Yang’s Master Chapter 1.1 - Unlicensed Pharmacist

‘Yirang (蟻壤)’ was, true to its name, an anthill. The haphazardly extended buildings swayed as if they would collapse at the slightest strong wind, and on the rooftops with their raw steel frames exposed, children played. Most of them lacked even a record of their birth, and the adults who worked in the factories and shops hidden in every corner of the streets were generally stateless, criminals, or illegal residents.

Even in such a place, people lived. They lived packed together like ants, and surprisingly, it was quite livable. That is, as long as it was not a day when Cheon Yeomyung appeared.

The streets of Yirang, where rumors spread that the master of ‘Byeokhae,’ the representative illegal organization that took the lead in all sorts of nefarious activities, had appeared, were excessively quiet. In this small, damp place made up of barnacle-like buildings constructed from rats and dust, or garbage and filth, Cheon Yeomyung was the most famous man. In a place where poverty was common, he was always dressed stylishly and was a strikingly handsome man. His hair was black like an ordinary Asian man, but his eyes had a golden glint, and no one knew his exact origins. It was speculated that perhaps a Westerner was mixed in on his maternal or paternal side, but unless Cheon Yeomyung said so himself, there was no way of knowing.

This man of unclear origins had been supplying opium with the profits he made from money lending in the slums since a very long time ago. Here, with just money and opium, one could become a king, and that is how the man became a king.

He was cruel and capricious. The people, knowing that nothing good would come of him personally coming to these dirty streets, decided to close their businesses early and end their day, even though it was still early afternoon. Pickpockets guarded their wrists, drug addicts hid underground, and butchers wiped the blood from the streets and bolted their doors.

On the street, which was submerged as if painted with silence from early in the day, Cheon Yeomyung walked without a care for his brand-new shoes getting dirty on the filthy ground, and soon he was able to find what he was looking for.

“Hello there.”

He pushed aside a messy sign painted with pig’s blood and entered the narrow building. The door, made of cheap aluminum, was misaligned and pushed open with a loud noise. An old man, who had been tending to his tools while sitting on a high, narrow stool in front of a cracked gray leather sofa, shot up with a pale face the moment he saw Cheon Yeomyung. The tools tucked into the pocket of his old, worn-out gown clattered to the floor, but Doctor Chui did not even think of picking them up.

“Wha, what brings you here, sir.”

“I don’t necessarily have to have business to drop by. Why, are you unhappy to see me?”

It was doubtful if there was anyone who would dare to say they were unhappy to Cheon Yeomyung’s face. The old man, flustered before a man much younger than himself, scrambled to pick up the tools scattered on the floor. Cheon Yeomyung, looking around the dental clinic that smelled strongly of improperly diluted disinfectant, sat on the dirty sofa and crossed his long legs.

As soon as he sat on the sofa, dust flew up in a white cloud, but Cheon Yeomyung did not show any reaction. He was not unaware that this place, calling itself a clinic, was making a pretense of being the cleanest space around. The street always looked like it would all come crashing down in a domino effect with just a single poke from an excavator.

The man tilted his handsome face and pulled a cigarette to his lips, then offered one to Doctor Chui. Doctor Chui accepted the cigarette with a very polite attitude and put it to his own lips. A brief moment of striking a match and lighting up followed. After tasting the harsh cigarette smoke, Cheon Yeomyung brought up the reason he had personally come all this way.

“I’m looking for the bastard who came to sell gold teeth two days ago.”

“A, a gold tooth, you say…”

Doctor Chui let out a pained groan. He was nearly seventy years old, which was considered very old on these dirty streets. He couldn’t even remember the patient he saw yesterday, and there were so many patients who came to sell gold teeth that his mind was going blank.

“He ran off with my money. He had a few gold caps on his molars, so he must have come to sell them.”

Son of a bitch! Doctor Chui cursed inwardly. What kind of madman would run off after taking Cheon Yeomyung’s money in this neighborhood? Cheon Yeomyung sold drugs, but he loathed those who became addicted to them, and he hated those who ran off with his money. None of those bastards ever saw a good end. They were even a nuisance to those around them, because Cheon Yeomyung would turn all of Yirang upside down to find one person.

Cheon Yeomyung pressed the half-smoked cigarette out under the sole of his shoe and looked at Doctor Chui. The old dentist was reluctant to have those inscrutable golden eyes looking at him. Snake-like bastard. Cursing inwardly, Doctor Chui pleaded with Cheon Yeomyung.

“There are too many people who came to sell gold teeth. Eight have come by today alone.”

“He has a severe malocclusion and is a short man. In his 40s.”

“This is a dental clinic, so such patients are very common.”

Although he spoke the truth, Cheon Yeomyung did not seem to have any intention of listening to Doctor Chui. He tapped irritably on the armrest of the sofa.

“Doctor Chui, it was only two days ago. It’s not like I’m looking for a patient from a month ago, so what’s with this?”

Doctor Chui flinched at the cold voice. The only reason he was able to open a dental clinic here without a medical license was all thanks to Cheon Yeomyung. He did take a high interest rate, but as long as one worked diligently, he made it possible to get by. It was not for nothing that the man acted like a king in this dirty anthill.

“Then…”

After thinking for a long while, Doctor Chui came up with a bit of cunning. It was proof that his mind, even at over seventy, was sharp enough to work as a doctor.

“Right behind the clinic, there’s a very narrow and tall house. It has a long door that you can only enter by turning your body sideways, and the inside has a loft, so everyone calls it the chimney house. The owner there sells painkillers.”

“Painkillers?”

