The Year ‘35, 4th Month, 17th Day

– Fei Cui, Jae-dyn

Wong’s Laundry, The Red District

7:30 PM

After twisting the vertical line of locks open with both hands, clicking his brass key into place, and flicking open a set of barred deadbolts; Sunren finally pulled the door open.

The scent of cigarettes immediately ghosted over them both, and Kizuna had to shield his eyes from the glare of the upper room’s yellowed lampshades.

There was a tinny radio playing er-hu classics in one corner of an acacia desk, the pinch-lipped woman lounging within the receptionist’s chair looking up at them with darkened eyes.

“Best not to linger too long in there before the cleaners check in for the night, Mrs. Wong.” Sunren told her, leaning close to hand her a thick packet of wadded kin from his pocket.

Wong took it with one hand, while the other pulled her cigarette holder closer to her lips. It was a fine thing, a yellow-bellied snake sculpted into the bone handle. She droned with a furrow in her brow, “The cage broke again?”

Sunren laughed pleasantly, “For the last time, we shall hope.”

“You’re lucky it’s slow tonight,” Wong smiled in return, mood thoroughly lightened. Sunren had a gift for such matters. Kizuna watched the scene outwardly, as if he was just another one of the room’s furnishings. “Tell the Master I’m still waiting on next week’s batch o’ rouge.”

Sunren and the woman continued with light conversation, as Kizuna faced the other end of the room with one, silvery eye. Standing there was a child, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet.

In one hand, he had a small strip of paper, moist with glue. He brought it to his nose, sniffing it deeply as he wrung his hands together nervously.

Stupid thing was probably there to be initiated by Wong. He seemed to be only twelve years old, much too young to have done anything of note. If Kizuna were to hazard a guess, he had likely shown great bravery during a run— and now, he was to be awarded for his efforts.

He was still donning a school uniform, along with a knapsack slug over his shoulder. If Kizuna looked closer, he could clearly see a slight shade of fresh pink on the boy’s cheek.

Interesting.

“Hello,” Kizuna slinked forward, whispering deftly so only the child could hear him. Sunren and Wong carried on, speaking jovially to one another.

The child did not reply, staring straight ahead.

Kizuna tutted like the chittering of rats’ teeth. “Don’t tell me you’re so out of it that you can’t reply. Your tolerance must be as low as a baby’s.”

Rats like this boy hated to be underestimated, and Kizuna dangled taunts like hooked worms to unsuspecting fish. The child shot him a heated look, nostrils flaring. “I know you. You don’t scare me.”

“Oh? Who told you that I was someone to be feared?”

Rolling his eyes, the child grunted. “Everyone.”

Rumors ran rampant within the Triads. With Kizuna’s true position being so confidential, all the other members embraced any chance to make up stories and lies.

There were some who believed that Kizuna was Master Banzai’s nephew, who he had trafficked into the country. That he was hiding him from the public eye to protect him from enemy gangs like Osamu’s.

Others thought he was Sunren’s assistant, merely there to aid a blind man.

But among all those stories; Kizuna was partial to the one that stated he was a foreigner from the other side of the globe, farther than the Upperlands and Lowerlands combined— so strange in mind and body that Master Banzai saw fit to bind him in gauze.

He enjoyed the strange horror that story offered him. How the loose bend of his neck and back could make the other Triad members shudder. The hushed tone of his voice akin to that of a ghost.

A mystery, barely human— that is what he was.

Kizuna wondered absently at what this child believed. He drawled in his even, wispy voice. “Let me borrow that.”

Without wasting a second, he snatched at the strip of paper that the child was holding.

“What the—” the child exclaimed, trying to catch Kizuna’s wrist.

He wasn’t fast enough.

For Kizuna had used his right hand to crumple the little piece of paper into a small ball, while his left grasped at the child’s jaw. He dug his fingers into his cheeks, until the boy’s mouth was pulled open into a perfect ‘o’.

