Scene 1. Ashes
The mirror broke.
As Lee Kang left the medicine storeroom, the back of his hand struck the mirror. Not a conscious blow. It simply happened, naturally, from the angle at which his shoulder met the wall. Glass shards fell onto the washbasin. The monster in the mirror shattered, scattering into many.
Lee Kang did not look back.
He retraced the corridor. Following his own bloodstains in reverse. The footprints stamped on the marble were a mix of dried and not-yet-dried. The color had deepened since he came in. Fresh blood had been painted over the old.
He opened the boiler room door. Warm air. The ladder. The manhole.
The way down was fast. He took the ladder two rungs at a time. Yeonhwa swayed on his back. The glass bottles in his chest struck each other with a sound. Clink. One bottle of ether. Three of opium tincture. One catalyst. Five panes of glass playing an ensemble over his chest.
He stepped into the drain's water again.
Cold. The wounds on his soles met the cold water. Only the sensation of contact, no pain. The pain had gone somewhere. It seemed the pain would not follow him on the way to the herbalist.
Lee Kang turned north.
The location Doctor Jang had given him. Toward Jongno. The Korean district, not the slum. Doctor Jang had drawn the map of the drains with his finger, and Lee Kang had memorized it. The memory was filed neatly in his head, like the list of materials for the yellow medicine.
The drain's ladder appeared again.
He climbed. Pushed the manhole. The air outside was different. Ashes. Not the slum's ashes. In the slum, fire was still burning. Here it had cooled. Gray ash. Not charred black but cooled to gray.
This place had burned before. Yesterday. Or the day before.
Lee Kang's foot stepped onto the ash. Crunch. The sound of ash crumbling. His footprints left black marks on the gray.
A siren wailed in the distance.
Gunshots too. Lee Kang's ears caught them and classified them. Classified them, discarded them. Not sounds aimed at him. Not sounds celebrating him. Sounds with no meaning. Background noise laid along his path.
His nose moved.
It was searching. For the smell of herbs. That particular bitter smell of dried grass and roots and bark mixed together. Cutting through the slum's smoke and the residence's wax and the smell of blood on his own body, his nose was searching for that one thing.
It came faintly.
To the right. Two alleys in from the main road.
A word slipped from Lee Kang's mouth.
"Licorice."
His feet quickened.
"Peony."
Scene 2. The Shop
The herbalist's shutters were closed.
A low eave. A wooden sign hung at an angle. Characters were visible. Cursive script. Lee Kang's eyes recognized the characters. The character for medicine, 藥. The words for an herbalist's shop.
His hand took the shutters. Pulled. Locked from inside. He pulled again. On the second, the wood split. The bar had broken. The shutters fell inward. Dust rose.
A scream came from inside.
A short scream. A scream pressed down by a covered mouth. From somewhere in the back of the shop. Behind the medicine cabinet.
Lee Kang went in.
Inside was narrow. Medicine cabinets stacked to the ceiling on both walls. Small drawers packed tight. Chinese characters written on each drawer. The names of medicinal ingredients. A wooden counter stood before the cabinets. On the counter, a medicine scale. A small brass balance.
Lee Kang's nose drew in.
A bitter smell. The smell of dried grass. The smell of roots. The smell of herbs filled the shop. His lungs received it. Released it.
The corner of his mouth eased, faintly.
"Don't hide."
Lee Kang said. Toward the cabinet. Not specifying whom. To someone in the shop.
A rustling came from behind the cabinet.
"Don't hide."
Lee Kang said again.
A low voice. The sound a beast makes to prey trapped in its den. Not a threat. Something more frightening than a threat. A threat comes from rage, but this came from indifference.
"I won't kill you. If you give me medicine."
A foot came out from behind the cabinet.
Slowly. One foot. Cotton trousers. Soiled with dirt. A second foot. The form of a person emerged beside the cabinet. An old man. White hair. White beard. The hands of someone who had spent his life compounding medicine. The fingers stained black. Hands that had handled herbs.
The man looked at Lee Kang.
The man's eyes took in Lee Kang's face. The blood at his mouth. The dark red running down to his chest. Yeonhwa bound to his back. The glass bottles swaying in his chest.
The man's legs gave way.
His knees buckled and he braced a hand on the counter. The medicine scale on the counter wobbled.
The man knelt.
Before Lee Kang's feet. Hands clasped. His head lowered until it touched the floor.
"Please..." the man said. "Please spare me..."
His voice trembled. Like wind leaking through teeth.
Lee Kang's eyes looked down at the man.
Words floated in Lee Kang's head. Licorice. Peony. Those two words crossed the center of his vision. Nothing else was visible. The kneeling man was scenery behind the two words.
"Licorice."
Lee Kang said.
The man raised his head.
"...Sir?"
"Licorice. Peony. Give me a large amount."
The man's mouth opened. Closed. Opened. It took the man one beat to understand Lee Kang's words. Two beats. On the third, the man rose. Staggering.
"Yes. Yes. I'll give it to you. I'll give it to you, sir."
The man went to the cabinet. His legs shook so badly he could not walk straight. He opened a drawer. The wrong drawer. Closed it. Another drawer. Another still. His hands shook so badly the handles kept slipping.
"Take your time."
Lee Kang said.
The man's hands stopped. Stopped, then moved again. He opened a drawer. Inside were dried roots. Yellow ones. Licorice. The man took out a handful of root. Set it on paper.
"How much..."
"All of it."
Lee Kang said.
The man poured all the licorice from the drawer onto the paper. Opened another drawer. Dried white root. Peony. He poured all of that too.
The paper grew thick.
The man's hands began to fold the paper. The motion of wrapping a medicine packet. A motion done his whole life. Something the body remembered. Even as his hands shook, the paper folded precisely. The corners aligned. It was tied with string.
