Chapter 29
It was agony.
The more time he spent with Haewon, the more a quiet desperation built within him.
He wanted to reach out and feel the warmth of her hand in his.
More than anything, that was what he desired.
To simply hold her hand. But she had drawn the line, and he dared not cross it.
He dared not, even as her arms pressed into his, as their hands touched in exchanging the brush, as her physical nearness burned through him.
He had felt his composure unraveling the entire time, on the verge of losing his sanity.
As he lay on the bed mat that night, hands tucked under his head, staring up at the ceiling rafters, sleep evaded him. Every noise coming through the thin walls of the house left him alert, his heart beating at a pace that was not conducive to sleep.
The sky slowly brightened, and Seojun resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t sleep at all tonight.
He searched for distraction by perusing Scholar Shin’s bookshelf, which was illuminated by the blue-gray skylight.
Most of his collection comprised secondhand Confucian classics.
He stilled at a book from a lending shop, evident at a glance by its cover wrapping of sambae. It was a work by Yeonam.
Slipping the copy off the shelf, Seojun flipped through the pages.
It was a well-loved book, its margins and pages crowded with notes and drawings by readers.
Some outbursts cursing the plot, and others cursing the reader for cursing at all, and others complaining about the scribe’s handwriting, and still others complaining that the book was nearly illegible, with all its comments and commentaries, and all the drawings someone had thought it acceptable to cover entire pages with.
Mistress Wol found such defacement the bane of her existence.
To him, however, it was as much a part of the joy as reading a novel. There was a certain pleasure in encountering the thoughts of those who had come before.
The smile tugging at his lips fell as he came across the comment This scribe’s transcription work is riddled with so many spelling errors. I am tempted to correct it all with red ink. I recommend the copies transcribed by Magpie instead.
Everyone in Five Willows knew of Magpie.
Transcribers were more than simply copiers of texts—they edited as they transcribed, embellished as they went.
Rarely were two transcribed copies entirely the same.
Seojun read the comment below it, written in response: Magpie’s copies are always the first to disappear off the shelf.
“Magpie,” he whispered, the conversation with Haewon returning.
Haewon’s book of letters was now in Inspector Wuyeong’s hands. And considering Inspector Wuyeong’s close ties to Yeonhee, he would not be surprised if the girl had shared, in confidence, that her elder sister was the infamous Magpie.
Seojun exhaled as he returned the novel to the shelf, the weight of Haewon’s predicament settling over him with sudden, crushing force.
Inspector Wuyeong would not care what became of Haewon or her family.
A man who destroyed books was a man with no empathy.
And if he exposed Haewon as Magpie, tying her name to works deemed heretical …
It would be a scandal far graver than Yeonhee’s.
Sitting motionless, Seojun stared at the window, at the silhouette of branches swaying across the hanji screen.
For the past few years, he’d had a reoccurring nightmare in which he was trapped beneath the sea.
Frozen immobile by some inhuman force, he could do nothing but watch in a state of voiceless horror as the pale silhouette of his sister disappeared into the depths right below him.
That same helplessness settled over him now.
By daybreak, his head throbbed, his mind aching from all the thoughts.
Plans, possibilities, things he could do, yet he was gripped by the pervasive realization that a woman’s reputation was fragile.
No matter his efforts, it might all fall apart.
His mind teetered on the borderland of sleep, and soon he was no longer able to differentiate delusion and dream.
A magpie was perched on the bookshelf, its harsh squawking ringing in his head, and pages from novels were falling from the rafters and melting into him like snowflakes.
A loud, piercing cry broke through his subconscious.
Seojun’s eyes shot open. He was drenched in cold sweat, feverish, his head and arms draped over the low table. For a moment he wondered if the cry had come from his sister’s quarters. She hadn’t cried this loud in two years, since—
Then he remembered where he was.
Scholar Shin’s books stared down at him. The small window hinted at the time, for the sky was the gray of either an early morning or a day overcast by clouds. Quickly, he refreshed himself, made himself decent, then stepped out of the study, only to find three women huddled around a note.
