⁝ gisaeng house.

@❁ song narae yeju was done for the night. the last patron had been satisfied—their physical and social desires fulfilled by her. afterwards, like a ritual, she went for her routine evening bath. refreshed and dressed back in her usual retiring attire, yeju was in process of leaving the gisaeng house, when she spotted her friend—song narae, in the front courtyard of the establishment. yeju furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. narae was hardly a person to indulge in such methods of gratification. if anything, the younger girl was quite the stark opposite. the latter was a painter; graceful and elegant with her dainty hands, delicately moving brush and ink. she had observed the other girl for some time, quietly staring in awe, at the artist who happened to always be at the park when she had been. at the time, they knew of each other's presences, exchanging merely a small smile from afar, until, one day, yeju had decided that narae's beautiful creations couldn't go unnoticed.

/"they say a picture is worth a thousand words, but then how many is in silence?"/ the sight of narae's flabbergasted face from that day was still embedded freshly into yeju's memory, as if their bosoming friendship had only just begun yesteday. unspoken and in silence, the particular moment was precious to yeju. although they were like oil in water, constantly seemingly at feud with each other, somehow, their camaraderie held strong.

their beginnings dissipate, bringing yeju back to her current concerns. an older man had now appeared at narae's side, grabbing her by the arm, and demanding to her that she help him walk. yeju had already started moving, quickly walking over to her friend, with a mind of vengeance, but froze in her tracks when she recognized that it was the painter's father. it was obvious that he was intoxicated, swaying and reeking of alcohol.

"master song! hello, it's yeju!" bowing politely, she then supported his other side, preventing him from teetering into a potentially disastrous fall. "i'm gonna sit you down to the side here sir, narae and i'll get you home soon!" helping the mumbling, incoherent man over to a nearby wall, with the aid of his daughter, they managed to sit him up against it. yeju then turned to look at her friend. "what a nice night you're having." she joked to the younger girl. "can you watch him? i'm going to get a wagon, maybe we can put him in there and move him."

@❃ kwon nabi Knowing full well the sensitivity of this matter, Sejin understands that the madame would not want whatever followed him come to her establishment as well. It seemed that she took pride in her new station and rightfully so. She had worked hard to get where she was and he knew that in this world, nothing came for free. He just hoped that it was worth it to her. Whatever the price she had to pay.

“It has…frankly, your establishment surpassed whatever expectation I had prior to arriving here.” It was an honest remark as he looked around the latter’s office. Not failing to take note of how it was laden with various expensive and imported—things. Hanbamman is indeed as shiny as it is on the inside as it was on the outside. A perfect cover for the true dealings that transpire inside its’ crimson walls.

“Not only are spies following me, surrounding our estate but they might be following my siblings as well. I fear it might be the remnants of the problem that I dealt with many years ago. A problem you have helped me with.” What irony. It seemed like Sejin’s past is coming back to haunt him. With the same pursuers and now, the same informant who has now taken a new identity. Perhaps whoever was after him and his siblings also have taken new identities. He would not put it past them however, he just wanted to make sure.

Sejin takes a sip of the tea that was poured for him, its warmth a welcomed sensation from the cold drinks he has indulged with his comrades just moments earlier.

“Tell me about this ..other informant and I will gladly get out of your way. I imagine seeing people from your past when you are starting a new life..with a new identity is not all that pleasant.” There were not a lot of constants in Sejin’s life so when he sees a familiar face, he is glad. Despite the irony of the situation that they find themselves in.

@❃ bang junha Patience was not a virtue the countess possessed in abundance, but fortunately, the performer she had been observing arrived promptly before her patience wore thin. As the male with striking light hair approached, she admired his attire, which transformed what had initially seemed like a dull evening into something captivating. Riah arched an eyebrow at the gisaeng's bold fashion sense, silently acknowledging her approval with a subtle thought of "Not bad."

Riah's gaze lingered on him, meeting his eyes with a cool appraisal before she allowed her scrutiny to travel up and down his figure, evaluating him like a piece of merchandise. It was only when he boldly took her hand, unaware of her identity, that she ceased to regard him as merely an object. Before she could voice any objection, he guided her to a private chamber. As she closed the door
behind her, the countess took in her surroundings with a practiced eye.

The room bore a striking resemblance to the quarters she and another gisaeng would occupy during her visits. Familiarity settled upon her as she made herself at home, gracefully lowering onto a cushion placed before a small table adorned with various bottles of alcohol. The notion of serving tea at such a late hour in a gisaeng house seemed absurd to her.

Riah couldn't help but suppress a delighted chuckle at the performer's next words. "Bang Junha?" she repeated, his name rolling off her tongue with a hint of recognition. It was no surprise; she was well acquainted with his older brother, a connection that added an intriguing layer to their unexpected encounter.

"As in Bang Sungha's younger brother? The one who calls him 'tiger'... I assume," Riah responded with a wide smile, her amusement evident. The connection was indeed intriguing. Who would have guessed that she would develop a fondness for yet another member of the Bang family?

She observed the performer with renewed interest, wondering how much he knew about her connection to his brother and how their shared history might influence their present interaction. The unexpected familiarity added a spark to the encounter, heightening Riah's curiosity about this younger Bang.


"Pour me a glass, you've certainly piqued my interest," Riah requested, her tone laced with intrigue.
"The night is young, and I'm curious to see if you're worth the double payment I promised." She settled back, awaiting the younger Bang's action.

As he poured her a drink, Riah lifted the glass to her lips, taking a thoughtful sip. She wondered if Sungha had ever mentioned her in passing to his brother, either in years past or more recently.

"Seol Riah," she announced, her tone carrying a weight of significance. "It would serve you well to remember my name, especially if I find myself growing fond of you. I may call upon you frequently, preferring the company of those I choose over the dullness of lackluster men."
\
Riah regarded her cup thoughtfully, noting how it paled in comparison to the gisaeng seated before her. If this performer truly was Sungha's younger brother—the same brother mentioned in passing during their encounters—then this unexpected meeting took on a fascinating twist.

She sipped her drink, her mind swirling with possibilities and connections. The intrigue prompted Riah to be eager to explore where this new dynamic might lead.

“Do you have a client you regularly see on Wednesdays?” She inquires, before her gaze falls on his empty glass and back to his gaze once again. As if she awaited for the latter to pour himself a cup as well.

@✿ baek yejun His efforts certainly did a modicum to quell her jealousy. But there was only so much one could do to hold back a raging bull. It wanted free to mess with her mind, to weave a path of unchecked destruction throughout her imagination. For as little as she wanted to believe what her mind would concoct, there was no way for her to stop its havoc once the ball began rolling.
“I guess that is… understandable,” she eventually acquiesced.

