Chapter 30
Rain drummed on the rooftop, pattered against the latticed windows of the Five Willows bookshop.
Pacing about, Haewon struggled to stay calm, her nerves fraying with every passing moment.
They had arrived in the early afternoon and had waited for what felt like an eternity.
Her damp dress had long since dried. Lord Yu, ever composed, stood browsing the shelves with quiet patience.
“The assistant said Merchant Hyoyang had left for a little bit,” Haewon said, determined not to fuss about the impropriety, to not draw further attention to how entirely alone they were.
Maid Boram was too riveted by a novel to pay them any heed, and the shop assistant was nodding off by the inner door.
No other patron or scribe was in sight; the recent bookshop raid must have caused enough fear to keep them away.
Clearing her throat, she added, “But I’m sure Merchant Hyoyang will return any moment now.”
Lord Yu flipped a page. “I’m sure.”
Her heart continued to race. She rarely lost mastery over herself, but the merchant’s absence, Yeonhee’s disappearance, and him—that tall, handsome man standing in the same aisle as she—left her incredibly agitated.
She paced down the end of the aisle for the hundredth time and took in the row of shelves.
How long would she have to remain here, isolated with Lord Yu?
How long before Yeonhee returned? Surely her sister would notice her identification document missing and panic.
Wandering back to Lord Yu, Haewon absentmindedly picked up a book and flipped through its pages, releasing a cloud of dust. She sneezed.
A deep, warm chuckle broke the silence.
Her pulse leapt at the unfamiliar sound.
“You sneeze like a startled mouse,” he remarked.
So accustomed to his reserve, she found herself frozen with shock, unable to register the moment.
She stole a glance up at him, and then she saw …
a smile. A boyish smile that softened his stern features.
It was truly something to behold. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled, charming, kind.
Her heart melted like a snow-covered field under the blazing sun.
She’d never seen him smile before. At least, not like this, and not at her.
He was impossibly handsome, more than she cared to admit. Heat slowly crept up her throat.
“Here it is,” he said, pulling a book off the shelf right above her. He seemed in no hurry to step back after offering her his find. “The book I suggested to you, in many of our letters. An ideal read if you require a moment’s escape.”
A quiet fell over her as she held the book, the weight of it settling in her heart. The weight of all their letters, all their shared thoughts and feelings. Black Lotus’s favorite book. The book that had changed the shape of his soul.
“Yeolhailgi,” she whispered.
She ran her hand down the thick hemp-fabric cover, and a strangled laugh escaped her as she flipped through. “I fear a reread will be impossible. Look at all these drawings. Look at this one.” She pointed it out to him.
Lord Yu peered down at the illustration from over her shoulder. The ink-drawn face with four eyes and a toothy grin smiled up at them. His brows knitted, and he murmured in grim observation, “It appears to be a self-portrait.”
She burst into laughter, then quickly pressed a hand to her lips, lest she attract a brusque lecture from Maid Boram. In that moment, all Haewon’s anxieties scattered, and she felt a lightness in her soul—as though, just for now, she could truly believe all would be well.
They continued leafing through the notes and sketches, swiftly turning past the more scandalous illustrations.
She didn’t think to feel embarrassed, and she forgot for a brief moment that Lord Yu was someone apart from her.
He was simply there, beside her, and she felt as at ease with him as she did when lost in her own thoughts, safe within the walls of her room.
“Sometimes…” She shook her head, unable to stop smiling. “Sometimes I sit before a novel and wonder, ‘Why is it we return to them? Why are we Joseon people so enamored by them?’ I have truly witnessed ladies going into financial ruin to borrow books.”
He cast her a thoughtful look. “My thoughts are … Novels move us in a way that Confucian classics cannot. The classics dictate how we ought to think. But novels speak to a longing that we are ashamed to admit.”
A strand of her hair had slipped loose. She swiped it aside, but it fell over her face once more, tickling her cheek. “Longing? What kind—”
Everything in her stilled as a hand brushed her hair aside. His finger left a trail of warmth. Slowly, she looked up at him. His face had gone taut, and his hand still lingered in midair by her cheek. He looked disoriented, like he couldn’t believe his own hand.
“I just—” His ears turned red. “I moved the hair because … it … it looked uncomfortable.”
Their gazes locked for a moment too long. She could hardly even breathe, the way his gaze made her feel.
A knock came at the shop door, so sharp they startled apart.
Her heart leapt and whirled, spinning like a leaf caught in a violent storm.
By the time she found her bearings, she became aware of muffled female voices reciting verses, the key for entrance.
The assistant let out a loud yawn, examined the visitors through the peephole, then removed the wooden bar.
A hand over her still-racing heart, Haewon peered out from behind the shelf and spotted a pair of young ladies wandering in. “It’s not Yeonhee,” she sighed, casting her companion a nervous glance.
“It is nearly evening. We’ve been waiting too long,” Lord Yu noted, looking everywhere but at her.
His usual composure had fractured; the tips of his ears still burned red, and he clasped his hands behind his back as though to physically restrain himself.
Clearing his throat, he turned toward the entrance. “I will step out for a moment—”
“But it is still raining.”
“Hardly. If Yeonhee was here earlier, there may be witnesses who saw where she went.”
Without waiting for her response, he strode off, and she felt she could finally breathe.
Knees weak, she leaned against the wall between two shelves.
