Yang’s Master Chapter 1.2 - Unlicensed Pharmacist

On the complete contrary, when Cheon Yeomyung looked at Yang Euijoo, he felt as if he had stumbled upon a figure from a back alley. A large, stained t-shirt, like looking at lewd and crude graffiti scrawled on a wall. Skinny fingers that revealed his bone structure and arms that seemed slender but had clearly defined muscles. They were muscles formed from hard labor. He nonchalantly opened his mouth and offered a brief assessment.

“You seem like you’d be popular.”

“The level of conversation has suddenly plummeted.”

Words as cold as his face fell. Had there ever been anyone who took such a chilly attitude toward Cheon Yeomyung? Instead of making an excuse that it was a childish question he wouldn’t have even asked at twenty, he shrugged his shoulders.

“Well… can’t we have a bit of light conversation?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have private conversations with customers.”

“It’s too cold to call a man you’ve let into your home a customer.”

“I tend to be on the cold side.”

His lips were unrestrained each time they moved. Cheon Yeomyung considered having a cigarette, then decided to drink a little more whiskey. He poured some of the remaining whiskey into the empty glass and handed it over. Upon receiving the drink, Yang Euijoo’s face suddenly softened as he lifted the glass. He sipped at the golden-hued liquid, licking it cautiously as if it were honey spilled by the gods.

“Where were you born?”

Enraptured by the cool sensation of the expensive whiskey traveling down his throat, Yang Euijoo chattered on about trivial things. Not even a minute had passed since he had boldly declared that he did not engage in private conversations, yet neither of them pointed out the change in his attitude.

“I was born in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I had a mother, but we were always wandering from place to place. Maybe because I lived on a ship, I learned to speak late, and I still remember being cursed at for giving birth to a retard.”

“Was your mother a sailor?”

“Hmm.”

His finely textured eyebrows furrowed. A gap appeared as his cold expression crumbled and cracked. Cheon Yeomyung silently gazed at that tremor. Yang Euijoo tapped the side of the dented metal cup. Tap, tap. From the sound of tapping tin, he felt the rocking of the ship from long ago. He felt nauseous every day. When the baby cried, his mother would be kicked out from below deck every night and would wander back and forth on the main deck, lulling the young Yang Euijoo to sleep.

“I suppose so. She said we lived by the sea, but I don’t know exactly where. I was too young, so even if I was told, I don’t remember.”

“Is that why you settled here?”

“No, I came to live here because you don’t need citizenship.”

“What about a birth registration?”

“What a crazy thing to say. No country welcomes a pauper born in the middle of the ocean with open arms.”

Living in Yirang was proof of that. Almost no one in Yirang had a birth registration. They couldn’t have possibly registered their birth. They were all people who were alive, yet no different from the dead. There was no order of law, no protection from the state. It was a mystery why these beggars, who had nothing but their bodies and their grit, would flock to a place like this tomb, as if hoping to enjoy some kind of wealth and glory. The same was true for Yang Euijoo. He took a mouthful of whiskey and then swallowed it in one gulp.

In an instant, his stomach grew warm and he felt a tipsy sensation. It had been a long time since he’d had a drink. Cigarettes, alcohol, they were all luxury goods. Expensive things were always precious. Yang Euijoo gently closed his eyes and savored the feeling of the alcohol spreading through his body. It was euphoric, as if he were floating weightlessly. If he could have a glass of this kind of alcohol every night before bed, he would sell his soul to the devil.

Ah, so that’s why the man before him is called the devil. Lost in such useless thoughts, Yang Euijoo took a deep breath. A red flush bloomed on his pale, ashen-white face. Knowing he shouldn’t, Yang Euijoo let his fingertips drop downwards and allowed his body to grow heavy with the alcohol’s influence.

“What kind of work did you do before you came here?”

“I worked on a ship the whole time.”

It seemed Cheon Yeomyung was curious about Yang Euijoo’s life. He asked questions ceaselessly. Yang Euijoo considered snapping at him, asking why he was so disgustingly nosy about another person’s story, but then he remembered the free drink he’d just had and repeatedly answered.

“On a ship, continuously?”

“I was born there, and I lived there my whole life.”

His mother, who had worked on a ship her entire life, had conceived him there and died there. It was the middle of the ocean when Yang Euijoo was born, too. He was a child of the Pacific. A newborn with only his umbilical cord just barely cut, he had managed to cling to life on that filthy ship. His mother spoke several languages, a little of each, haltingly. Yang Euijoo couldn’t understand most of what she said. Then an epidemic broke out, and his mother died then, too.

He thought he was seven years old at the time. Still a late talker who could only manage simple sentences and words, Yang Euijoo had to work in his mother’s place. The treatment a stupid little kid who was slow to speak received on the ship was disgusting.

“My mother died when I was seven, but I lived on the ship even after that. They said some things and wouldn’t let me get off. I understood when I was a bit older, but they said my mother died on the ship, so I could only leave after I paid off her funeral expenses and the cost of raising me.”

Hearing Yang Euijoo’s words, Cheon Yeomyung nodded with a look that said he got the gist of it.

“You were scammed, in a sense.”

“It was more like human trafficking than a scam.”

“Care for another?”

Cheon Yeomyung offered a cigarette again, like handing a chocolate-covered biscuit to a child. It also seemed like an invitation to continue his story. Since the story was already out, Yang Euijoo decided to treat the cigarette and alcohol as payment for his tale and gave a slight nod. Soon, a flame rose from the second match. The man, with a very polite demeanor, lit Yang Euijoo’s cigarette for him. With the cigarette between his lips, Yang Euijoo bowed his head and sweetly accepted the light from the most beautiful and wealthy man in this place, inhaling it.

A sigh, as euphoric and sweet as someone smoking a long pipe filled with opium, escaped Yang Euijoo’s lips. He was so engrossed in the cigarette that he failed to notice that Cheon Yeomyung’s golden eyes were watching his lips violently, as if they would tear them apart.