Cheon Yeomyung scoffed as soon as he heard Doctor Chui’s words. Doctor Chui also understood his reaction. The notion of selling painkillers in this place was indeed laughable. However, whether the pharmacist in the back house sold painkillers or rat droppings was not important to Doctor Chui.

“He’s a young fellow who started his business a year ago. He makes and sells poultices and pills himself, and word has gotten around that they’re decent for the price, so some bastards from the back alleys come to buy them. The guys who had their gold teeth pulled probably bought painkillers from the back house too.”

“Hmm.”

“The owner of that house must have a lot of unpaid debts, because he always keeps a detailed ledger of his customers. He might remember something about the guy who bought painkillers.”

Those words were enough to persuade Cheon Yeomyung. Instead of taking out the jackknife from his coat pocket or the gun from his inner pocket to put it to the annoying old man’s forehead, he rose from the worn leather sofa with a gracious smile.

“Good. Pray that they’ve done a good job at the place you recommended. You have to keep looking at rotten teeth for a few more years, don’t you?”

“Of course, sir, you speak the obvious…”

Doctor Chui saw Cheon Yeomyung off with a servile smile.

Cheon Yeomyung left the musty-smelling dental clinic and headed straight for the back. It was not difficult to find the place Doctor Chui had mentioned among the disgustingly entangled houses. As if the house had been carved out of a pillar, the wooden front door was abnormally narrow and long, and for the purpose of business, there was a window above the door that could be opened and closed from the inside. A note was stuck to the window.

<Ring bell! Wont do bisness with pi—gsonsabitches who nock and brake door>

The content was savage, but the spelling was wrong and the handwriting was terrible, so it did not seem very effective. How many bastards in this dirty slum could even read? The owner must have known this, as below the note there was a drawing of a bell in a circle, and a large X was drawn on the picture of the door. The drawing skills were even more cryptic than the handwriting, but it deserved points for successfully conveying the meaning.

Cheon Yeomyung tried to remember what was originally in this spot, but nothing came to mind. The old man’s words about him being a newcomer who had only recently settled in Yirang seemed to be true. He thought he hadn’t been too neglectful of management, but it was difficult for Cheon Yeomyung to perfectly control a place where the geography and residents changed in just one day.

Well, meeting a new neighbor is not a bad thing. To make the first encounter a positive one, Cheon Yeomyung rang the bell with an elegant gesture. The bell seemed to be connected to the inside of the house, as it jingled loudly, and soon, a thick curse flowed from inside the door.

“Fuck, who the hell comes visiting on a day like this. Clueless pig bastards.”

The grumbling voice had a very youthful feel. Soon, the sound of creaking stairs was heard, the door shook a little, and then the horizontally narrow and thin window opened, revealing the owner.

“I told you I’m out of medicine! If it’s not serious, just bear it or die or…”

The owner, who had been spouting his explanation with a bored expression, suddenly trailed off. He seemed very flustered after spotting Cheon Yeomyung outside the window. Facing the pharmacist who had shut his mouth, Cheon Yeomyung felt interest take the place of the anger that had risen to the top of his head.

Through the narrow window, about the size of a palm, only the pharmacist’s eyes and part of his nose were visible, but it was pretty enough to be considered a business tactic. He had impressive ash-gray eyes. Cheon Yeomyung looked at the pharmacist, whose appearance was completely different from what he had imagined, and asked in a cheerful tone.

“Do I look like a pig bastard?”

A playful voice echoed through the alley.

The pharmacist immediately made a sour face. The face, which desperately wanted to take back the curse he had just uttered, looked not just young but extremely young. His almond-shaped eyes were refreshingly large with sharp, winged corners; if they had met on the street and not in a pharmacy, one would have doubted his profession. To have survived with a face like that. In this neighborhood, if you were a bit pretty and young, regardless of gender, you would be passed around and turned into a rag the moment you entered. Cheon Yeomyung asked the silent pharmacist another question.

“Are you a minor, by any chance?”

“…I’m twenty-five.”

A sense of indignation could be felt in his voice, but the expression was polite. The pharmacist even managed to call him ‘Mister’ with his rough pronunciation. It seemed he knew who he was. Indeed, if there were two men with eyes like his, wouldn’t that be a sign that the world was about to end twice? Cheon Yeomyung was not unaware of the vicious rumors that followed him. He had left them be as a moderate level of fear was a tool for managing people, but surprisingly, Cheon Yeomyung was a pacifist.

“If you came here to buy medicine or something, I’m sorry, but I have nothing to sell.”

Cheon Yeomyung shook his head at the pharmacist’s curt words.

“Sorry, but I didn’t come to buy medicine. There’s something I’d like to ask, and I’d appreciate your cooperation.”

“…What do you need?”

“First, I’d appreciate it if you opened the door. No matter how talented I am, I can’t get in through such a narrow window.”

“What the, fu…”

The owner, looking like he wanted to yell “get lost” at Cheon Yeomyung’s jest, slammed the window shut with a thump. However, not long after, the narrow front door opened with a clatter, allowing Cheon Yeomyung to officially enter.

The door was, just as Doctor Chui had emphasized, excessively narrow and tall, making it impossible for anyone but a child to walk in facing forward. Cheon Yeomyung had no choice but to forgo his dignity and scuttle inside sideways like a crab. All the bastards living in Yirang lived in shabby houses, but this place was so bad it was a wonder anyone bought or sold anything here. No matter how scarce housing was, isn’t this a bit much? Cheon Yeomyung muttered to himself as he looked at the room visible just past the narrow entrance.

