“To-seong, come here.”
At Tae Cheon-oh’s summons, Mu-won released the grip he had on the back of To-seong’s neck, as if telling him to go. With an awkward shuffle, To-seong ran toward Tae Cheon-oh.
“B-Boss, listen to me. M-Mu-won hyung, h-he, the herbalist’s shop—”
Even though Tae Cheon-oh had already seen everything, To-seong immediately tattled. Mu-won tossed his empty beer can aside and slung his arm over the back of the sofa.
“This is why Mu-won teases you. It was just a joke. Call off the guys and go find the herbalist.”
Thwack! Tae Cheon-oh smacked him hard on the back and jerked his chin toward the door. When To-seong scurried off, Tae Cheon-oh shut the iron break room door.
“Why are you tailing me like this?”
He gave Tae Cheon-oh a look of reproach. After all, it hadn’t been long since he’d seen him in the boss’s office, yet the man had followed him all the way down to the 13th floor.
“Because you’re doing something you don’t usually do. Do you really think he’s a Flower?”
This time, Tae Cheon-oh asked far more seriously than before.
“You’ve already spread rumors everywhere that you’re searching for the Flower Clan. You think some punk working at a pub wouldn’t hear about it?”
“They’re people who live in hiding by nature. If that’s why he bolted, it makes sense, but…”
Tae Cheon-oh slowly nodded and continued.
“But Mu-won, on the other hand—if he were Flower Clan, would he act so conspicuously? Of course, I trust your instincts.”
“This time, it’s not instinct.”
“What?”
His bright yellow eyes glimmered with intrigue.
“No one ever hired that bastard as a janitor in the dump.”
That was why Mu-won had been holed up in the Sea Tower Building for two whole days—since yesterday until today.
******
After To-seong had left yesterday, Cheongyeon, after much deliberation, packed his backpack instead of going to the real estate office.
It was a primal instinct that he must not sign a contract with the office. Thinking it through, he guessed Peira believed that dried Flower of Vengeance were, in some way, connected to the Flower Clan.
That must have been why his eyes were bloodshot in his hunt for a smuggler. And since Boss Tae Cheon-oh was also searching for the Flower Clan, it was natural that Tae Mu-won shared the same intent.
Now it made sense why he had pressed him so relentlessly.
From the moment they met at the junkyard, Tae Mu-won had been suspecting him of being from the Flower Clan. But without evidence, suspicion alone wouldn’t be enough to make him certain. Mu-won looked mercurial enough that, if he lay low for a while, he might soon lose interest in him.
Another problem, however, was that he had to obtain dried Vengeance blossoms within the next three months.
Cheongyeon settled down in a corner of a dust-caked room. The flower shop at the lowest level of District E had a small backroom, much like an herbalist’s shop. It was both unfamiliar and familiar—after all, it was where he had lived as a child.
He only brought what he could: his cash, some clothes, and a sleeping bag. He couldn’t carry the sacks filled with medicinal herbs and dried flowers.
His plan was to drift from place to place, picking up dayly labor, until Mu-won’s interest wore off. After keeping an eye on the flower shop for a day or two, he intended to cross the bridge to another district tomorrow.
He had even left his bicycle behind on purpose, hoping Peira and Mu-won would simply think he had gone traveling for a while. Since he had left his entire fortune—the herbs—behind, they wouldn’t think he had vanished completely.
But once he returned, chances were high that the herbalist’s goods would already have been looted. Just the thought made his stomach twist, but his life was more important than money.
From a young age, Cheongyeon had valued his life above all.
“There are bad people, but there are also many good people. We can’t turn our backs on the good because of the bad. Our lives don’t belong to us alone.”
Recalling his faint memories of his mother, Cheongyeon curled into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes. Somewhere nearby, he could hear the meowing of cats.
This was the lowest part of the district, and after the incident at the flower shop, people avoided living here. Fearing floods, they had abandoned the low ground. But animals had claimed it as a safe haven, and thanks to that, safety extended to Cheongyeon as well.
