out of the Moyong Family’s main gate. Once out of sight of the Moyong Family’s warriors, I hastened my steps. There, the captain and members of the escort team, along with Dolsoe, had prepared a carriage.

And there was my double, asleep and wearing a Human Face Mask.

“Will this really work, Young Master?”

Inside the moving carriage, Dolsoe looked anxiously at the sleeping double and asked.

“It will. The Changbongdae won’t be able to tell at all.”

“The double does look exactly like your unlucky face, but I’m still worried.”

Dolsoe, always outspoken, even in critical situations, had a point.

Indeed, the double who wore the Human Face Mask eerily resembles me.

In martial arts novels, the Human Face Mask was a disguise tool that could transform you into someone else, yet a close observation might reveal some awkwardness.

However, this was not a martial arts novel; it was a martial arts visual novel.

In the story, even the protagonist, who grew into a master, could not recognize someone wearing a high-quality Human Face Mask until the later parts.

Originally, if the face was pale or expressionless, a master could easily tell, but here it was almost like Hollywood computer-generated makeup effects.

Yes, this was not martial arts!

I remembered it clearly since it was one of the feedbacks I had written. I never thought it would come in handy like this.

“This is no ordinary Human Face Mask. It is a high-quality one that you can only get one or two of per year from Heuk Jeom.”

Heuk Jeom (黑店) was, simply put, a continental-scale black market, a place where one could buy and sell all sorts of illegal items cheaply for profit.

“I almost peed myself at how scary the black market in the Central Plains is.”

“Anyway, thanks for finding such a good double.”

“When you throw gold in Heuk Jeom, they take care of everything. Just so you know, he is a death-row prisoner who raped and murdered a woman, so don’t feel too sad.”

“That’s a relief.”

Even if it was to save my own life, I did not want to take the life of an innocent person. That’s why I had asked Dolsoe to find a double who was not innocent, no matter the cost.

“We have arrived at the safe house we prepared. Shall we get off?”

Dolsoe asked with a worried face.

“Yes, we should. Dolsoe.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

“Anyway, the captain of the escort team will take my double’s body back to Joseon and bury it. So just get off somewhere along the way, take the gold, and live well. If you go back to Joseon, you will probably end up being sold as a slave to another noble house.”

“Young Master…”

Tears of gratitude welled up in Dolsoe’s eyes.

“Take care.”

I got off the carriage and secretly headed to the safe house.

“Thank you for everything!”

If one was truly thankful, a deep bow and an expression of gratitude were in order. His sincerity seemed lacking.

Without looking back, I waved my hand and entered the safe house.

A month passed.

Once everything had settled and quieted down, I made my way to the Central Plains.

My pockets were full, and the skies were clear.

“Hey, brother, why are you hurrying along this mountain path all by yourself?”

Bandits were plentiful, too.

Do Your Best and Wait for Heaven’s Will (盡人事待天命). My diligent efforts must have impressed the heavens, for they spared my life, and nothing more.

After being robbed by bandits, I was reduced to a beggar. From then on, I slept in the mountains, in barns, and sneaked into empty temples for a night’s rest, never sleeping peacefully.

I should have earned some money for food and proper lodging. Yet, in the Central Plains, discrimination against barbarians was commonplace.

Surrounded by a sea of multicolored hair, my black hair marked me as a barbarian, preventing me from obtaining decent work.

“Yun-ho, you’re here. Come, lie down in this empty spot.”

Finding work on a construction site was pure fortune. The foreman, despite his grumbling about having to hire barbarians due to labor shortages, provided an unpleasant backdrop.

After a long day’s work, I reached the laborers’ lodging.

Upon opening the door, Mr. Ju, who had previously referred to me as a barbarian, signaled for me to join him.

This was why I favored construction work. Since the job required an early start and it was challenging to find laborers, they offered food and lodging to retain the same workers from the previous day.

I nearly retched from the stench of the laborers’ sweat during dinner, but having a place to sleep felt like a blessing.

The work supplied both sustenance and shelter. It seemed like a job sent from heaven.

“I did this when she was without a husband,” boasted one, clutching at his chest dramatically.

Quietly lying in a corner, I listened to the lurid stories of the older men.

“Mr. Ju, how much longer will you go on about that? You didn’t even succeed and ended up getting caught by her husband and beaten.”

Ah, why the spoiler?

I listened intently, eavesdropping on the cool kids’ jokes while lying on a classroom desk.

“Then who else is there to talk about?”

“That’s true.”

“……”

Silence fell in the room full of uncles. What, were there no more juicy stories?

“Doesn’t anyone have an interesting story?”

As the silence lingered, a deep voice came from a corner of the room.

“Ah! Master Carpenter, did you wake up? Were we too loud?”

“Sorry!!”

“We were too noisy.”

Everyone promptly stood and apologized to the master carpenter lying down. The master carpenter was the most experienced craftsman among us.

Unlike someone like me, who just moved things around and assisted the uncles for a wage, he was a highly skilled professional whose services were costly.

Even though the foreman handled the wages and supervision at the construction site, it was the master carpenter who led the work. That’s why he was the most respected person there.

“No need. I wasn’t sleeping. Don’t feel pressured; everyone rest comfortably.”

The master carpenter gestured with his hand, and everyone sat down. Why wasn’t everyone lying down?

Was this like the “everyone rest comfortably” directive from a military officer?

Skills really were power.

It’s true that people should learn a skill. Father, I didn’t listen when you said it while writing a novel, and I got hit on the back of the head, but you were right.

“Ah, why is it so quiet? I thought we might hear a story before going to sleep.”

“You tell one.”

“Hey. How can you ask someone to tell a story in front of the Master Carpenter?”

The uncles kept passing the buck, and no one wanted to tell a story.

How many people would dare to show off their talents in front of a brigade commander?

“Let’s make it interesting. Depending on how entertaining the story is, I will give a reward.”

Since no one was stepping forward to speak, the Master Carpenter announced a reward.

Huh?

A brigade commander’s reward?

I couldn’t miss this.

“I’ll give it a try.”

Immediately, I raised my hand.

“A new face here. Who might you be?”

“I’m Kang Yun-ho, from Joseon. I’ll tell you a story from Joseon.”

You see, in South Korea, I was once a web novel author. Though my work was generic.

“A story from Joseon? Does this story have a name?”

The Master Carpenter asked, his curiosity piqued.

“The title of the story is…”

Everyone in the room was older than me, most of them married.

So, which story should I tell?

“It’s ‘Winning the Lottery After Divorce.’”

That was the one.

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