Eun’s lips formed a pout after his kiss, her eyes averting from his. “I’m not angry nor jealous. I’m above that,” she muttered, knowing deep down it was a weak defence. She was jealous. He had only ever talked about one other woman, and she knew exactly how that had gone. The last thing she wanted was to lose him to someone else, especially when she had finally seen him.

“I guess that… kind of… works.”
The gisaeng settled in his arms, though her eyes remained off the paper his brush graced with word. To know he was writing was bad enough without knowing what he wrote. She knew for a certainty that her mind would find a way to twist the words to mean what she feared most. It was good at that; using words to gain power.
So instead of watching, she looked at anything else. Thought of anything else. Pretty birds. The warm kiss of the sun, so forbidden but delightful. The cold waves of water near the pier. It helped pass the time until he announced the completion of both letters.

Swallowing down the jealousy that threatened to form her words, she instead answered his question as best she could. “I could play you anything you’d want, if it would please you.” Her gayageum was always near just for situations like this. “What would you like me to play for you?”

@❃ han dongwook Tonight is one of those nights where Areum doesn't have to entertain guests or clients, a somewhat rare quietness that her mind craves and loathes. On one hand, she wants silence. Distance from the rest of the world if she can help it, but her work as a gisaeng forces her to talk. To act, to pretend. She is used to it (of course she is. It's almost four years since she's started working here), but the busy buzz often becomes exhausting. Smiling, giggling, making her clients curious so that they choose her again, even though she is perfectly fine with working in the kitchen. It's loud enough to consume her thoughts, and it also gives her something to focus on.

She loves talking, learning more about other people—but sometimes, her mind seeks silence. Solitude. It is, however, difficult to find time for herself when her free time is spent worrying over her sisters and their weak mother.

And so, she takes this as a chance for a moment to herself. It is rare, after all, for her to be able to wander outside the establishment, away from its usual lively noise. She easily finds herself in the gardens, void of any sort of presence except for herself. It is easily one of her favorite places to be in, especially during times after working. It does not matter if it is during the night or during the ungodly hours of the mornings after—it is a beautiful sight, with its cool breeze and generous shades under the trees. The skies are often clear here as well, especially during the night, and the stars become her company.

But she is mistaken this time, she realizes, to think that she is alone. She isn't.

There is a figure in the distance. It's swaying, as if drunk—a lost guest, perhaps? A man who's lost his way in the establishment after drinking more liquor than they can handle? But as she approaches, worry begins to seep into her. This no longer seems like drunkenness. But before she's able to process it properly, the man is falling. Too fast, and she tries to catch the man in her arms before he hits the ground.

He doesn't, but she almost does, struggling to keep them standing with how heavy the man is. Should she have let him fall down? Would it have been easier to drag him to somewhere... that's a bit more comfortable to lie down on? Of course not. She wouldn't be able to leave him here knowing he needs her help anyway.

And so, help she does. With a bit of a struggle, she manages to find help in carrying the man inside the building, whom she'd asked to be brought to the room she usually use. While this may come off as inappropriate to him, she doesn't have much of a choice. This is the most comfortable place, well, compared to the bench in the gardens, at least.

Now he is laid upon the bed, with her sitting beside him, and a small basin bowl with cool water in it beside her thighs. She learns that he's sick with a high fever, almost burning with it. Carefully, gently, she wipes his forehead with a wet towel, if only to try and cool his temperature down. With a soft sigh, she runs her fingers through his hair, letting her gaze linger.

But the moment she does, she finds familiarity in his visage. A face that rings a bell from the past, and she's leaning closer, eyebrows furrowing as she tries to remember where she's seen these features before. Her memories of the past... are somewhat blurry, distant. As though they're a story narrated by someone else. (They have been drowned in grief. She grieves these memories she cannot go back to anymore.)

Absentmindedly, she caresses his locks with her fingers. Gently. Softly, as she becomes even more lost in her thoughts, waiting for memory to come back to her.

@❃ bang junha Date: Mid September 1989

Eundal stared up at the sign just for a moment, debating on if he should enter or not. He had only recently been given more freedom by his Brother Duke Jang which of course upset his mother greatly. But what was done was done and he just needed to take the first step. Eundal stared up the cloudy sky for a moment before finally heading inside of the establishment. His eyes looked around, the smells of the place were new, but yet somehow familiar as if he had smelled them before. He soon found his way to a table, his eyes attempting to take everything. He didn’t know how long he had before his mother dragged him back home.

Eundal managed to order himself an array of food and a flask of wine. He saw people talking, coming up to tables before leaving off somewhere. He wondered where they were going, but did not dare to ask. Eundal tapped the table. He had wanted to come with Sangwook but he had insisted he didn’t want to come to a place like this. Eundal looked around, perhaps it was a bit dusty and dim, it couldn’t be that bad of a place right? Perhaps his friend and his mother were right and this wasn’t a place for him, but he had already ordered food and he simply couldn’t waste it.

Seeing more and more people coming and going,Eundal felt out of place. He didn’t know anyone, so striking up a conversation with a stranger would be odd, but also eating alone and going to a new place was also odd for the youngest Jang. His thoughts are interrupted by his food being brought out to him. Dumplings, noodles, and rice. Eundal smiled happily at the food, digging in, and burning his mouth on a fresh dumpling. He waved at his tongue before pouring himself some wine to soothe his tongue.

When Eundal turned back in his seat, there was someone sitting at the table. Someone he had never seen before. “Oh. Hello.” He smiles politely. He examines the other, and based on his outfit Eundal assumes he works here. “Oh no, am I in trouble? Do I have to leave like others?” He panicked, glancing down at his food. “I just got this.”

@❃ cho miyoung How fun, how fun! Fresh eyes were a joy for any performer. Sungha swept the sword in a wide arc before bringing it up to his face. Eyes scanning the crowd again, Sungha slid his tongue against the blade, going up one side, then the other. This was as much for performance as it was for practicality. The made his male clients especially excited, and Sungha could see it in their gazes. He ignored them, focusing instead on the group of newcomers. Once Sungha had the blade lightly coated in his saliva, he lifted it above him and tilted his head back.

Sword swallowing had taken him a long time to master, nearly two years to do it perfectly. He had to start with smaller objects before working his way up in size and lethality. He had cut his tongue and cheeks before, but those were rookie mistakes. It was a pity he couldn't set the blade on fire inside, really, but ah well. If he ruined the curtains and tapestries Nabi would likely hang him with them (not that he minded some choking, but that was hardly the point).

Slowly Sungha lowered the blade down his throat. It was a bit like deep throating, if he were being fully honest. Sungha wondered if his skill on male clients was from the sword swallowing, or if the sword swallowing came from his skill. He had to keep his breathing even and through his nose, and absolutely needed to keep his throat open and relaxed. At this point Sungha had little to no gag reflex, but if the blade touched his throat, the muscles would contract around the sharp edge and things would become very not fun very fast.

