Because he boarded in haste, the small boat rocked violently.
“Seaside Building.”
“Yes, sir! I’ll take you there.”
The boatman at the stern held the long oar steady with practiced ease. There was no tattoo marking him as a member of the Peira, but there was no one in Cheonghwajin who didn’t know who he was. Even with one eye closed, that striking suit, the glinting piercings, and that presence—there was no mistaking Tae Mu-won.
Instead of sitting on the chair placed in the center, Tae Mu-won turned his back to the bow and sat facing the stern. The boatman, now face-to-face with him, rowed harder than usual. He dared not mention that it was dangerous to sit there.
The people of Cheonghwajin were used to boats; they said there was nothing to fear at sea. But no matter how one looked, Tae Mu-won didn’t seem the seafaring type. His refined face looked as though it had never once been struck by the sea breeze—though his body was far more intimidating than any sailor’s.
“Is the nearest bridge the one connected to Sector B?”
“Pardon? Ah—yes! That’s right!”
The boatman, who had been stealing glances at him, startled and raised his voice.
“How long would it take to walk there?”
Tae Mu-won turned his head toward the bridge, then fixed his gaze back on the boatman. A sudden gust of wind rocked the small boat. The boatman hurriedly steadied it, terrified that if Tae Mu-won were to fall into the water, the man might just slit his throat in retaliation.
Tae Mu-won rose from his seat and walked toward him. The smaller the boat, the harder it was to keep balance, but he moved as if walking on solid ground. The boatman, feeling that calm yet piercing gaze upon him, finally remembered to answer.
“Y-yes, sir! Cheonghwajin isn’t exactly the size of a palm, so if you were to walk, it’d take at least half a day.”
“Then he must’ve gotten away quite a while ago.”
Tae Mu-won’s lips curved faintly. His black hair caught the light, rippling like the water itself—only far more alluring.
“W-who is it you’re looking for, sir?”
“Would you help me find him?”
Tae Mu-won’s tone held an edge of amusement.
“I ferry all sorts of people, so I tend to hear news fast.”
The boatman studied Tae Mu-won’s expression, wondering if he had overstepped, but the man only smiled—as if entertained by the remark. When they neared the Seaside Building, Tae Mu-won paid him handsomely before disembarking. He never said a word about whom he was searching for.
******
Cheongyeon pulled his hat low over his face.
[Name: Cheongyeon
Description: Looks exactly like the picture, easily recognizable.
Deliver word to anyone in Peira if spotted. Capture alive only.
Anyone who kills him—his family for three generations will die.
Bounty: 5,000 Hwan.]
The notice was scrawled in crude handwriting, yet the sketch was remarkably accurate—almost like his reflection in the mirror. It was pure luck that he’d discovered the posters on the very first day they appeared; otherwise, Peira would’ve already captured him.
‘Tae Mu-won… I didn’t think he’d go this far to find me.’
Cheongyeon had crossed the bridge into another sector but was forced to return to Sector E because of those posters. Without work, his pockets were empty; and thanks to the bounty, he couldn’t even risk buying food.
With what little money remained, he bought a fishing rod and tried his hand at night fishing. Yet no matter how long he waited, not a single fish bit the line. Plants always listened to him, but the creatures of the water were a different story.
Even the shabby restaurant run by an old man had one of those posters plastered on its wall. After days of hunger, Cheongyeon returned to the medicine shop before his remaining coins ran out.
Fortunately, no one seemed interested in the shop, assuming he was wandering elsewhere. The herbs and bundles of dried tea leaves remained untouched.
As for food, only a small bag of rice and a few packets of ramen were left. Afraid of being discovered, he didn’t even dare light a fire. He chewed on the uncooked rice and noodles, their brittle crunch echoing in the dark. Even though he rationed carefully, he ran out yesterday.
Starvation and resentment boiled up to the top of his head, and with it came a strange, reckless resolve. If he stayed like this, he’d starve to death anyway—so what did it matter?
He stared up at the posters plastered across the building walls and tugged the brim of his hat lower.
The Seaside Building.
Cheongyeon lifted his gaze. The great tree sprouting through the rooftop spread its thick leaves like a guardian.