The space, narrow and tall like a chimney, was self-divided into floors using planks and a ladder. On the lowest level, a few tools were scattered about, suggesting that’s where medicine was made. The owner, with a very wary expression, guided Cheon Yeomyung to the middle floor. The middle floor, directly facing the window on the door, had a low chair and a table strewn with leftover bread crumbs. In a normal house, the middle floor seemed to serve as the living room.

“There’s no tea or anything.”

The pharmacist said as he roughly swept the things on the table onto the floor with his bare hands. Tea leaves were rare and expensive here. It seemed he had no intention of brewing even the cheapest kind for him. Cheon Yeomyung thought for a moment, then reached into his overcoat pocket and pulled out some tea leaves.

“Then we can just brew this, right?”

The pretty face was tinged with displeasure, and then a single-syllable curse slipped from between his lips. The eyes, weary with fatigue, looked at the portable tea tin almost as if it were a bag of bugs.

“What the…”

“Your hospitality is lacking. I’m starting to get upset.”

“Just wait a moment.”

In the end, the young pharmacist snatched the tea tin from Cheon Yeomyung’s hand and went back down. Shee-pal. Hearing the thick curse pour out fearlessly, Cheon Yeomyung leisurely waited for the tea to be brought.

Separately, the pharmacist, Yang Euijoo, was in a fucking mood. What rotten luck.

He muttered curses as he spooned tea leaves into a kettle, then wrapped half of the remaining leaves in a clean cloth and hid them. Anyone who saw would have been horrified, exclaiming how dare he steal Cheon Yeomyung’s belongings, but Yang Euijoo was in a very bad mood. This month, half of the bastards who took medicine on credit had run away or died, causing him a considerable loss, and yesterday he had to repair the crappy door again because of some guy who grabbed him by the collar, claiming the medicine he sold had no effect.

If he sold these tea leaves, he could probably get a good bit of money. Since it’s tea leaves that a rich guy drinks, they must be decent. Yang Euijoo irritably grabbed the tin kettle and poured the boiling water into a cup. The tea leaves, scattering like dregs, floated on the water, but that was none of his business.

Why did that guy come here? Yang Euijoo nervously ran a hand through his hair. In the past year of being called a pharmacist, Yang Euijoo had done so many illegal things that he had no idea what to deny first.

Yang Euijoo. That is—the man living as a so-called pharmacist in Yirang was probably around twenty-five this year and had been in the slum for a little over two years. A guy who walked into a slum on his own two feet couldn’t possibly have money, so at first, Yang Euijoo lived by begging for food, and later, he secretly stole opium dregs from a drug factory, mixed them, and sold them, lying that they were painkillers.

Rotten as it may be, it was still opium, so the painkillers were praised for being effective and quickly gained popularity. To be precise, people were getting high on the narcotic components and losing their minds, but it was preferred by those who needed to have their raw flesh stitched up or cut out. If they took it and died, he would say, ‘It’s unfortunate, but the patient’s wound must have been severe,’ and if they took it and lived, he would boast that his medicine was effective. Soon, he was able to escape sleeping fitfully on the verge-of-collapse stairs every night and get a room for himself. The side effects from taking the medicine were none of Yang Euijoo’s business.

In this neighborhood, dozens of people died and dozens of new ones arrived every day anyway. It was a land of only swindlers and quacks who suddenly appeared to sell medicine. Yang Euijoo was no different from those swindlers. He too planned to make a fortune selling medicine in Yirang and then leave this country altogether before he turned thirty.

If only Cheon Yeomyung hadn’t shown up today. Why did he come? Yang Euijoo suppressed the urge to spit in Cheon Yeomyung’s tea and went back up.

“Here you go.”

The man sitting in front of the table did not fit in with this bizarre house in the slightest. Thinking it would be better to just give him money if he demanded it and get rid of him, Yang Euijoo sat down in front of Cheon Yeomyung. Cheon Yeomyung smiled faintly upon seeing the improperly strained tea leaves floating in the tin cup, which was dented in places.

It was amazing that such a work of art could be created with expensive tea leaves that were worth their weight in gold. Yang Euijoo, sitting opposite him, gulped down the hot tea as if he had no idea what he had just done. Cheon Yeomyung watched the wet, yellowish-green tea leaf stuck to his red lips.

Cheon Yeomyung had held power in Hong Kong and met countless beauties, but he had never seen anyone who looked like Yang Euijoo. Yang Euijoo had the appearance of an Asian man by any standard, but his pigmentation was very light. In this country with its long summers, his skin was pale as if he were deathly ill, and his hair and eyes, which looked as though they had been dusted with ash, were fun to look at. Cheon Yeomyung looked at the face that was so blatantly his type and slowly opened his mouth.

“Do you know Doctor Chui?”

So Chui sent him. Did that snake-like old geezer sell me out to Cheon Yeomyung? Yang Euijoo inwardly hurled curses at Doctor Chui and roughly set his cup down.

“I know him, he’s my next-door neighbor.”

“I hear you’re selling medicine.”

“It’s a bit much to call it medicine. It’s just like a folk remedy.”

“I didn’t come to question the quality of your medicine. Was there a man who bought painkillers two days ago?”

Cheon Yeomyung asked, pushing the rather difficult-to-drink tea forward. Yang Euijoo did not understand the intention behind the man’s question but answered diligently.

“Many men bought painkillers two days ago. There was a gang fight nearby that day.”

It was a fight that broke out at the butcher shop. A customer who came to buy meat started a scuffle, asking why the other guy got lean meat while he only got a lump of fat, which escalated to a knife fight. That was also the reason why the fake painkillers Yang Euijoo had painstakingly made had run out.

“A man in his 40s, and very short. Do you remember?”