The child would have screamed— if Kizuna had not been careful enough to flatten his fingers against the boy’s tongue, to ensure that no sound could leave him besides a low groan.

As he began to thrash and fight against Kizuna’s hold, the latter quickly shoved the balled-up piece of paper down the child’s throat.

For a moment, the boy hacked, choked. But Kizuna held him against the wall, even as the child’s throat undulated with pain.

If Kizuna looked closely, he’d see how the column of his esophagus was bulging a little bit from the odd angles of the crushed paper.

With his blank, empty gaze; Kizuna slowly pressed a palm to the child’s stubborn neck, and he coaxed the paper through the tough line of muscle until the child had swallowed it completely.

And before the child could speak, Kizuna pressed a free hand over his trembling mouth, whispering. “I have added my mark to that little paper, child. You’ve swallowed my curse... and if you wish to survive you must do three things for me.”

Kizuna was still digging his fingers into the child’s pale throat, and he saw the way his eyes widened with palpable fear; even through the haze the glue had been offering him. Kizuna spoke slow and dark. “One: return home.”

His other hand slowly inched downward to rest on the trembling boy’s wrist. “Two: Walk up to your mother— who has done the honor of driving you here, under the guise that you were heading to cram school.”

Kizuna smiled, as he grabbed the child’s forearm. “And three: Show her this.”

The moment the last word escaped from Kizuna’s lips, he shot out his elbow to the nearby shelf; which housed a beautiful porcelain vase— knocking it over.

The loud crash of it slamming against the ground was finally enough to draw Sunren and Wong’s attention.

Wong cried from behind her desk, “Agh, Sunren— that crazed boy of yours is doing it again!”

Sunren could not see, but he was able to tell what it was Kizuna was planning to do almost instantly, milky eyes narrowed in worry. He padded forward, Kizuna’s name halfway out of his lips.

But it was already too late.

Kizuna had already swooped downward, grabbed one of the shards so tightly that it would have cut into his palm were it not for the bandages swirled around his hands— and he deftly carved out a couple of characters onto the pristine skin of the child’s arm.

Triad Rat.

“Kizuna!” Sunren finally reached him, prying him away from the child. “We talked about this!”

But the work had been done, and the horrified child cried out in pain. He clutched at his bleeding arm with a wracked screech. “Y-You’re insane!”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

The idiotic fool had clearly not felt enough pain throughout the entirety of his young life, for this to be anything to wail about.

Kizuna inwardly shook his head in distaste. Clearly, too soft for the Triads.

Wong watched the entire scene with a brazen expression of both disgust and fear. She called, “You little fool! That child was meant to meet with one of the gang leaders today—”

Her sentence was cut short as the boy shot Kizuna one more petrified tremble of his lip and brows; before finally darting across the reception and out into the streets. “M-Mommy!”

The entrance door slammed heavily as he did so.

Sunren was the first to speak. “Wong...”

“Get out,” she seethed, pressing two fingers into her temples. “I’ll have to explain this to the Master. Damn it all...”

“Alright,” the man said stiffly, grabbing Kizuna by the shoulder.

Wong curled her lip ruefully at Kizuna, saying with a tone as virile as poison, “And control that... thing better, next time. He’s already scared off two other potential hires, before.”

“I know.” Sunren sighed.

“I would have you tie him up every time you emerge from the laundry room, if it wasn’t for the fact that you always speak in his favor,” all traces of the easy mirth on Wong’s face earlier was gone. “With this third one... it won’t be long until they start holding me accountable.”

“Of course,” Sunren echoed, steering Kizuna to the door. “I’m sorry, madam.”

The chime to the laundry tinkled merrily as the two exited into the rank streets.

Brick and mortar buildings stood at only a centimeter apart; and packies, grocers, and tenements sprawled across the alleyways, connected only by rotting telephone wire and loaded clotheslines.

