⁝ gisaeng house.

@❃ kwon nabi The room falls silent momentarily, and Kiwoon can feel the heat of the teacup sear against the coarse skin of his palm. But the sensation is numbing, incomparable to the numerous waves of thought that ran through his head in dizzying circles. Despite the slight burn and the various words scrambling in his mind, he finds himself anchored to the quaint room of the office, still seated across from the madam of the establishment.

However, her question, muttered in a soft whisper and consisted of only five simple words, spoke louder than any of the clamorous jabber that came from the floors below. Her question further echoed into the stillness that sat between them with her seeking answers and justice while he had to confront the revelation of the truth that has long been hidden in the darkness of his family’s legacy.

Kiwoon could only muster himself the same question that Byeol had asked: /What will he do now?/ And it played in his head like a broken record, one he was reluctantly unprepared to answer.

His eyes flickered with the light of candles that create shadows on the walls. As he looked at her, taking in her expression where the painful reminder of her past sunk in and painted a mirage on her skin. Kiwoon watched silently as the flames twirled in her eyes. He watched how the soft orange and rusted red danced upon the surface of her skin and played contours on her delicate face. In that moment he is reminded of everything that she had lost because of the fires that were set upon her home all due to his father’s greed.

She had been one of the few survivors, and as he felt the weight of his impending decision further pressed on him like a heavy shroud, he considered whether survival was the stain of consequence or was it genuine mercy. Although he knew fairly well that revealing the truth would not be easy and that it would bring about outcomes he could not predict—he also knew that continuing to live in the shadow of his father’s sins was no longer an option.

Setting down the teacup in his hand back onto the table, he spoke with resolve. “I will not allow this to be buried. You are right: the truth must come to light.” His gaze met her briefly before he straightened up in his seat. “Justice is owed to Tamna, to everyone who has been wronged by my father’s actions, and to you.”

The short silence stretched on as he grappled with the heaviness of the decision he had chosen, but as he held her gaze, something felt oddly different. It is not to say that the woman before him had held a special place in his heart and that she had shown him kindness and patience during some of his loneliest times, but suddenly he is reminded of another person, one who has been tending to his wounds ever since his return home.

Kiwoon’s thoughts turned to the other person who had been pushing him towards this revelation in recent days. His gaze landed on the window on one side of the room, noting the darkened skies and cold air, wondering if someone was waiting for him to return. “I think I have overstayed my welcome.”

He rose from his seat and with a final, lingering glance, passed Byeol—no, Nabi—a faint smile. “Trust that I will do what needs to be done. I will give you the justice you deserve for yourself and the victims of my father’s sin, and the truth of the Tamna massacre will come to light.”

Then he paused, letting the silence settle over them briefly. “It is not the right time to speak of this during such a serious matter,” he said as he watched the waning candlelight dance on her face for the last time, “but I am getting married soon. Therefore, I believe I will not return to your establishment in the future out of respect for my future wife.”

Kiwoon took a deep breath, conveying his final appreciation, “I have always been grateful to you and your presence all this time, Lady Kwon. I truly wish you well and I believe you will have all the answers you want in the coming days.”

With that, he bowed his head to her, then turned away and walked towards the exit. Each step carried him further away from Nabi and their past, a past that had once chained them together by bloodshed and destruction of an event that could not be undone. However, the distance that grew between them will propel them towards the future, one that both of them can finally find peace in.

[ fin. ]

@❁ hong gureum Jisung's reply came with a gentle chuckle, the warmth in his voice a stark contrast to the cacophony of the bustling gibang. "Ah, Gureum, finally gracing me with your presence," he remarked, taking the offered hand and allowing himself to be led to the seclusion of the private room. "The journey was as one would expect, but it is the destination, particularly the company, that makes the travel worthwhile," he continued, his gaze holding a hint of admiration for the woman whose resilience had become as renowned as her beauty.

