Chapter 34
Throughout the following week, the capital buzzed with whispers, and Haewon overheard more than a few refer to a “delightful new scandal.” Lord Yu Seojun, the brilliant gentleman who was to enter the Royal Academy in the first rank, had been summoned by the king.
No one knew exactly why; the affair was carefully hushed up.
One of the main figures in this drama, Inspector Wuyeong, had been relocated to another post far outside the capital, shamed into secrecy.
Speculation therefore spread as wildfire.
Some claimed the king had ordered Lord Yu to atone for his misconduct (whatever that may be) by writing a formal letter of apology in the pure classical style, to which he had allegedly agreed.
Others whispered that Lord Yu had refused and chosen a life of political isolation instead.
A few went so far as to say he would be sent to a remote island in military exile, though this was widely dismissed.
After all, Lord Yu was the son of Minister Yu, and the king would not dare openly oppose a member of the Old Doctrine, which held the bureaucracy, military, and local governance in its grip.
He could not risk losing their tenuous support.
Such tales spread far and wide throughout even Gyonam Village, trickling in through the whispers of servants.
Haewon learned bits and pieces through Jade as well, who discreetly tried to fish as much as she could from Young Master Byeongho while their families exchanged wedding gifts.
But the young master knew little himself.
The affair was shrouded in mystery, and Yeonhee—who was staying with their aunt in the far north to evade any further scandal—had written to declare that Haewon ought to simply write to Lord Yu and ask him herself.
Haewon couldn’t, of course.
She wasn’t his friend, nor his sweetheart. She had no right to correspond with him any further.
But she remained terribly ill at ease.
“What of you, Wol? Have you heard from Lord Yu?” Haewon asked when she visited Five Willows one morning, settling herself before a transcriber’s low-legged table.
Wol glanced up from a book. “Only once.”
Her pulse leapt, quickening with hope. But hope for what? Her emotions of late were in disarray. “What did Lord Yu write?”
“Oh…” Wol gave a little shrug as she set the book aside and picked up the next. “He inquired after my well-being. That is all—” Clucking her tongue, she shook her head. “This copy will not do. It is entirely impossible to read with all these scribbles.”
As Wol continued to examine the stack of returned books, Haewon felt a weight sink into her chest. She had come to Five Willows to transcribe books for Wol, to fill her empty shelves, but now all she could think about was him.
“I wonder if he will ever write again,” Haewon whispered, unable to withhold her concern. “I fear he will not. How can anyone endure the king’s rebuke? His pride barely endured His Majesty’s criticism of his work, even while he was hidden behind a pseudonym.”
“You needn’t look so glum.” Wol tossed a book aside and picked up the next. “I thought about it, and of late, I’m beginning to think Black Lotus will write again. Surely the longing to write is like the waves at sea; you can’t stop it, and you certainly can’t escape it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Haewon went back to her transcription work, to the book she was copying, Yeolhailgi.
After Lord Yu had given it to her off the shelf, she’d held on to it under her veil throughout the raid.
She flipped the page now, and her heart quieted at the lines she knew had been waiting for her.
Lord Yu’s favorite line in the entirety of the book.
“If there is one person in this entire world who understands me,” she read under her breath, “I can live this life without bitterness.”
The words slid through her like thread, weaving themselves into the fabric of her soul.
It was then she understood, with some astonishment, the extent of her own feelings for Yu Seojun—the one who had truly understood her.
Not the surface she presented to the world, but the deepest, most honest parts of her.
Parts of her she hadn’t even known existed, unfolding before her eyes as she’d written to Black Lotus.
A friend before whom she could lay herself bare without fear.
A friendship that felt like refuge after a long day’s wandering in a world too sad, prejudiced, and lonely.
A heavy sigh escaped her. Haewon half expected Wol to remark upon it, for she had been sighing all day, but instead she found herself alone. Wol had disappeared somewhere.
“There are books to be transcribed,” Haewon reminded herself, about to flip the page when a trace of ink caught the edge of her gaze—like a fleeting face in the crowd.
A startling familiarity that conjured up a rush of memory—of lush green trees and bright blue summer skies, eating wild berries while reading letters by the stream, the surrounding world a magnificent mystery …
Her breathing grew uneven as she leaned in and studied a note in the margin, a single note squeezed in among the scribble of other comments:
Magpie,
The word burned into her. There was only one who would ever address her in such a note. A desperate ache wrung her heart tight as she read on.
You are the kind of soul
one finds only once
in a lifetime, and
travels the next thousand
searching for again.
I would do that for you.
I could live and die,
searching each lifetime,
for you.
The bookshop blurred, a wash of color and light as more tears welled in her eyes.
She felt such a rush of love for this man.
Upon rising to her feet, she paced, overwhelmed and at a loss.
What was she to do with these feelings? These emotions that overflowed in her heart and she felt she might drown in.
Pausing before a little window, she stared out as a helpless, unbearable ache pulsed in her chest. She tried not to picture what it might be like to meet Lord Yu again, what it might feel like to talk to him, to exist in the quiet warmth of his presence …
She found herself wishing, as she watched a lone bird glide through the azure blue, that she too could sprout wings.
To glide above all her worries, over the walls and the mountains of societal rules and customs, to simply follow where the wind took her.
For now, she realized, she had words, and words could fly.
Words were meant to soar, to rise from the heart as the truest and most earnest expression of her deepest thoughts.
Words were meant to be carried from one soul and shared.
Wandering back to the table, Haewon found herself drawing out a fresh sheet of paper and picking up her brush. She began to write:
Dear Lord Yu,
How have you been faring? I know I ought not to write directly to you, so you can imagine how anxious I am to hear that everything is all right with you. As for myself, I am well—
Haewon paused. Throwing aside the draft, she took out a new page. She breathed in deep and wrote down the truth:
I miss you, Yu Seojun. I miss you terribly.
The words stared back at her. They felt too bare and vulnerable, yet she nevertheless folded the note and slipped it into a spare envelope she found in Wol’s office. Then she stepped out of the shop and onto the dusty road.
“Agasshi?” Boram hurried out after her. “Are you leaving already?”
Haewon surveyed the street. Urchins darted through the market bustle, ragged and tanned, laughing. After stopping one, she crouched before the boy with raven-black hair braided down his back, and held out a coin.
“Would you be so good as to deliver something for me?”
He nodded and took the coin in his grubby hand.
“It’s a letter. I need it delivered to Lord Yu Seojun—”
“Agasshi!” Boram cried, shuffling closer. “Did I hear you correctly? You are sending a letter to him? What if someone finds out?”
“They will,” Haewon said, “if you declare this news any louder.”
“Agasshi,” she pleaded.
“Deliver it to Lord Yu,” Haewon repeated, “at Myeongwoldang, located in Myeongrye-bang District. Come back and find me later, and I’ll buy you a warm meal.”
The boy must have carried out such a task before, for he asked, “Who do I say it’s from?”
“From…” Haewon hesitated. “From Magpie.”
Boram fussed over Haewon’s headdress, smoothing out its wrinkles. “If I may speak plainly—and I daresay someone must—a young lady ought not to be so forward. Such things invite nothing but regret!”
“Perhaps I will regret this,” Haewon said under her breath as she stood up. The boy had long disappeared into the crowd. “But what is life without its little misadventures?”