He’d wrestled with his thoughts endlessly before coming here—so much that his whole body felt feverish.
‘Should I… go back?’
His feet itched to return to the medicine shop, but Cheongyeon steeled himself and walked toward the main entrance.
[Capture alive—without fail.]
Perhaps that line was what gave him courage.
‘At least it doesn’t say kill on sight. I can’t keep running forever anyway. The posters are everywhere…’
Maybe if he faced Peira head-on and demanded to know why they were after him, it would make him seem less guilty. He could even claim he’d just been away traveling for a while—it might sound plausible enough. Perhaps he’d even joke and say he came in person to claim his own bounty.
It was an insane idea. Tae Mu-won might take out his axe and cleave his neck the moment he saw him.
But without money, he couldn’t buy the dried Vengeance blossom. The more expensive the smuggling ship, the more reliable the job—he needed funds to survive.
The distance from the back gate near the junkyard to the main entrance felt endless. His heart pounded as if it might leap out of his chest.
Maybe he shouldn’t have run in the first place. No, that had been the best choice then. What was truly strange was Tae Mu-won’s obsession—it made no sense.
“Shit… Am I seeing things now?”
He heard a low voice as he rounded the corner. Cheongyeon’s head snapped up. A man stood there, tall and solid, outlined against the sunlight.
It was Tae Mu-won.
The scent of Vengeance blossoms that used to linger faintly around him was gone—time had passed. In its place was the subtle fragrance of cologne. He had his suit jacket folded and draped over one arm, and the embroidered flowers across the fabric seemed almost alive. He was more dazzling than any blossom under the sun.
“You’ve been… looking for me,” Cheongyeon said.
He’d prepared himself, but his voice trembled when he finally faced Tae Mu-won. A swift hand shot out, flipping his hat up before he could react. Cheongyeon grabbed for it, his fingers shaking.
Tae Mu-won bared his teeth in a sharp smile—half amusement, half disbelief. The air around him was violent, predatory. One wrong word and Cheongyeon’s head might roll. He gripped his hat tightly, hoping the trembling of his hands wouldn’t show.
“I was just… traveling for a while,” he began, “but for some reason, I found my face plastered on posters, so—ugh!”
Before he could finish, Tae Mu-won’s hand closed around his neck. The pressure was brutal, his grip unyielding.
With Cheongyeon gasping for air, Tae Mu-won marched straight into the Seaside Building. Cheongyeon stumbled, barely keeping his footing, but Tae Mu-won showed no mercy. The wide iron gates loomed like the open jaws of hell.
When his legs gave way again, Cheongyeon instinctively grabbed at Tae Mu-won’s shirt. He quickly released it, but the man only glanced down at the wrinkled fabric before moving on. Through his wavering vision, Cheongyeon caught a glimpse of the massive tree trunk that pierced through the building’s core.
It was the first time he’d seen it up close—but his awe didn’t last. Tae Mu-won was already dragging him into the elevator.
Cheongyeon trembled, his neck throbbing where Tae Mu-won’s grip still lingered. Through his palm, Tae Mu-won could feel the herbalist’s every quiver. The warmth of Cheongyeon’s skin clung damply to his hand.
He hung his head like a young deer caught by the throat—helpless, pitiful. The strands of soft, ash-brown hair brushing his hand made his grip tighten further.
“Why don’t you act the way you look?”
“L-let go of me…”
The faint plea made his palm twitch.
“Shaking like a leaf, pretending to be harmless, then stabbing me in the back. Even now you’re plotting how to slip away, aren’t you?”
Two weeks ago, he’d been terrified—yet he’d fled boldly. Not a trace of him since, and that had driven Tae Mu-won mad. And now, here he was, walking right into the lion’s den.
Maybe that fragile, trembling demeanor was all an act. Maybe that was just what a Flower-born like him did—using beauty as a weapon.
When they reached the fifth floor—where the lower-ranked men stayed—Tae Mu-won dragged Cheongyeon into a storage room. His subordinates greeted him with respect, though they seemed puzzled to see him there.
He opened the door, turned on the light, and finally released his grip. The force of the shove sent Cheongyeon half-collapsing to the floor.