But Sungha was used to this, and the sword went all the way down his throat with no issue. Slowly, Sungha removed his hand from the hilt of the blade and spread his arms out to show that he was not holding it there. He span in a circle, satisfied with the applause. He lifted his hand back to the sword, slowly pulling it back out of his throat. His eyes found the little doe again as he ran his tongue against the blade again, smirking at her as he let his tongue dip around the tip at the end of the blade.

@❃ kang seho Oh, what a silly little thing! He was following Sungha so obediently, so easily. He didn't even need to threaten the male. That made things easier, but then Sungha had to wonder if the thief either had no sense of self preservation, or if he had confidence in his self-defense skills. The latter would be a bit bothersome, but nothing Sungha couldn't handle. He had his pretty knives, after all. And did this little thing really think Sungha wouldn't notice his sword was missing? Messy, messy. He could take things well, and was very good at hiding it--even now Sungha wasn't entirely sure where his sword was on the male's body--but Sungha couldn't help but wonder if the thief even thought about the aftermath of his thievery.

Once they had made it to the second floor, Sungha guided the male towards his rooms, reaching out to touch his lower back to guide him forward and--ah. There was his sword. "It will be much more private in here," he purred, closing the door behind them and sliding the lock home. "Now..." Sungha grabbed the male, pushing him up against the wall with a hand fisted in the male's clothes. A knife slipped from Sungha's sleeve as he pressed it to the thief's neck. "You took something of mine. And I want it back. Now, you can give it back nicely, or..." His eyes drifted down to where his knife was pressed to the male's skin. A low groan left Sungha at the thought of the blade piercing flesh. "Or we can do this the fun way."

@❃ seo eun "It is rude." Yejun agreed while brushing her white hair back before tucking it behind her ear. He looked at her tenderly before pressing his lips on her forehead. It's just one of his habits to show her his love. "but won't it be a lot ruder if I don't write anything?" he asked her, voice extremely calm as he rationally talked about it. "I still want to be their friends." he told her his true intention. He understood how she might look at it differently. If she was telling him the same thing, he would have the same concern too. The jealousy and insecurities would resurface and nagging him from time to time as well.
"I know you're not angry. you're jealous. I would be too if you're telling me the same thing." he answered and pressed his lips on hers. "I promise you that it would only be rekindling friendship and nothing more. if needed, I'll drag you to the meeting. I won't go alone." he assured her.
"Then, I'll write to them with you in my arms. After that, I'll give you lots of hugs and kisses to make you forget all about these letters that could make you jealous." he pressed his forehead against hers and leaned in to brush his nose on hers before nuzzled against it. "I only love you. I hope you know that." he tightened his left arm around her and he started to pick up his brush with his right hand. He dipped it into the ink and started writing to Sunmi before to Mijoo. It didn't take long for him to write it. After finishing it, he placed the brush down and looked at her. "all done. I'll send it when I go back home later." He cupped her cheek and caressed the soft skin. "my love~ you said that you're going to play something for me or should we dance?" Now that he had done with his little homework, he decided to spend one quality time with her.

@✿ cha kiwoon The heavy silence in the room weighs down upon the madame like a suffocating blanket, drowning out any semblance of ease or comfort that once existed between them. As Kiwoon’s gaze pierces through the dimness, she can sense the turmoil raging within him and the whirlwind of emotions swirling through him. But seemingly the most prominent of them all, there is a profound sadness in his eyes that mirrors her own as he grapples with the truth she’s laid bare before him.

Nabi cannot help but feel a pang of melancholy as she takes in the sight of the man seated across from her. A year ago, the Duke’s visage would have come to her even with her eyes closed, with the familiarity of his features having been traced under her fingers more times than she could count. She would have known every contour of his face, every line and shadow, as intimately as if they were her own.

They had shared so much history together and spent countless hours in each other’s company, yet now, at this moment, they feel like strangers . . . two ships passing in the night, destined to sail in opposite directions.

As if she had not seen Kiwoon at his most vulnerable and he had not seen sides of her that she dared not to share with anyone else. As if they were parallel lines that were now set to diverge. It’s a sobering realization — one that leaves her feeling strangely adrift and empty.

Then again, what more could they be to one another when fate had dealt them with such cruel cards in this lifetime? Had he not been the heir to the House of the Three-Legged Crow and had she not been a former gisaeng with a past she was unable to share, perhaps things could have been vastly different between them. Perhaps they could have been more than just two lost souls searching for solace in each other’s arms.

Perhaps Nabi would have allowed him to love her as he wished, and perhaps she would have allowed herself to love him in return.

But reality has a way of intruding upon even the most wistful of musings, and the woman finds herself sighing softly as she realizes the futility of dwelling on what could have been. For none of it matters now, does it? Here they were, bound together by the threads of fate, their destinies intertwined in ways neither of them could have foreseen. So, instead, she must focus on the here and now . . . on the harsh truth that confronts them both.

Kiwoon’s words cut through the silence like a ray of light, offering her a glimmer of solace amidst the darkness. “Do not apologize to me,” he murmurs. “If anyone is owed an apology, it is you.”

The madame’s heart aches at his words, his sincerity bearing down on her like a burden too heavy to bear. For so long, she had carried the weight of this secret alone. She had tried to shield him from the pain of his family’s sins, shouldering undue guilt and remorse toward her kin that threatened to consume her whole. But in doing so, Nabi had now come to realize that she had only perpetuated the cycle of suffering that had defined their lives.

And so, as she looks at him, she finds herself mustering a half-hearted smile, a small gesture of farewell for the man who has meant so much to her. “Thank you,” she whispers softly, “for understanding.”

There is something she so desperately wants to ask him, a question that weighs heavily on her heart, but she does not know how he will interpret it. Nonetheless, something in her gut told her that there would be no other time for her to do so if not now.

Summoning whatever remnants of courage she can find within her, she asks, “what will you do now?”

It was merely five words, yet the question is filled with the weight of everything they’ve been through and everything they’ve lost. It is filled with the past, the present, and the future. For she was referring to Tamna, to the massacre, to the truth that had long been buried beneath layers of lies and deceit.

Now that Kiwoon had come to learn about the real story behind the incident, what would he do?

Would he continue to turn a blind eye to the injustices that have been perpetrated in the name of his family’s wretched legacy, as he should in his position as the House of the Three-Legged Crow’s new Duke? Or would he do right by her and all the other villagers who had been wronged by unveiling the truth that had been hidden for too long?

“Justice further delayed would be justice denied,” she adds softly, staring directly into his eyes. It’s a plea, a desperate hope that the man she had grown to care for would make the right choice . . . that would choose to stand on the side of truth and justice, no matter the cost.

But as Nabi waits for his response, a part of her can’t help but wonder if it’s too much to ask — if they’re doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past, trapped in a cycle of pain and suffering that seems to have no end. She knows that whatever decision he makes will have far-reaching consequences, not just for himself but for all those who were affected by the events of that fateful day.

