Once, the world had been filled with countless continents. Now, most of them lay swallowed by the sea.
Cheonghwajin stood like a remote island, though in truth it was not an island at all.
The nearest landmass was the First Continent, and reaching it required over ten days by ship. Most smuggling vessels brought contraband from there.
Though not a continent, Cheonghwajin was vast for an island. Yet unlike the First Continent, where order was tightly enforced, its size made it a constant target for pirates.
Time and time again, raiders stormed its shores, plundering at will—or else settled there permanently, as the Peira had done. It also served as a waystation for sailors of other continents, who stopped for repairs.
Thus, Cheonghwajin had grown into a place where many cultures intertwined.
Over the years, its rulers had changed many times. The longest reign before had lasted no more than three years, yet Peira had held dominion for five already.
Pirate-on-pirate skirmishes were not uncommon in Cheonghwajin, but since the Peira took control, such incidents had dwindled. Ironically, it was the pirates themselves who had brought order. So, while people cursed Peira, they also prayed this uneasy peace would last.
‘Mad bastard.’
Cheongyeon pushed hard on the pedals, rain lashing down harder and harder against him.
At last, he reached his medicine shop in one piece. Tossing his bicycle aside, he rubbed his neck, almost unconsciously checking that his head was still attached. If the man had been holding an axe just now… he might have died on the spot.
Cheongyeon reached for the basket. His hand closed on a brittle stalk, dry and lifeless like a useless twig. The six petals once attached were gone.
Dropping into the chair behind the counter, still clutching the withered stem, he ignored the puddle gathering beneath his feet.
‘Tae Mu-won…’
The name sent a chill crawling down his spine.
The first unspoken law of Cheonghwajin: Never get entangled with Tae Mu-won. Today, Cheongyeon had finally understood why.
“But why was he working in a scrapyard?”
“Medicine shop.”
The memory flickered through his mind as he laid the stem down on the counter. Up close, those golden eyes had been nothing but cold. Eyes he never wished to meet again.
Now that he thought of it, Tae Mu-won bore no tattoo. Members of Peira all carried crimson cosmos blossoms inked on the side of their necks, though such markings hardly suited their brutish appearances.
But on Tae Mu-won, such a tattoo would have looked perfect. After all, he even made a flamboyant suit look natural.
Why didn’t he bear one? Cheongyeon recalled hearing that Tae Cheon-oh lacked one as well. More troubling was the fact that Tae Mu-won had recognized him.
By the time Cheongyeon surfaced from his thoughts, his hair was nearly dry. Even after returning to the medicine shop, it had taken long for the tension to leave him. The fear that someone might have followed still lingered.
He rose and picked up the stem. At least he had salvaged this much. But now… how was he supposed to obtain more dried blossoms?
He had already spent all the money he had saved on the third request. Even if he managed to gather funds again, if he were caught once more, this time his head would surely roll.
But why had Tae Mu-won fixated on a single dried flower?
He had even tucked the pitiful stem into his pocket. Perhaps it was because of the smuggling ships. Twice before, Cheongyeon had asked captains to procure dried blossoms for him—unlucky both times, as the Peira intercepted them.
No doubt they had searched every item. At first, they must have dismissed the dried blossoms as trash. But the second time, seeing the same goods again, curiosity may have stirred. And now—this was the third.
Of all people, it had to draw Tae Mu-won’s attention. The worst possible outcome.
Cheongyeon considered attempting the crossing to the First Continent himself, but quickly shook his head. He had hired others at great cost precisely because his life mattered. And his life was not his alone to lose.
Lifting his damp shirt, he checked his abdomen. The faint stain there was spreading—contamination. He sighed, slipped off his shoes, and went into the small room behind the shop. Cramped though it was, it had everything he needed.
He set a kettle atop the burner and boiled the dried stem in Cheonghwajin’s groundwater. Without petals, the medicine would be weaker, but he had no choice.
Pricking his thumb with a lancet, he squeezed out a drop of blood and let it fall into the kettle. The dull brown stem, trembling like a lifeless reed, turned fresh and green, then dissolved away as if it had never existed.
Cheongyeon poured the clear, shimmering water into a cup. Sitting with his knees drawn together, he waited for it to cool, then drank it down. Lifting his shirt once more, he saw the spreading stain fade, his skin returning to normal.
‘This should buy me three months at least…’
The thought left him hollow. He was a pillar of Cheonghwajin—without him, the city would collapse.
Yet it was a truth he could never speak aloud.
*****
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
Tae Cheon-oh spoke to Mu-won, sprawled across the bed. Mu-won, roused from deep sleep, glared in annoyance. His gaze shifted downward—to the naked woman lying astride him.
“What the hell is this?”
“Crazy bastard. How should I know? Didn’t expect to find you holed up in a dive like this.”
Mu-won shoved the woman aside. Half-drunk, she muttered in her sleep and burrowed under the blanket.
Cheon-oh tossed him a water bottle. Mu-won caught it with a snap and sat on the bed, draining it in a few gulps until it was empty.
Tossing it aside, he stretched his stiff body, rolling his neck. The gaudy curtains, patterned with flowers, caught his eye. He strode over, yanked them open, and revealed the view outside.
Across the street:
Cheongyeon’s Medicine shop.
“Catch.”
Cheon-oh threw him a paper bag. Inside were a plain T-shirt and trousers—Cheon-oh’s taste for muted colors. Mu-won dressed without a word, fishing his cigarettes and lighter from the heap of clothes on the floor.
“Cheon-oh, you know what they say?”
Crossing the low doorway, Cheon-oh answered dryly.
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
“When someone’s pretty as hell, you don’t throw a punch.”
“Since when have you ever held back because of a face?”
Mu-won ducked under the doorway as well. The hallway was narrow, forcing him to trail behind Cheon-oh. At the entrance, the innkeeper peeked timidly through a small window.
Thump! Mu-won slammed his palm against it.
“Thanks for the room.”
The blow echoed through the entire inn.
“But the soundproofing? Shit.”
The innkeeper’s face blanched. Eyes darting, he looked ready to refund the money just to avoid trouble.
“If it weren’t for that man, I’d have torn Cheonghwajin apart looking for you.”
Cheon-oh shut the window himself, as if to warn the innkeeper not to meddle.
“Who said anything?”
Mu-won grinned crookedly as they stepped outside into the blazing sun. He preferred days like this over rain. Cheon-oh let him bask in the light, and under it his already striking face all but glowed.
“Mu-won, wouldn’t it be faster to just cross to the First Continent and search there?”
Standing with the sun at his back, Cheon-oh watched as Mu-won lit a cigarette, eyes fixed on the shuttered medicine shop.
“You know I trust my gut.”
It was his instincts that had carried him through a hellish youth to rise this far.
“Of course. That’s the only reason we’re still alive. Still, what if we widened the search to the First Continent? I could send the boys. What do you think?”
“We’ll see.”
Mu-won kept his gaze on the medicine shop.
“Do as you like. Aren’t you hungry, though?”
“What time is it?”
Cheon-oh glanced at his watch.
“One in the afternoon.”
“Shit. No wonder you’re broke, sleeping till this hour.”
He exhaled smoke, and the medicine shop’s sign vanished behind it like ink bleeding across paper.
.