Chapter 22 #2
“Eung?” The merchant paced about the front of the shop, hands gathered behind his back. “Who is here?”
“Wol.”
“No. Well, who knows. My daughter comes and goes as she pleases.”
“Ajusshi,” she pressed. “So you have not seen her?”
He clucked his tongue as he waved his hand. “She’s been away since yesterday. She sent me a note, saying not to expect her back anytime soon, but that she is well.” Shaking his head, he gestured at a reader ahead. “Look at that man. He’s been reading in my bookshop the entire day.”
Haewon placed a hand over her throat, her heartbeat escalating again. Was Wol truly locked away at the Ministry of Justice, being interrogated?
She brushed past the merchant, wove through patrons, and arrived at the bookshelves at the far end of the shop. Slipping into the shadows behind it, she knocked quietly at the door, praying it would be her friend who greeted her. But instead, it was Wol’s assistant who let her in.
“Wol hasn’t returned?” Haewon asked.
“No, agasshi,” the thug-like helper replied in his deep, gravelly voice.
Haewon nevertheless searched the aisles, then hurried into the transcription room, only to find it empty of scribes.
“Wol?” she called out, hopeful as she approached the adjoining workroom, the door left open.
Wol only left her door unlocked when she was present at Five Willows.
“Wol?” she called out again, only to feel her heart sink as she stepped inside. It was empty, too.
No one was here, except for the painting of Wol’s favorite poet, the Five-Willow Gentleman. Yet even the poet in the watercolor illustration stood with his back turned to her, staring off into the distance.
She was all alone.
And in the deafening silence, among the motionless stacks of books and manuscripts, Haewon remembered. Just one page, Yeonhee had said, and this will all go away.
All Inspector Wuyeong wanted was a few pages of Black Lotus’s handwriting. She had always washed Black Lotus’s original manuscripts upon transcription, but what if Wol had a few letters from Black Lotus, undestroyed?
She could search the workroom, and if she found what Inspector Wuyeong demanded …
The threat hanging over her and her family would be gone.
No one would ever know that Shin Haewon had transcribed books that no respectable lady would dare be caught reading—books women hid behind locked doors, tucked discreetly behind their embroidery work, or concealed within the covers of a Confucian classic.
She could escape whatever horror awaited her.
Guilt would undoubtedly plague her, but she could erase Black Lotus from her memory.
Sever her ties with Wol. Leave her friends to the wolves, to the officials who would pin all blame on Five Willows for distributing forbidden novels.
She would then live the rest of her life as she ought: behind walls, knowing nothing beyond the thickness and thinness of embroidery thread.
Haewon’s gaze slid back to the portrait of the Five-Willow Gentleman, and though he was gazing off into the distance that she could not see, it almost felt as though he were looking at her, too.
He lives in contentment, and writes poetry to amuse himself and to express how he feels. Verses from his biography whispered by her like a breeze. Worldly gain or loss does not concern him. This is his way of life.
Haewon quickly gave her cheeks a light slap. “Good heavens, Shin Haewon, what are you thinking?”
Recoiling from her dark thoughts, she retreated from the workroom, still shaken.
Her heart twisted as she took in the sight of the shop, its shelves and stacks of books, its dusty sunlight and air musty with the scent of aged paper.
It was as familiar to her as her own room.
Even if blindfolded, she would still find her way about, knowing how many steps to take, how many corners to turn to find her beloved books.
Yunjidang’s work, which had first given her mind wings?
Three aisles down, to the left, on the third row, collecting dust under a stack of five other books.
Taekriji, the bestselling travelogue she reread once a year?
Always at the very front of the shop, with an entire shelf dedicated to copies of it.
Yeonam’s work, the giver of wonder and a good laugh?
There were copies in the shelf right by where Haewon stood now.
She knew every book in this shop, had read every page, and had painstakingly transcribed many of them.
It was home.
And every reader had pledged a silent oath in their heart the moment they had stepped into Five Willows, a vow of loyalty to one another and to the books here. It was this oath that strengthened her steps as she walked out into the front shop.
Wol would most certainly not identify Black Lotus, yet someone was bound to.
Or worse, Inspector Wuyeong might uncover the truth himself.
Somewhere in Haewon’s book of letters, a clue could exist, a detail she herself had failed to notice.
She had no idea what fate awaited Black Lotus once she was found, but the author deserved to know that there were wolves on her trail.
Out at the front of the shop again, Haewon hurried to the merchant, who now sat hunched behind his desk.
“Ajusshi, did Wol ever tell you who Black Lotus is? Or where the author might reside?”
Merchant Hyoyang stuffed his smoking pipe into his mouth and gnawed at it as he continued glaring at the reader in the corner.
“Ajusshi—”
“If Wol did,” he said impatiently, “she would have told me in confidence.”
“So you know?”
“No, of course not! I’ve asked her a few times, but she seems determined to take the secret to her grave.”
Haewon stood frozen, gripping her veil as she stared through the open bookshop doors. Beyond the threshold, an ox-pulled cart rumbled past, weaving through the flow of white-robed pedestrians, but she barely saw it. Her mind was racing, searching for a way to reach Black Lotus.
“Why?” Merchant Hyoyang suddenly asked. “Is something the matter?”
“Your daughter—” Haewon hesitated. Wol had chosen not to tell her father about being summoned to the Ministry of Justice for a reason. “There is something urgent I must tell Black Lotus,” she said instead.
“Then you’d better go tell the author yourself.” Merchant Hyoyang returned his attention to the reader and continued his complaining. “Aigoo, aigoo. He knows I’m watching him, yet he keeps reading! Right before my eyes!”
“But I don’t know who Black Lotus is, where she lives. How am I to tell the author myself—”
“Wol says you’ve already met Black Lotus.”
Haewon’s breath caught. “What?”
“That’s what Wol said. It seems, at least, that you know more than you think you do.”
Merchant Hyoyang shot to his feet, forgetting Haewon entirely as he stalked forward, shaking his pipe at the culprit like an accusatory finger. “You there, young man! Do you intend to read the entire book without paying?!”
Haewon couldn’t move, summoning to mind all the women she knew, every friend and passing acquaintance, until a crowd of hundreds filled her head. Among them was Black Lotus?
Her heart beat so wildly against her chest it hurt to breathe. She knew Black Lotus. Her dearest, most precious friend had been nearer than she could have ever imagined. Had they conversed more than once? Had their sleeves brushed? Had they exchanged smiles?
She touched her brow, head spinning. She knew Black Lotus—the memory of their encounter lived somewhere in her mind. If she could just remember, then perhaps she could find her before it was too late.