Chapter 28 #2
After a rush of muffled movements, Haewon found herself in the study. She was unsure if she had pushed him or he had drawn her in, but the study door was shut, and they stood pressed together, his back pushed up against the wall, and her clinging on to him, on the brink of losing her balance.
“I thought I heard Yeonhee.” Mother’s voice trembled. “I heard something, I vow I did!”
Lord Yu’s heart pounded under the palm of her hand.
Haewon tried not to pay it too much heed, along with the fact that they stood nearly hip to hip, the heat of his proximity scorching her skin.
She could barely breathe, the air thick and warm.
Their fingers were touching, both frozen on the brass door handle.
Just a few more moments, Haewon desperately reassured herself, and Mother and Father will go back to sleep. I’ll leave the study at once.
“My dear…” It was her father, and the warm glow of candlelight moved across the paper-screened door, then settled upon the silhouette of a table. “You ought to speak quieter. Lord Yu is asleep.”
Her eyes widened as the shadows of her parents lowered to the floor, and Lord Yu tensed beneath her. Evidently her parents had decided to lounge out on the maru. She shot a worried glance up, hoping to find an answer in Lord Yu’s face, but he stood motionless, watching her.
The silence became stifling. The room felt entirely too small with him in it.
“She’s my girl”—Mistress Myeongok’s voice broke—“and I carried her for nine long months!” Sniffles, followed by the sound of her rummaging for her handkerchief.
“It is terrible to be a mother. All three of them, they all grew up so fast; I was so desperate for them to stay young. At least when they were young I could shield them with my own body. But now they are grown! I am clueless as to how to be a good mother, and my greatest duty is to secure a good match for them—marriage to a man who will give them security and kindness. But now Yeonhee is missing, our whole family ruined.”
Haewon nearly pressed her forehead into the chest before her, as defeat sank into her stomach. It seemed Mother was in for a long conversation with Father. The only window in the study was tiny and situated high in the wall, so escape wasn’t possible.
They were trapped.
Quietly, cautiously peeling herself off Lord Yu, she moved to her father’s low-legged table, drew out a brush, and dipped it into the leftover ink. She wrote onto the moonlit paper: I apologize for inconveniencing you like this. Yet again.
Lord Yu settled on the floor next to her and gently took the brush from her. Think nothing of it, he wrote.
A deep ache burned in her chest. His handwriting—Black Lotus’s writing—held such painful familiarity. Her gaze clung to his hand as he wrote on:
How are you feeling?
She was careful not to touch him, holding her sleeve back as she reached over for the brush. I’m realizing how powerless I really am, she wrote in response. I can’t seem to ensure anyone’s happiness, not even one sister’s.
He wrote: You will find your sister, or she may simply return home on her own.
But even if she does return, what if rumors spread? She stared at the question haunting the back of her mind. The cold sheen of fear crept into her once more. You know what will happen to my family. We will never be able to raise our heads in society.
At his prolonged silence, she held the brush out to him. She knew it was rash to demand a reply. But, more than ever, she found herself in need of Black Lotus’s words.
The night will feel long, should what you fear occur, he finally wrote, but it will not be endless. All darkness has its end.
She could barely read the words, the sense of despair growing.
The night would in fact be endless. Jade would lose the opportunity to marry Young Master Byeongho—no matter how much he adored her, such a newly budded love could not withstand a family’s downfall.
Her mother would sink into the deepest, darkest pit of anguish.
Her father would never leave his study and waste away.
Yeonhee, if she ever returned home, would have to shoulder the guilt of it all.
Some families, Lord Yu continued to write, when ruined, choose to let shame rot them.
But you must take your family and leave the people and the area in which the scandal is rife, leave like the author of Taekriji.
You and your family must find a new beginning.
It is, I believe, the only way to be happy again.
The thought of leaving her home filled her with sadness. Then she remembered the book he had mentioned.
“Taekriji,” she whispered, and the title summoned up memories.
The book had mentioned a place with a high harvest and fertile land that boosted the economy, but also a place with good hospitality and beautiful mountains.
She and her family would have to wander, like the writer.
He had lived the ruined life before them, with no career, no reputation, no way to even feed himself.
He had gone ahead of them, charted this territory, and he had come to the conclusion that Joseon was a wonderful country to wander about, lost.
I have only known Gyonam Village and parts of the capital for all my life, she wrote.
Then she stared at the words, misery still weighing heavy in her chest, yet the barest sense of buoyancy fluttered.
A crack of light in the clouds looming over her future.