“So, what kind of work did you do on the ship?”

Surrounded by the strong liquor and cigarette smoke, Yang Euijoo continued his story. He gave a short shudder, feeling as if the smell of rat droppings, filth, rotten water, and salt still lingered at the tip of his nose.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it… When I was young, I just did menial chores, but after I got a little older, they must have liked my appearance because they changed my job. From the age of ten, I started going around the second-class cabins checking tickets.”

The young, pretty boy crewman checking tickets was popular with the passengers. There were suggestions to send him to first class, but he was cast out by those who were intensely jealous. In any case, Yang Euijoo was happy just to be able to escape the lowest deck where the cargo was loaded.

“With the money I saved up that way, I was able to get off the ship. Those bastards were relentless. I gave them my entire fortune to escape.”

“The wages couldn’t have been much.”

At the man’s comment, Yang Euijoo cackled, sucking the almost-burnt-out cigarette down to the filter. What kind of proper money would a child with no nationality and no parents, or a woman with no husband, have received? The crewmen would yell at him to be grateful just for being fed and housed, and at the slightest provocation, they would grab Yang Euijoo by the scruff of his neck and threaten to throw him into the sea.

“There were no wages at all. What would you expect from bastards who would hit or starve me at the drop of a hat? After I got the ticket-checking job, I was able to wash up a bit more, and from then on, I secretly collected the tips the ladies gave me. Money, goddamned money. For that damn money, I did anything.”

Saying that, Yang Euijoo flicked the cigarette butt with his fingers. From his face as he swept back his slightly long hair, one could almost read his harsh boyhood. Cheon Yeomyung watched Yang Euijoo without a word. Every time he uttered a long sentence, the smell of alcohol wafted from between his lips. The pharmacist seemed to be a very light drinker; unable to control his body, he drooped and continuously muttered stories he hadn’t been asked to tell. Cheon Yeomyung realized that this prickly pharmacist was quite the chatterbox.

“When you wander the decks, you sometimes see the VIPs from first class. If the ladies took a liking to you, they’d permit you to enter their cabins, and in return, you just had to be their conversation partner. The elderly ladies liked young, pretty boys like me.”

On the face that nonchalantly revealed his past, not even a hint of moral contemplation could be felt. It wasn’t something to be condemned. Such cases were so common that it sounded as matter-of-fact as a confession of having played by killing ants.

“Until when did you do it?”

“I did it until I got off. Besides that, there was no other way to make money, and… well, that’s just how it is.”

It is the law of nature that the more moneyless one is, the cheaper one is sold. The scene was vivid even without seeing it directly. There were endless people who would covet a pretty, soft-spoken young boy. Especially if he looked like that, the demand would have been certain. Tastes may differ, of course, but haven’t beautiful youths lived tiresome lives since the time of myths?

Cheon Yeomyung thought of Ganymede from the myths, who was abducted by a god transformed into an eagle. There was a definite resemblance between Yang Euijoo and the beautiful youth who was said to have received the favor of the supreme god and was tasked with pouring wine.

“You must have been popular with the ladies.”

“It’s funny how those refined noblewomen would pull each other’s hair and fight, each claiming she called me first.”

Yang Euijoo smiled brightly, saying it was amusing to recall that time. His attitude was cynical as he scorned how refined humans could sink so low over such matters. Cheon Yeomyung, regretting that he had no sweet snacks in his pocket, passed over the entire hip flask. Yang Euijoo didn’t even refuse and drank the whiskey down. A white back of the hand nonchalantly wiped his wet lips.

Cheon Yeomyung still found it strange that he did not engage in prostitution in Yirang.

“Are men not to your liking?”

Gray eyes, soaked in intoxication, narrowed.

“Are there really guys who like other guys?”

“In some cases, yes.”

“I’m sick and tired of men. They were all perverted bastards.”

At the remark steeped in experience, Cheon Yeomyung cast a sidelong glance. As if he disliked the topic, Yang Euijoo, still frowning, shook his head nonsensically. His gaze was fixed not on Cheon Yeomyung, but on the window in the door. Whenever he opened the tightly shut, narrow window, he would remember the times he secretly crept up to the deck to see the sun after waking up. Hiding in a corner, holding his breath, he would watch the rising sun and often cry, resenting his mother who had given birth to him on a ship and left so early. Then he would be unlucky enough to get caught by the crewmen who came to clean the deck and be dragged away and beaten.

Lying on the very bottom of the ship, his body would rock too violently. Thanks to that, even now when he lies in bed, he sometimes feels his body being crushed into the surface of sleep, as if floating on seawater. He was truly sick and tired of ships now. With the feeling that he would just die if he ever had to get on a ship again, he paid a ridiculous ransom with the money he had saved for 20 years and disembarked.

The land he arrived on, with a body free for the first time, was this hopeless city. His body still swayed as if on a ship. Airplanes flew so low overhead they seemed about to crash into buildings, and on the day a rat that had crawled out, ignorant of night and day, cried upon seeing him, the fog was so thick it was as if it were snowing. Still, he thinks he was just happy. It was the happiest and sweetest moment of his life. It was a naive life on land, where he couldn’t even imagine that another misfortune would soon find him.

Yang Euijoo blinked, reminiscing about that time. His bent fingers tapped meaninglessly on the wooden table before drawing a long line downwards. It was as deep as if showing his location back then.

“About thirty of us menial workers couldn’t even use the crew’s quarters and slept huddled together like rags at the bottom of the ship where cargo is stored. Even in a place like that, there’s always some guy who gropes you. In severe cases, there were even knife fights.”

“You were lucky to survive.”

“You just have to push them into the sea before they can harm you. A guy who falls into the sea doesn’t even have the strength to scream.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. They get pushed surprisingly easily. Maybe they just didn’t think I would fight back.”

