The Brother's Bargain
The man grabbed his sister's arm as she tried not to listen and pleaded.
"So, Tichite. You have some money saved up, right? Was that really all yesterday? If I had just two thousand karso more, I think your big brother could make sure our Tichite doesn't have to get fish broth on her hands..."
Nirgi, disguised with a servile smile, approached under the guise of persuasion. Ranlam wasn't fooled. Even though he was smiling now, she didn't know when he might turn violent again. Nirgi's emotions and attitude fluctuated wildly.
"Where would I have that kind of money?"
She mustered her courage and shot back sharply, despite her shrinking heart. As expected, the man flew into a rage at her defiance.
"You useless idiot, even when I try to do something, you never help!"
He immediately grabbed his sister's hair and shook her. A stream of vicious curses followed. Though it felt like her scalp was being torn off, that pain was almost bearable. Once the real beating began, even her strong stubbornness wore thin.
Pride shattered before violence. In truth, she still had two silver coins hidden in her pocket. Though she really didn't want to, Ranlam reluctantly took one out. As if offering a sacrifice to an evil god, she did so with desperate sorrow.
"This is all. This is really all there is!"
Nirgi's eyes lit up at the sight of the money. One henny. It was a considerable sum to satisfy his greed, yet too precious to squander on such fleeting peace.
The man snatched the silver coin with a "Just as I thought" expression.
"Wait and see. I'll at least double it and bring it back."
He boasted and let go of her hair. Then he left the house with satisfied steps. It was clear he was rushing off to gamble away the money. Holding her burning cheek, Ranlam thought bitterly. Imagining how quickly he would lose it filled her with hollow anger.
***
On land, it was difficult to openly practice as an apothecary. She occasionally received commissions through word of mouth and earned consultation fees, but that was all. A poor foreigner lacked the economic foundation to open a proper shop, and most importantly, few patients sought medical advice from a Tilamin woman openly.
So Ranlam took on all sorts of odd jobs to earn a living. Fortunately, the city always had day labor available as long as one had limbs. Window cleaning, chimney sweeping, sewing, rope making, tar coating, net weaving—she had tried everything she could, but the best paying was the fish pickling warehouse.
The work was simple and straightforward. Slit open the fish's belly, remove the innards, stuff it with salt. Stack them neatly in a jar, sprinkle more salt, and press them down firmly. Roll the full jar at an angle to pass it to another worker. One after another. It was so linear and repetitive that there was no room for thought or insight.
It was work she had always done without complaint. Yesterday, the day before—the same exhausting routine repeated unchangingly. Sweating salt-laced sweat, she moved like a waterwheel turning with that sweat.
Tichite Ranlam was born on an island. And she lived settled by the coast. But in truth, she didn't like the sea or production. The fishy smell was the worst. But humans aren't goats that can live on grass alone, so she had to acknowledge fish's role as an easy and valuable source of nutrition. She had to eat it even if she hated it. That's what life was like. To live and eat, she had to endure this fishy-smelling work too.
"If you don't want to be crushed by fish, speed up!"
Voices urged that the catch was enormous today. People moved their hands more busily. Salt-mixed sweat flowed from their bodies, and a foul sea smell filled deep in their nasal passages.
Her cracked fingertips stung. At this point, it seemed the salt was pickling not the fish flesh but human hands. Though utterly exhausting and tiring, tomorrow was payday. The promised wage was three hundred karso. This week seemed to have had a particularly large volume, so maybe they'd add fifty karso more.
With that money, pay the overdue rent, buy some bread, mend the worn clothes...
Then suddenly, Ranlam thought of Nirgi's face. Just thinking of her pathetic brother drained all strength from her body.
'He'll come back with new debts soon anyway.'
Three hundred karso earned through back-breaking work. But last week, Nirgi had taken away more than twice that amount.
Thinking of the obstacle named Nirgi, even thoughts that had been flowing brightly and positively would suddenly halt. She was skeptical how long the money she earned would stay in her pocket.
Ranlam let the salt she clutched in her right hand slip away futilely and asked herself.
'How long do I have to live like this?'
The fish's blank eyes seemed to mock her. Your life and my life don't seem so different.
The salt sprinkled to drain the fish's moisture seemed to suck away her vitality too. It felt like dehydration symptoms had finally arrived in this sickening life.
'I can't live like this anymore.'
She didn't want to spend her whole life acting as someone else's money pouch.
'Let's run away. Wherever, to a place without Nirgi.'
Ranlam finally made up her mind. It was something she hadn't dared to act on out of fear of being alone. Even if it was too late a decision, the fact that she had resolved to do so was a great step forward.
***
If only she could have left just one day earlier, or even one hour earlier. As she returned home, wringing the salt from her hair and counting her money, someone kicked open the door with enough force to break it. Ranlam's heart lurched as much as the flimsy door and she turned around.
A man stood holding Nirgi by the nape of his neck. He had a round, large belly, and thick hair on his arms and chest. But above the neck, he was completely bald, with stubble marks on all areas except the crown.
The man threw Nirgi into the tiny room, which was ridiculously small compared to his bulky body, like a piece of luggage. Then he abruptly asked.
"Is that the sister you mentioned?"
He was a stranger she had never seen before, but this threatening situation itself was all too familiar. It was something she had experienced often, just with different people.
"I don't have any money."
Perhaps because she thought this was the last time. Recklessness beyond courage swelled in her heart and finally overflowed from her mouth.
"Even if you beat me to death, it won't come out."
She shot back sharply and glared at Nirgi. His face turned pale as he quickly averted his gaze. As always, if they tried to extort money, she was determined to deny it to the end. But he didn't seem to have any intention of opening his hands and making excuses.
From his mottled face, it was clear he had been beaten quite badly. He was considerably cowed.
Come to think of it, the man who came today was quite different in atmosphere from the usual debt collectors. The man, even with his eyes buried in fat, shone sharp eyes as he scanned Ranlam up and down. As if examining the condition of stolen loot. Then he evaluated in a creepily oily voice.
"There must be bastards who'd like her."
The words seemed like a simple mutter to himself, or perhaps directed at Nirgi. What was clear was that they were definitely not words meant for Ranlam. The man was not communicating with her.
"Twenty henny."
"What? That's all?"
When the man presented an unknown amount, Nirgi, who had been silent, opened his mouth in surprise.
"Do you think she can earn that much?"
"No matter what, you're taking one person away..."
"You can tell at a glance. How many years you'd have to run her to recover that money. It depends on how your sister behaves, but look at this."
The man approached Ranlam with an unpleasant smile. He firmly grabbed her chin with his thick fingers and turned her face this way and that while analyzing.
"Her eyes aren't submissive. It will take several months just to tame this stiff body."
"She's not like she looks. How often has she been with the men in this neighborhood..."
Ranlam was dumbfounded. She sensed the ominousness in the conversation between the two men.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
She shouted fiercely and knocked away the man's hand.
Excluding the person involved, what kind of conspiracy were they plotting? She needed a proper explanation.