Taekriji recommended places like Hapcheon, Gyeongsangnam, Gurye, Jeonju, Daejeon, Yuseong, and Hahoe.
Seojun was still, his brows pressed in concentration. Then he held back his sleeve, and her gaze fell onto his forearm, a map of sinew and veins. His muscles drew taut as he ground the black stick into the inkstone with some water, the ink Father had made earlier used up. He continued to write:
Taekriji praised the East Sea coast of Gangwon Province as one of the most beautiful places in Joseon.
He wrote of it: “Once you tour this area, you instantly become a different person, and those who have passed through it still have the aura of a fresh world in their faces and demeanor even after ten years.”
Her chest burned. He was helping her spin an imaginary world, something to hold on to when night fell. Thank you, she mouthed.
He bowed his head, his expression unreadable.
The silence returned, and it was then she realized that her parents had left. The note she had composed earlier was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t leave until she relayed the message, the sole reason she had ventured to the study in the first place. But where to even begin?
She picked up the brush, then recalled they were entirely alone. “Did you speak with Wol yet?” she whispered.
Startled, he glanced up at her, then at the door, and saw that the glow of the candle was gone.
“No,” he replied, his deep voice sending a reluctant shiver down her spine.
“I visited the Ministry of Justice and they wouldn’t permit me to visit her.
So I went to speak with her father. That is how I came to cross paths with Scholar Shin. ”
“Father said you knew Inspector Wuyeong? How well do you know him?”
“Well enough,” he murmured, then steadied his gaze on her. “Why do you ask? In fact, why did you come to Myeongwoldang to warn me about Wol? Me, of all people?”
Her heart pounded, her fingers icy as she whispered, “Inspector Wuyeong, according to my sister, is bent on looking for Black Lotus. He … he has obtained a book, a collection of letters.” Then quickly, she added, “Transcribed letters. Not the originals. In any case, Inspector Wuyeong has it in his possession, and I fear he might find evidence in there that might identify … Black Lotus. I think you might know who this writer is. Please do not ask me why.” She touched her brow.
She was likely confusing Lord Yu. “I will not trouble you with further explanation. All you need to know is that Black Lotus’s reputation is at risk. ”
She fumbled to organize her father’s desk, clearing their pages of correspondence away.
And when Lord Yu continued to remain silent, she finally looked up.
His stare bore into her, his brows knitting together in intense study, then a strange look dawned over his expression, like the slow rise of sunlight stretching over the shadowed horizon.
Every hidden brook and crevice, illuminated.
With a voice barely more than a breath, he uttered a word that reached into the depths of her soul: “Magpie.”
It was a statement. Not a question.
And with that, her heart seized. She startled back, wide-eyed, and his expression confirmed that he had known her secret for some time. “How … how long have you known?”
“Since I saw your handwriting,” his voice rasped, “at Hwasadang House.”
A pang of remorse struck her. Now she recalled his remark from Seogeomjeong: Do you know why I have been thinking of you for months?
She should have waited for his answer or, at the least, ought to have pondered his meaning for longer than a passing moment.
Haewon had to grip her hands, restraining herself from the need to hide her face behind them.
“And you kept my letters after all this time?” he asked softly.
He didn’t sound upset, but she knew she owed him an explanation.
“I destroyed your letters as you asked, I promise,” Haewon said.
“But the fool that I am, I kept a record of them. I didn’t want to forget your words.
” She did not, however, tell him that Inspector Wuyeong held those letters as blackmail.
That man could still ruin her, for she had no intention of exposing Black Lotus’s identity.
Wringing a loose thread of her skirt, she added, “I’m not sure what the consequence will be of this book of letters, but I apologize nevertheless. ”
Lord Yu stilled the anxious hand of hers, then just as soon withdrew his own, leaving behind a burn on her skin. “I can hardly blame you; I kept yours, too.”
“Oh” was all she managed.
A charged silence fell over them. The night grew too quiet. Haewon smoothed out her dress, her skirt rustling, then she nervously glanced his way. What was he thinking? What was he feeling?
Suddenly, he rose to his feet and wandered over to the far corner of the study, which was still not very far away. The study was much too small for two people who were not meant to be alone.
“You should go now,” he said, his voice hoarse. “That would be wise.”
He was sending her away, telling her to leave when—to her utter shame—she wanted to remain.
Here, with the one person she had so desperately longed to befriend, who had become anything but a friend.
She rose nevertheless, and with each retreating step, she felt the chilling darkness closing in around her.
“Rest well, nauri,” she whispered, lingering by the door for a brief moment.
He did not look at her again, and so she left.