As they settled into the quietude of the room, Jisung couldn't help but reflect on the irony of fate that had brought Gureum to such a place. The bakery she once helmed was a testament to her tenacity, a beacon of hope during the grimmest of times. It was more than a place of sustenance; it was a symbol of perseverance, a gathering spot where weary souls found comfort in the aroma of fresh bread and the kindness of its keeper. To see her now, in the opulent yet confining walls of the gibang, was a narrative twist that tugged at his heartstrings.

He observed her, noting the absence of ostentatious adornments that seemed to be the uniform of the other gisaengs. Gureum's beauty needed no embellishment, her presence alone was enough to command the attention of any room. It was this unadorned elegance, coupled with her indomitable spirit, that drew Jisung to her time and time again. "Your simplicity is a rare jewel in this extravagantly adorned world," he said softly, his words a sincere homage to her character.


As they enter the private room, the noise from the other patrons and gisaengs faded into a distant hum. It was in these moments, away from the prying eyes and expectations of society, that he could shed his facades and revel in the comfort of authenticity. For Jisung, these encounters with Gureum were a balm to the weariness of his own endeavors, a reminder of the enduring human spirit that thrived even in the most trying of circumstances. "How have you been during my absence? Did you find anyone who catch your attention more than others?"

@❃ kwon nabi His brows furrowed astringent in his disbelieving stare. "You speak as if I have control over what Lady Mugunghwa decides to write of us. Of everyone," he scoffs with a laugh, but it is neither out of amusement nor in attempts to make light of the seriousness of the moment. He was prepared to greet her stubbornness, for it'd been a familiar, unyielding third-party in the latest collection of encounters they have had. Yeonghan met it with his own because this time, he would not leave without ensuring some meticulous arrangement or fool-proof strategy was set in place so that the dangerous realities of her past would remain shielded after his departure tonight. Heaven forbid, should anything take her away from here once again..

He steps into the jab she presses into his shoulder, towering over her fault-finding allegations. It's deliberated, a learned, militant manner of speaking when he leans in ever closer, gaze steadfast as they lock in on hers. His voice comes out octaves lower, slow and contemptuous. "You cannot be angry with me. More than I..."—being this close allows Nabi's scent . . . her breaths . . . her warmth and anger to surround him, encapsulate him, seduce him. "..am with you," he finishes with less than half a breath. And even though his head swirls with a feathery light-headedness, Yeonghan grits his teeth, jaw clicking with unspoken tension.

"You would not give up your stubbornness just as much as I when I showed up here tonight. I suppose we both have that in common, but rather than hiding away in the safety of my hanok like a scared rabbit in a hole, I have come here wanting to know if you were alright. If I had somehow known before that you would only treat me with such . . . antipathy for caring, maybe I wouldn't have come." His words bite at the frustration she descends upon him but if anything, the strain in her melodic voice only drives him further towards the unfathomable depths of want—want to hear those strains in whispers and pleasured cries.

With another swift, irritable step forward, leaving no space between for even a question to go unanswered, their faces are mere soft sighs apart, the tip of his nose--the tip of her nose, his lips...hers, dangerously hovering over one another, near touching, brushing—the atmosphere weighed heavily, heady. An anticipation-inducing tightness that arrested his lungs and hung in the dimmed air above them, around them.

"But I did anyways because I . . . I am a man . . . of great patience," he breathed, hot and exasperated. "But my patience runs thin at the mere sight of you, Nabi. The faintest thought of you . . . is enough to drive me to the point of sheer madness. Do you honestly believe that anyone else .. any other woman could ade, occupy, command my thoughts the way you do? If I were to marry another.." he began to whisper, lips moving closer to just above her ear. "..I would spend every waking moment thinking of you. My dreams would be of you . . . so much that there wouldn't be anything left of my heart to be shared."

In the moment that her hand drops from his chest, his rises to catch it mid-fall in a tender hold as he allows that moment of silent to hold space between them before speaking again. "What is there to misunderstand if it is true? That I want you?"

