A faint crack split across his smooth brow. Only then did Cheongyeon come to his senses.
“I don’t… understand what you mean.”
“Oh? You don’t?”
Cheongyeon barely managed to clamp his lips shut before they parted.
Mu-won had never seen him take the stem himself. If he had, there was no way he would have survived that day unscathed. Cheongyeon was certain that the dried stem he had tucked into his bicycle basket had been perfectly concealed beneath his hat.
“What stem are you talking about…? Ah, do you mean the flower you burned that day? I threw that away at the dump.”
Since childhood, Cheongyeon had been left alone in Cheonghwajin. Naturally, he had cultivated more than a few survival tricks, which allowed him to reply with practiced ease. Of course, inside, he was wound tight with nerves—but as long as he maintained a blank face, no one could read him.
Without a word, Mu-won leaned closer, his torso inclining toward him. Though Cheongyeon felt crushed beneath the weight of it, he could not lower his gaze. To avert his eyes from those golden irises might invite a blow he could not foresee.
‘Why does he keep doubting me? I haven’t done anything suspicious…’
Just as he was bracing for whatever words might spill from those finely shaped lips—
“Then recommend me something to buy.”
Cheongyeon blinked. In that fleeting instant, he had imagined every possible scenario, but never that Mu-won would take interest in medicinal herbs.
“Medicinal herbs…?”
“Do you sell anything else?”
His tone was indifferent, but the edge of mockery was plain—as though sneering at his shifting answers.
“No. I only sell herbs and tea. If you tell me where you feel unwell, I could…”
Still hemming him in with both arms, Mu-won slowly lowered and raised his eyelids. Each time those golden eyes were revealed, Cheongyeon’s body froze stiff.
“Something good.”
“Pardon?”
“Medicine that’s good for the body.”
“You already look… perfectly healthy to me.”
“This bastard doesn’t want to do business.”
The words were muttered as though to himself, even with someone standing right before him.
At last, Mu-won lifted his hands from the counter, and Cheongyeon finally reclaimed his freedom. After being pressed down so heavily, he felt as though he had shrunk in height.
Mu-won’s gaze swept once more over the stacked belongings.
“If you get a few brats to help, the move won’t take long. I’ll send some kids over, so move well.”
It was an absurd offer of kindness. Cheongyeon’s expression, which had remained stoic throughout, blanched. Mu-won’s cold gaze studied the reaction he would give.
Cheongyeon had been trying to escape the Peira, only for Tae Mu-won himself to appear at his heels. Second only to Boss Tae Cheon-oh, Mu-won was the Peira’s right hand. To reject such a man’s favor? That was something only the stronger—or the madder—could dare. Cheongyeon was neither. He had no choice.
At the same time, his mind burned with wild curiosity about the source of that Flower of Vengeance scent. If Flowers of Vengeance truly bloomed somewhere within Cheonghwajin, he would no longer need to risk smuggling routes across to the First Continent.
Those golden eyes, unreadable, lingered on Cheongyeon’s closed lips.
His thoughts raced. For some unknown reason, Mu-won still suspected him. If he refused now, he might be branded outright as a smuggler. Even if unjustly accused, once Mu-won marked him, it was the end.
“With no shame… I’ll accept your kindness.”
A hollow laugh escaped Mu-won as he turned and strode out of the shop. Whether he was satisfied with that answer or not, Cheongyeon couldn’t tell.
Suddenly, Mu-won spun back.
“Hey.”
“Yes?”
“Just pack your things.”
With those words, he flung the shop door wide and disappeared outside.
“…”
Cheongyeon stood stunned, as though abandoned in the wreckage after a typhoon had passed. Relief, thankfully, was the first emotion to find him. It seemed the promise to send help had been nothing more than a test.
But then curiosity stirred again. Where exactly had he found a Flower of Vengeance? Where had he broken it? He could never bring himself to ask.
Still, one certainty took hold in his mind: Mu-won no longer seemed likely to doubt him further.
Cheongyeon walked to the shop’s entrance, staring toward the direction Mu-won had gone. The fragrance of the Flower of Vengeance lingered in the air like a trail.