The man set the packet on the counter.
Lee Kang reached out his hand.
A blood-smeared hand. With the dried blood on the back and the stitched wound on the palm and the dark red wedged beneath the nails all hanging from it. He took the packet. Dry paper met his hand. A rustling sound. The paper crumpled slightly.
His hand put the packet against his chest.
Between the glass bottles. In the empty space between the ether and the opium. As the packet went in, the sound of the bottles striking each other was absorbed by it and subsided.
The man stood where he was behind the counter.
His hands were shaking.
Scene 3. Light
A searchlight passed across the ceiling.
White light pierced through the herbalist's paper window. A single beam over the ceiling beam. The light crossed the shop horizontally as it passed. The beam's shadow fell to the floor. The light swept across the cabinet. Swept across the scale. Swept across Lee Kang's back. Lingered one beat. Passed.
The sound of boots came from outside.
Multiple pairs. From the main road. Shouting. Japanese. Lee Kang's ear caught the words. Seal. Search. Those two words surfaced from among the Japanese in a recognizable form.
The man's mouth opened.
The man's chest swelled. He was going to scream. Spare me. To the military police.
Lee Kang's hand reached.
The distance was not far. He reached across the counter. Covered the man's mouth with his palm. At the same time, his other hand caught the back of the man's neck. Holding the nape and the mouth at once, he dragged the man's body toward the cabinet.
The man's back struck the cabinet. Onto a drawer handle. A small collision sound, but it was behind the counter, so the main road did not hear.
Lee Kang's face was before the man's face.
Close. The breath leaving Lee Kang's mouth touched the bridge of the man's nose beyond his own palm. Dried blood was at the corner of Lee Kang's mouth. Something was wedged between his teeth. The man's eyes saw it. Saw it, stopped once, then saw it again.
The man's pupils blew wide open.
The smell of urine.
The man's trousers were darkening. The inside of his knees was soaking through. Something warm flowed to the floor beneath the cabinet.
Lee Kang did not loosen his hand.
"If you make a sound."
Lee Kang said. Beyond his palm. At the distance his breath touched the bridge of the man's nose.
"I'll eat you."
The man's body locked.
A threat of cannibalism. Not a metaphor. Because the man had seen the corner of Lee Kang's mouth. The eyes of someone who had seen the fibers of flesh wedged between his teeth. Eyes that recognized it was not a metaphor.
The man nodded, faintly. Beneath Lee Kang's palm. There was no room to nod, so smaller still. A sign that he understood.
The boots outside passed in front of the herbalist's.
Passed. There was a beat that seemed to pause. Paused, and would have seen the broken shutters, would have seen the herbalist's sign, would have judged—a looted shop. That deduction would have settled in the military police's heads within a beat. The footsteps moved again. Receded.
The searchlight swept the ceiling once more.
Swept, and vanished.
The shop went quiet.
Lee Kang's hand came away from the man's mouth. Slowly. The man's face stayed leaning against the cabinet. It did not move. He only breathed.
A word slipped from Lee Kang's mouth.
"Thank you."
The man made the face of someone doubting his own ears.
Lee Kang did not see it. Did not see it and turned.
His feet headed for the shop door.
Scene 4. The Packet
Outside the herbalist's.
The street was empty. After the boots had receded. Among the ashes, charred posts stood like gravestones. There was no moon. Clouds hung low. The smoke still rising from the slum stained the underside of the clouds red.
Lee Kang stood on the ashes.
He gauged the weight in his chest. Ether. Opium tincture. Catalyst. The medicine packet. Five panes of glass and one paper bundle. The glass bottles warmed over his chest and the rustle of dry paper.
Everything.
The whole of the list.
The corner of his mouth lifted. Slowly. A smile took its place at his mouth. Over the dried blood at his lips. Over the flesh between his teeth. A smile settled.
His hand pressed his chest. Over the packet. The paper rustled beneath his palm.
"I got it all."
Lee Kang whispered.
To the Yeonhwa on his back. Into Yeonhwa's ear. Into unconscious Yeonhwa's ear. To Yeonhwa hanging limp with her cold chin caught on his shoulder.
"I'll go back now."
His voice was tender. A tenderness more tender than his usual tenderness. A tenderness coming from a mouth that had eaten a person. Tender for that very reason.
"Doctor Jang will make the medicine. Once it's all made. Once it's made and I give it to you."
His feet moved.
Treading the ashes. One step at a time. Slowly. His pace slowed. There was no need to hurry. Because all the materials were over his chest. Because he only had to reach the place where Doctor Jang was. Because he only had to go and make the medicine.
A smell reached his nose.
Beneath the smell of blood and smoke and ash. The smell of herbs rose from over his chest. Beneath that herb smell. From somewhere deeper.
Lilac rose.
Vividly. As though it were not a hallucination. As though it rose from Yeonhwa's hair. Lee Kang's nose drew it in. His lungs filled. The space inside his head filled.
A silver bell rang somewhere.
From far away. Beyond the ashes. A clear sound.
His eyes sank half-shut.
He walked. Toward the manhole. Toward the place he had come down from. Toward where Doctor Jang was waiting.
The manhole came into view.
A round black hole among the ashes. Lee Kang approached. Five steps. Three. One.
His feet stopped.
The manhole cover lay propped at an angle beside it. The cover he had set in place when he went down. The cover that should have been closed.
It was open.
Lee Kang's eyes peered into the manhole.
Darkness. Nothing inside the black hole. Only the sound of the drain's water trickling rose up.
"Doctor Jang."
Lee Kang called.
Low. Inward.
No answer.
Only the sound of water.
The smile that had hung at the corner of his mouth slowly came undone.
The medicine packet in his chest rustled.