Dust motes danced in the dim skylight. The threshold doors had been left open, damp air breathing in and out across the maru floor, rain dribbling down from the eaves and pattering onto the veranda.
There was a table laid right before the study door, arrayed with an assortment of food one would eat in the afternoon; it struck him he had slept well into the day, which had never occurred before.
Disoriented, he looked around, and it took a moment to recognize Haewon, her eyes wide, her face utterly pale.
His blood turned cold. “What is the matter?”
Mistress Myeongok hurried forward. Everyone, including himself, had forgotten that her two daughters stood in plain sight. It was the height of impropriety. But in that moment, such concerns were meaningless.
“Oh, nauri! A courier came by this morning.” Mistress Myeongok rushed to hand the note to him. “It was addressed to my husband, but he left early to meet Inspector Wuyeong. It is from Merchant Hyoyang of Five Willows.”
Seojun was almost afraid to read it, but finally did.
Yeonhee just came by for a meal, and rest assured, I am quite certain she’ll return to Five Willows. She left her identification document here by accident.
“We might yet find her! She cannot leave the capital without it!” Mistress Myeongok cried, fluttering her handkerchief about.
The cloth, delicately embroidered with pale pink and yellow flowers, trembled in her hands as she drew a shuddering breath.
“Oh, it is an agony that you must witness our family in such disgrace! Nauri, we must impose upon you once more. Indeed, with my husband gone, we have no other way—”
“I’ll visit Five Willows. You needn’t worry about that.”
Grabbing his hat, Seojun strode out through the light shower and soon reached the stable.
He had never felt his manservant’s absence more keenly than now.
With no one to assist, he untethered Jeolyeong himself and led the horse out.
Once mounted, he eased the creature into a steady canter down the road, ignoring the rumbling of the skies.
If Yeonhee was heading to Five Willows, he would find her.
He would bribe any witnesses from gossiping, would even pay Inspector Wuyeong whatever he required to keep silent about both Yeonhee and Magpie. Anything to keep Haewon safe.
“Nauri!” a female voice called out behind him.
He reined his horse to a halt, then glanced back to see two women hurrying down the road, one at a run. Haewon reached him in no time, the color high on her cheeks, her silk veil flapping loudly behind her in the wet wind.
“It seems,” she declared, a little out of breath, “that we are heading in the same direction!”
He didn’t bother to dissuade her. If anyone was going to convince Yeonhee to return home, it would be one of her sisters.
“Hurry and find her,” a distant voice called out. It was Mistress Myeongok, who stood farther away, waving her handkerchief. “We shall wait here, in case Yeonhee decides to return home!”
Then Jade called out, “I’ll take good care of Mother!”
Seojun watched them for a moment longer, their humble abode appearing tiny against the sea of gray sky. Haewon’s family remained, in many ways, as wild as he had first judged them to be, yet now there was a warmth to them, a loveliness he had not perceived before.
It was the father, Scholar Shin, who had surprised Seojun the most. Seojun was accustomed to men quick to shift blame, their words sharp with shameless cruelty, their viciousness a shield for their own fragile pride.
Fathers who cherished their honor above all else and would never think twice about killing their own misbehaving daughters.
Such men populated the government in droves.
Yet Scholar Shin had been different. From the very beginning, he had blamed no one but himself for Yeonhee’s disappearance, and had conspired not how to harm his daughter, but how he might shield her from cruel judgment.
It was only a glimpse into the family, but it was enough. Enough to see the roots of Haewon’s warmth and kindness, her courage and her indomitable, unconventional spirit …
“Shall we go then?” Haewon looked up at him with that frank expression he’d come to adore. “To Five Willows.”
Seojun dismounted, and leading his horse by the reins, he walked quietly alongside the young lady and her maid, who had finally caught up and covered her mistress with a straw cloak.
“Heavens, if Yeonhee would only return home today,” Haewon exclaimed, “I will forgive her for causing our family so much distress.”
“You would forgive her so easily?” Seojun asked. “Many would decide to withhold forgiveness entirely. Your sister stole your private letters.”