“Hmm…”

Yang Euijoo pondered, then put down his cup and took out a notebook from a box. On top of the notebook was written:

<Tuch and ur ded>

Cheon Yeomyung deliberately averted his gaze from the offensive spelling. Yang Euijoo, oblivious to Cheon Yeomyung’s mercy, casually flipped through the notebook and scanned the last page. Then, as if lost in thought, he stretched the corner of his lips into a long line.

“This person wasn’t in the gang fight, though. At the dentist’s… ah.”

So that’s why Doctor Chui sent that man to me. Realizing the reason at last, Yang Euijoo silently let out another long and generous string of curses. He had been living quietly, as if he didn’t exist, all this time, and now he had been caught by Cheon Yeomyung. It would be good if things passed without any problems, but if he demanded something else, it would become troublesome. Despite living in Yirang, Yang Euijoo had not given up on the dream of living like a human being.

“Do you know something?”

“Blood was pouring from his mouth, looked like he’d had a tooth pulled. I told him he’d die of anemia if he spat all that out, and then gave him the medicine.”

The painkiller tasted like chewing on a rotten tire, but people poor enough to sell their own teeth would buy and take even something like that. Yang Euijoo tried hard to recall the man from his hazy memory, the one who had gestured for painkillers with blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. He had never received a single day of formal education, but his head was screwed on right. He was smart enough to write and read difficult Chinese characters tolerably well. Having worked on a ship for a long time, he could even speak a few words of English. Here, you had to be at least a little smart and know how to read to barely be treated like a person.

His lips, chapped with hangnails from poor nutrition, formed a faint smile. Cheon Yeomyung silently watched the smile caught on the corner of Yang Euijoo’s mouth. It was a hazy smile, like the mist one feels at an old port, as if proving he was a man who lived with the sea at his back.

“He didn’t say where he was going, but I saw a ticket. He accidentally handed me the ticket when he was trying to take out his money.”

“I see.”

A hand wearing a black leather glove brushed against Yang Euijoo’s gaunt and dry cheek. The young, handsome man drew a subtle smile, as if imitating Yang Euijoo.

“Mister Pharmacist?”

“…”

“I would like for us to have some more time to talk in detail.”

The eerie golden eyes smiled as they gazed at him, as if peeling back layers of his skin.

Funnily enough, in that moment, Yang Euijoo had a strong premonition that getting involved with a man like this would lead to a dog’s life of hardship.

🐑

It couldn’t be helped if it felt materialistic, but objectively speaking, Cheon Yeomyung was a ‘decent’ customer. Especially in terms of his appearance and the fact that he hadn’t broken down the door to get in. Yang Euijoo preferred dealing with people who could be reasoned with. If the customer hadn’t been Cheon Yeomyung, he would have made a positive assessment, thinking that a sensible person had finally appeared in Yirang.

“Auntie Su, give me one bowl of tangmian.”

The street stall was bustling with customers from early in the morning. Yang Euijoo sat in the most secluded spot and ordered his tangmian. A middle-aged woman with her hair wrapped in a cloth and a face caked with fatigue nodded as she pushed a crumpled dollar bill she had just received from a customer into her apron pocket.

Soon, a bowl of tangmian, made by boiling two handfuls of egg noodles topped with some vegetable scraps, was placed with a thud in front of Yang Euijoo. Watching Yang Euijoo eat greedily like someone who had starved for days, Li Su clicked her tongue.

“Eat a little slower. Don’t get indigestion and groan in pain like last time.”

“Okay.”

Only then did Yang Euijoo slow down his chopsticks. Li Su subtly glanced at the other customers, then pulled up a chair and sat in front of Yang Euijoo. Yang Euijoo chewed on the thick noodles while watching Li Su shape meatballs in front of him. The tangmian, with its broth made from pork fat and oil floating on top, was a decent meal on these streets. The stall started early in the morning and closed before early evening, so it was especially crowded with morning customers.

Originally, Yang Euijoo had worked under Li Su, washing dishes and kneading meatball mixture. It was his first job after settling in Yirang. However, when a trashy rumor started to spread that Li Su had earned some money and bought a young male concubine upon seeing the suddenly appeared young man, Yang Euijoo quit his job. After that, he drifted between factories and gambling dens, and it did not take long for him to be called Mister Pharmacist who lives in the chimney house.

“Give me a dumpling too.”

At Yang Euijoo’s indifferent tone, Li Su stopped shaping the meatballs and looked up.

“…Business must be good these days?”

“Had something come up yesterday that made me some money.”

“You’re not doing anything strange, are you?”

“No.”

It wasn’t anything strange. I just met a strange person. Yang Euijoo recalled the man who had smiled slyly at him yesterday. Cheon Yeomyung was very satisfied with the information Yang Euijoo had given him. After praising Yang Euijoo’s worth in a fine voice, he took out his wallet from an inner pocket and handed over some bills. That day was the first time Yang Euijoo had ever touched a 500-dollar bill. And he didn’t give him just one 500-dollar bill, but five of them.

Yang Euijoo didn’t care whether the man who was going to take the ship died or was skinned alive. The fact that he had come into a large sum of money was more important to him. Yang Euijoo couldn’t sleep all night, counting the dollars one by one, then he hid them carefully in a secret place where no one could find them and clutched his pounding heart.

“Don’t worry about me, Auntie, you should figure out what to do with your husband.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

Li Su frowned. Yang Euijoo tore a large steamed dumpling into the bland tangmian broth to soak it and pulled his lips into a smirk. While most of the bastards in this slum were sons of bitches, Li Su’s husband, Du Shanchong, was a particularly special son of a bitch among them. At first, he ran the wonton shop with Li Su, but once business picked up a bit, he left everything to Li Su and spent all his time fooling around. It was also Du Shanchong who had dragged Yang Euijoo into the world of gambling.