“What was it like when you pushed him?”

Cheon Yeomyung asked, a little intrigued. Yang Euijoo blinked, then muttered with a face that was recalling that moment. A chill soon came over the eyes of someone who had killed a person before.

“I thought the railing was lower than I expected. And that it was simpler than I thought.”

That statement also contained a warning. It was a blatant threat that if he showed any sign of touching him without consent, he would be pushed into the sea. Instead of making an excuse, Cheon Yeomyung asked Yang Euijoo back.

“Did I seem like such a barbaric man to you?”

Yang Euijoo was genuinely impressed.

“I thought you were someone who would consider that an honor….”

This time, he was speechless. Instead of getting angry at Yang Euijoo’s accusation, Cheon Yeomyung chose to laugh. And when he laughed out loud, the master of the house immediately looked at him with the most foolish expression in the world, so Cheon Yeomyung’s laughter lasted longer than he had intended.

🐑

Yang Euijoo, who woke up only around lunchtime the next day, realized along with his hangover that he had rarely drunk alcohol before. Hiding his face, which was even more grimy and messy than usual, he let out a sigh. He had been so excited at the sight of good liquor that he hadn’t even considered the possibility of getting drunk. For him, whose only experience with drinking was getting caught stealing and drinking rum and being beaten with a stick, the whiskey was excessively stimulating and delicious.

Still, how could he drink whatever that bastard gave him and pass out right in front of him. I hope I didn’t say anything useless, Yang Euijoo muttered, and his eyes caught something.

It was a small note, the size of a business card.

<You should refrain from alcohol. Your guest takes his leave.>

“…”

Yang Euijoo was silent, clutching the note. Seeing the words written in a script as elegant as its writer’s appearance on the luxurious memo paper, he went so far as to have the excessive thought that it would be better to just die now. The letters were precise and classic, as if printed by a machine, without a single stray stroke. Do people like this learn a separate style of handwriting? Yang Euijoo thought of his own messy scrawl, crumpled the paper, and threw it away carelessly.

He couldn’t remember what stories he had told or how much he had chattered on yesterday. His stomach, of course, was churning. Thinking simultaneously that he wanted to vomit and that if he vomited in this tiny house it would be irreversible, Yang Euijoo forced himself to step on the plank and climb down.

It seemed Cheon Yeomyung had left Yang Euijoo as he was in the living room and departed. Well, it was impossible for both of them to move to the attic where the bedding was laid out at the same time in this house.

Who would want to be cozily squeezed together in a chimney? Ugh, Yang Euijoo hiccupped, roughly rubbed the tip of his nose, and opened the door.

The heat and stench hit his nose with a whoosh. It smelled like asphalt was melting somewhere, and then an airplane that seemed about to crash flew across the sky above his head. The heat from the engine was so hot that Yang Euijoo couldn’t hold it in and ended up retching in a corner of the alley.

“You clean it up, you crazy bastard!”

At that moment, the landlord living in the alley house cursed and carelessly threw a bucket of mop water onto the ground. The smell was so fragrant that Yang Euijoo, after vomiting refreshingly one more time, ignored the landlord’s words and escaped the alley. He staggered, breaking out in a cold sweat from the throbbing pain in his head, kicked the red dental clinic sign written in pig’s blood, and went inside.

“Aaargh!”

As soon as Doctor Chui saw Yang Euijoo, he collapsed onto the floor. Ignoring the dramatic reaction, as if he had seen a ghost, Yang Euijoo went inside, freely opened the refrigerator door, took out some water, and drank it. After drinking the cold water, his complexion brightened a bit, and Yang Euijoo smacked his lips. Smack, smack.

The dental clinic was cooler than other places. Two electric fans were rattling and running. Rattle, rattle. Yang Euijoo washed his hands and rinsed his mouth in the dental clinic sink.

“What are you doing in my clinic right now?”

Doctor Chui called out to the uninvited guest with a sour face. Yang Euijoo ignored Chui. He thoroughly cleared his gritty throat and then looked at his reflection in the mirror. His faded, grayish hair was long enough to be tied back. Should I find a barbershop soon? Yang Euijoo annoyingly pushed back his shaggy hair, long enough to cover the nape of his neck, and meticulously checked his face from various angles.

“Hey, Pharmacist. What do you think you’re doing?”

The old dentist called the ‘youngster of today’ who had not a shred of respect for his elders several times, but there was still no answer. Only after safely confirming that there were no unpleasant handprints in places hard to see without a mirror did Yang Euijoo turn his head. The corners of his eyes, slanted sharply upwards, glared at Doctor Chui.

“Old man, you sold me out, didn’t you?”

It was accompanied by a murderous irritation. Chui, who had a guilty conscience, jumped and shook his head.

“No! When did I ever do that?”

“No? That man personally came to my house and mentioned your name, and you say no?”

Yang Euijoo kicked a chair like a gangster and threw a fit.

“That is, ahem.”

Whether he felt any guilt for selling out a neighbor with whom he lived in mutual support, Doctor Chui mumbled his words and feigned ignorance. You can’t trust anyone. Glaring at the culprit who had made Cheon Yeomyung aware of his existence and caused him to frequent his house, Yang Euijoo cracked his knuckles roughly. At the harsh sound, the old man’s face turned pale. He was too weak, powerless, and skilled at sucking up to the powerful to deal with a guy who, despite his pretty face, was as murderous and venomous as a pickpocket who had rolled around Yirang for about 10 years.

“I’m sorry. But that man doesn’t kill anyone without reason. To be precise, I heard he doesn’t kill if they have value…”

“Oh, is that so?”

Yang Euijoo said sarcastically, plopped down in front of Doctor Chui, and arbitrarily broke a mooncake the doctor had taken out to eat and put it in his mouth.

