I'm just a waiter. Working here, you see all kinds of things. This is a place where anything can be bought—a d…
I'm just a waiter. Working here, you see all kinds of things. This is a place where anything can be bought—a dog, a person, or, for the right price, a person turned into a dog.
But the strangest deal I ever saw began the day a body lay at our doorstep. It looked more beast than human, torn and bleeding. Around here, that's nothing new—just our turn to clean up the mess.
The boss went to kick it aside, but it bared its teeth, and a silver ingot rolled to his feet. Miss Chun bought that body with that piece of silver. She carried the girl herself, blood soaking her clothes and coins.
A poor bargain, but Miss Chun didn't care. She taught the girl to walk, to read, to live. When the girl vanished, Miss Chun went door to door, banging on gates, scaring half-dressed men out of their wits. The girl always returned after dark with a bunch of cheap white flowers in hand.
She stayed one long spring—long enough for forsythia to bloom and wither, long enough for the girl to speak. They say her first word was "Chun (spring)." But to me, it was "money."
"How much," she asked, "to buy spring?"