He had a bad reputation among the neighbors for being a leech who sucked his wife dry and resorted to violence at the drop of a hat. The rumor that there was something sordid going on between Yang Euijoo and Li Su was also spread by a drunk Du Shanchong. Because of that, Yang Euijoo had gotten into fistfights with Du Shanchong several times.

“Why not? When I get a gun later, the first thing I’m gonna do is put a bullet in Du Shanchong’s head.”

Li Su looked at Yang Euijoo, unable to hide her worry. The young man who had suddenly appeared on these streets with nothing but the clothes on his back was not at all dependable. Even now, he was being called a pharmacist while selling strange medicines, and she worried that one day he would get stabbed and collapse. Thinking it would be better for him to marry early, she had introduced him to some of the local girls, but Yang Euijoo was lukewarm. The girls, after meeting Yang Euijoo a few times, would hesitate and then run off, leaving behind the ridiculous words that he was too pretty and it was intimidating.

“Sigh, you’re killing me.”

“What’s wrong all of a sudden?”

“What do you mean, what’s wrong. It’s because I feel frustrated looking at you.”

“Auntie Su.”

Interrupted from eating his steamed dumpling and scolded, Yang Euijoo was dumbfounded, but Li Su, with a hurt expression, had already gone to take another customer’s order.

“Well, I’ll be.”

Yang Euijoo was not completely oblivious to Li Su’s feelings. So, instead of calling out to her again, he put down his money and stood up. Li Su’s nagging was severe, but in this neighborhood, she was the only one who had ever cared for him. The only drawback was that her husband was Du Shanchong. Hoping that Du Shanchong would one day get his comeuppance, Yang Euijoo rummaged through his pocket and pulled something out.

It was the tea tin Cheon Yeomyung had given him yesterday. The cylindrical silver tea tin that had held the tea leaves was, even to Yang Euijoo’s eyes, a high-quality item, so he decided to keep it and just sell the tea leaves for safety.

Lightly tossing the tea tin up and catching it, Yang Euijoo immediately got up from his seat. Li Su glanced at him with a somewhat anxious face, but she had to turn her attention away as an order came in. Watching the busy Li Su, Yang Euijoo left a few coins under his empty bowl and departed from the stall.

Passing the streets lined with various stalls and small carts and moving to a slightly wider road, a bright yellow wall came into view. The ground-floor shop at the end of that wall was the oldest establishment in Yirang. Yang Euijoo opened the sliding door without hesitation and went inside.

The bell attached to the entrance tinkled, and an old woman who was knitting by the counter looked up. Small magnifying glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. A low fan whirring with a loud noise. All sorts of goods were packed onto the shelves behind her, as if they had their own rules even amidst the ruins, exuding the old smell of ink.

The owner of the general store was called Linda Kim. She spoke the best English in this garbage heap. She could speak proper British English, having said she attended school during the time of British rule. Correction. She also had the best educational background here. Why a fairly wealthy and intelligent old woman was running a general store in such a rundown place, no one knew. Most people living in Yirang usually carried with them stories they couldn’t speak of.

“It’s Mister Pharmacist.”

“Hello.”

“What brings you here today? You bought oil recently, did you run out of tins?”

“Yes. A bundle of the small size, please, and a pack of paper too.”

“Alright.”

The stooped old woman put down her knitting and rummaged through a low shelf, placing the dust-covered items on the counter. It was a bundle of oiled paper used for wrapping painkillers and a round iron can, smaller than half a palm, for setting poultices. Instead of paying, Yang Euijoo pulled out a sheet of oiled paper and emptied the tea leaves from the tin onto it. Seeing the small handful of tea leaves, the old woman craned her neck and sniffed.

“It’s good tea, but… where did you get this?”

“Hey, is it right to ask something like that?”

In this place, good items rarely came through proper channels. It was either prostitutes landing a good catch, or some well-to-do-looking guy who was mindlessly loitering around getting beaten up and stripped down to his underwear, or hiding at the port and raiding containers to steal trade goods. The old woman stared at Yang Euijoo with her bloodshot eyes.

“They said that man came yesterday. I guess you were the one who met him?”

Busted. Yang Euijoo scratched his head and pulled a creaking iron chair over, slumping down into it. Through her magnifying glasses, he felt as if he saw the same yellow color as Cheon Yeomyung’s in the old woman’s round pupils. Thinking about it again, Cheon Yeomyung’s eyes were impressive. Everything about him captured one’s attention, but his eyes were particularly strange. He had a sensual appearance that incited people’s impulses.

“I just got paid some money in exchange for some information.”

“That man is a snake. He’s not someone a person should associate with.”

Linda folded the oiled paper to wrap the tea leaves and advised him in a low voice.

“You saw those eyes, didn’t you? In my 80 years of life, I’ve never seen a man with eyes like that. You be careful too.”

“I have no intention of getting involved with a man like that either.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Linda clicked her tongue. On these streets, more than one or two had suffered after getting entangled with Cheon Yeomyung. He killed or sold people without a second thought, and by providing drugs, he had risen to become the king of this neighborhood in an instant. If he hadn’t been cruel, he couldn’t have become the master of this cesspool. And how many rumors surrounded him? Some had been forgotten during the ten years Cheon Yeomyung had reigned as the master of Byeokhae, but Linda remembered many things.

“All the guys who said the same thing as you ended up begging on these streets with no arms or legs before they died. And everyone said they were lucky to get off that easy.”

