Chapter 27
Haewon sat, swaying to and fro in a palanquin fit for a princess, feeling very much like a wet rag with bits of reed still tangled in her hair.
The servants at Myeongwoldang House had offered to change her into a spare dress but she had begged to leave for home at once.
To escape as far as she could from the home of Lord Yu.
Haewon folded her face into her hands.
How strange he must think her. Did he think she had intruded into his world, purposefully throwing herself into his path?
The possibility appalled her. If only Boram hadn’t called her name, if only he hadn’t heard, then she might have slipped out of the mansion without his knowing.
This disaster could have been entirely avoided!
And worse, he had been so kind.
She wished he had been anything but kind.
She wished he could remain the proud, reserved, and disagreeable gentleman she’d thought him to be.
A man worthy of her thorny rejection. But now a cold shiver of a thought coursed down her spine.
She was no longer certain of who Lord Yu was.
In fact, had she known him at all? The last man in the entire kingdom whom she would have imagined to be Black Lotus—was Black Lotus.
She grabbed the handle, opening the latticed window, and gasped in a deep breath of air.
It couldn’t be Lord Yu, it absolutely couldn’t be him she’d written to …
But if Lord Yu were Black Lotus, their letters were now in the possession of Inspector Wuyeong.
If the inspector ever thought to expose them to the public, anyone would look at such letters, between a man and a woman, and deem them love letters, more intimate and scandalous than an unmarried couple caught mid-embrace.
It was the most intimate kind of association, the communion between two minds.
Women had been publicly humiliated and men blocked from entering office for far lesser crimes.
The palanquin slowed, its rhythmic sway coming to an abrupt stop. So lost in thought she was, Haewon hadn’t realized how much time had passed. Male voices called out, and with a jolt and rattle, Haewon felt the earth solid beneath her. The door creaked open, sunlight spilling in.
She winced as she stepped out, the world too painfully bright.
Its edges too sharp. Villagers had stopped to gawk, their scrutiny upon her.
A palanquin was a rare sight in Gyonam, and rumors were sure to spread.
But Haewon couldn’t be bothered to care.
Her distress had reached its peak, a pounding headache as she stepped into her home. All she wanted was to be alone.
“Wh-whose family does that vehicle belong to, Haewon-ah?” Mother was instantly by her side, a trembling hand over her chest. “Why are you not answering your mother? Why are you staring so stupidly at the floor? Oh, good heavens, and what happened to your dress! Speak at once! I cannot endure this suspense!”
Jade swept in as though sensing Haewon’s overwhelm and took their mother away. “Come, eomeoni. Let us ask Boram. Haewon doesn’t look well.”
Haewon barely managed to slip out of her sandals, her limbs feeling like water as she tried to haul herself to her room. She was desperate to wrap herself in a blanket and hide from the discovery she had made at Myeongwoldang—
Then all thoughts quieted.
Time itself seemed to slow.
Haewon retreated a few steps back and stared at the straw sandals lining the step below the veranda. Yeonhee’s sandals were missing.
“Eonni,” Haewon whispered, looking back at Jade. “Where is Yeonhee?”
“She was sobbing all morning,” Jade called out, while maneuvering Mother across the yard. “But our little goblin seems to have finally settled down.”
An uneasy sensation prickled Haewon as she turned and made her way over to their shared room. She slid the door open a bit too forcefully, a loud clack splitting the silence.
“Yeonhee-yah?”
Haewon stepped in and her attention fell on a lone note upon a table. She picked it up and her blood froze.
I am going to find Inspector Wuyeong.
I’m going to make things right between us.
I will not return until I do.
She carried the note with her, feeling dumbstruck as she looked around; Yeonhee had taken a few dresses, undergarments, her identification document, as though she meant to go on a long journey.
Haewon felt her arms grow limp as she stood motionless.
She did not mourn or rage; she felt nothing but a numbness, as though she were still underwater, trapped in the frigid darkness.
What followed, Haewon could hardly recall, as though she were caught in a trance.
Noises and movements bled into each other.
Her legs moved of their own accord; her hand pulled open Father’s study; her mouth moved, forming words like the House of Bright Flowers, book of letters, and Inspector Wuyeong.
Scholar Shin’s wrinkled face paled; his scraggly gray beard twitched.