@✿ moon hyeongwon Well, now that Areum has the Marquess alone, she is suddenly uncertain of how to voice her... intentions. She doesn't often seek out a guest, after all, knowing full well what this action of hers may imply to certain men. Moon Hyeongwon is a rather familiar face, but not to her exclusively. His visage feels vaguely like one that she would see in passing as she walks through the halls of the gibang, and one that she remembers being particularly good-looking. But she hasn't heard of his name enough to remember it—and only when he and his colleagues booked her for the night that she realized why the name sounds quite familiar.

Moon Jaehoon, a soldier whose life she's saved before, carries the same family name. She doesn't know what's happened to him after he left the temple the moment she said that it was alright to do so. She has worried ever since.

(And belatedly, Areum realizes that this man may have been one of the men that have caught the eye of her youngest sister before. She isn't too certain about that, however.)

She takes a deep breath, aware of what her approach may have sounded like. But she herself does not take that many clients to bed—if at all, and usually only those that she's already quite familiar with, which is still rather few in numbers. Her hands clasped together by her front, and she looks at the man with a rather sheepish look, letting her lips curl into a timid smile.

"I do hope you do not mind that I've called you away from your colleagues. Have I not interrupted anything...?" she asks, faltering slowly, but she clears quietly, shaking her head to herself. "But I will not take much of your time, my lord, as I only wish for you to answer a question. Do you perhaps have a brother named Moon Jaehoon, sir?"

@❀ oh jisung Just a mere couple weeks ago, gureum was seen running around the her little bakery, an establishment she had been running the past three years, to and fro for deliveries in establishments such as hanbamman, but not working in one. one would have never imagined seeing gureum ever working in a gibang, if you had asked her years ago, she too would have said the same. Yet today, this day, she found having to give up what she had painstakingly built during the famine to survive.

Unlike the other gisaengs—that were decked out the in the finest silk imported from qings, hair decorated in the prettiest hairpins available in the market and face dusted in full makeup—that paraded in the kibang, gureum was nothing close to it. more often, she was seen dressed in rather muted colours, not the flashy ones, hair tied up in a simple fitting with minimal accessories that accompanied her, one would think she was a mere runner in the popular establishment.

however, it was this simplicity that accentuated her beauty that garnered the interest of customers, both old and new, her list, packed with names that vied for a little of her time… or whatever time she had.

“Lord Oh.” Gureum greeted with a smile that reached her ears, it was always a delight to see a familiar face in the midst of a rowdy crowd. “you and your glib tongue, as always.” she jested, extending her hand towards their private room. “I am very well, my lord, I trust that your journey here was well too?”

@❁ hong areum Another night of useless revelry, Hyeongwon was too used to all of this. Yet another night at hanbamman with his fellow inspectors. Sometimes he would wonder to himself if it was even worth it to go to such establishments when he’d already know it like the back of his hand. The only thing keeping him from refusing his colleagues would be the gisaengs that attended them. They were pretty flowers, some easily plucked. And some were more shy. The marquess appreciated a challenging conquest so when it came to the gisaengs he sought after, he would only want to bed the ones who did not often take such requests. All consensual of course. Typically, it would start with him visiting and not requesting someone in particular as he waited for someone who would catch his eye.

That night however, instead of him seeking someone out, it seemed as if the prey itself had invited herself to his trap. The marquess could already hear the cheering [and dismay] of her colleagues as almost always when a gisaeng requests a private audience, it would be with him. He tries to hide the small smile born from his ego that played on his lips as he turned around to the sound of the female’s voice.

Their little drinking session was about to come to an end anyway and Hyeongwon was eager to get away from the group of men when such a pretty face willingly invited herself to be in his presence.

“Why yes.. how may I be of service?” He smiles as he follows her lead, presumably to a private room and Hyeongwon can still hear some of his colleagues yelling, cheering him on as they exited the room.

Her face was familiar. Yes, his memory would not fail him now. If he remembered correctly, she was the eldest Hong sister. /the prettier one. / he thinks to himself and that silly encounter he had with the youngest Hong sister all those years ago when she confessed to him.