The old woman frowned as if recalling that time, then took out a scale and weighed the tea leaves.

“Cut his belly open and run before you get digested.”

“Thank you for the advice.”

“…I don’t have much cash. Is it okay if I give it to you in canned goods?”

“Canned fruit would be nice.”

Canned goods soaked in sugar are a luxury item. As Yang Euijoo said this, swallowing his saliva, Linda narrowed her eyes.

“It’s not expensive enough for that.”

“Aww.”

“I’ll give you a can of beans and 10 dollars on top.”

“Isn’t that too cheap?”

“I can’t get a good price for such a small amount. You should know I’m giving you this much only because it’s me.”

“Well, alright.”

Finding it bothersome to haggle, Yang Euijoo agreed to Linda’s terms. Yang Euijoo hastily shoved the 10 dollars Linda handed him into his pocket and hugged the bundle of things he bought today.

“Mister Pharmacist.”

As Euijoo was about to leave, ringing the bell, Linda suddenly called out to him. Yang Euijoo turned his head. Linda, holding her knitting needles, moved her hands mechanically and said a word.

“If you don’t like the snake bastard, come here. I should have a place for you to sleep.”

At her gruff tone, Yang Euijoo grinned and replied politely.

“Thank you.”

“Sigh.”

The old woman sighed as if she hadn’t expected much. Yang Euijoo took Linda’s sigh as a compliment and left the general store. Seeing the sun heading towards its zenith, it was about time for business hours. Walking back home, Yang Euijoo painted a picture in his mind. The eyes of a yellow snake. And those eyes gradually zoomed in to complete the form of a person.

The man walked with an elegant gait as if shedding his skin. It was a perfect walk, like a model from an old magazine. His shirt and jacket, untouched by a single speck of dust, and his shoes with their smooth gloss, everything was luxurious. Especially those eyes, so arrogant as if to say no being dared to be higher than him, were overly distinctive even in Yirang, where all sorts of people were jumbled together.

What reason would there be to meet such a high-and-mighty guy in Yirang again?

Yang Euijoo nonchalantly readjusted the bundle in his arms.

However, just how hasty his own thoughts had been, he could conclude from the golden eyes he faced again in just a week. Yang Euijoo stopped his hand that was wrapping a pill and stared at the man’s face through the palm-sized window. Today too, with Cheon Yeomyung’s appearance, the ear-splittingly noisy street fell silent.

He was truly an infamous man. Yang Euijoo had to pause for a moment of thought before opening the door. Why Cheon Yeomyung had come to see him, and whether he had met again with the men who had their gold teeth pulled and sold at the dental clinic.

“I’d appreciate it if you opened the door.”

The man said with a wonderful smile. Yang Euijoo recalled Linda Kim’s warning. He’s not human, he’s a snake bastard. Linda’s warning was not unfamiliar. Cheon Yeomyung was not a merciful man. What kind of end did all those who borrowed his money and failed to repay it meet? Yang Euijoo recalled an incident that happened not long after he came to this neighborhood.

It was an incident that occurred while he was scouring the streets for a place to live, carefully winning just enough money in the gambling dens not to agitate the regulars. It was early dawn, even earlier than 6 a.m. when Li Su opened her shop. At a time when the blue chill of the night had not yet faded, an unfamiliar pole was stuck in the middle of the street that was the widest in the anthill and treated as a main road.

The pole was very long, looking to be almost 15 meters, and a person was impaled on it. It was a man named Jang, who had been caught while running away after borrowing money from Cheon Yeomyung and not repaying it. And there was another similar incident.

There was also an incident where a large group of people died at a nearby port. The investigation was sluggish. Both the British and Hong Kong governments shirked responsibility. In the end, the incident was concluded as a case of gangsters engaging in a group fight and perishing together, but there was no one who didn’t know that it was actually a ‘weeding out of traitors’ that had occurred within Byeokhae, where Cheon Yeomyung was stationed as the boss. In Yirang, a saying quietly spread that it was better to commit suicide than to be caught while running away from Cheon Yeomyung.

Yang Euijoo, after debating between resisting by not opening the door and dying from a retaliatory stabbing, and dying by being strangled inside his house, ended up opening the door. The door was so narrow that a large, fat person couldn’t enter, but Cheon Yeomyung skillfully squeezed his body in. Roughly estimating the dangerous body, which was clearly well-packed with muscle, Yang Euijoo closed the narrow door again. This was after quickly clearing away the pills he had been wrapping.

If by any chance that dangerous man found out the raw material of his painkillers, Yang Euijoo might be dragged to the vicinity of the pier and murdered without a trace. He asked with a somewhat defensive attitude.

“What brings you here?”

“I’d like you to show me your ledger.”

Contrary to his tone, his attitude was high-handed, as if demanding it at once. Yang Euijoo thought about protesting but turned his back without a word and picked up the notebook. Cheon Yeomyung, seemingly satisfied, smiled slightly and sat opposite Yang Euijoo. Unlike last time, there was no talk of asking for tea this time.

Even by Yang Euijoo’s own standards, the tea he had brewed was terrible. Of course, when he was loath to spend money on oil for boiling water, how could he brew tea properly if he’d never brewed it before? The only thing Yang Euijoo had ever boiled in water was disinfectant.

Cheon Yeomyung quietly flipped through the ledger. Leaving the man who had started reading from the very first page, Yang Euijoo scratched the tip of his nose. It was hard to get used to Cheon Yeomyung being in his own house, called the chimney house. Moreover, the man was impeccably dressed today as well. Dressed in a suit with a large collared shirt, tie, and vest, the man stretched his long legs out on the floor, crossed them to one side, and leaned back comfortably in the low chair, turning the pages. Judging by his appearance alone, he looked like someone who did business in some respectable building, not in a narrow and shabby slum.