Seeing him acting so dissolutely on the sofa as if it were his own home, just like Cheon Yeomyung, Doctor Chui inwardly cursed that he had only learned the unlucky things. Of course, he didn’t say it out loud. He was old and had just this morning ground a patient’s tooth wrong, doubling the treatment time. He had broken out in a sweat making excuses to the patient, and about thirty more white hairs had sprouted. If he fought with the young and vigorous Yang Euijoo, who was still in his prime, it would be Doctor Chui’s nose that got broken.

Doctor Chui silently watched the toe of a sneaker, so worn out that it was impossible to tell if it was gray or dirt-colored, bobbing up and down. Yang Euijoo put some of the sweet mooncake in his mouth, then, feeling his stomach churn again, he shot up and took out the water bottle he had put away.

And then he completely drained the water that Doctor Chui had preciously boiled with a few tea leaves floating in it. Yang Euijoo carelessly threw the empty bottle into the sink and looked at Chui. The old man was hurriedly stuffing the remaining mooncake into his mouth, afraid Yang Euijoo would eat the rest of it. Watching the greedy Doctor Chui with displeasure, Yang Euijoo arbitrarily picked up a white coat lying around the clinic and put it on over his shabby t-shirt.

“If my life gets screwed up because of that bastard, you’re going down with me.”

At the brazen theft, Doctor Chui tried to say something, but the heavy, chestnut-filled mooncake was stuffing his mouth, so no proper sound came out. Leaving behind Doctor Chui, who started choking while trying to swallow the mooncake quickly, Yang Euijoo kicked the rattling door. Clang.

“I’m going to burn this clinic down. So, thanks for the water.”

“Hey, Yang Euijoo!”

Doctor Chui called after him in a shrill, hoarse voice, but Yang Euijoo ignored him and walked toward Li Su’s shop. A few women passing by saw him walking with his hands thrust into the pockets of the white coat and greeted him, “Pharmacist, sir.” He briefly showed off his new clothes to his neighbors before stopping at Li Su’s noodle soup shop.

Li Su, who had been sitting in front of the hot stove for a long time, skimming impurities off the broth, was puzzled to see Yang Euijoo suddenly appear wearing a white coat.

“What’s with the clothes?”

“Doctor Chui gave me one. Said the owner of a pharmacy should have at least one of these, you know?”

“There’s no way that greedy old man would give something like that away so easily…”

Though puzzled, Li Su placed a bowl of noodle soup in front of Yang Euijoo. Yang Euijoo caught a gnat flying nearby, crushed it with his thumbnail, and then picked up his chopsticks. After eating the hot noodle soup, his upset stomach settled down a little. He moved his chopsticks without rest, slurping down the wonton noodle soup with finely chopped cabbage leaves. Beads of sweat formed on the bridge of his nose.

“Hey, I told you to eat slowly.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know why you always eat so fast.”

Li Su muttered, sitting across from Yang Euijoo. Watching Li Su diligently making meatballs for tonight’s dinner, Yang Euijoo swallowed a bitter smile. Having lived on a ship, he had to eat quickly before his food was snatched away, and a habit of over 20 years, naturally, was not easily corrected.

Putting down the still-unfinished bowl of noodle soup, Yang Euijoo discreetly pushed the money from his pocket in front of Li Su. Li Su, who was rolling dough, flinched and stopped.

“Euijoo-ya.”

“Take it. It’s not money I earned doing bad things.”

“You…”

“It’s true. It’s not even enough to cover the cost of feeding me all this time, so just take it.”

As if to say he wouldn’t argue anymore, Yang Euijoo picked up his chopsticks again and buried his face in the bowl. Li Su sighed, looking at him. At his firm attitude, she rolled the bills very thinly, put them in a hidden double pocket her husband didn’t know about, and pulled the thread to close it tightly. Li Su spoke to Yang Euijoo, who was silently eating his noodle soup.

“…Thank you.”

“I’m more grateful.”

Yang Euijoo replied nonchalantly and swallowed the noodle soup that tasted of kindness. Without this, he would have starved to death at the age of twenty-three as soon as he arrived in Yirang.

“But you’re not really doing anything dangerous, are you? Even with the work you’re doing now…”

“I told you I’m not. Don’t you trust me?”

It was so dangerous that he didn’t know when he might be dragged away alive, have his organs sold, and then be displayed on a village guardian post, but for now, Yang Euijoo answered no. Li Su, unable to hide her deeply uneasy expression, looked at Yang Euijoo and then lifted the tray of meatballs.

“Alright, if you say you’re fine…”

“Has this hag gone crazy, fooling around with a young male prostitute in broad daylight?”

The moment the unpleasant voice was heard, both Li Su and Yang Euijoo froze.

Yang Euijoo lifted his head, chopsticks still in hand. Du Shanchong sauntered over, hands shoved in his pockets. The rank, fishy smell of someone who had been doing alcohol and drugs since broad daylight wafted over.

“Honey.”

Li Su hunched her shoulders, cautiously watching Du Shanchong’s expression. Seeing Li Su’s cautiousness, Du Shanchong grew even angrier and lunged forward.

“You fucking bitch, you start looking elsewhere the moment I loosen the reins!”

“Oh my goodness!”

Startled, Li Su shrieked and stepped backward. A few of the meatballs on the tray rolled onto the ground. Seeing that, Du Shanchong flew into another rage. A torrent of sharp verbal abuse, about how she didn’t know the value of ingredients and only ate like a pig, resounded through the street stall. Since Du Shanchong acting like this was not a new occurrence, everyone just watched on as if it were a matter of course. Yang Euijoo quietly glared at the scene.

“In a situation where it wouldn’t be enough to slip your husband some drinking money to cheer him up, where do you think you’re dawdling with some young punk?”

“It’s a misunderstanding. He just came to eat for the first time in a while, and we were just asking how he was…”

As soon as Li Su answered, Du Shanchong grew even more violently angry. When he trembled, his belly fat jiggled for a moment. He looked like a pig shaking its body.