Hyeongwon was a known philanderer, but he would not bed just about anybody who threw themselves at him. He still had his preferences and sadly, he preferred her older sister. Whom he now found himself in the company of.

The trip to the private room was a short walk from the room that the marquess and his colleagues occupied and once they were inside, Hyeongwon takes in the familiar sight of a futon, a small desk and two cushions on each side.

“What is it that you wished to talk to me about my lady?” he asks, trying to not sound too eager. She looked especially pleasant in the dim lighting of the room only provided by a sole lantern on the edge of the room.

@❁ hong gureum [h] "Welcome! Oh my~ Lord Oh! What a pleasant surprise! It's been a while since you visited! Please wait for a moment. I will call her!"

One of the Gisaeng greeted him as soon as he walked in, Jisung just gave a polite smile in return. Indeed. The last time he visited this place was before his trip to Japan. which, if he calculated correctly, it was more than three months ago when the weather was just starting to get colder. And now he just came back, after settling down, visiting Gureum was one of things he wanted to do.

Hong Gureum. He had been her usual patron ever since the lady owned a tteok shop. Eating the honey tteok from her shop was something he'd never missed out on doing almost every week. From there, he got acquaintance with Gureum and been keeping in touch with her even after the shop closed and the lady worked as Gisaeng. Although most of the time, he only spent it with her while drinking tea and eating sweet snacks. Just to unwind after a long work hour.

Looking around the place, a soft smile appeared on his face. Nothing much have changed in here despite the famine that's happening right now, although he had to admit, this place wasn't as busy as usual but at least there were still some patrons come and go, though he hoped that this disaster would soon pass. When the gisaeng came back, his whole body immediately relaxed when he saw the lady behind her. Someone who is familiar enough for him to show his true nature. "It seems like after few months not seeing you, you just get more beautiful than the last time I saw you, my lady." A playful smile on his face as he addressed her. "How have you been, Gureum?"

@✿ jin jaeyong it's been a while since jaeyong visited her in sook, and to say she missed him a lot during his absence would be an understatement. she had spent many sleepless night longing for his presence, feeling a void that only his visits could fill. she totally understood his duties around his father, duke jin jaeha, which often kept him away, hence saera didn't speak much about it. she wanted the best for him, after all. their short letters were the only way to conver their feelings for each other, and despite the briefness, they brought saera some comfort.

saera used to regret rejecting jaeyong's confessions when they were both young. she had been scared of what the future held , and unwilling to risk their friendship. also around that time, her heart was already infatuated with someone else, hence the rejection. but right now, she felt it was the right thing to do to make up for the lost time. she couldn't believe it either, that jaeyong was still infatuated with her. she couldn't help but be thankful for his genuine feelings, feeling a warmth in her every time she thought of him.

with him around in this comforting place, saera couldn't help but to smile at his antics. he had a way of making the world seems lighter, his stories filled with humor and his presence bringing a sense of peace. but when he implied asking about her days, saera smile faded slowly. she looked down at the young lord, her expression turned somber before she sighed. "my lord." she began with her voice tinged in sadness.

saera tangled jaeyong's hair with her slender fingers caressing them, seeking comfortable familiar gesture. "actually there's incident that happened to me , a few days ago. a client got drunk and he was trying to take me to his bed, with force, with no consent of mine. he scarred my shoulder, but fortunately lady han came in to rescue me. so I was safe and get taken out right away. "

it was a sensitive topic for saera herself and her eyes teared up at her own experience. she knew better as a gisaeng, she couldn't escape such incidents from happening, but still hoped to get away from it.

"I know this is part of my life, but it doesn't make it any easier." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "sometimes I dream of a different life, where I am free of all this, where I'm free to be with you, my lord. your letters, your visits — they mean the world to me. they are my escape, my reminder that there's more to life than gilded cage. but the reality of my situation always has a way to drag me down. so I don't have a choice but to live my life like this. "

saera bites her lips slightly trying her best to control her emotions. "and I'm already thankful you're here with me right now, my lord. I couldn't ask for more."