@❃ bang sungha Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but Miyoung could've sworn the gisaeng had just made eye contact with her. The very brief moment of eye contact made her cheeks burn as bright red as the clothes he was wearing. Was it obvious that she was out of her element in an establishment like this? She didn't have a moment to consider walking out, though, as he continued his show.

Her eyes went to the sword the man onstage was brandishing, widening in shock. Was he really going to perform with something that dangerous? She had heard tales of performers doing sword dances and the very thought of using a weapon in such a way scared her. Of course, there was some beauty in taking a weapon traditionally used to hurt others and incorporate it into an art form, but she wasn't nearly coordinated enough to use one herself.

Shifting her gaze back to the man's face as he spoke, it dawned on her that he would do more than merely perform with the sword - he was going to swallow it! Miyoung, and several others in the audience gasped and she covered her agape lips. Maybe it wasn't a real sword and he was just lying. Surely this had to be some manner of trick or illusion! Sitting up with a renewed interest, she inched forward in her seat to keenly watch the gisaeng with wide eyed curiosity.

"Do you think he will actually swallow a sword?," one of her friends asked the group.

"I think he's serious... I don't know if I'll be able to watch entirely," Miyoung admitted. But he was a professional, this should be something he's done many, many times. And yet, she felt the urge to cover her eyes, too. What if something went horribly wrong? She couldn't bear the sight of his throat sliced open. So, she hoped for the best possible outcome.

@❃ bang sungha Upon hearing their laughter, the entertainment clear in their drunken gaze, Seho was quite pleased with himself. He'd been told that if he wished to keep meddling with the high society he had to do his best to earn and keep their attention on him at all costs. Not that he didn't enjoy watching them being all confused about some of his simplest tricks. It would never cease to amazing how slow their brains worked to the point they couldn't even comprehend any parts of his performance. Fortunately, he stayed off gisaeng territory or at least he tried whenever they were willing to treat him accordingly. He didn't make the rules, he just went with the flow hoping that they'd be more amazed than aroused by his presence.

He hadn't picked on the shadow that was approaching from behind him until it was too late and he felt the warmth of fingers against his jaw waking him up from his daze. Turning to look at the man with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he didn't bother covering his frustration when he realized he wasn't dealing with a yangban. A performer wasn't worth the effort of filtering his expressions until he cheeks hurt. His gaze shifted from the gisaeng's face to his fingers and then to the yangbans, who were already talking loudly and easing their hanboks; not a good sign. They'd surely ask for his assistance just to show off their power, despite being in a gisaeng house. Seho didn't feel like letting them have their way though, especially when he was being offered a chance for escape. The caress on his neck should have been a clue, but he was too lost in his thoughts to notice before he shrugged and agreed with a quick nod of his head. He made to leave and realized he didn't even know where they were heading of to so he paused and gestured with his chin towards the elder gisaeng to lead him to his room, one hand carefully resting behind his back as he slipped the sword under the belt above his undergarments.

@❁ hong areum ┏━•❃°•° before the famine, a night at hanbamman.°•°❃•━┓


It was too hot or too cold; the weather was perfect, right about the cusp between the seasons changing when the universe could not decide if it wanted to be a sad winter night or a warm spring evening.

Deep down, Dongwook yearned for spring— when you didn’t know whether the sun was shining on the rain or the rain was falling on sunshine and when at the end of the day, you smelled like dirt no matter how pristine you kept yourself. There was something inexplicably majestic about standing under a blooming cherry blossom, watching as the petals twirled with the breeze in an amusing pas-de-deux.

Spring was made to be the happiest, especially when your day had no limits.

Except that he was having a terrible, no good-at-all day. It was too hot, too loud, too crowded— sweat dotted his forehead and his vision blurred for a heartbeat, causing the world to change into a flurry of colours and melting shapes. He blinked hard, stilling himself and deepening each breath until his vision cleared, focusing on his surroundings once again.

The gisaeng house was a bubbling place, littered with patrons of all sorts, drunk, high, rich, poor, men, women. There was no discrimination here, he noticed, watching a flurry of gisaengs flutter in in their bright coloured skirts and overly sweet perfumes. It caused his head to lighten further, a sting of pain rising to the middle of his brows until it began throbbing and pulsating as if his brain wanted to jump out of his head.

He sighed again, turning his gaze towards the noblemen who sat at the table; Lord Park had strolled away, taking a moment away from the table laden with food and games to gamble with. It was a usual occurrence— the nobleman of the House of Gladiolus would come out to the gisaeng house to socialise but soon after, Dongwook was left alone. He didn’t mind it usually, but when the world was fastly closing in on him, the bodyguard just wanted to go home.

Excusing himself, he rose from the table and ventured into the gardens. He had no destination, so he gave himself to his feet, hoping that at least with a few bouts of cool breeze, his body would calm down. His fingers found the lapels of his shirt, pulling and prodding it for some sort of relief but he grew too hot, too quick. And it wasn’t before long that his vision began blurring again, his head spinning on its own axis until he could see, sense, feel nothing at all. Or was he feeling a hundred and one things at the same time? Dongwook did not know— it was simply too much.

He came to a still, desperately willing his body to anchor itself but alas, he could taste the relief of darkness on his tongue; you see, numbness was dulcet and it was far better than the heat he felt all over his frame. No, he thought to himself, jaw clenching with fervour. He wouldn’t faint. Could not. Should not… but sleep… sleep was good. So so good.

His will to stay awake dissipated with every passing moment and with each breath he took, his body just grew heavier and heavier. His eyes rolled back, and the moment his eyes fluttered close, he gave in.

Ah, finally. Sleep.

@❃ kang seho By now Sungha was used to the routine of performing. They generally had an order of performances, and not every gisaeng performed every night. Days off were important, as was time catering to your clients personally. But tonight Sungha had a performance. No matter how many times he showed off his talents with throwing knives, sword dances, target practice, and sword swallowing, the crowd still ate it up. Recently Sungha had begun sword swallowing while the sword was on fire, but he had to be careful not to light anything inside on fire at the same time.

Tonight it would be a sword dance and the throwing knives. Sungha threw one a /bit/ too close to an overly loud customer who was feeling up one of his sisters--but shot him a grin after and said it was an accident. It wasn't. Sungha bowed and collected his swords, but frowned as he noticed one was missing. His eyes narrowed, sweeping the crowd. His knives and swords were his babies. He spent hours polishing them, and some had been gifts. Eventually his eyes landed on a male who would have been close enough to take it, and sauntered on over. Sungha sidled up against the male, trailing his fingers along the male's jaw. He didn't know if he was into men, but he just needed to get a message across. "Come up to my room?" he murmured in his ear, fingers sweeping over his neck. A caress, but also a threat. Sungha's grin was too wide, too manic. It reflected in his eyes, revealing just a touch of his dark nature.