“So why are you asking how he is! Do you ask every single customer how they are? Do you sit around and play? Just because you’re selling noodle soup, do you think this is some kind of water trade too?”

“No, no. I was wrong.”

Li Su trembled, terrified. That son of a bitch. Yang Euijoo crushed a tiny piece of vegetable with his molars, swallowed it, and then put down his chopsticks.

“I can’t even eat because of the noise this pig bastard is making, so could you please be quiet?”

“What, you punk?”

Du Shanchong’s eyes bulged as he whipped his head back. Li Su, clutching the tray tightly, quickly moved away from her husband. In the process, another meatball fell to the floor, but thankfully, Du Shanchong was too busy glaring at Yang Euijoo to notice. Li Su hastily bent down, picked up the dirtied meatball, and shoved it into her pocket.

“You son of a bitch. You don’t even know the grace of being fed and housed…”

Yang Euijoo snorted at the words he’d heard so often they made his ears bleed, ever since he first landed at the pier two years ago.

“You’ve never fed or housed me. What, have you gone senile? The way you guzzle down alcohol, it’s about time you went senile. You pig bastard.”

“Is this bastard dying to die?”

Du Shanchong strode forward and swiftly raised his hand. His actions were the same, whether towards Li Su or Yang Euijoo. Yang Euijoo glared at the intimidating Du Shanchong. At twenty-three, during a time when he was struggling to make a living, Yang Euijoo had been the sole target of Du Shanchong’s hatred. He had thrown a fit, claiming Li Su had picked up a boy-toy, and at the slightest provocation, he would threaten to drag Yang Euijoo away and sell him off like a slave. For the sake of Li Su, who was always wary of Du Shanchong, Yang Euijoo had washed dishes every day, hunched over without even being able to straighten his back properly, but even after seeing all ten of his fingers develop eczema and his skin peel off, Du Shanchong would kick him or curse at him, calling him a freeloader.

The gist of it was this. That Yang Euijoo did not sell his body as Du Shanchong ordered. That even if he was forcibly dragged to a gambling den and squandered all his money, he did not fall into debt, and that he was not obedient to him.

It was all because of these circumstances that Yang Euijoo had fought tooth and nail to escape from under Du Shanchong’s thumb and come to live in that bizarrely shaped house. The face, flushed red from alcohol, glared at Yang Euijoo as if it would kill him at any moment, but it didn’t just slap him across the face like before. Instead, his eyes darted around, thoroughly examining Yang Euijoo to see if he had been secretly sleeping around while living alone, and if his face was still handsome enough to turn the heads of even men. Du Shanchong, who had gained so much weight that even his eyelids were puffy, soon seemed to have finished appraising Yang Euijoo’s value, and lowered his hand with a somewhat softened expression.

“I’m trying to get along, so why are you throwing such a fit? If you just act a little nicely, would I hit you, or would I get angry?”

His form, with flesh even on his knuckles, was a stark contrast to the bone-thin Li Su. He bent his body, so stout with flesh he couldn’t even properly support it, and looked down at Yang Euijoo. The yellowed teeth, the face older and more haggard than his years, and the stench of drugs and alcohol emanating from his body were all hard to bear. To suppress his nausea, Yang Euijoo forced his lips into a semblance of a smile.

At that, Du Shanchong’s face suddenly brightened. It seemed he had misunderstood upon seeing Yang Euijoo’s smiling face. He paid no mind to his arm, which was spasming from drug side effects, and fumbled at his waist, which was half-eaten by his belly fat.

“Yeah, see how nice it is when you act a little cute like that? Oppa will put in some effort for you…”

He spoke nonsense, making a motion as if to loosen his belt. Have I never once smiled at this piece of trash? Judging by the fact that Du Shanchong had never even seen his smile, which sold quite cheaply, Yang Euijoo was struck anew by just how disgustingly he had acted.

But when he faced him, a smile truly would not come. The look in the bastard’s eyes as he looked at a freshly washed Yang Euijoo was the same as the sailors who had tried to grope him, making it all the more repulsive. Still smiling, Yang Euijoo unhesitatingly threw the noodle soup bowl at Du Shanchong’s face. If he had thrown it when it was boiling hot, it would have at least burned his face, but it had cooled down and didn’t seem to do much damage. Du Shanchong flew into a rage. The old chair broke, and Yang Euijoo tumbled to the ground.

“Honey!”

Li Su ran over, screaming, but she too was struck by Du Shanchong’s flailing arm and fell backward. Seeing Li Su groaning in pain, Yang Euijoo shot to his feet. In an instant, a fistfight broke out. In broad daylight, a man fattened like a pig and another half his size began to wrestle and fight. The fight was, of course, one-sided. Yang Euijoo was still suffering from a hangover, and he was no match for Du Shanchong in terms of weight class to begin with.

Just as he had at twenty-three, he was pinned down by Du Shanchong’s heavy body and beaten. Just the way Du Shanchong shook his body was unbearably disgusting. To what extent? It was so unpleasant that he thought he would rather lick Cheon Yeomyung’s shoes.

“Ungrateful lowlife!”

The booming voice resembled what a sailor, whose face he couldn’t even remember, had said to him before he was pushed into the sea. Yang Euijoo, with blood streaming from his nose, glared up at Du Shanchong. A small laugh escaped him. Ungrateful for what. If he had a gun in his hand, he would have shot him without hesitation and put a hole between his eyes.

“You bastard, lower than a dog or a pig.”

Enraged by the sneering voice, Du Shanchong swung his fists even more harshly.

“You leech who sucks the life out of his own wife, you incompetent piece of trash who ruins everything he touches. You get ignored at the gambling tables too, don’t you? Well, you still don’t understand the rules of mahjong and are just matching pictures, so what money could you possibly win?”