@❃ seo min [h] [ winter 1864 ]

as brave as songmin was, bravery was not enough to conquer the sleuth that was his dad. constantly a step ahead, planning engagements behind his back, this was the life he was born into and had to deal with. circumstances could have been worse. instead of having the assistance to be wedded with a lady of his stature, songmin could have been reborn as a meager beggar on the streets, where everything he owned was threadbare and tattered.

light slotted in the cracks of the thin door, as he remained close to her. chest to chest, he looked down on her.

desire carried into his eyes, in spite of his nerves thrumming from the proximity of his dad. he can clearly hear the words be enunciated, the duke’s wishes for him to be married off. he knit his eyebrows as he further listened into the conversation, before responding to her question immediately.

“i have, lord ryu. in fact, i have found four eligible daughters for him. however, have any special circumstances arisen?” the envoy replied to him, in a rather inquisitive tone.

“well, you see… i have apprehensions towards his philandering ways. he needs to find a woman in an engagement he can fully honor, one of his level. lest he embarrasses myself and his ancestors further.”

deeply inhaling, he steeled his nerves. mustering enough strength to continue, he finally broke the tension.

“i didn’t know about this, i swear. i only knew that, i like being with you. you are different from all these yangban women, who only care about such vanity, filled to the brim with pomp. you mean a lot to me, truly. and i won’t let him get to you so easily.” unlike the patrons who often visited his girlfriend, the adoration in his eyes countered the listlessness in their gaze. tracing his fingers along her arm, his hand fit hers perfectly, as if it’s its true destination.

“you’re not a liability.”

to further prove his statements, he leaned in to peck her lips, before letting his lips linger on hers for a slightly deeper kiss. overtaken by his desire, the incessant creaking of the door near them was lost on his eyes and ears. withdrawing from her shortly, he suddenly met the steely gaze of his father and his cohorts, all sporting similar grave looks on their faces.

low and contained, his father’s voice managed to shake him to the core, planting fear in him.

“my dearest son… did you think you will conceal this from me for long?”

@✿ baek yejun Eun wanted to disagree, feeling as if acknowledging her jealousy out loud would somehow make it worse. But when he called it cute she hesitated a little, glancing away as she muttered a short: “Perhaps I do feel a hint of jealousy.” A small lie, as it was much more than a hint. It was already making itself comfortable within her mind, fabricating images of what could have been; images that made her blood boil. She would not let go of Yejun, not for anyone. Not now.

“Oh. I believe I could manage that.” She looked to her gayageum before glancing back at him, her lips pursed much like his when he pondered. It wasn’t intentional, yet she could not keep herself from copying it. “Let us not linger on the reasoning for why,” the gisaeng cooed, leaning in close enough to brush the tip of her nose against his. “I am thankful it happened, but I would rather we look to the future than to our past. It only holds painful memories.”

Planting a short kiss on his lips, Eun parted away and got up, stepping over to her instrument. It took a bit to move it closer even if the gisaeng was familiar with it. And soon enough she sat before him, the gayageum placed over her lap and her finger gently picking at the strings to tune it. “I don’t do this as an obligation. I asked because I want you happy,” she hummed as she continued her work. “My only obligation is to show my love. And I hope I do that every day.” Her gaze met his, holding it as she slowly began plucking the strings for the song he had requested.