@✿ baek yejun “I’d certainly hope so after all this time,” Eun scoffed. She was being callous towards the woman, knowing that in more ways than one she was competition in her fight for Yejun’s heart. He was a man that held strong feelings when he first did, and the smile he had shared with her was anything but frivolous. She didn’t like playing with odds like that. And plus, if the woman had not come up with an excuse by now, what was she? Dim?
“Perhaps so. Yet replying this late would be equally as rude, would it not?” Though they said better late than never, sometimes never was a good thing. There was no need to give the woman hope.

Her gaze met his as she placed out his writing utensils. “No. No, not angry.” Disappointed maybe? A little hurt, perhaps, though she knew it held little logical sense. He had not been her first, as she had not been his. They both had history that would never go away. Yet the jealousy persisted, especially with the caliber of woman he seemed to be intertwined with. They made her feel lesser, even without having really done anything.

A small sound of surprise escaped her as she almost crashed into his chest from the sudden tug. For a moment she remained motionless against his chest, just listening to his heart and his whispered voice, laying out his concerns before her. It was a nice change from how he in the past would have ran away from his problems and her, yet she could not so easily leave her jealousy behind. Pushing herself up just a little, Eun let out a sigh. “I’m not mad. Not at you, at least.” She tried her best at a small smile, yet knew not how well it came across. “You should write them. It is the right thing to do.” Her feelings be damned.

@❃ bang junha "Mister Park! Welcome. I wasn't sure if you would be back today after how much you drank yesterday.", the woman greeted him upon entry. Heeryong smirked. "Please, as if getting a little drunk could stop me from enjoying the lovely things you have on offer here.", he grinned broadly and stared into the woman's eyes. "I'm guessing you're still not entertaining yourself?", he asked. The woman giggled, a flush rising to her cheeks. "Please, you now I just greet the guests..." Heeryong hummed and ran a hand over his hair. "Right, right. Just checking."

The woman cleared and smiled professionally. "Is there anyone in particular you'd like tonight?" Ah, what a good question. Heeryong had been thinking about that the whole way here. It was so difficult to choose. He hated it in fact. Everyone had their charms. Who was he to pick one flower over another? They were all lovely. "You know what? Surprise me. Ah, but..." Heeryong leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Someone less conventional, if you know what I mean.", he smirked. The woman, experienced as she was, immediately understood his meaning: He was looking for a man today, not a woman. "I have just the person in mind for you. Let me show you to your room, and we'll bring you drinks and food shortly." Heeryong nodded in agreement and followed the woman down the oh so familiar walls of the gisaeng house.

Once seated he leaned back on one arm and raised the other, stifling a yawn. He was a little tired, perhaps he'd overdone it yesterday. He'd spent a full 12 hours at Hanbamman the night prior and boy had it cost him. Not that he cared about the money. He was always happy to spend on the pretty things in Joseon. Maybe he was getting old... 12 hours were had on him. He heard a knock on the door and looked up, straightening, excitement and curiosity flashing in his eyes. 'Ah...' Sadly, it was just the food and drink. He'd have to wait a little longer for this gisaeng the woman had spoken of. Oh well. Good things were worth waiting for. Impatient and hungry, Heeryong picked up the chopsticks and took a bite of the food. in content at the taste he realised only now that he was famished. Had he eaten anything since last night? Hm. He couldn't really remember. A few more pieces were consumed and then he was reaching for the alcohol.

@❃ bang sungha It wasn't a rare occurrence for some yangbans to invite him somewhere else after he was done with his performance. And Seho couldn't find it within himself to decline them. Sometimes they truly meant good and just wanted to get to know him or even asked about his tricks. Some other times they treated him like a gisaeng. Thankfully that time they mentioned they were going to a gisaeng house so Seho hoped no foul play was involved regarding their intentions. Old men like them were usually among the most corrupted ones, especially if they had connections in high places like the majority of people who joined the royal events. If he wanted to ever find his family, he had to maintain good relations with them.

As they arrived to their destination, he sat besides them and accepted every drink offer out of respect, like his master had taught him. They weren't as respectful to him as he was to them, regularly calling him nobi or magician gisaeng but later on, the more they drunk the more they were hyping him up. Especially when a specific gisaeng appeared, performing with swords in a way that Seho had never seen before. He was that good to the point he inspired him to come up with a few tricks himself. So when the attention shifted from him to the gisaeng, Seho made sure to regain it as he stood up and joined the stage with a mischievous smirk on his face. It only took a few quick movements along with using the loose sleeves of his hanbok, his good hand- eye coordination enabling him to hide the sword swiftly under the expensive garments with ease in a smooth manner in order to appear like it had vanished into thin air.

@❃ seo eun "Does she?" He asked, unsure. he wasn't sure that not writing to Sunmi was the right thing. However, if Eun asked him not to, he would listen to her without a doubt. "However, wouldn't it be rude?" He continued to ask for her opinion. his forehead easily pressed against hers as he stared into her eyes with love. He pressed his lips to hers for a little kiss.
However, when he saw how serious she was after he dumped what had happened between him and mijoo in the past, fear made its way into him. Would she leave him because of this? Should him keep everything of his past to himself? Still, he found that the act of dishonesty wasn't him. He preferred to be as honest as he possibly could when it came to Eun. He would try not to have any secret, just like how it was in the past, sharing everything that he had in mind with his love. maybe the only difference right now was without alcohol.
When she felt her wriggle her way out of his arms, it felt like she was slipping away from him. It scared him. He held back whatever he was going to say as to try to hold her again but once again he failed. He didn't deserve to do that right? he felt like he had betrayed her, doing the biggest sin that one could possibly be in a relationship.
"are you angry?" he asked carefully as he watched her went to take his writing utensils. Now, he truly didn't want to write to anyone if it would end up with him feeling extremely guilty. When she came back to his side, he shifted to his side to look at her. Without a thought, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. There's this fear of losing her right now. "I don't want you to play anything. I just want you to be here and not be mad at me anymore. I won't write to them. just... don't leave me." he whispered softly as he pressed his forehead on her shoulder. this fear that he had was clutching on him so tightly. It's like bringing back the nightmare that he always had but forgotten, her walking away from him.

@✿ jin jaeha tonight’s dinner lacked its usual flavor as it was easily overshadowed by the heavy topic at hand. despite jaeyong’s desire to do right by his family, navigating this difficult task was a challenge for the young jin. commitment was a concept he had little experience with, given the chaotic nature of his parents’ marriage. he had always felt compelled to choose sides amidst their constant conflicts, oftentimes siding with his mother. however, in recent years, he had begun to heed his father’s counsel, realizing there was much to learn from him. yet, the subject of children and marriage felt overwhelming for jaeyong. could he be a fitting heir and a good father simultaneously? the unstable relationship between his parents had left him questioning the possibility. jaeyong dreaded the idea of repeating their mistakes and causing lifelong trauma for his own children.

