Master Fan looks worse than the last time they saw him (if that is even possible)—which was merely two days ago. Taeyeon exchanges a look with Dayu when the man approaches them with red eyes. Taeyeon catches a whiff of gunpowder in the air and it grows stronger as Master Fan nears. Remembering what Dayu said about the man’s addiction to opium, she takes a subconscious step back so that Dayu is in front of her.

“Master Lim, maafriiiend. Welcooome back tomaa esddate!” Master Fan proclaims, wearing a big smile that does not correspond with the red death lurking in his eyes.

Estate? If you can consider a small garden and two buildings an estate . . . and why is he talking like that?

“Master Fan, it is good to see you again,” says Dayu.

“It’s goood. Verrry good.” Master Fan nods and pats Dayu’s shoulder. “Uh,” he pauses, peering at Taeyeon with suspicion, “whyissshe here?”

“My wife is here to paint your wife, remember?”

Master Fan frowns. “Irssdat so.”

“Yes.”

“That woman is doooingda laundry. You’llseeherrr later. . .”

“We will wait here,” says Dayu as Taeyeon inches closer to him, holding his arm tighter.

“Nonononono. Commee. Jooinmme.”

Taeyeon exchanges another uneasy look with Dayu as they follow Master Fan through his house. They are led out of the main house and across the garden. At one point, Master Fan stumbles and almost falls in to the pond but Dayu catches him just in time.

“Ahhh, dankyu friiiend . . .” he slurs, wearing a strange smile. “Argh, maaheadd. Coome.”

They enter the smaller building, which looks just big enough for two bedrooms to fit. It must be the guest house, Taeyeon thinks as she steps over the threshold and gasps when she sees the interior. For one, she is hit by a strong whiff of gunpowder hanging in the unmoving air. After the initial shock, she realizes the room is completely bare, stripped of any fancy furniture. The windows are covered, allowing little light to filter into the room. In the middle of the room is a large mat laid over a platform, lined with two pillows. And a tray, filled with a pipe, an oil lamp, a bowl, a pair of spindles, a couple of boxes, a scraper and a pan.

“Weelcomme to paraadisse!”

Taeyeon hopes her jaw isn’t slack and touches her chin just to make sure she doesn’t look too horrified.

“Is this opium?” Dayu asks.

“Yesss . . .” Master Fan inhales long and deep, exhaling with a smile. “I just bought a new wad of opium. Comme . . . joooinme.”

Taeyeon’s grip on Dayu’s arm grows tighter with every passing second, to the point where Dayu actually flinches from the pain. She loosens her grip immediately, looking at him with eyes that she hopes conveys two messages: Sorry. We need to get out of here.

“We can’t smoke opium if my wife is going to paint your wife,” Dayu says quickly.

“Screewww themmm. We men smookeoopium . . . theeydoo houseewerrk.”

Dayu shakes his head. “Not today, Master Fan. I have business to tend to afterwards. Business that earns me money for opium.”

A spark goes off in Master Fan’s blood-shot eyes. “Aahh . . . moneeeyy . . . yes, go. Make money and buy opiummm. We’ll smmooke ittogetherr.”

Dayu pats Master Fan’s arm. “That’s the idea.” He puts on a wide smile. “Now, my wife really needs to paint your wife before we leave for my business.”

“Laundry. She’ss doing laundryyy or cookinggg,” Master Fan replies and he lies down on the mat.

“Thank you.” Taeyeon and Dayu watch him as he picks up a spindle and picks up a pea-sized wad of what Taeyeon assumes to be opium. Not wishing to witness anymore of this disturbing addiction, Taeyeon tugs on Dayu’s sleeve and he leads her out into the open, taking care to close the door behind them.

Only then, does Taeyeon dare to speak. “That was scary.”

Dayu nods. “Scary and worrying. Miyoung is his wife . . .”

“Fortunately, they don’t seem to have any children.”

“I agree. At the same time, I find it strange that they don’t have any children.”

“Why is it strange? Look at us. We don’t either.”

Dayu smiles. “Yes, we don’t have children. But we are not the typ