Yang Euijoo retched from the rough blows but still spat out each word through his clenched teeth. Leech. Incompetent. With each sharp word, Du Shanchong’s arms swung wider in the air. The dark desire to mark the uncommonly beautiful face and sell it for a high price someday had long since flown away in the excitement of violence.

“Honey, please stop!”

“Can’t you get lost?”

Li Su clung to him, crying her eyes out, but Du Shanchong only grew more violent. Even amidst it all, drops of blood from his nose splattered into the air. Yang Euijoo gasped, unable to breathe properly. The coat he had taken from Doctor Chui’s clinic was instantly ruined. Red bloodstains dotted the coat, which was now smeared with dirt, thrown noodle soup broth and bits, and crushed insect carcasses.

Seeing that state, Du Shanchong licked his lips. A strange sexual desire he hadn’t felt even after his recent womanizing began to boil. The way he became a little docile only after rolling on the ground like a tattered rag, like a used tissue, and the way he groaned with a bloody nose, gasping for breath through his mouth, was quite a sight. If it weren’t for his looks, he would have sold him off as a slave the moment Li Su picked him up and gone to play mahjong with the money.

“Fuck. I should have ignored the hag’s words and taught him the taste of a man.”

At the words that made his ears feel like they would rot, Yang Euijoo, who had been clutching his ribcage and catching his breath, let out a hollow laugh. The taste of a man, my ass. Yang Euijoo swallowed about half the blood from his nose and spat out the other half as he opened his mouth.

“Can you even get it up? You impotent bastard.”

After that, he was beaten so severely that his ears rang. A chair, split in half, seemed to have flown at his body, but the violent incident, which was more like a brittle crumbling since the chair was so old, ended only after the citizen self-defense force rushed over. Even in a state where he felt like he would die from the pain, Yang Euijoo realized that it was true that Du Shanchong suffered from erectile dysfunction as a side effect of his drug use.

A guy who can’t live without women has become impotent, how hilarious. Yang Euijoo grinned, and with his tattered body, he managed to make his way back home.

It was only natural that his severely beaten body couldn’t hold up. He couldn’t even climb up to the flat, narrow bed on the third floor and lay groaning next to the tools he used to make medicine. At night, a fever rose. Yang Euijoo came to his senses with the feeling of an unknown insect that had been crawling on his skin falling off.

His ears were numb from how much his cheeks had been slapped, and his whole body ached unbearably. Yang Euijoo, drenched in a cold sweat, dry-heaved, and then managed to crawl on all fours into the bathroom. It took a long time just to grab and turn on the faucet. Only after his hand slipped several times, soaked in sweat, did he finally succeed in turning on the water. Rusty water poured out, enough to fill a washbasin, before proper water came out. Yang Euijoo rubbed a sliver of soap and barely managed to wash his body, which was caked in sweat and dirt. The scratches he got from being pinned to the ground stung, and his thighs, knees, arms, and various parts of his body were bruised purple.

Did I go too far? He sighed, pouring cold water over his head. Seeing the way he treated Auntie Li Su, he had been a bit too sarcastic. Since he was a guy with a huge inferiority complex, he would surely hold a grudge over this. Yang Euijoo gargled with saltwater, brewed strong enough to taste bitter, to disinfect his mouth and then spat it out. The water, stained with blood, was completely pink.

His mouth was all busted up too, so he was in a state where he couldn’t even eat porridge. To think my last supper would end with unfinished noodle soup. Yang Euijoo thought regretfully and prodded here and there inside his mouth with his tongue. Fortunately, his teeth weren’t loose. He couldn’t become Doctor Chui’s patient just yet. That man would surely pull out even healthy teeth, so Yang Euijoo, thinking it was a huge relief, gargled with saltwater one more time. It hurt so much it brought tears to his eyes, but since there were so many other injuries, it was tolerable enough to get past.

Finally succeeding in cleaning his body, from which dirty water dripped every time he rubbed the soap, he pulled out some clean clothes, put them on, and crawled up to the second floor. Then he carelessly pushed aside the table and curled up his body.

“Aaaargh…”

A rough groan escaped him involuntarily. As if mocking his having washed, a cold sweat started to pour down again. There were no painkillers, of course, and all he had were the fake medicines he made himself. To think I’m doing business under the name of a pharmacist, but I don’t have any medicine for myself. Yang Euijoo bit the tip of his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut. The blow from the chair Du Shanchong had wielded must have been critical, as sweat poured from his entire body.

He groaned in pain, and eventually, unable to bear it, he rolled around on the floor screaming. His vision would turn yellow, then get a little better, over and over again. Yang Euijoo squeezed out his last bit of strength, opened the door, and crawled out. Actually, it was a bit of a stretch to say he crawled out. There was no way he could get down the narrow, sparsely placed plank stairs in that state. Yang Euijoo stepped on a few planks and then took a spectacular tumble, and had to taste the pain of adding about three more bruises to his body, which already had about fifty.

Yang Euijoo, who had briefly lost consciousness from the impact of the fall and then woken up, finally succeeded in getting out of the house. The closest place to his house that sold fever reducers was Linda’s general store. The price of the medicine was nauseatingly expensive, but it was good quality medicine distributed from the center of Hong Kong. It was different from Yang Euijoo’s painkillers, which were made from ingredients that could be either rat droppings or opium droppings.

I’ll buy that on credit for now and then break into the high-denomination dollar bill Cheon Yeomyung gave me to pay it back. That Du Shanchong son of a bitch, turning a person’s body into this bloody mess. I want to buy and eat a cool ice cream. With his fever-addled brain thinking stupid thoughts like a dropped stitch in knitting, Yang Euijoo staggered along. He was at a point where he didn’t even know if the path he was walking on was outside, or the inside where the general store was located.

