I had to do some research on this one and it turns out that gin really is weaker than soju, which was the drink I was planning to input originally. I didn’t wanna put beer since that’s more of a party drink, although it’s weaker than gin. And as jacked up as people might have been back in the day, I doubt that they would want to intoxicate workers to death so I decided to follow the movie on this one and put gin instead of soju or beer.

Now without further ado, please read on and enjoy this chapter.  

The woman greets the Chinese man and the boy at the bottom of the stairs. The man wastes no time and immediately inquires if her tenant is present. She replies in affirmation and eyes the boy, asking him if he’d like some food.

“Go aheh! Take him,” the man exclaims before climbing up the stairs.

The woman, along with the young boy, steps inside her shop.

The man motions the one at his door to come inside.

“Miistah Seo,” the other man says in greeting.

The man eyes him and queries, “And how, Mr. Zhou, may I be of service today? Surely you won’t need a shave, would you? It’s obvious that you can already do that by yourself. You are, after all, skilled at the trade as well.”

The latter chuckles and says, “Call me Jaewook,” His Chinese accent is not present as he speaks. “Ryu Jaewook is the name when it’s not professional.”

The man chuckles, too, but only internally. He had a suspicion that this man had not been a real Chinese. His accent was far too thick and nasal to even be genuine.

“I’d like my money back, if you don’t mind,” the younger man tells him.

“Why,” the older one queries.

“Because, you entered into our little wager under false pretense, so you might remember to be a bit more careful in the future,” he pauses to look the man straight in the eye and continues, “Mr. Kim Junsu.”

The woman watches as the boy devours the pie ravenously. She assumes that it is only because of his hunger that he is able to stomach the pie. Otherwise he might have just politely refused to consume it.

“I see a man with a great appetite,” she remarks, “reminds me of my dear Sikyung.”

She turns her head to the picture hung on a wall. The boy does the same and continues eating.

She notices the discomfort that the boy is feeling for he keeps on scratching his head.

“You know, you are allowed to take off that wig. Y’master is still upstairs.”

The boy smiles coyly and obliges, finally feeling relieved of the itchy wig. His natural hair color isn’t any different from that of the wig; both were black. It is only the length that differed.

“I suppose that man don’t feed you very well, huh?”

The boy nods.

“No wonder,” the woman mumbles.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, love.”

 The man cannot believe what he is hearing. This man, he doesn’t remember this man and yet he clearly remembers him. And he plans to take away his profits? That cannot happen. It musn’t—it’ll ruin everything. He has just come back from the penal colony. He cannot risk coming back again. This cannot happen. It mustn’t!

“You don’t remember me, do you?” The other man snickers as he approaches a corner near the vanity table. “Of course you don’t. I was practically a boy when I started working here, sweeping out the hair.” He picks up one of the man’s razors, the one which he had thrown on the floor during his earlier rage. “But,” he chuckles, “I remember these. How can I forget you, Mr. Kim? I used to always dream of becoming a barber as with a skill such as yours. You were...an inspiration to me.”

The man steps away, still astonished with what he is hearing. This cannot happen—this mustn’t happen!

“So have we got a deal,” the latter continues, “or shall I have to run down the streets, and call Bailiff Shim?”

This cannot happen! It mustn’t!

“What do you say to that...” once again, the latter pronounces in his fake Chinese accent, “Miistah Seo Juungho?”

He laughs.

This cannot happen!

And before the latter is even able to realize it, the man turns and—

—BANG!

With all his strength he beat the latter to the floor with the iron tea kettle repeatedly, making sure that he falls unconscious. This man is a threat to his plans and his freedom. He cannot risk any hindrances, especially this one. When he is certain that the latter is dead, he stops and settles himself on the barber’s chair, taking a deep breath to relax himself.

Minjung, he reminds himself, I shall see you soon.

She hears a loud thump from her ceiling. That can’t be good, she thinks. She decides to make conversation with the boy since she notices his curiosity.

“So how did that man get you?” she queries.

“Got me from th’ workhouse,” the boy replies, his pie still at hand. “’Twos a cruel place there. Barely fed us an’ always beat us, they did. Master came there lookin’ fer a boy wif’ a voice tha’s nice an’ loud – one tha’s good enough to attract a crowd. We ‘aven’t seen anyone dressed as fancy as ‘im an’ ‘e promised us good pay an’ good food too! Picked me at th’ end. Realized later on ‘e’s just as bad. Even worse than the people at the workhouse too, when ‘e’s in a bad mood.”

Poor thing, she says to herself, that man really is one bloody bastard.

“Oh, no!”

“What is it, dear?”

“Master’s got an appointment t'day! ‘e’ll blame me if ‘e’s late! I’ve to get ‘im!”

“Wait—”

But before she can even stop him, he dashes out the door and hurries up the stairs.

When the boy enters the parlor, his master is nowhere to be found. The only one in the room is the owner, who is brewing himself a pot of tea.

“Your master’s gone away to catch an appointment, boy,” the man tells him. “You’d best be running after him.”

His master is never the type to leave him behind so he does not believe the man’s words.

“No sir,” the boy insists. “I must stay ‘ere an’ wait fer ‘im. I don’t wan’ ‘im blamin’ me again. ‘E’s a great one fer th’ lashes.” He sits on the chest by the door and keeps his eyes on the man who sighs and smiles at him. The boy does not notice it, but the man’s attention is focused on something hanging out of the chest—Zhou Mi’s hand.

“Well boy, why don’t you go downstairs and wait for you master downstairs with Mrs. Han? I’m sure she’s got a nice pie waiting for you.”

“No sir,” the boy repeats, “I’ve to stay ‘ere.”

The man sighs once more in frustration. “Well then,” he says, “why don’t you tell Mrs. Han that I said to give you a nice, big mug of gin?”

“Thank you, sir!”

The boy eagerly dashes downstairs back to the pie shop.

That was close...

The man approaches the chest and lifts the cover. He sees the other struggling to get out and he smirks. He then reaches for the head and with his silver friend and slices through the other’s throat with precision, drawing rubies from his neck.

At that moment, he realizes that the woman is right once again. Revenge would be much sweeter with patience, when every moment of it is savored. And like she had advised him earlier, he shall wait for the Judge to come — and when that time comes, he shall savor every moment of his vengeance.

Okay that's that for now... Remember: NO COMMENT = NO UPDATE

Bye! ^_~ >