NTH 13

“That makes sense, now that you mention it. So, can this guy make shoes that fit me properly?”

“Of course! All those fine leather shoes for the noble gentlemen were made by… I mean, not by this guy, but by Doyaji. This one just helps with odd jobs alongside me,” the elderly man said.

The elderly man’s words didn’t quite add up, which felt odd, but the one rumored to make shoes with uncanny skill was Doyaji, not Meokmeoki. Haegyeom nodded and asked him to make the shoes well.

The servant handed over a piece of paper with the measurements of Haegyeom’s nephew’s feet, and the elderly man passed it to Meokmeoki. Meokmeoki looked at it, gestured for them to wait, and went into the house. The elderly man explained the situation.

“He seems to want to show you some children’s shoes he’s already made. You can choose the color and style from those.”

Soon after, Meokmeoki returned, carrying a bundle wrapped in white cloth.

When he spread the cloth on the platform, two pairs of exquisitely crafted children’s shoes appeared, so beautiful they were startling. The outer fabric was wrapped in fine silk—yellow and green for one pair, red and blue for the other—and the insides were soft, with sturdy soles. Every stitch was meticulously done, truly the work of a masterful craftsman.

“Did Doyaji make these too?” Haegyeom asked, closely observing the elderly man’s face.

The elderly man nodded with a somber expression. “Yes, that’s right. These were made for a client who said they’d send someone to pick them up tomorrow, so we’ve been keeping them safe. Which of these do you like, sir?”

Haegyeom pointed to the pair with a harmonious blend of blue and red. “Make them similar to this one.”

After speaking, Haegyeom handed the elderly man an advance payment and stood up. As he and his servant were about to leave the house, a burly man staggered through the wicker gate.

“Oh, Doyaji! Walk straight, man! A noble gentleman came all the way from across the village to commission shoes from you!” the flustered elderly man scolded.

The man who entered glanced at Haegyeom. His eyes had the distinct shape of sanpaku, elongated sideways. Haegyeom casually extended his hand toward him.

“Are you the famous Doyaji? I heard your craftsmanship is exceptional, so I didn’t mind the trouble of coming all the way here.”

The sight of a noble yangban extending a hand so freely to a shoemaker, who was little better than an outcast, caused both the elderly man and the servant to gasp in unison. Doyaji looked at Haegyeom and grinned, a smile that carried an unsettling hint of malice.

Doyaji grabbed Haegyeom’s hand with both of his own and bowed repeatedly. When he spoke, the sharp stench of alcohol wafted over.

“Thank you so much, sir. Though my skills are humble, I’ll do my very best to make your shoes.”

Humble skills. It was an honest statement.

The moment Haegyeom touched his hand, he knew. Doyaji’s hand was smooth and flat, without a trace of roughness.

It wasn’t the hand of a shoemaker, nor even that of a working man.

Back at his residence, Haegyeom mulled over what had happened in the shoemakers’ village.

Doyaji, the shoemaker renowned for crafting exceptionally beautiful leather shoes.

Yet the hand Haegyeom had touched wasn’t that of a shoemaker but closer to that of a nobleman, far removed from physical labor. Despite supposedly being busy with commissions, Doyaji seemed steeped in alcohol and gambling, which was suspicious. The presence of Meokmeoki, whose name was unknown to others, also weighed on Haegyeom’s mind.

The calloused hands, the way Meokmeoki had precisely identified the characteristics of Haegyeom’s feet with just a brief touch, the serious gaze focused solely on his work, oblivious to their arrival, and the well-worn tools spread out on the platform. The elderly man’s strangely somber demeanor every time he insisted that all the fine leather shoes were made by Doyaji—it was all peculiar.

All these facts led Haegyeom’s instincts to conclude that the true shoemaker wasn’t Doyaji but Meokmeoki. Curious about their story, Haegyeom sent a servant who hadn’t accompanied him to the village—and thus wasn’t known to them—to investigate.

Some time later, the servant, who had secretly observed Doyaji’s house and eavesdropped on the villagers, returned to report what he had learned.

“From what I saw, Doyaji doesn’t do any work at all.”

“None? Not a single thing?”

“That’s right. He goes out drinking every day or sits in the village gambling den, squandering money. Even when he returns home, he seems to just sleep off his drunkenness.”

“Then who does the shoemaking?”