Mother’s voice then joined the cacophony of noises, declaring, loud and shrill, “What do you mean Yeonhee is gone? She has run away? Yeobo, she is only sixteen!”
Jade held Haewon steady throughout as such confusion shrouded her mind. Yeonhee, run away? No. Surely not. She stared down at her hands, the note no longer in her possession. Her father had set out with it in a hurry.
“Here,” Jade whispered, “you look faint, you ought to drink something.”
Whatever she was given, it was strong, leaving Haewon rather lightheaded and untethered, as though she were observing herself from outside her body.
Slowly, Haewon became aware of the stillness and quiet. She looked around and discovered she was alone in her father’s study. It was dusky outside, the trees shadowy, the land enveloped in blue mist.
How long had she been sitting here? Why had no one shaken her from this trance? She stepped out into the hall, her socked feet padding quietly across, and she paused before her parents’ quarters. Her mother lay on her bed mat, groaning, a wet cloth over her brow.
She meant to step in, to go and offer some comfort, but a hand stilled her.
“I have never seen Mother so distraught,” Jade whispered. “I would let her be for now, Haewon-ah; she is beyond hearing any words of consolation.”
Mother groaned as she lifted a trembling hand into the air, which Jade instantly hurried over to hold. “What should we do?” Mother cried. “Oh, my girl. What shall we do?”
The same question petrified Haewon. She felt the brittle ice of respectability cracking beneath her family.
The ice had held for them all these years, but now she saw patches so fragile they revealed the dark current beneath.
And Yeonhee—with a few more missteps—would plunge them into the deep, freezing silence of shame.
What shall we do?
In Gyonam where everyone talked, where villagers were quick to draw conclusions and choose sides, Haewon had seen how neighbors became strangers, how gossipmongers became moralists who urged the community to condemn and to isolate.
A family stripped of honor would then wither like a flower severed from its root until nothing remained of its former glory.
It had never occurred to Haewon that one day her family could be shunned in such a way. That one day, she too might find her family on the outside, starving for a little kindness and compassion.
She was desperate to save her family while she still could.
Later that evening, she joined efforts with Jade to find Yeonhee’s hidden journal. They could not afford to be ignorant of any more of Yeonhee’s secrets, and needed full clarity of Inspector Wuyeong’s character, to better understand what their family faced.
It was dark out when they found their sister’s new hiding place, the journal squeezed behind their large pinewood wardrobe.
“It might hold the specifics of Yeonhee’s plans,” Jade whispered, laying the journal on a table. She flipped it open and both sisters were greeted with a warning:
This journal is private!!!
Should you dare to read its contents,
may you suffer ten thousand deaths!
Guilt pinched at her, but Haewon nevertheless leaned in, reading alongside Jade. They paused now and then to dog-ear pages that mentioned the names of places and people that might aid their father’s search.
Every page was sixteen-year-old Yeonhee, consumed by her feelings for Inspector Wuyeong.
Tormented. Writhing, as though gripped by an illness.
When would she see him again? Did he wish to see her again?
Why had he stared at her like that? Did he feel the same way?
Did he care for her more than he did his betrothed?
When would he write to her again? He had touched her cheeks—what did that mean?
He had kissed her, then had declared she was like a little sister to him.
Why had he said that? Why was he no longer writing back?
He had appeared suddenly again, lain with her, then had asked if she’d told anyone about their meeting. Why was he ignoring her now—
Haewon’s hands darted out, quickly shutting the journal. She had been raised to believe that a woman’s greatest worth resided in her chastity, and Yeonhee …
“I regret having opened the journal at all,” Jade whispered, sickly pale.
“I, too, sorely regret it.”
Footsteps crunched outside.
Exchanging wide-eyed glances with her sister, Haewon set the journal aside, leapt to her feet, and raced out of the room with Jade close behind.
Had Father returned with Yeonhee? Was her family saved?
Soon it wasn’t only her and her sister, but Mother crowding the threshold door, holding a candle against the night—a sea of pitch darkness beyond.
A lantern appeared, illuminating Father’s weary face. Him and no one else.
“Where is Yeonhee?” Mother cried. “How could you return without her?”
Haewon couldn’t stem the disappointment grinding into her bones. This was a nightmare without an end. “Father?” she whispered.