“shouldn’t i focus on my career first before considering such a commitment?” jaeyong responded to his father’s opinion. having only joined the ministry last year, he felt he was lagging behind his peers in terms of experience and accomplishments. while there were women in his life he found interesting, jaeyong had always shied away from commitment, fearing vulnerability and the possibility of repeating his parents’ mistakes. perhaps his focus on his career was simply an excuse, as the thought of settling down and starting a family had sometimes stirred a longing within him.

“as the heir, i understand the importance of marrying within our social status, but what if i find myself drawn to someone of lower standing? grandma has introduced me to a few yangban women, but none of them capture my interest,” he spoke honestly, seeking his father’s perspective. “what if my future wife doesn’t come from a yangban background? would you be open to that?” he set his chopsticks down on the table and took a quick sip of wine, feeling the need for some liquid courage in this difficult conversation.

@✿ baek yejun “I-“ she began, ready to unload her worries when she noticed the expression on his face. Had she already been too forceful in her questioning of his need to contact her? Perhaps it was stupid, but something within her was still scared of what would happen if that woman returned. It was clear that she had some hold on him, seeing as he had presented a flower to her when they had met to dance at the gala. She still vividly remembered the way they had looked at each other.
“I am sure she has accepted whatever explanation she has some come up with on her own.”

Eun’s lips remained pursed as she listened to his explanation. And the further his explanation went on the more she felt her stomach sink. Her gaze diverted from his as his words continued, as if adding more load to the sinking ship could save it. But it was already keel up.

“Yeah…” The gisaeng nodded her head. “I know how you could be.”
Silence slowly enveloped them as she sat there in his embrace. She had so much she wanted to say, yet no words came to her. All she could think was that this was all before her, so it shouldn’t matter. And yet it stuck in there all the same, like a nagging needle in her brain. “I should not be standing in the way of you writing them and clearing the air. After all-“ Eun wriggled out of his arms, flashing him a small smile as she pushed herself up. “They are your friends.”

She turned to go get his writing utensils, feeling the silence yet again blanketing her. Was it even worth feeling like this? He was here after all. Not with them. The thoughts kept circling in her mind as she crossed the room again to sit down by his side, gently placing down his paper and inkstone. “Would you like me to play you something while you write?”

@✿ seol minhwan the revelation hits areum hard.

it hits her in the chest like a horse, taking her breath away in one sharp grip. a heavy weight easily appears within her chest, and the world is silenced. quiet, as though it's become distant within a mere moment. this isn't the first time, of course not, but why does this feel so different? this isn't the first time minhwan has been betrothed to another, and areum has always known that this is going to happen, one way or another. she has always expected this, since the first time she was wedded to another man. she has always known, and has always told herself time and time again, that minhwan has never been hers.

he will never be hers.

she has come to terms with that—she has to, she doesn't have any choice. but for reasons that she hasn't acknowledged properly yet, for things that she has tried to convince herself of before, she can feel her heart break. she feels it break, but it doesn't shatter entirely. it doesn't shatter into a million pieces the first time she's learned of the minhwan's betrothal after their own failed marriage. but it breaks, as if bits and pieces of her heart are slowly chipped away, never to come back again. never to heal again.

is this it, she wonders. is this the world's answer to her prayers?

is this how fate answers her questions? she has asked when she was nineteen, if minhwan was meant to be hers and hers alone; if no matter what happens, minhwan would come back to her side. she asked that for the first time when she's nineteen, and she asked that again, when she was twenty-two and saw minhwan coming to her side after the fall of her family, as though he's always waited for that chance—to be by her side, nowhere else.

this is it, perhaps.

this is how the world breaks her heart. this is how it tells her that the two of them are not meant to be, and she should've known. she should've known the first time she's had to leave his side to marry another man. she should've known when the duke seol has ensured that she doesn't stay by his side. she should've known then, and this shouldn't have been as much of a shock to her as it is now.

a tear falls at a corner of her eyes, and she's quick to wipe it, blinking repeatedly to try and compose herself. she has no right to cry. she hasn't had any right to be heartbroken since the time she agreed to a divorce. she hasn't had any right, so why does she find it difficult to breathe?

"is—is that so?" she forces out, hoping that her voice doesn't break. (it doesn't, but it trembles.) "who is she? your fiancee, i mean. and... when is the wedding happening?"

@❃ seo eun Yejun sighed, feeling the weight of Eun's concerns pressing down on him. He hadn't anticipated her reaction to his suggestion of writing to Sunmi, and he struggled to find the right words to ease her worries. "I understand your hesitation, Eun," he began, his voice soft and apologetic. "But I feel like I owe her an explanation, at the very least."
He reached out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch tender. "I'm sure she hasn't forgotten about you. You're that talented. besides for me, my girlfriend here is more beautiful and gracious than any other women." he pressed his lips against her.
As Eun continued to speak of her admiration for Mijoo, Yejun couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. He didn't know how to tell her about what had happened or how her reaction would be. "I do know her," he admitted, his expression troubled. "And she truly is as talented and kind as you say. But... but things have changed between us. I just need to make things right, in whatever way I can."
Her questioning gaze caused him to falter, his eyes dropping to the ground briefly before meeting hers again. "It was a mistake in the sense that... that I acted impulsively, without thinking of the consequences. And it was a mistake to let myself get so carried away with alcohol," he confessed, his tone heavy with remorse. "Y-you know how I could be when I am drunk. The mistake is just like what had happened when I was with you whenever I was drunk, when I tried to forget." He blurted everything out in one go before he was scared to admit it to her.
"I know letters are personal but it's still the only way to communicate," he whispered with his arms tightened around her waist after his confession. "But... if it's not okay for you, I won't write to any of them."

@✿ baek yejun “At this point, wouldn’t writing to her just make things worse?”
Eun had tried to bite back her jealousy, and yet she found herself losing the fight real quick. “I’m sure she has forgotten by now.” Though if she truly was someone important that Yejun was originally promised too, that could be bad. If she was scorned and found out it was Eun’s fault, then who knew what could happen. “Are you sure you have to…?”

The gisaeng perked up a bit more. “You know her? I only met her once and she was so beautiful and gracious. I wouldn’t have learnt how to compose on my own if not for her. And even then I am but a mere novice to her genius.” Words tumbled out of her in excitement, not having had a chance to see the musician play in so long.

Her lips pursed in a small pout as she studied his face. “Perhaps, but… Letters are personal.” She knew well from the ones she herself had written in the past. Letters hidden far from sight of everyone. “Yeah, I know. You left her side for me.” Part of her felt guilty. Part of her was proud. She could not tell which one won out, yet heeded it little mind when he continued on. “Mistake…?” Eun’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean a drunken mistake...?”