Her pulse beat, fast and unsteady, as she placed a hand over her cheek, where his finger had grazed.
The sensation had burned into her skin, and she found, much to her chagrin, that she liked his touch.
She liked him.
Once, falling in love had seemed so simple, something that would occur as easily as the turning of seasons.
Yet now, at eighteen, she realized it was no simple matter.
One could fall in love with the wrong person—someone who belonged to the wrong family, held the wrong status; could fall in love early or too late, long after she had rejected him, after too much had occurred to turn time around.
“It is not to be,” she whispered to herself, lowering her hand. She rubbed at a nonexistent stain on the cover of Yeolhailgi. “It is not meant to be…”
Even as she spoke these words, her shoulders sagged.
She really, really liked him. Unbearably so.
And she knew she would be thinking of Lord Yu for years to come.
She would cherish their collection of moments and letters, going through them now and then to relive distant memories.
For he was, without a doubt, one of those rare souls she could never and would never wish to forget.
Someone cleared their throat.
Her heart skipped. But when she opened her eyes, she found herself staring at a willowy, finely dressed gentleman.
He caught her stare and offered her a most amiable smile as he adjusted his wide-brimmed hat.
Disappointment sank into her chest. She already missed the company of her brooding, softhearted companion who bestowed smiles once every few centuries.
Drawing her veil low over her head, she moved away when the stranger spoke. “Have you ever seen a more dusty, disagreeable place as this?”
She stilled. “Are you speaking to me?”
“My proposition still stands,” the stranger continued with smooth civility. “I reviewed those letters written between you and Black Lotus.”
She frowned, confused at first. Then a jolt of understanding shot through her. The man standing by her was none other than Inspector Wuyeong, the man who’d made a plaything of her little sister.
“You need only obey my orders, and I shall spare you from ruin.” He spoke soothingly, the patronizing way one spoke to a child. “Come now, promise me that you will do as I say, and I shall ensure that no calamity befalls your family.”
She leveled a stare at him. She would control her tongue; one could not afford to upset the man who had dangerous secrets in his possession. And yet the moment she laid eyes on the cruel wretch, she at once failed to pacify herself and felt anger spark.
“You called yourself an investigator in a past life,” he droned on.
“Black Lotus invited you to find the author’s true identity.
I think you know who the writer is.” He slid a studying glance over her, then his brows notched.
A titter of a laugh escaped him. “You do know the identity of Black Lotus. I can see it in your face.”
“Do you indeed?” she snapped.
“Now, now.” He smiled again. He smiled far too often for her liking, and a type of smile she disliked—so shallow as to be meaningless.
“No one is in our vicinity. Your maid is a few aisles down; the other two patrons are at the back of the shop. Tell me the truth, and no one will ever know that it was you.”
“You seem to take a great deal of pleasure in forcing young women at your mercy,” Haewon said tightly. “Is this how you treated my sister, too?”
“Ah, Yeonhee. That mischievous little dokkaebi.”
Haewon squared her shoulders, held herself tall. “You had better tell me, at once, where my sister is, Inspector Wuyeong.”
“Oh, I really don’t know. That is the same answer I gave your father.” He sighed. “Yeonhee was entertaining, until she grew tiresome. Did you know that? How tiresome that girl is—”
“You are fortunate that I was not born a man, Inspector. Otherwise, I would have not thought twice about striking you in the face.”
Inspector Wuyeong grew pale and his lips thinned into a tight line. “Do you know what I am capable of doing? Cross me any further, and you will lose your reputation. You will lose everything you hold dear.”
She met his glare, and as his rage swelled, a trickle of fear ran through her. It was like watching the sea heave before a storm, and she knew if she did not curb her tongue, the waves would rage high and come crashing down upon her and her family.
“Mistress Haewon,” he hissed. “This is my last warning; I am not to be trifled with. If I put my mind to it, I will ruin you. You will never be able to lift your head again in society.”
“I understand,” she said, this time sliding a note of meekness in her voice. She even lowered her lashes. “I understand perfectly. Please, sir, spare my family.”
“Then…” He took in a steadying breath. A sharp smile stretched his lips. “Tell me. Who is Black Lotus?”
The main door opened with a crash. Haewon jolted around to see rain-soaked officers in red uniforms gleaming like fresh blood.
Water dripped from the brims of their hats, and the great plumes on their crowns swayed as they strode in.
The tallest, most commanding figure among the officers prowled to the front of the pack.
His lips twisted as he yanked a book from a trembling lady’s hands and flipped through the pages with a sneer before tossing it over to an officer.
“Seize all Catholic books! Confiscate all novels!”
Haewon watched in horror as the officers tore through shelves, wrenching books out.
Volumes toppled in droves, pages ripped out, trampled beneath boots.
Her heart splintered at the snapping of story-binding red strings, at the sharp rip of thick covers being torn off the flesh of stories.
It felt like her very bones were being wrenched apart.
And watching her, with such smug victory, was Inspector Wuyeong. “Now will you tell me? You will, if you do not wish to be destroyed, as the books before you will be.”
Haewon gripped her veil tight. She had grown up learning that respectability was everything. That it was the very air a woman breathed. And yet she could not shake away the conviction that there were far more important things in life.
“If I lose my honor, I will lose my place in the world,” she whispered. “But if I betray Black Lotus, I very much fear I will lose myself. That is my answer to you, Inspector Wuyeong. And that is the only answer you will receive from me.”