Chapter 8: The Secret Man
A fortnight had passed since Mirang left. The everyday life of Baekhwa Pharmacy returned to normal as if nothing had happened.
Seohyo tried to sleep in as usual, until the butler threatened to literally throw her out of bed, while Chaon scolded the lazy young lady to keep her days moving.
The emotions that had been subtly stirred by a third party had settled back into their natural rhythm, just like the pharmacy itself.
On the surface, everything seemed to have returned to normal.
“My underwear is getting a bit worn.”
Seohyo muttered this to the spirit residing in the herb cabinet.
“Should I change it? What color would be best?”
The spirit, a dog that had bolted the moment Lord Noma’s visit ended, had no interest in her underwear. It was busy playing with the other spirits, and Seohyo wasn’t expecting it to listen anyway.
Her musings were nearly a monologue.
“Something pretty even Chaon would like. Not embarrassing to show off.”
Her hands, packing herbs, paused mid-motion.
“What am I even saying?”
Clack.
The door opened. Seohyo quickly shut the herb drawer and tidied up around her.
“Uh… um…”
“Yes, welcome.”
Seohyo greeted the visitor cheerfully, though she hadn’t yet seen their face as she was busy wiping her hands and putting things away.
“Did you bring a prescription?”
“Here, here… my, my, my…”
“Your prescription.”
“…Give it to me.”
Seohyo was used to stammering customers—many were unwell and struggled to speak—but this one was different.
She instinctively froze and finally looked at the visitor properly.
His flushed face wasn’t from alcohol—it was from excitement, as if he knew exactly what he wanted.
The whites of his eyes were sunken, and his overall complexion looked unhealthy. Though thin, he was clearly a young man, enough to make Seohyo flinch.
“…Excuse me?”
“I-I know everything. Now, give it to me!”
A thief in broad daylight?
But he carried nothing, and this was a pharmacy without any valuables. There was nothing to steal.
“Um, if you’re short on the medicine cost, just say so. I can give it to you.”
“W-What nonsense! Give it back! I want it returned!”
Seohyo’s guess had been wrong. The man, now more agitated, stepped closer. She edged backward, but she doubted how much distance the waist-high counter could provide.
Was Chaon fetching water?
Her mouth went dry.
“This place! I left something here, and I know it’s here! So give it back. The owner came looking for it!”
Seohyo froze.
For ten years, she had run the pharmacy, moving it every decade. Not once had a human discovered her true identity. But this man did not seem like a god in human form.
Even among gods, there is a knowing gaze, but this man… he was human.
Seohyo had never faced this before, and she didn’t know how to deal with him.
How much does he know?
He claims to know everything—but does that really mean everything?
The things she kept were guided by the will of their owners. That will never manifested as a human threatening her in a pharmacy.
What she stored were just spirits.
The man, impatient that she wouldn’t comply, leapt over the counter in a single bound.
“Kyaa!”
It happened in an instant.
Seohyo hadn’t expected him to have that much strength—the reckoning for underestimating a frenzied human.
He was a head taller than her and didn’t hesitate to strangle her. His bony hands gripped her throat with enough force to suffocate. She struggled, but her strength wasn’t enough.
I can’t breathe… it hurts too much.
Her face contorted in pain, and she barely caught half of what he shouted.
Is there anything I can hit…?
She reached blindly, but only the locked herb cabinet was in reach. The spirits, seemingly frightened, stayed behind the closed doors.
“Give it… aaagh!”
Tears nearly fell when the man’s hands suddenly released. Seohyo gasped for air, looking up in confusion. Chaon had returned, grabbing the man by the collar with one hand and slamming him against the wall.
Bang!
The situation reversed.
The man’s feet left the ground. Chaon, expression calm, pressed the sharp scissor blade against his neck.
Scissors capable of cutting through thick fabric and bundled herbs—easily slicing veins beneath the skin.
Seohyo watched in stunned disbelief, realizing that if left unchecked, Chaon would indeed kill him.
A thin line of red trickled down the man’s neck.
“Stop! Lower that, Chaon!”
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine. No injuries, just a bit of choking.”
Better not mention the last part. Chaon’s calm eyes, normally peaceful, glinted with a coldness that was terrifying.
“…I’d kill him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. And put the scissors away.”
“You nearly killed the young lady.”
The man’s feet hovered further from the ground.
“Do we even need to spare him?”
Chaon was both strange and familiar. His obsessive care for Seohyo’s safety was usual—but this was different. Even when Mirang was around, or when he’d hit a chair in anger, it hadn’t been this intense.
Even if Seohyo was attacked, killing him just for that would be excessive.
The butler seems to care only about me… it’s worrying.
Anyone overhearing would probably ask if Chaon was really her lover, but Seohyo was serious.
“He came knowing who I am. And that this isn’t just a pharmacy.”
“Then all the more reason to kill him.”
“I’ll ask him.”
Seohyo answered firmly, correcting him, and asked the man:
“What are you looking for?”
The man coughed and twisted, still gasping. Seohyo gestured for him to calm down. Only after her insistence did Chaon lower him.
Breathing heavily, he cradled his neck like Seohyo had moments before.
“Who said this is where lost things are kept? Who told you?”
“…My hairpin.”
Even now, he only spoke what he wanted.
“My hairpin… precious to me.”
“A hairpin? Was there even one here? What does it look like?”
“L-length, set with platinum from Jinsan, topped with pure silver and a jade ornament. Decorated with delicate vine patterns…”
He now spoke clearly, though minor doubts remained. The item alone sounded valuable. He rummaged in his coat and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper.
