When the west dawns - Chapter 8
Chapter 8
It had been fifteen days since Mirang left.
The daily life at Baekhwa Apothecary had returned to normal, as if nothing unusual had ever happened.
Seo Hyo still tried to sleep in until her butler threatened to throw her, blanket and all, out of bed.
And Cha Eon, as usual, nagged the lazy young lady into beginning her day.
The emotions Seo Hyo had felt when a third person had briefly entered their lives—those slight ripples in her heart—gradually faded away, returning to her peaceful routine.
At least, that’s how it seemed.
“My underwear’s getting a bit old.”
Seo Hyo spoke toward the spirit inside the medicine chest.
“I should replace them, right? What color should I get?”
The little dog spirit, who had been waiting for her to open the door so he could run outside, couldn’t care less about her undergarments. He was busy playing with the other spirits. Seo Hyo wasn’t really expecting an answer anyway.
It was more of a mutter to herself.
“Something that looks nice to Cha Eon’s eyes… nothing embarrassing if he happens to see…”
Her hands, which had been wrapping medicine, froze mid-motion.
“What on earth am I saying?”
Click.
The door opened. Seo Hyo quickly closed the medicine drawer and tidied her surroundings.
“Uh… um.”
“Yes, welcome!”
She greeted brightly without even looking up. She was still wiping her hands and organizing the counter.
“Do you have a prescription?”
“Here, here… I, I…”
“Your prescription, please.”
“…Give it back.”
It wasn’t unusual for customers to stutter; many who came for medicine were ill. She was used to people who could barely speak, so a bit of fumbling never shook her.
But this time was different.
Her hands froze on their own as she finally looked up at the man.
His face was flushed, but not from alcohol. His eyes were sharp, wild even, like someone who knew exactly what he wanted. His skin was pale, his body thin, but he was clearly a young man—and that alone made her tense.
“…Excuse me?”
“I—I know everything! So hurry up and give it back!”
A thief? In broad daylight?
But he wasn’t carrying any weapon or bag. Besides, there was nothing worth stealing here—just herbs and dried roots.
“If you’re short on money, that’s fine. I can give it to you for free.”
“What nonsense! I said give it back! Return it to me!”
Her guess was wrong. The man grew more agitated and stepped closer. Seo Hyo instinctively backed away, but the waist-high counter wouldn’t protect her for long.
Where’s Cha Eon? Did he go to fetch water?
Her mouth went dry.
“I know what this place is! You keep things that are lost! So give it back! The owner came to reclaim it!”
Seo Hyo froze.
For over a century, she had moved her apothecary every ten years. Not once had a human discovered her true identity.
And yet, this man—clearly human—spoke as if he knew.
No godly aura surrounded him. He was frail, trembling… and human.
She had no idea how to respond.
How much did he know?
When he said he knew “everything,” did he really mean everything?
The things she kept were spirits—the remnants of lost items—and they were only returned when the owner’s will called them back.
Never by threats or demands.
The man, growing desperate, suddenly lunged forward—leaping over the counter.
“Ahh!”
It happened in an instant.
Seo Hyo hadn’t expected him to have that kind of strength.
She’d underestimated the power of a desperate human.
He grabbed her throat without hesitation. His thin fingers were strong enough to choke the life out of her.
She clawed at his wrists, but her strength was no match.
I can’t breathe… it hurts…
Her vision blurred. She couldn’t even hear half of what he was shouting anymore.
She reached for anything—anything she could hit him with—but her hands met only the tightly shut drawers of the medicine chest. Even the spirits inside had locked themselves in fear.
“Give it—! Ack!”
Just as tears welled in her eyes, the man’s grip vanished. Seo Hyo gasped for air, raising her head—
Cha Eon was there. His hand was clamped around the man’s collar, slamming him hard against the wall.
Bang!
The tables had turned instantly.
The man’s feet dangled above the floor. Cha Eon’s face was calm, almost frighteningly so, as he pressed a sharp pair of scissors against the man’s neck.
Scissors sharp enough to cut through thick cloth or bundled herbs.
A human throat would be nothing.
Seo Hyo, still dazed, stared blankly until she realized—if she didn’t stop him now, Cha Eon would actually kill the man.
A thin line of bl00d trickled down the stranger’s neck.
“Stop! Put that down, Cha Eon!”
“Are you unharmed, my lady?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Just… just a little shaken, that’s all.”
Her attempt to sound calm only made his expression turn colder.
“…I should kill him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Put the scissors away!”
“He nearly killed you.”
The man’s feet lifted higher off the ground.
“There’s no reason to let him live.”
This side of Cha Eon was both familiar and foreign. He’d always been protective of her—but this time, something was different.
It was as if her safety mattered more to him than life itself.
Her heart sank. He’s starting to lose himself… because of me.
“He knows who I am,” she whispered. “He knows this isn’t just an ordinary apothecary.”
“Then he definitely must die.”
“I’ll ask him first.”
Her tone was firm now. She turned to the man.
“What exactly did you come to find?”
The man coughed, wheezing, his voice ragged. Seo Hyo gestured for Cha Eon to release him. Only after she repeated herself did he reluctantly drop the man to the floor.
He gasped, rubbing his throat.
“Who told you this place keeps lost things? Who sent you here?”
“…My donggot.”
His voice trembled, but his eyes burned with clarity.