@❃ seo eun Yejun was aware of her jealousy. It was very clear in his eyes in spite of her denial. When he was being logical with it, both of them indeed had this particular trait which if they didn't have a good control of it, it would end up in a really bad place like how it went for him some time ago when he heard about that kiss, which he didn't even want to try to recall anymore.
He pressed his lips against hers before his playful smile resurfaced. "I still believe that you're jealous but in a really really cute way." he gave her body a gentle squeeze and then he pursed his lips as he pondered on what piece she should play for him.
"hmm... what about the piece that you sang on our first meeting? Although, I came in with trouble, I was still grateful with getting the chance to meet you." he stared into her eyes lovingly while brushing her hair slowly, always obvious to his liking of the soft strands of her hair. He just loved her so so much. there wasn't a moment that he didn't think of her, someone that's so magnificent and marvelous in his eyes. She's his treasure and he wanted her to always know that so that she could believe him that there's no one else but her in his heart, his mind and his eyes.
"But youngie, you know that what please me the most is whenever I am around you and have you in my arms, even when we are doing nothing. So... please don't make it sound like it's like an obligation. If it felt so, you don't need to play anything for me because nothing could beat the feelings of holding and kissing you." He muttered, always disliking the idea of forcing his beloved to do something that she felt burdened with. "I'm sorry if I ruined our mood."

@❃ min saera ( dated around early january of 1870 )

the past week had been filled with various tasks that diverted jaeyong's attention away from the time he had promised her. day after day, he would send another short letter to saera, each one promising a visit the following night, until he finally managed to keep his promise tonight.

despite his frequent absences, saera greeted him with open arms, as she always had so generously done. he felt unworthy of her undivided attention and care. upon his arrival not more than fifteen minutes earlier, he had spent most of the time rambling about various highlights of his week, mentioning a shop at the marketplace he had recently discovered while on his lunch break. the owner had beautiful pieces of jewelry that jaeyong knew would complement saera’s beauty. although he considered buying several items, he decided on just one: a delicate hairpin adorned with a small butterfly and flowers. he hoped this gift would show her that she was in his thoughts, and if she liked it, they could visit the shop together so she could choose additional pieces she preferred.

at some point within their conversation, she had gently encouraged him to rest his head on her lap, a gesture that gradually brought upon a peaceful silence. the dim lighting in saera’s room lulled jaeyong into a calm state while he lay on the soft bedding, his head cosily resting on her lap. only the muffled sounds of voices and laughter from nearby rooms of the gibang had filled the comfortable silence they shared. his cheek pressed softly against the skirt covering her thigh, and he let out a contented sigh, basking in the soothing sensation she provided.

he then subtly shifted from his side to his back, allowing him to look up at her with a gaze that was soft and filled with adoration. he reached for her hand, guiding it down to place her palm atop his chest where the hairpin was snugly kept beneath his layers of clothing. "i'd take out your gift and show it to you now, but i'm too comfortable like this." he paused briefly, a sheepish smile appearing over his features before continuing on, "though, it seems i’ve talked too much about myself... how has your week been?" he asked, eager to hear about her days.

@✿ moon hyeongwon [ dated: early 1869 ]

Areum has just started letting herself dissociate from the scene unfolding before her when she hears a certain name.

See, the night has started off the same way other nights have. Work is a constant at Hanbamman, and she supposes she should be grateful that people want her, even if it is mostly for conversation. Intimacy is something she rarely grants with clients, and often times, it is only with those that she is comfortable enough with—which... isn't a lot of people, but she is aware of the things she must do if it means she ensures that she'll have another name in her list. She finds that she doesn't mind it as much anymore. She's learned early that the more she does it, the number she becomes to it. The easier it is to get used to it.

(Though getting used to it and liking it are two entirely different things.)

It's almost muscle memory when she smiles, when words come out of in a way that seems to entertain her clients well enough. Well-educated is what they often say to describe her as a conversationalist, good enough with words to make them believe that she's interested. Most of the time, she is. She is genuinely interested in hearing how others live their lives, in how diferent others' lives are compared to hers.

But there are also some times where she feels the need to distance herself. Perhaps it is tiredness, a daily exhaustion that piles up every now and then. She would find herself being absent—at least mentally. She no longer focuses on what she's doing, even if the clients directly talk to her. Muscle memory saves her during moments like this, and it is only because of that that she manages to go through the nights without much of a hitch.

This time, however, something captures her attention. A familiar name. Somehow. She blinks, focusing on the man who they keep calling 'Moon Hyeongwon.' It is a name that is unfortunately unfamiliar to her, with no face to attach to the name. The family name, however, is one she's heard of. It's the same name that a soldier has given her months ago.