“This.”
A drawing of the hairpin, detailed as if by a skilled artist.
Seohyo studied it intently. She remembered every item entrusted to her; she could recall even the smallest thimble.
But she’d never seen this hairpin. At least, not inside the pharmacy.
Yet the image felt oddly familiar.
Had she seen it outside the pharmacy?
The pieces didn’t fit. Seohyo asked where he got it.
“Specially made by an unknown artisan, one of a kind in the world.”
Seohyo sighed.
“Sorry, but it’s not something I’ve been keeping.”
“Then find it.”
The man stared at her.
“You’re a god. Surely you can do this for a human in trouble?”
Even gods vary in ability. Seohyo’s powers only worked within the pharmacy; she couldn’t even shelter from rain without an umbrella. She was a very small god—no stronger than the spirits she temporarily kept.
“Just keeping lost items? What if the owner doesn’t even know they lost it? What if it’s really important or urgent?”
He spoke with blame.
“You’ve never tried finding them first, have you?”
Chaon strangled the man again, clearly signaling there was no need to continue listening. He could likely break his neck with sheer force.
“Stop it!” Seohyo interjected. Her thin voice trembled, weaker than even she expected.
Even after finishing her noodles, Seohyo lingered, fiddling with leftover egg toppings. She glanced at Chaon after the fifth time, and sighed quietly after the tenth.
Once Chaon finished his own meal and set down his chopsticks, she spoke:
“Chaon.”
“No.”
“Eeeng…” a whimper slipped out.
“I haven’t even started yet.”
“I know what you’re going to say.”
Chaon wiped his hands and stood. He immediately began clearing the dishes. The silent pressure told Seohyo to leave once done, and she pouted.
“How did you know what I was going to say?”
“I won’t let it pass. I won’t bring it up first.”
“You’re really annoying.”
Seohyo glared.
She wondered if she’d overreacted—but even considering that, Chaon was too harsh. She felt the urge to hit him at least three times a day.
“I want to find the hairpin.”
Chaon ignored her completely. He didn’t even look at her.
“The man seemed rough, but his desperation seemed genuine. It’s a token from someone precious, he said. Now he’ll never see them again… it’s pitiful.”
The hairpin was symbolic of adulthood—a sign of maturity. Even those with little means prepared a proper one. Giving it to someone was a promise of marriage.
Perhaps his despair stemmed from losing the person who gave it to him. The man looked neat, having cleaned up and changed. He was likely a well-dressed youth once.
But Chaon cut her off in one word:
“It’s a lie.”
His cold tone left no room for consideration. Seohyo’s triangular eyes turned to question.
Why was Chaon so skeptical of him?
Seohyo paused her attempt to persuade him.
“How do you know?”
Chaon paused briefly while pouring water over the dishes, but soon resumed.
“Do you know him?”
“No, I just met him today. But if you set aside unnecessary pity and sympathy, anyone could see the truth beyond it.”
Pity and sympathy.
Seohyo flinched, as if attacked. Chaon always warned her about that.
A certain limit was acceptable—but crossing it risked being swept away by emotions, giving away what they possessed.
It was true she’d been shaken by the man earlier, his endless remorse and desperation over a lost token.
But the part that truly moved her was different.
Though not in her memory, she had seen the hairpin somewhere. Conflicted between memory and instinct, she decided to act.
“Admittedly, he was shameless, but he used his hands properly.”
Chaon dried his hands with a towel and turned.
“Your guilt.”
Seohyo met his gaze.
“He touched that.”
Chaon’s calm eyes pierced her mind. She averted her gaze, embarrassed, trying to hide her own thoughts.
He was right.
The man had hit the one thing she always found awkward.
But even the butler couldn’t know the strange feelings about the hairpin. Seohyo herself could barely explain it.
She didn’t want Chaon to know. Better to dismiss it as her own whim.
So she switched tactics, smiling as she did the evening dishes and served post-meal fruit tea. Still, Chaon didn’t flinch.
Her impulse to strike him again stirred in her gut.
“Whose orders were you following?”
“Ugh… uh, gasp!”
The man’s feet hovered at knee height, body suspended above the ground. He struggled in the darkness.
“You’d better confess quickly. I’m not patient.”
A gloved hand slowly smiled.
“Rather than saying you have none, it’s more accurate that you simply don’t know.”
He didn’t stand a chance physically. The man gasped, scratching at the gloves uselessly.
Before losing consciousness, his neck was freed. He heaved and coughed.
This had happened five times, each release perfectly timed.
He was used to such threats.
“Where are your lies causing trouble?”
“Wh-who said I lied? I did, I did!”
“A precious person you’ll never see again… do you have one?”
The gloved figure’s lips curled. The man saw a creature he could crush at any moment.
Yet oddly, he wasn’t afraid. He twisted his mouth into a crooked smile and laughed at the figure hidden in the darkness.
“A precious person you’ll never see again… do you have one?”
He repeated the words mockingly, then shook his shoulders as if at a funny joke.
Had he lost his mind?
When he reached out again, the man froze, expressionless and terrifying.
“Then you… glad to see them again?”
The figure’s hand halted mid-air.
Seizing the moment of stillness, the man fled. Legs shaking, he ran, gripping the stone walls and turning down an alley.
As soon as he disappeared into the alley, the man was pursued. The moment of shock was fleeting. His intent to take a life surged.
But the empty alley held no one, only silent darkness.