Yang Euijoo headed in the direction the wind was blowing from. The more fiercely the wind blew, the more his cold sweat dried, leaving a shivery chill. Still, it was better than being hot and humid. Ah, maybe a typhoon is coming? Amid his bright yellow vision, Yang Euijoo lifted his head and looked at the sky. His eyes were so swollen he couldn’t see what color the sky was. Simply feeling that the wind was still blowing and that the sunlight wasn’t glaringly bright, he staggered on.

Walking with flailing limbs like a baby giraffe with a broken leg, he realized he had come to the completely wrong place. The fishy smell of the sea wafted from right in front of him. It was the smell of salt, barnacles, and sea slaters that had all died at once, wafting from the nearby pier.

Feeling unwell, he stopped and dry-heaved, and along with a huge engine roar, a wave of humid heat washed over his already hot body. It was a black, full-door Continental. The car, whose body looked physically incapable of entering the narrow alley, loitered near Yang Euijoo, rolling its wheels very slowly, before finally coming to a stop.

Yang Euijoo saw the man getting out of the car. His appearance was still not quite human, and his eyes, the only things shining brightly amidst his black attire, were like a moon hanging alone in the darkness. To think I can’t even recognize the sun stuck in the sky, but I can recognize his eyes. Yang Euijoo stared at the man whose presence was absurdly distinct.

“…You’ve injured your eardrum?”

Cheon Yeomyung, upon seeing Yang Euijoo, muttered in a bewildered voice. Injured my eardrum? Only after hearing Cheon Yeomyung’s voice did Yang Euijoo wipe his ear with the back of his hand. Dried blood scabs crumbled and stuck sparsely to his dry skin. It seemed it wasn’t just his nose that had bled, but his ear too, from being slapped so hard on the cheek. That Du Shanchong son of a bitch. Yang Euijoo slowly cursed in his mind.

“It feels like it’s only been a day, why have you become such a wreck?”

Cheon Yeomyung’s voice sounded muffled, as if his ears were full of water. Yang Euijoo tried to stick his finger in his ear canal to scrape out the dried clot of blood, but Cheon Yeomyung grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“Don’t touch it, unless you want to tear your ear apart.”

Yang Euijoo frowned. It wasn’t because Cheon Yeomyung’s words were harsh, but because the arm he grabbed with force hurt so much.

“Let go.”

Yang Euijoo said, shaking his arm weakly. Instead of letting him go, Cheon Yeomyung examined him from head to toe. Even in the eyes of the notoriously infamous man who had seen countless states of being, and was said to have personally brought about most of the most atrocious ones, today’s Yang Euijoo was truly pitiful and pathetic. The man clicked his tongue, not hiding his displeasure. He had never imagined that the bruised man flailing around like a scarecrow near the road would be Yang Euijoo.

He had thought it was some drug addict and was about to have him cleared away, but the closer he got, the more he saw the familiar gray hair. His face was so swollen it was difficult to guess his original features, but Cheon Yeomyung recognized that it was Yang Euijoo, beaten to a pulp by someone.

“Who did this?”

“Would you know if I told you?”

Yang Euijoo muttered, firmly believing himself to be still quite normal, but his fever was so high that his words were slow and drawn out, taking a long time to finish like they were submerged in water.

“Because I am made aware of every incident that happens here.”

At Cheon Yeomyung’s arrogant words, Yang Euijoo, who would normally have crumpled his face, replied with an expression dazed by fever.

“I started the fight.”

It was a bit hard to call it starting a fight. He had just straightforwardly cursed him out for being impotent. Unaware of such circumstances, Cheon Yeomyung glanced around Yirang. This is what happens when a flimsy body like Yang Euijoo’s, which would die from a single punch, goes around starting fights in Yirang.

“Even if you started the fight, they shouldn’t beat a person to a pulp like this.”

Still, Cheon Yeomyung gently took his side, as if he had never seen violence before. A hand in a leather glove swept over his face. Even though the leather was quite soft, the moment it brushed his face, it stung so much that a curse almost came out. Looking at Yang Euijoo, who was showering him with foul words learned from sailors through his expression, Cheon Yeomyung shook his head. The wounds were one thing, but a wave of heat spread from the body he touched. It didn’t seem to be just from absorbing the summer’s radiant heat.

“Get in, for now. Let’s go to the hospital.”

“What?”

Yang Euijoo, unable to understand Cheon Yeomyung’s high-handed, almost command-like words, asked back foolishly. His whole body was burning up. The fever was so severe that the world was spinning before his eyes. An uncomfortable sensation, as if insects were crawling all over his body, came over him. I want to lie down. I was planning to stop by Linda’s, buy an expensive fever reducer, and rest a bit, so why did I have to run into Cheon Yeomyung?

At some point, his head seemed to have completely broken down. He forgot even what he had been thinking just a moment ago and, with a face flushed with fever, stared at the car with its door wide open. Why is such an expensive car in this street? Did a nearby resident get stripped down to his underwear at a gambling table and get released after putting up his car as collateral?

“Pharmacist, can you even hear me right now?”

Something shiny in front of his eyes spoke to him. It sounded close, as if whispering in his ear, then it buzzed like a distant echo, so he couldn’t understand what was being said at all. Yang Euijoo stood blankly for a long time, then shook his head.

“Good grief…”

Cheon Yeomyung looked down at the precarious Yang Euijoo, who looked like he would collapse the moment he let go, and clicked his tongue. He had thought it was quite cute when he got drunk and rambled on about his story before falling asleep, but he had turned into a mess the moment he looked away. He was a man inured to violence. He was not ignorant of the difference between beating someone to the brink of death with a grudge and a few punches exchanged in a momentary flare-up.

What to do. He pondered for a moment. If left like this, he would surely die. Let him die, or save him? Even without Yang Euijoo, there would be no problem in digging up information on the Red Door. After all, doesn’t most of the information in Yirang fall into Cheon Yeomyung’s hands?

As he pondered a person’s life and value, he stared at Yang Euijoo’s face, as if he wanted to confirm something. Cheon Yeomyung had been feeling a slight sense of displeasure for a little while now. It was an emotion whose cause even he himself did not know.