It is this name that has her reaching out to the owner of the name after her time with him and his co-workers. She stands up to follow them to the door of the room, only to reach a hand out to Moon Hyeongwon, tugging at his sleeve in a sheepish manner that she's developed during her time as a gisaeng.

"My lord," she calls out. It isn't difficult to mistake the young lord with someone else—he is the center of his co-workers' attention, objectively the prettiest face in the group as well. "Will you spare me a moment of your time? I wish to talk to you," she says almost shyly. "In private, if that's alright. Would you stay behind?"

@❀ park heeryong It was just another night for Junha, going from table to table to make small talk with the guests, refilling their drinks. Tonight he wasn't performing, nor was he already booked. Very uncommon for him, actually. He was more accustomed to having men and women practically bidding for his time, whenever he was available. But the night was still young, so there was plenty of time for someone to snatch him up.

Tonight, the young gisaeng was wearing his usual style of attire - black and gold. Black silk that shimmered when he moved, felt soft on the skin, and complimented the sparkling gold embroidery. Black was such a serious color, so dour in a typical circumstance. But it helped his golden blonde locks to stand out even more than they already did. Many patrons recognized him for his blonde hair and it wasn't out of the ordinary for new clients to specifically request 'the blonde boy.' Junha enjoyed this attention, felt it was even earned with how hard he worked to achieve his particular look.

As he was pouring glasses of wine for a table of young women, one of the servants of the establishment came up to him and informed him that a patron would like some of his company. Finally, something to get him off the floor. "Well, ladies, I apologize that I must depart. It seems someone wants to see me. Perhaps next time, it could be one of you," he said with a charming smile.

Following behind the servant, Junha glanced at the door he was directed to. Interestingly, he was not requested by name, so did this person not know him? The gisaeng didn't have that much of an ego, but he was a hint annoyed. No matter, he would just have to make this client a regular for him, specifically. Which should prove no issue - as long as he kept up his persona. Knocking softly against the door, he waited a moment before stepping inside the room. He first noticed the man before him was helping himself to some food and drink already, must be starving.

"Good evening, sir. Looks like you got lucky to have my company for tonight. Are you enjoying the food?," he asked, his voice light and warm. "Please, relax, let me pour you another glass."

@❃ bang sungha "I wouldn't say I'm not-" Seho answered truthfully with an absentminded shrug of his shoulders before his eyebrows furrowed in discomfort at the burning pain of the blade slicing his skin. Shifting his glance between the blade and the gisaeng, he couldn't hide his confusion at the man's approach. As long as he remembered they didn't have any previous relations to excuse his violent behavior. Then again, he could never be completely sure with how many yangbans he served from time to time. It was about time he stumbled on someone who was most likely connected to a fraud Seho was also directly or indirectly involved in.

He also couldn't keep his nose from wrinkling in distaste as the other repeated the off putting nickname he'd come up with for him. The grimace was then replaced with a surprised look of realization as he felt the pressure of the gisaeng's hand against the hidden blade behind him. There was no guilt shown in his face though. He was merely shocked by the fact that he'd been caught as if he'd never expect anyone to be worthy enough to find out. It wasn't like him to respond positively to being threatened though. Not when a fellow performer was openly mocking him at least.
"Why'd you do that? You can't even afford to repay me. This fabric costs way more than that poorly sharpened sword of yours." He stated like a matter of fact, without really meaning to sound as offensive as he did. No matter how uneducated the other was, he could surely tell the difference between real silk and the more common cheaper forms of it.
"I don't intend to go back to them anyway. They probably require your kind of services more than mine." He added, raising his chin in defiance, not really minding when he felt the blade sliding a bit deeper within his skin.

@❃ kang seho He didn't even flinch. That made Sungha raise an eyebrow. "Are you used to being threatened, little bird?" he asked in amusement, twisting his hand and allowing the blade to pierce the male's flesh ever so slightly, a few beads of blood bubbling up against the knife's edge. Sungha his lips at the sight of it before lifting his gaze back up. "It is not a matter of /how many/ I have," he murmured mockingly. "It is a matter of me having something, it being /mine/, and your slippery little hands taking it from me."