He rolled over to face the wall. Through the pale dawn light, he could see graffiti: a smiling flower colored in with bright markers. It was his own drawing from childhood.
Because his frail mother had been unable to raise him, the flower shop’s owner had acted as a nanny and raised him instead. That woman was the only one who had loved him as much as his mother.
‘I shouldn’t have come here…’
His eyes burned as he squeezed them shut. At once, the sound of gunfire and people’s screams rang in his ears.
The sensation of warmth fading away, moment by moment, still lingered in his hands. No matter how hard he tried to think of something else, he couldn’t stop recalling the day he had lost his nanny—the day he lost the most precious person left to hi in the world.
******
Some twenty years ago, the 11th Continent sank beneath the sea. Though it was said that everyone living there had perished, in truth there were survivors.
Some of them boarded boats and reached Cheonghwajin.
On the second day after they arrived, young Cheongyeon was forced to witness a nightmare—something too horrific to recall without shuddering—while in his nanny’s arms.
Every day, his nanny would head into the mountains not far from the flower shop to gather wild greens, and little Cheongyeon always went along, no matter how early. The greens she picked tasted so good that neighbors often bought them.
In time, her greens became so popular that people even started calling the flower shop the “greens shop” instead. Sometimes he and his nanny even found expensive medicinal herbs, which just barely kept food on their table.
That day, as always, his nanny carried him up the hill on her back. From the high slope where greens grew in abundance, the central dock of Cheonghwajin could be seen clearly.
Standing atop a large boulder, Cheongyeon peered down, as was his habit. Normally, the morning docks were packed with fishing boats full of the day’s catch, a magnificent sight. But today, oddly enough, the docks were quiet.
“Nanny… there are people gathered over there.”
He pointed with his tiny hand. His nanny, about to lift him from the rock, glanced curiously toward the docks.
That was when she spotted a wrecked little boat, left abandoned at the corner of the dock. It was much smaller than a fishing boat, easy to overlook.
Near the wreck, dozens of people were huddled together, their backs to the sea. Opposite them stood men with guns and swords. Their black robes, hanging down to the ankles, marked them as subordinates of “Aduran,” the ruler of Cheonghwajin.
Bang! Bang!
Suddenly, Aduran’s men began shooting. Eyes wide as saucers, Cheongyeon clung to his nanny. People who had raised their arms in surrender fell one after another.
Screams pierced the air as the crowd scattered in all directions. Many had already been cut down by bullets and blades. The once tranquil blue dock was quickly drenched in scarlet.
“Master Cheongyeon, don’t look.”
His nanny shielded his eyes. She always addressed Cheongyeon with utmost respect, even though she was so much older. Whenever asked why, she only answered with a gentle smile.
“Nanny… w-why are they hurting those people?”
Clutching Cheongyeon tightly, she sprinted away from the docks.
“They’re survivors of the 11th Continent. They arrived in Cheonghwajin just yesterday… It seems Aduran has no intention of granting them asylum.”
Panting for breath, the woman explained patiently, as she always did, wanting Cheongyeon to understand everything happening in Cheonghwajin.
But running while carrying a child was no easy task. To make matters worse, instead of dawn breaking, the sky darkened, and a torrential rain poured down.
Each gunshot made Cheongyeon flinch in her arms. Gasping for air, the nanny finally had to pause her desperate flight.
“Nanny…”
“Hush.”
She soothed Cheongyeon, patting his back. Her face was drenched, whether from rain or sweat, it was impossible to tell.
“There’s someone there.”
Cheongyeon pointed to a rounded thicket. His nanny whipped her head around in alarm.
Beyond the brush, she spotted a hollow, like a burrow—perhaps the den of young wolves. But through the leaves, faint human shapes could be seen.
Two boys, clinging to the ground like frightened animals. Thin, gaunt, their bodies starved, yet each clutched a blade in hand.
“…They must be survivors of the 11th Continent.”