Pharmacist, Cheon Yeomyung called Yang Euijoo again, but now there was no reaction at all. Cheon Yeomyung tightened his grip on Yang Euijoo’s arm. The inside of his wrist was pressed, touching a wound, but Yang Euijoo didn’t even flinch. A cold gaze fell on the lips with dried blood caked on them.

He made his decision. Before value, there was a need to face Yang Euijoo to resolve this unpleasant feeling. Soon, Cheon Yeomyung lifted Yang Euijoo up into his arms. If he ended up liking him more than he thought, he could just cherish him, and if it was a momentary whim, that didn’t matter either. After all, he was a man who could have whatever he wanted and throw away whatever he wanted.

The subordinates who were waiting near the car stood stiffly, their eyes darting to look at Cheon Yeomyung. The boss put the man, whose face was so blotchy he looked like a junk food item with too much food coloring, into the car.

They were so surprised by Cheon Yeomyung’s unexpected action that they even forgot why they had come to the streets of Yirang in the first place.

Turning the car around, the inside was quiet all the way back to the mainland. The only sound was the engine. Since the four-seater vehicle had come with a full capacity of people, Cheon Yeomyung had to hold the man, who was burning up as if his body temperature was around 41 degrees, himself. Linlin had said she would take care of the man, but Cheon Yeomyung lightly ignored the wishes of Linlin, who followed him around tidying up after him, by not even deigning to reply.

The boss is always like that.

He had been visiting Yirang often lately, so today she had insisted on tagging along. He had accepted, though somewhat annoyed, so she had thought, as always, he was capriciously going to gut someone, but what a surprise.

Her young boss had gotten a lover in just a week.

“It’s not like that.”

His intuition was uncanny. To hide her startled face, Linlin giggled. Hehe. Linlin, who had large eyes and cute features, twirled her hair, which was braided into two neat pigtails, with her fingers and quickly racked her brain. Her boss was a mess when it came to humanity, but he did like romance, for what it was worth. The judgment was made in 3 seconds.

“Then, are you thinking of becoming like that?”

“Aha.”

A smile formed on Cheon Yeomyung’s face. Linlin, who hated seeing her boss smile more than anything, squeezed her eyes shut. Even though he was a man more famous for his face than his business acumen, just seeing him smile sent shivers down her entire body. When the boss smiled, trouble arose, and when he made a grim face, only the boss was happy. People often said the boss’s eyes were his charm, but in Linlin’s opinion, he looked best when he was lying in bed, sleeping peacefully.

“If the other party accepts, it could be.”

“I… see?”

“Because I respect the other person’s wishes.”

His words were certainly smooth. Does a person who could go against that man even exist in this world? There were still times when Linlin’s body would tremble like a herbivore before a snake when she looked into Cheon Yeomyung’s eyes.

“So, is he a prostitute? Or a spy?”

Yijarang, who was driving, asked. As it happened, Linlin was also curious about that, so she nodded along. So far, all of Cheon Yeomyung’s lovers had been the same kind of people. Prostitutes who acted cute, parasitic on his power and money, or spies sent from hostile organizations. And usually, those lovers met the most terrible end one could imagine. They all quickly looked at the face of Yang Euijoo, who was nestled in Cheon Yeomyung’s arms. It was swollen and puffy, but they had seen so many people beaten to a pulp that they were experts at figuring out the original version just by looking.

“I vote for spy.”

Roserock, who was sitting in the passenger seat, said. Yijarang exclaimed, “Oh.”

“I vote for that side too.”

“Why?”

The question was posed by Cheon Yeomyung. As the boss set the stage, his excited subordinates chattered as if they had been waiting.

“He’s too much the boss’s type to be a prostitute. In that case, he must have been carefully selected. Wasn’t he sent by Honglong?”

Honglong, a Chinese organization, had a history of targeting Cheon Yeomyung three times. Of course, all three times failed, and they paid a price greater than just having some of their branches raided and smashed. Cheon Yeomyung was so skilled at taunting and ignoring Honglong’s master, Quan, that he was at the level of an immortal.

“He feels a bit different for someone sent by Honglong.”

“Honglong sends women, not men, right? Then it must be Choonkang, no? We fought with them over not observing business ethics with interest rates.”

“I don’t think they’re smart enough to hire someone this quickly. Isn’t it Subang? They might have found out we’re planning to build a casino.”

“Hmm…”

Roserock pondered. The organizations that disliked Cheon Yeomyung and the Byeokhae he led were so numerous that you couldn’t count them all on ten fingers. His boss’s position itself was one that invited many stabbings, and his actions were so improper that he had an outstanding talent for accumulating grudges at twice the rate of other organizations, and twice that again. It wouldn’t be strange at all if three out of ten people he bumped into on the street tried to put a live round in him.

The three executives, who had walked the history of Byeokhae alongside Cheon Yeomyung, were engulfed in silence. They could have reacted nonchalantly, saying, ‘Oh my, this happened again,’ even if that young man, who was on the verge of passing out from pain, suddenly opened his eyes wide and plunged a knife into the boss’s heart.

“Could it be a personal grudge?”

“Who? The recently broken-up-with Laoran?”

“Wasn’t it Maoyan who he broke up with recently?”

“Who’s that?”

“You know, the bookworm.”

“Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

Linlin, who had been listening to Roserock and Yijarang’s conversation for a while, corrected his words on Cheon Yeomyung’s behalf.

“Maoyan broke up with him in a week, so Jarang probably didn’t get to see him. Laoran lasted at least a month, though.”

Instead, Laoran became a piece of meat. Thinking of the woman who had paid dearly for brandishing a knife at Cheon Yeomyung, Linlin shook her head gently. She was glad that she wasn’t a moth drawn to the flame of Cheon Yeomyung’s face, and asked.

“So, who is he?”