@❁ hong areum never lifting his gaze nor his head up, he did whatever he could to avoid her eyes, the same ones that always drew him and left him lost in everything that was hong areum. it was with this lowered gaze, he noticed how she was able to control herself, unlike him. he had to finish his drink before she could answer him, somehow his anxiety racing and his grandfather’s words taunted him in the back of his mind. a firm, but disappointed, voice calling him weak. that was what he was. to most of his peers, they would ridicule him for this scene. how could he, the grandson of the chief state councillor, be unnerved by a woman? a woman that left him originally, they would had reminded him.

yet the moment he heard her call him, “my lord”, his heart felt tighten. deep down, he understood that she had to maintain a formal, polite setting for them. that was her work, but the words coming from her lips were cold. a simple title had the ability to cut through him just as much as seeing her with other men. during the occasional business dinners these two were forced to attend together, minhwan had to steer away from her direction, knowing that such a glance would further fuel his hurt and rage. the rare times he saw a man enter her room, he had to tell himself that he was imagining things, to not think of the worst.

it was from this title though, maybe it was time he had to live and face reality. he only chewed on the inside of his cheek, nodding his head slowly as her words went through one ear and out the other. he did not even catch the shakiness in her tone. the vacantness in his face said it all though. perhaps, it would be easier to break such news to her if this was what she saw him as, a client. no more, no less.

“oh?” minhwan finally did his best to look at her, but he had to take a deep breath. even in a moment like this, he had to notice how beautiful she was and he kicked himself for it. was there any way for him to make it out of tonight’s conversation in one piece? he turned his attention to his now empty glass, turning it around slowly as he replied, “no, it’s only me.” following his already defeated tone, a heavy sigh could be heard from him, “you don’t have to worry. i won’t be here for long, then i’ll be out of your way.”

before he could continue, he had to reach for the bottle again. the duke’s voice rumbled once more, calling him weak to succumb to this liquid temporary courage. as he poured his glass, he muttered, “i came by because i have to tell you something.” he had to stop. soon after, a lingering pause. the next few words would change everything and unlike his last betrothal, he knew this one was different.

he cleared his throat before taking another breath, but all of that was for nothing as he stumbled around with his next couple of sentences, “i know it hasn’t been that long since us… since my previous betrothal. it’s just. it’s.” finally minhwan blurted, “i’m getting married.”

@❀ seo hyunwoo She loves Namhae.

The land across her birth region, Gwangyang, is a beautiful archipelago of a small mountain embraced by the blue, emerald sea. The white sand of its beach was something Wolhye would sink into. Its winds and the crash of waves carrying the greetings of the faraway sea, was whispers she would listen to at night. This was the land of respite as she'd sneak into a fisherman's boat and escape the pressure readying herself to entertain men or handling petty spy tasks (she hated spying on an suspected cheating husband)—escape from seeing her mother being at the mercy of the magistrate.

She had spent one night at the tavern attached to the small gisaeng establishment where her mother's friend was a madame. The older women had ushered her to go home, "enough of giving her mother worries, dearest." Her chest constricted at the thought, how her mother held on to shower them a life worth living. It was the said thought that always managed to end her rebellious streak. So she bid the madame farewell ("i'll be back", she muttered) to catch a fisherman's boat, if she was lucky.

The seventeen years old placed her treasured shoe down, outside of the gisaeng house's back door. She left it for a minute, being called back in to take a few homemade food from the tavern. However, when she returned, one of her silk shoe was gone. In the midst of her confusion, she caught the gleeful sound of boys. Irritation had begun to enter as she opened the back door, stepping out with her bare feet just in time to see the silk shoe landed on the tree branch.

Imbeciles.

She glared at the group of boys, her insides bubbling in fury. Judging by their clothes, they were children of higher classes. One who could easily afford the silk shoes that her mother has been keeping so it was as good as new when she handed it down to Wolhye. Good for nothing, sniveling. . .yangban? Jungin? She did not care, as she set her gaze upon the last of the boys who did not immediately flee. While she did not mean to shed a tear, she was fuming and let a tear fall. Perhaps, he'd take responsibility for his actions when she saw her cry.

Though perhaps she had expected too much as the boy left, seemingly to follow suit and flee in the direction where his friends had went. Wolhye wiped the stray tear, looking up the tree. Her brain starting to turn as she thought of how to retrieve it on her own, at least until she heard hasty steps heading towards her.

The boy caught her by surprise as he returned with a ladder. Her eyes followed his figure as he climbed it and moving on to the branches. Given how he showed responsibilty to make amends, Wolhye let herself worry slightly for the stranger yet annoyance still lined her features. When the boy has his feet on the ground, Wolhye approached him in a storm. She snatched the silk shoe from his grip, ignoring his soft apologies, and in a swift movement, her knee met his stomach. The surprise act caused him to double back.

"Thank you," she seethed, setting the shoe down and slipping her foot into it, "for returning the shoe." Wolhye glared down at his folded form. "However, no one deserves having their shoe stuck on a tree."

@❃ cho miyoung Becoming a gisaeng was one of the better decisions Sungha had made with his life. Prior to males being accepted into the kibang as well, Sungha had been performing on the streets. It made better money than his days begging, but often times he would be chased away from whatever corner of the market he had claimed, officials calling him disruptive. Sungha suspected it might have had something to do with the amount of blood he enjoyed using, but who could say?

The occasional person would see Sungha and request for him to perform for them privately at their residence, and while Sungha often went for the large sums of money promised, he did not enjoy when the patrons decided they were owed his body as well as his talent. But here as a gisaeng, he had a bit more protection. Well, the clients had better protection from him, he guessed. Sungha tended to get angry when people got too handsy with him when he was trying to perform. Here, at the house, there was a better understanding of the lines between performing and private entertainment.

Overall, Sungha liked the gisaeng house. His brothers were here, and Sungha would gladly harm anyone who dared harm the other gisaengs. They all knew this, just like they all knew of his affinity for pain. Sungha's clients came to him for the sweet taste of the bizarre, but for newcomers he toned himself down, dialing back his sadomasochistic tendencies.

Tonight was such a night where there was a group of young women enjoying the night's performances. Sungha had spotted them while speaking to other guests in the house, pouring more drinks for them to coax them into spending more money.

Eventually Sungha was called to perform, and he grabbed his favorite sword before standing before everyone. His eyes landed on the group of girls. Other guests had seen him sword swallow before, but he doubted the young women had ever seen anything like it. His eyes snagged on one lady in particular, looking far less comfortable and relaxed than the others. It choked a laugh in Sungha's throat. What a little doe!

"Good evening," he greeted with one of his wild smiles. Tonight, Sungha wore all red--his favorite color. His hair was half-up, the rest of it falling loosely around his shoulders. Sungha never felt the need to wear elaborately designed costumes or fine clothing, leaving those to his siblings. No, this gisaeng believed his talents and strange personality would not suit such things.