Life is so unfair. No, is the problem the world where murdering gangsters seem more human? While Yang Euijoo was lost in his crooked thoughts, Cheon Yeomyung felt his mood, which had been soured by the stench and pageant of filth he had smelled on the streets, calm down a little.

This pharmacist brought a spark to his recently boring life. How bored must he have been to have personally wandered around to catch a guy who ran off with his money? It was a good thing he had shaken off his subordinates who had been following him around in a line, insisting they would do it themselves. If he hadn’t set foot in Yirang himself, he would never have met Yang Euijoo.

The pharmacist, who exuded the unique scent of poppy fruits from his fingertips, indicating what he had been doing, had not changed much from his first impression. A face like that wouldn’t change overnight. The slender neck and white face, which looked as if he had just shed his adolescence, wore a look of discomfort, his mouth firmly shut. Cheon Yeomyung pretended to read the ledger, which was full of spelling mistakes, while observing Yang Euijoo. Yang Euijoo, as if very uncomfortable with Cheon Yeomyung being in his house, was staring at some irrelevant spot, then occasionally glanced at Cheon Yeomyung.

The golden eyes made it seem as if time would fly by just by looking at them. From head to toe, he was dressed in pitch black like someone attending a funeral, but how could only his eyes shine so brightly? During his time rolling into Hong Kong, Yang Euijoo had gone through various jobs and seen people of diverse ethnicities. But there was no man with eyes as peculiar as Cheon Yeomyung’s. On the contrary, they would get cocky even with just slightly light brown eyes and point fingers at Yang Euijoo. What was so great about dyed blonde hair and blue eyes?

“Is your hair color natural?”

“Pardon?”

Just as he was thinking of the guys who would laugh and ask him how he dyed his hair while looking at it, the question came, and Yang Euijoo asked back blankly.

“I don’t like to repeat myself.”

The man pointed out Yang Euijoo’s rudeness. With a feeling of wanting to ask back, “So what,” he apologized. The only thing to be gained from rebelling was to debut as a human skewer on the main street, as a corpse with its guts thoroughly sucked out.

“I’m sorry.”

“Good. I’m a generous man, so I’ll understand.”

“What the he…”

What the hell is this nonsense. Yang Euijoo swallowed the curse he was about to say and brazenly said thank you. Watching Yang Euijoo’s precarious tightrope walk on the thread of his life with amusement, Cheon Yeomyung closed the ledger.

“I asked if your hair color is natural.”

“Ah, well, I guess so.”

“Are you of mixed blood?”

“I’m probably Asian.”

“Not from Hong Kong, then.”

Yang Euijoo frowned at Cheon Yeomyung’s conclusive statement.

“Why do you think so?”

“Because neither Hong Kongers nor Chinese people call themselves Asian. Well, I’ve seen some guys who prattle on about being British.”

Not that it changes who they are. Cheon Yeomyung sneered and took out a hip flask from his pocket. Even that bottle, wrapped in black leather, was dark. The man, after taking a sip of whiskey, asked.

“Care for a cigarette?”

“Thank you.”

Cigarettes are an expensive luxury. Yang Euijoo did not refuse and accepted the cigarette the man offered. It was a high-quality item, incomparable to the cheap cigarettes made by putting tobacco leaves in cheap paper and gluing it together. As Yang Euijoo fumbled around looking for a light, a chik sound was heard as a small flame sparked in front of him.

Yang Euijoo raised his head. Right in front of his nose, Cheon Yeomyung was smiling, showing his excessively handsome face.

“A light?”

A vermilion flame was rising from a match that was too small for the man’s hand. The flame flickered as if it would burn his fingertips. Yang Euijoo hesitated for a moment, then brought the cigarette in his mouth to the flame and slowly drew in a breath. The man lit his own cigarette before shaking the match in the air to extinguish it. Gray smoke rose from the two cigarettes and the extinguished match.

“You don’t use a lighter.”

“Ah.”

Cheon Yeomyung smiled, looking down at the burnt and crumbled match.

“Lighters aren’t my taste.”

“Isn’t that the pride of gentlemen these days?”

“So it seems to be regarded.”

An oil lighter made of heavy stainless steel was a symbol of wealth. Yang Euijoo clearly remembered the so-called British gentlemen who, while he was working on the ship, covered in oil grime and cleaning the deck, would ostentatiously take out a lighter to light their cigars. They carried around the latest oil lighters, which cost as much as a round-trip boat ticket, and would put on an air of arrogance by closing the lid with a loud snap after lighting it.

“I’ve used one a few times, but it’s not my taste.”

“Why not?”

“Because their lifespan is long.”

It was an unpleasant answer. Yang Euijoo unwittingly frowned. Seeing the finely crumpled face, Cheon Yeomyung laughed out loud, then took a deep drag of his cigarette and exhaled. His red lips, as if they had taken on the match flame, occasionally flickered, hidden beneath the smoke.

Yang Euijoo, unable to find anything to say, hesitated and chose to just quietly smoke his cigarette. The short silence was rather comfortable. Yang Euijoo, as if savoring the cigarette he was tasting after a long time, smoked it slowly, and stuck out the tip of his tongue slightly, as if to lick the smoke. The house, filled with the bitter and harsh cigarette smoke, was indeed like a chimney, just as its nickname suggested. Feeling his mind go blank, Yang Euijoo let his head slide down, the cigarette still between his fingers.

“The information you gave me last time was very useful.”

