Chapter 1

I can make a dead person speak one last sentence, and for it I was branded a monster and driven out of my own home.

My mother stabbed me three times, but I was hard to kill, and I lived.

I've been questioning corpses by the riverbank for fourteen years, and the most vicious corpse I've ever seen was my own younger brother.

That day my mother's heart was dead as ash. She knew I wouldn't help her, but against all expectation, I came anyway.

I lit a stick of incense and bought the best coffin there was. But during the questioning of the corpse—

the name my brother spoke turned out to be mine.

1

There were a lot of people at the riverbank landing. My mother was barely recognizable, crying so hard she nearly fainted.

The people around her pleaded earnestly, "Just swallow your pride and apologize to Logan. As his older brother, he can't just refuse to help."

"That's right. I'll tell you straight—your son died under strange circumstances, and we can't handle it for you. If you want your son to rest in peace, the only one you can ask is Logan."

My mother's lips went ashen, and she gritted her teeth in hatred. "That monster won't help me! He's a monster, a heartless beast. It was him—it must have been that monster who cursed my son to death!"

Everyone shook their heads and sighed.

I came over in straw sandals, carrying a bottle of rice wine, swaying as I walked.

When people saw me, they cried out in surprise, "Ah! Logan's here! Quick! Logan's here!"

The neighbors automatically parted to make way. I looked down at my mother, and she stared up at me in shock, the hatred in her eyes slowly draining away.

"You—you help your brother..."

Her voice was awkward, unfamiliar, but it carried a trace of pleading.

I agreed without hesitation. "All right."

Her voice trembled. "Really?"

The men who work the river with me had already gone down to prepare the things.

Fourteen years of working the river, and they all knew—once I said something, I always kept my word.

The work we do is a little lowly, but our word is a nail driven home, once and for all.

Marcus and Danny brought the things over. "Logan."

I didn't take them. I stared, unblinking, at the corpse in her arms.

This was the most vicious corpse I'd seen in fourteen years of this work.

"Dig up the gear from under the locust tree in the main hall."

The two of them exchanged a glance and went back at once.

I lit a cigarette. "Talk. Tell me what happened."

She looked at me, choking back sobs, and spoke with half-belief. "Your brother has been well-behaved since he was little. He never wandered off, never got mixed up with any shady people. But these past few days he's been strange. He shut himself in his room and wouldn't even draw the curtains. I went in once—pitch black, not a single ray of light. And there was a very strange smell I couldn't place."

I took off my coat, cigarette in my mouth, and while I listened I smeared the chicken-blood clay paste over my body.

"Just this morning, I went to call him for breakfast, but there was no one in the room. Soon the people from the riverbank landing came to the house and said—said the boy had fallen into the river!"

As usual, I asked, "How good was the boy at swimming?"

She suddenly grew agitated, rushed up and grabbed my hand. "He's a better swimmer than you! Even if you died, he would—" She stopped herself abruptly and readjusted. "I mean, he—he must have been murdered by someone!"

Her words were always like this. I never took them to heart.

As she spoke, her voice stopped short for an instant.

I looked down. Her hand had landed on my scar, and she froze, staring at it.

This scar ran down from below the collarbone and stretched all the way to my wrist.

I shook her hand off and kept smearing the clay paste over myself.

I have three scars like this on my body.

One is on my neck, one is over my heart.

When I was thrown out of the house, she cut them herself. I was hard to kill and survived—the scars just came out ugly. At least I kept my life.

"I beg you, help my child. As long as the murderer is caught and he can rest in peace, I'll do anything you ask."

"He's the only son I have. I beg you, help me. If you want to settle the score afterward, my life is yours!"

I gave a scornful smile. What would I want with her life?

"Boss, we've dug it up!"

Looking at that old wooden chest, I sat down cross-legged. "Open the chest. Question the corpse."