"Tonight I shall show you something very special. But I cannot stress this enough, do not attempt to copy me without any training. Or else you shall find yourself with a throat slit from within." He barked out a harsh laugh at the thought, covering the sound with his sleeve before he could go into a fit. He cleared his throat before brandishing the sword, showing it to the crowd. "This sword is very, very real. And I am going to swallow it." Sungha's eyes found the little doe, gauging her reaction.

@❃ seo eun Yejun tilted his head down to look at her and just that was enough to bring a rush of beat to his heart. He caressed her cheek as he listened to her words. He nodded, confirming the answer to her question. "For leaving her behind back then. It's somewhat late because I keep forgetting about it." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I hope that she wouldn't be mad about it." he shared his concern with her, feeling guilty for forgetting about it for so long.
Her sudden outburst made him looked at her with a questioning look, his right brow slightly raised and his smile grew. It's rare to see her like this. "You could say so. if there's any genius in my eyes, it would only be you though." he answered honestly but for the reason, he was worried to tell her slightly. "you're not in the way. I only want to be as honest as I could with you. Writing to other ladies without you around or telling you feels like a start of an act of dishonesty." He nuzzled his cheek against hers while tightening his arms. He kissed her pout as he couldn't help but to do so when he found her really adorable like this.
"uh.. the why for Sunmi, I believed you've known about it. For Mijoo, you've got to promise me not to get angry about it. So... she has been avoiding me." He started nervously. "Because of the mistake we both did when we're drunk." he caressed her cheek and smiled. "So, I plan to write to her to meet up because we're still friends before it happened. I want to rekindle our friendship."

@✿ baek yejun Mornings like these were the best. Quiet moments of the two just spending time together in each other’s presence, not needing there to necessarily be words to explain anything. It was nice, just knowing that existing together was an option, and that it would feel no less rewarding. Her hand moved slowly, letting the brush gently paint the letters for the musings she had in mind, laying out the pieces for a new poem. It was comforting work, putting her mind at ease as she watched the brush glide over paper.

Her movements stopped as his arms tightened a little around her. She did not notice him having put away his book until she heard his voice, her attention turning up to look at him as he spoke. “Sunmi? That was the lady from the gala, was it not?” Though it was far back she still remembered the face vividly, remembering the way he had looked at her when they danced. “What do you have to apologize to her for?” It had been so long. did they still keep in touch?

“Mijoo?” Eun’s voice twisted up in surprise. “THE Mijoo? The gayageum genius?” the questions rambled out before she could really think them through. She had always been a fan of the musicians work, her compositions often being influenced by the few performances she had been able to attend. “What made you think of writing the both now?” And why was he asking for her permission? “I should not be one to stand in the way of you writing people…”

The gisaeng’s lips turned up in a small pout. “But why though?”

@❃ bang sungha [ dated mid December, 1869 ]

"Miyoungie, you never go out with us anymore!" "Come on, you should have some fun!" "Spend your time off doing something new!" Her friends had said. It was near the holidays and winter had just begun, so Miyoung was given a few days off from her duties. Usually when she had free time, she liked to spend it visiting her father and seeing if he needed any help with his work. Why was she always working, even during a short vacation? It was something she never questioned until it was pointed out to her. But she didn't like idling away time or not doing anything productive. But maybe her friends were right, she could use some time to have fun. Experience something new.

Which led her to the sinful red interior of Hanbamman, nursing the same glass of wine for the past hour. She had no idea her childhood friends' idea of a fun night out involved a gibang, but now here they were. The other young ladies were enjoying themselves, treating themselves to drinks and enjoying the performances that night. It was Miyoung's first time visiting such an establishment and she wasn't sure how to feel. The décor was lavish, the wine she had was very sweet and smooth, the gisaengs were all very attractive and very good at what they did. No wonder it was so popular.

"So... may I ask why you chose a gibang for our night out?," Miyoung asked one of her friends. The young woman shrugged her shoulders and giggled. "To help you experience something different! You must grow tired of your duties sometimes, no? And even when you have time off, you spend it doing more work. You deserve a chance to go on the wild side, do something...unexpected," she explained. Miyoung's cheeks burned a bright red and she turned her gaze away from her group for a moment. Was she a stick in the mud? Was she coming off as a prude? She could be plenty wild!

"I-I'll have you know- I'm capable of being on the wild side! Uhm...," she trailed off in thought for a moment. "Last week, I slept in for an extra few minutes before tending to my responsibilities! Hah!" Her friends exchanged looks between them before laughing, making the nobi sigh heavily and shake her head.

Taking another sip from her glass, she looked up from the table as a performer took to the stage. A male gisaeng, not much older than herself. His face was striking, his eyes were sharp, and his stature was imposing. Miyoung's back straightened as she watched with fully captured attention to see what talent this gisaeng had. Would he dance? Sing? Recite some poetry? Something told her that he wasn't of those sorts of disciplines, though.

@✿ jin jaeyong now with his hands free, it only allowed him to leave one on the table and quietly tap his fingertips there in a consistent slow rhythm. the only noise that could be heard from him as he listened to his heir’s decisions and plans for the future, but he made his reaction more evident from his pursed lips and shaking head. despite the fables that swirled around their clan, of deceit and misfortune stemming from the duke and his former wife, one could not argue that they raised their children to have a strong sense of family. yet in that moment, jaeha did not hide back his sigh.

perhaps, his son was still heavily influenced by his mother. not surprising to say the least. while direct in his manner, he rarely commented on how his son tensed up whenever he and his former wife argued. a snide comment or two about his ex had an effect on the boy. the most obvious of reactions was how he noticed jaeyong would follow his mother after another marriage quarrel, but at first he shook it off. he could not deny the bond between mother and son, only highlighting that he was always his mother’s son.

“your love and dedication to this family is admirable. many people in the court tell me this, but do not let your sister’s illness hold you back from your path. you and i both know that onhui would want you to focus on your future, rather than” jaeha drifted off towards the end of his words, unable to continue. what could he say? worry that she would never be her same self? never return to them?

one could catch a rare moment of the duke’s bold mask dropping, a certain melancholy making its appearance, but it disappeared just as quickly when he took a large swig of his wine. silence remained as he ran his thumb over his cup before he directed his gaze back at his boy, “i understand that you are in your twenties. you most likely believe that you have the gift of time, but that’s where your naivety, immaturity, and age are revealed. it’s now that you should start considering and planning for marriage and children. that’s how you will find the options for an ideal partner, not just a suitable or decent one. if you’re willing to lower your standards, then you can hold off such planning.”

grabbing the wine bottle nearby, he poured his son’s empty glass. it was then he returned to sipping on his drink, another heavy sigh could be heard, “maybe i should had been more involved, instead of than leaving such planning to your mother. i should not be surprised she never prioritized this for you, considering her history.” he mumbled under his breath before going on, “i’m not forcing you to marry the first woman you meet or like. that’s where i made my error.”