“The old man helps with odd jobs, but all the skilled work is done by the deaf one. That guy works from dawn till late at night, hunched over all day.”

“Huh.”

“The villagers all know it. They say if he made shoes sloppily, he could take on twice as many orders, but the deaf one is so stubborn about his craft. If something isn’t to his satisfaction, he’ll stay up all night fixing and re-fixing it.”

“I see. That’s why the results are so flawless.”

“Because of that, sometimes Doyaji beats him for working too slowly.”

“What? He beats that scrawny guy?”

“Yes. But Meokmeoki seems to see Doyaji as his savior and follows him loyally.”

“Why?”

“It seems Doyaji took him in when he was a beggar, wandering after losing his parents in the war, and taught him the shoemaking trade. That’s probably why, despite the abuse, he doesn’t think of leaving Doyaji’s side. And…”

The hesitant servant continued after a pause.

“They say Doyaji has a taste for men, and he’s taken an interest in Meokmeoki’s body as well.”

“How do the villagers know something like that?”

“Every few nights, they hear whimpering and crying from that house late at night. Whether it’s from fear or pain, they don’t know.”

“…”

“When he cries, Doyaji beats him, and then he holds it in, but it happens again. They say after those nights, Meokmeoki looks like a ghost, pale and listless for days.”

The image of Meokmeoki, earnestly feeling Haegyeom’s feet, flashed in his mind, and Haegyeom felt a sudden pang of sympathy.

The next day, Haegyeom visited a longtime acquaintance who held a position overseeing the artisans under the government’s employ. Sitting across from each other with a table of drinks between them, they chatted about various matters until the conversation warmed up. Seizing the moment, Haegyeom subtly brought up his purpose.

“How are the artisans under the government doing these days?”

“Some work diligently, while others barely pay their taxes and skip out on showing up to the workshop altogether.”

“Is it more profitable to pay taxes than to make goods for the government?”

“If they sell their goods privately instead of submitting them to the government, they can make a good profit even after taxes. Many skilled ones do that.”

Government artisans typically fulfilled their military service obligations by crafting goods like paper, pottery, hats, or clothing for the state. Haegyeom asked the question that had been on his mind.

“Can even lowly people like shoemakers become government artisans?”

“If a reliable person vouches for a highly skilled one, it’s entirely possible. The palace always needs leather shoes.”

“What if someone is exceptionally skilled but so poor they don’t even have a proper home?”

“In that case, it’s better to have them reside at the workshop. They’d get three meals a day and a place to sleep. They’d have to keep working even after their mandatory service period ends, but they’d be paid for their work.”

“Oh, that’s a good solution,” Haegyeom said, impressed.

His acquaintance looked at him with curious eyes. “Why, do you know a shoemaker? You’ve been asking as if you have someone in mind.”

“To be honest, I recently met a shoemaker with remarkable skill, but there’s one flaw.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s completely deaf.”

“What? How does he work, then?”

“He communicates roughly with gestures. But it seems someone is exploiting him. This guy claims all the shoes the deaf one makes as his own, takes the money from clients, and squanders it on alcohol and gambling.”

“Tch, really? And he doesn’t give the deaf shoemaker any money?”

“Not a single coin, it seems. It’s nearly winter, but he was working in thin clothes and barefoot. He looked like skin and bones, probably not even eating properly.”

“Well, that’s something,” the acquaintance said, stroking his beard and gazing into the distance.

He was a compassionate man, always kind to those beneath him, which was exactly why Haegyeom had sought him out. Taking advantage of his softened mood, Haegyeom pressed on.

“Knowing his situation, I couldn’t rest easy, and then I thought of you. Could you register this shoemaker as a government artisan? I saw his work myself, and his skill is undeniable.”

“That’s not difficult, but the deafness is a bit concerning. I worry the other artisans might harass him.”

“There’s an elderly man who works with him, helping with odd jobs and assisting with tasks. They seemed to communicate without any issues. Couldn’t you bring the old man along to do menial work?”

“That would solve it. I owe your father a great deal—how could I not do this much? These days, artisans avoid government work, so having a skilled one join would actually be a boon.”

Haegyeom resolved that when he went to pick up the commissioned shoes, he would convince the elderly man and Meokmeoki to move to the government workshop. That way, Meokmeoki would no longer be beaten by Doyaji, have his earnings stolen, or be forced into unwanted nighttime encounters.