“My hairpin… my precious one.”
“Hairpin? What does it look like?”
“It—it’s about this long. The body’s made of platinum from Jinsan, and the head is adorned with pure silver and an emerald. The engraving is… an intricate vine pattern.”
His speech suddenly became fluent, but Seo Hyo ignored that for now.
The description alone made it sound valuable. He reached into his robe and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper.
“Here.”
A drawing of the hairpin. The craftsmanship of the drawing itself was exquisite—likely made by a skilled artist.
Seo Hyo studied it, racking her memory.
Though she was forgetful about chores, she remembered every single spirit and object ever entrusted to her care—down to the smallest thimble.
But she had never seen this one.
Not inside the apothecary, at least.
Strangely, though, it didn’t feel unfamiliar. She’d never seen it, and yet she had.
“Maybe outside…” she murmured, frowning.
She asked him where he’d gotten it. He said it was a one-of-a-kind piece, made by an unknown craftsman.
Seo Hyo sighed.
“I’m sorry, but this isn’t something I’ve been keeping.”
She returned the paper with an apologetic smile.
“I’m really sorry.”
“…Then find it.”
He met her eyes.
“You’re a god, aren’t you? Helping a desperate human—that much should be easy for you.”
Her lips parted in disbelief.
Her powers were limited to this apothecary alone. She couldn’t even stop herself from getting drenched in a sudden rain.
She was a small god.
As small as the spirits she sheltered.
“Just keeping the lost things isn’t enough,” the man said bitterly. “What if the owner doesn’t even realize what they’ve lost? What if it’s something that matters—something that can’t wait?”
His words carried blame, accusation.
“You’ve never once tried to return something first, have you?”
Cha Eon moved swiftly, grabbing the man’s neck again. His expression was blank, but his strength was enough to snap it easily.
“Stop it,” Seo Hyo whispered. Her voice trembled, thin and weak—even she was startled by it.
That night, she sat at the table long after finishing her noodles. She kept picking up and putting down the last bit of egg garnish. Five times she glanced at Cha Eon. On the tenth, she sighed softly.
When he finally set down his chopsticks, she spoke.
“Cha Eon.”
“No.”
“Wha—? I didn’t even say anything yet!”
“I already know what you’re about to say.”
He stood up and began clearing the table.
“Then what was I going to say?”
“I won’t take the bait. I refuse to start that conversation.”
“You’re so annoying,” she muttered, pouting.
Yes, she had been obvious—but still, he was too cold.
“I want to find that hairpin.”
He ignored her completely.
“I know that man was violent,” she continued, “but he looked sincere. He said it was a keepsake from someone precious. He’ll never see her again. Isn’t that… sad?”
The hairpin was clearly important.
A donggot represented adulthood and womanhood. Giving it to someone was a sign of love, a promise of marriage.
Maybe he’d lost the woman he loved—and that despair had driven him mad.
But Cha Eon cut her off coldly.
“He lied.”
His tone was absolute, leaving no room for doubt.
Seo Hyo frowned. “How can you be so sure?”
He paused, as if hesitating for just a heartbeat, then resumed cleaning.
“Do you know him?”
“No. But if you strip away your sympathy, you’ll see the lie beneath.”
Sympathy and pity.
The words struck her like a blow. Cha Eon often scolded her for this—her tendency to care too much, even for those who didn’t deserve it.
She really had felt pity for that man. His desperation, his tears—they’d shaken her heart.
But there was something else, something deeper—
That hairpin. She couldn’t remember it, and yet it felt familiar.
She had to find out why.
Cha Eon turned, drying his hands.
“He used one trick very well,” he said quietly.
“What trick?”
“Your guilt.”
Their eyes met. His gaze pierced straight through her.
He had seen it—the guilt she thought she’d hidden.
He was right, of course. The man had struck where she was weakest.
But there was still something about that hairpin… something even Cha Eon couldn’t understand.
She couldn’t explain it herself.
And for some reason, she didn’t want to tell him.
So instead, she smiled sweetly and took over the dishes, even served him tea afterward, trying to soften his mood.
But Cha Eon didn’t even blink.
Seo Hyo’s fists clenched. Ugh, I really want to hit him sometimes.
“Who sent you?”
“Ugh… gah—!”
The man dangled in the air, his feet nowhere near the ground.
A shadowed figure in black gloves smiled coldly.
“You’d better speak up. I’m not very patient.”
“Not patient? No—you don’t even know what patience is,” the man spat.
He struggled helplessly. The grip on his throat tightened and loosened in rhythm—each time bringing him to the edge of suffocation, only to let him breathe again.
This was the fifth time. His captor was clearly skilled in torment.
“Who told you to spread lies?”
“Lies? I—I didn’t lie!”
“Really? A ‘precious person you’ll never see again’… Do you even have such a person?”
The man’s lips twisted upward in a mocking grin.
He chuckled—low at first, then louder.
“‘A precious person you’ll never see again’… Hah. You too, huh?”
The black-gloved man froze mid-motion.
The other’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold, empty stare.
“Tell me,” the man whispered.
“When you saw them again… was it nice?”
The grip faltered.
In that split-second of hesitation, the man slipped free and ran. His legs trembled, but he forced himself onward, down the dark alley.
By the time his pursuer moved again, the street was empty.
Only silence and shadows remained.
TO BE CONTINUED…..