******
Most patrons of the Dandelion Tavern were the downtrodden of District E. Many lived as though today were their last, so the owner kept hired muscle on constant watch. The two bodyguards were enormous identical twins, once notorious thugs under the former master of Cheonghwajin.
After their old boss’s death, the twins had tried to ride the coattails of the Peira, but the Peira hadn’t taken them in. Their ranks rarely grew beyond the numbers that had first disembarked from the warship.
That wasn’t to say they never accepted new blood. There were conditions—though what they were, no one knew.
“Tae Mu-won, just look at his face—you can tell he’s a whoring bastard.”
“A brat who should be making money spreading his legs, strutting around like the master of Cheonghwajin. Makes me sick.”
The twins volleyed insults back and forth, tearing into Mu-won. He was a common subject of drunken ridicule, especially among those who had once dreamed of joining the Peira.
Tonight, with the tavern master away, the drunks and the twins were lazing about together. The twins, eager for an audience, boasted of their past glory and, between boasts, mocked the Peira.
The drinkers humored them, though their eyes gleamed with hidden derision. They too bragged of their younger days, each exaggeration more absurd than the last.
Yet in truth, none of them could so much as open their mouths in the priciest taverns of District E. Fully aware of their own wretched lots, they put on airs, feigning strength they did not have. Outwardly they praised one another, even as inwardly they scoffed.
“Isn’t that bastard actually impotent? He waves his cock around everywhere, yet there’s never been word of a child.”
“Hey! Tae Mu-won’s dick is this small, I bet. No seed could come from that!”
The younger twin picked up a thin, spindly toothpick. Harsh, barking laughter erupted around the table. Holding the toothpick before his groin, he even mimed the motions of masturbation.
Cheongyeon had long since averted his gaze from their pathetic display. Beer mugs, ordered one after another, were piling high like mountains. Their drunken debauchery was nothing new; more often than not, they squandered their wages on the very day they earned them.
Bang, bang, bang! Like pirates, they slammed their mugs against the wooden tables. In fact, many of them were pirates by trade—some wearied of life at sea, others having deserted their crews and hidden in Cheonghwajin.
None had any real footing here. Of course, neither did Cheongyeon…
Propping his chin in his hand, he stared blankly at the tavern door, enduring the coarse din while he waited for the master’s return. It was his last day working at the Dandelion Tavern; there was little left to endure.
Then the bell above the door rang out clear. The door swung open, and Cheongyeon’s eyes sharpened with sudden clarity. A sense of déjà vu stole over him, as though he were back in the medicine shop that morning.
“His face is a whore’s, and he dresses like one too! With a dick no bigger than this!”
“Would a toothpick even feel like anything?!”
“Fuck it—does size matter? We’re talking about Tae Mu-won! Even if you hated it, you’d be moaning ‘ah, ah’ all the same!”
The fragrance of a Flower of Vengeance spread through the tavern, washing away the stench of sweat. The elder twin, who had been rousing laughter moments before, froze. Others too fell silent, their faces blanching. Only those with their backs to the door failed to sense the change, still snickering obliviously.
“Oh no—Mu-won’s dick snapped in half!”
The younger twin snapped the toothpick clean in two. His brother, ashen-faced, pounded his thick forearm with clenched fists.
“Fuck—why?!”
“Shut the hell up!”
Seeing the pallid expressions opposite him, the younger brother spun around. Mu-won had entered the tavern, brushing past the drinkers without a glance. Anyone could see violence was seconds away.
Cheongyeon, heart racing, could only hope desperately for the master’s return. He had no idea how to resolve what was about to unfold.
As Mu-won passed behind the younger twin, not a single soul dared swallow, not even their saliva. They all held their breath.
On Mu-won’s shoulders and chest bloomed a great crimson flower, dark as though drenched in blood. Reflexively, Cheongyeon’s eyes darted, searching for an axe or blade in his hands.
The twins, tense and trembling, hunched their necks down. Beads of sweat rolled down the thick, fattened folds of their throats.