Over his dizzy head, as if he had smoked opium, the man’s leisurely and, it seemed, blood-scented voice rang out.

“Thanks to you, I was able to catch him.”

“…”

“Catching the bastard with my own hands, a bastard who was clutching a ticket and rejoicing as if he had already succeeded in his escape…”

Inevitably, the hand wearing the cold leather glove groped the back of Yang Euijoo’s hand. Cigarette ash, blown by his breath, fell onto the leather glove. It was the same ash-gray color as Yang Euijoo.

“Mister Pharmacist’s face came to mind.”

“…”

“Ah, don’t think of it as a come-on.”

It hurts my feelings.

The soft voice was so sweet, as if to soothe one’s temper, that Yang Euijoo had to suppress the urge to vomit.

“Don’t make that face. I won’t tell you what I did to him.”

The man said, feigning reassurance with a grin. How malicious, to pretend to keep his mouth shut belatedly after already giving out enough information to imagine everything. In Yang Euijoo’s opinion, Cheon Yeomyung seemed like a well-educated man. His smart and clever mind was used for other things, making him even more vicious. No one in their right mind sets foot in Yirang. This was because even Yang Euijoo, who had become a resident of this place, thought that a place where only gangsters, trash, drug addicts, prostitutes, stateless people, and criminals gathered couldn’t possibly be sane. The guy with the worst reputation on such a street? Of course, he couldn’t be normal.

The man’s skill in leading such an uncomfortable conversation, starting from the topic of matches and lighters, was remarkable. Yang Euijoo was deeply distressed by the reality that he couldn’t just kick the shin of this low-quality customer to chase him out.

“Does the cripple come by often?”

Yang Euijoo stopped puffing on his cigarette and slightly raised his head. Cheon Yeomyung was still flipping through the ledger. Yang Euijoo pressed his finished cigarette onto the table to extinguish it and answered. A new round, black mark was added to the table, which was already clearly marked with a burnt pot stain.

“…Should I say often? He comes to buy painkillers regularly, about twice a month.”

He was a man everyone called the cripple. He had bragged so much with his own mouth that he ended up that way after being stabbed in the left knee with a knife. The cripple was also a severe opium addict. Yang Euijoo had noticed that the guy came to buy painkillers when he ran out of money for opium. It seemed the dregs used to make the painkillers were affecting that madman’s drug addiction.

“The woman with curly brown hair who comes regularly to buy poultices. What’s her name?”

“…Mei. She’s a prostitute.”

After answering faithfully, Yang Euijoo sighed. He didn’t know if Cheon Yeomyung’s intention was to grasp the main clientele of this pharmacy or to test his memory, but it was unpleasant in many ways.

“If you want to buy a woman, go to the back alley, find a building with a red door, and call for someone. As you can see, this is not an inn, nor can I call a woman for you.”

Mei and the cripple. Both of them were bastards who worked at an establishment called the Red Door. The cripple gathered customers from the gambling den, and Mei sold her body to those guys, a fairly common job in Yirang. Here, they sold their bodies regardless of gender. There were people who could do nothing else. The first words Yang Euijoo heard as a greeting at the gambling den were some bullshit like, “If you’re a virgin, you could get 500 dollars.”

Having experienced so much prostitution, sexual harassment, and sexual assault in his life, Yang Euijoo was now fed up with these kinds of questions. He wiped the blackish cigarette ash from his fingertips on his clothes without a care and said irritably.

“We don’t have any pig aphrodisiacs here either, so why don’t you leave?”

“I think you’ve misunderstood, I have no intention of buying a woman.”

Cheon Yeomyung held up his palm as if he didn’t want to fight. Today, even the leather gloves tightly fitted on his hands were unusually unpleasant. Yang Euijoo, along with the thought that his head was aching, scrutinized the man’s face. The man was so handsome that it seemed he could persuade a passing dog with just a serious-looking expression.

“Then?”

“I was curious if they were old regulars.”

An outstretched index finger was touching the ledger. Yang Euijoo sighed, looking at the man who was freely reading the records he had painstakingly written, one character at a time.

“Yes. They’ve been coming almost since I opened. Mei comes more often than the cripple. …She gets beaten up by her customers often.”

“You seem close?”

“With whom, the cripple?”

“The woman.”

“With Mei, we just chat a little.”

Hearing Yang Euijoo’s answer, the corners of Cheon Yeomyung’s mouth slightly lifted. A prostitute would not talk about a customer hitting her to a young man with whom she had no friendship. Regardless of how Yang Euijoo thought of himself, it was certain that he had a bit of a soft spot.

What should I do… Cheon Yeomyung thought for a moment before opening his mouth.

“I’d like you to contact me if either of the two comes to see you.”

Yang Euijoo did not ask why at that suggestion-like command. Instead, he asked something more important first.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“The phone, ah.”

The rich and wealthy man looked as if he couldn’t have imagined it. Although telephones had become widespread, it was questionable whether there were even telephone lines in Yirang. Yirang was a place that illegally tapped into the electricity and water supplied to other buildings to light its lights and turn on its water. Water and electricity. In a barbaric city that lacked even the basics, a telephone was a truly insane luxury.

“I’ll tell Chui, so borrow his phone.”

“…”

“If you do as I ask, I’ll make sure the compensation is not disappointing.”

Compensation. Money was the most important thing in Yang Euijoo’s life. His hesitation was not long. Cheon Yeomyung, seemingly satisfied, showed a smile and leaned back comfortably in his chair. He still looked out of place in this narrow and steep house. The man, sitting with his legs crossed, looked like he was well-packaged and displayed inside a doll box.