The Transit’s elevated railroad tracks stood proudly above their heads, winding down the roads and through the crowded byways of Fei Cui. Its trestles rose like obelisks from the ground, and would ring hollow steel songs every time a cargo train rolled past.

Kizuna stared emptily at one red-bricked wall, a paper movie poster tacked upon it of a voluptuous woman, torn and faded reading: Ocean Waves: My Lihn Son Affair. At the very bottom, under the studded line of the main cast was the filmmaker’s name: Li Roulan.

“Kizuna,” Sunren admonished next to him. He didn’t sound as angry as Wong always was. He was just exasperated, more than anything. “You know what I’m about to say, don’t you?”

“That you’ll see me next week,” Kizuna mumbled, disconcerted. “And you’ll tell me to have a good night.”

As if to conclude just that, Kizuna turned and prepared to walk down the empty alley.

“Don’t get smart with me,” the man sighed loudly. He shot out a hand to keep the boy pinned in place. “I’ve been keeping a careful eye on what you’ve been doing.”

Kizuna kept his gaze ahead, drawling, “Your conclusion is wrong, I can already tell.”

“At first, I thought it was because you were bored. I get it, you’re only seventeen— it is not uncommon for you to act out. Especially due to your...” Sunren thought of the right words, for a second. “...Unique circumstances.”

Kizuna refused to listen. He stifled a yawn. As always, Sunren would admonish him and tell him to avoid making any scenes in the future. And yet, by the following year the man would have already forgotten.

And Kizuna would do it all over again, emotions more raw and volatile than they usually are during this very month. These upcoming days.

Kizuna muttered solemnly, ready to step away. “Goodnight, sir.”

Sunren was unfettered. “But after what I heard tonight, I finally understand.”

Unable to help himself, Kizuna grew still.

“You’re... trying to protect them.” The older man finally finished. “I heard what you were whispering to him. You fool them by making them believe that you’re placing a curse on them, but really... you just want to scare them off and have them never return.”

A nervous, maddened smile stretched across Kizuna’s cheeks.

That entire time he had pinned the child to the wall— whispering threats into his ear... it turned out he wasn’t quite as discreet as he had led himself to believe.

Because Sunren had been listening, the entire time. Had stood back and allowed Kizuna to torment that poor boy.

How interesting.

“That doesn’t entail protection.” Kizuna spoke loftily, even as his heart began to race.

He couldn’t quite place the sudden anxiety that rumbled beneath his veins. Kizuna felt no true fear; at the thought of Sunren determining the reason for why he tried so hard to dangle the promises of curses and harm upon these newly initiated children.

And yet— to be understood on such a deep level; with no heed toward Kizuna’s own opinion on the matter... was enough to make him shudder in place.

Sunren shook his head at Kizuna, as if he was trying to peer through the fog of the boy’s words. “Sure, but you made it a point to show his mother what he had been doing. You were getting an adult involved.”

Kizuna scoffed, “I didn’t know he had a mother. I’m not psychic—”

“And yet all the signs were there. You mentioned cram school because he was still wearing a school uniform, and around this time he would be freshly dismissed. His hair smelled of diesel exhaust from the car he had ridden...”

Sunren trailed off, watching Kizuna’s one, visible eye. How it trembled minutely at each passing bit of evidence that the man was spouting.

Kizuna swallowed tersely as the man continued.

“His mother, well. I wasn’t quite sure how you were aware of her existence, but then I caught the faint imprint of pink on the boy’s cheek.” Speaking in a near whisper, Sunren finished with, “While I first believed it was because of some concoction of drugs— it was actually just his mother’s lipstick. She’d given him a kiss goodbye.”

“That’s quite the impressive show you’re putting on, sir.” Kizuna shrugged, tone jaded and listless. “You should feature in those cold case radio dramas.”

For a long while, Sunren just looked at him, as if staring any deeper at the minute traces of Kizuna’s features would be enough to tell him what he wanted to know.

At last, Sunren muttered, “I’m not asking you to confirm my hunch... but I get it. Why you’re doing these things.”

A motorcar had come rolling past them on the adjacent road. And while the screech of its wheels and the loud exhaust of gas was loud enough for both of their ears to be deafened, Kizuna seemed to be able to hear every single word that fell past Sunren’s lips as he said, “You do the same thing, when this time of year comes around. You do it so sparsely, that rotating employees like Wong don’t notice...”

“—But I do.” The man said that last bit like he was pleading. Kizuna would not crack, even as Sunren breathed out, “It’s as if you’re compensating for something.”

For a mere second, the careful walls Kizuna had erected around his being shuddered with a sudden weakness that was so unprecedented, he was nearly appalled with himself.

Just like that, he was a child again. As he was meant to be— scared and seething at the thought of being killed every sundown. Begging at the foot of a Beast that slumbered, while he was forced to suffer for it.

The moment came, as it often did. For Kizuna’s crazed, grim exterior to be chipped away.

But as always, he patched it back up before the man before him could know any better.

“Goodnight, sir.” Kizuna repeated, finally turning away.

“I know you said you’d be unavailable tomorrow—” Sunren said at last, expertly avoiding a narrow step that could have easily tripped him. “But I’m sure you know that I’m meeting with the trader this weekend.”

Sunren, on the eve of every Earth’s Day, would meet with their trader, Chin Hae. As Kizuna’s Collector, the former was promised a salary in exchange for his work. Depending on the weight and quality of the xi Sunren had distilled, he would earn thousands, up to 6-figures worth of kin.

There had never been a single instance when Kizuna was allowed to come along and gather a portion of the profits.

As the plot they farmed on— he was not worthy.

Kizuna nodded, already walking down the other end of the street.

“I want you to be there.” Sunren called. “Take a cut for yourself.”

Kizuna paused.

“Is this because it is our one thousandth today?” Kizuna couldn’t help the acerbity in his tone. “If so, you don’t have to patronize me, sir.”

“It might be related to that. Either way, I want to cut you a deal… and the only way for me to do that is if you meet with me tomorrow.” Sunren repeated. His tenacity curdled sourly within Kizuna’s chest. “Please.”

A deal. Kizuna’s interest piqued, just a little bit.

“I have to be somewhere,” Kizuna said, shifting his eyes to and fro through the empty streets. For some incomprehensible reason, he worried that the object of his fears would appear down the road, and see what it was he was agreeing to. “I’m… meeting with someone else.”

It was an empty reasoning. Kizuna knew that the one he would be meeting was too busy to even care.

But he already knew that no matter the words he regaled, his Collector’s mind had been set.

Whatever it was Sunren had seen of Kizuna today— it was enough for him to extend this offer, to propose this deal.

And for an infinitesimal moment, Kizuna’s mind lurched with the curiosity to accept it.

“Sneak out, I don’t care.” Sunren shook his head, as if Kizuna’s reasoning was truly foolish. “You’ve died for our Master a thousand times. Can’t you see that you deserve at least a modicum of what you have provided the Triads? Even if it is just kin.”

“The money doesn’t matter to me, sir. The protection’s enough.”

“Ha,” the man replied dryly.

Kizuna’s eyes narrowed, shoulders tensed. “What is it?”

“I may be blind,” Sunren whispered, “but I am no fool, child.”

“You—”

“Spare me,” he held up a dismissive hand. “Leave platitudes like those for the Master.”

Tomorrow was an important day. One that he could not miss, out of the necessity it brought both him and his greatest victim.

Greed coiled like a snake around him. Closing him up before any reply could slip further from his traitorous lips. So he was left festering, rotting, and decomposing. Turning bleaker, and sharper. From greed, to remorse, to another emotion entirely.

“If that is what you wish, sir.” Kizuna spoke slowly.

Only then did the snake loosen and allow him to breathe.

“Tomorrow, then.” Sunren smiled, more horrific in this moment than he had been with the knife pressed to Kizuna’s chest.