Sungha watched the male's gaze travel and--ah. A thief indeed. He let out a manic laugh. "Oh, please. I lived on the streets for a while too. I know how this works. I do not wear jewelry, nor do I have anything of value beyond my blades. Now..." Sungha forcefully reached back, feeling for the hilt of his sword and looking down at the younger male. "Little bird, little bird, Are you going to give it back nicely or am I going to use it to shred your clothes off? I will not give you any spares, either. I think those yangbans would find it amusing to see you return downstairs missing half your clothes, don't you? Maybe they will assume you had a lovely time with a different kind of sword hidden in you."

@❃ bang sungha As they walked through the gisaeng house, Seho couldn't help but notice the rich decoration that seemed nothing like the lowlife place he was raised. With each room they passed, he nodded in amazement, his eyebrows raising once he spotted a few items that had his eyes sparking with mischief. There was no use for an old vase yet he knew he'd be stealing it as soon as he made his way out of there, along with a couple of smaller sized things. Anything that could fit under his hanbok. Perhaps even some jewelry, if the gisaeng who was leading him to his room wore any. He seemed old which made it even more possible that he was among the higher ranked gisaengs, if experience mattered to them. After all, it didn't seem like he relied on selling his body, or else there'd be no need to offer such a breathtaking performance.

Trailing the tip of his fingers to the surface of the walls, he blindly followed after the other, not bothering to memorize the exits of the house since he didn't really believe a gisaeng was much of a threat. Though the swords should have given him a clue of what was to come. He barely heard of what the gisaeng was purring as he absentmindedly offered a small smile without looking directly at him. When the door closed behind him, he missed to hear the sound of the lock as he kept his hands behind his back and shifted his weight from one leg to another. Before he could properly react, he was already pushed against the wall, the breath knocked out from his chest for a few seconds.
"What is this sh-" He scoffed, unable to hide the amusement from his face as his lips stretched into a smirk at the sight of the blade against his skin. Lacking sense of danger was the sole reason some yangbans turned to him every once in a while.
"You already have plenty of those." He laughed pointing with his chin downwards at the blade, his eyes fixed on the gisaeng's face, only momentarily shifting to his ears and neck, in search of anything valuable. For the time being, his arms laid hanging to his sides in a seemingly relaxed manner until they found a purpose to move and defending himself wasn't really among his brain's top priorities.

@❃ cheon yeju It had been one of those days again. Her father had been in a mood all day, demanding a different breakfast than the meager meal her mother had put on the table in the early hours of a cold morning after a night of suffering from a terrible cough Narae had been able to hear echo through the entire house. He had locked himself in his forge right after spilling the soup all over the floor, cursing at them and grabbing a bottle of rice wine on his way out, her mother snapping at her to not make the mess even worse when she wanted to hurry after the old, useless piece of meat to give him a piece of her mind. And it had all just gone downhill from there. The steel he had purchased was brittle - or so he claimed, simply ignoring the fact that he was simply too drunk to handle it correctly. His coals weren't burning hot enough - also his fault. The house wasn't clean enough.

Narae didn't bother humoring her father with picking a fight, instead settling for the task of preparing a sheat for a sword that was supposed to be delivered this week, careful in her work while she ignored her parents fighting in the background. It was her song, by now.

But she couldn't ignore her mother's request to go pick up the old man when he had wandered off to see yet another gisaeng and Narae loathed that she couldn't tell her mother to simply go do it herself. She loved her too much.

And, oh, she was so grateful when Yeju suddenly appeared next to her out of nowhere, the smile she sent her friend suffering and minute, yet she knew it carried all of her gratitude. "I'd rather leave him here", she called after the other girl when Yeju hurried away for fetch the cart, one of her feet kicking her father's leg where he was sitting on the ground, mumbling to himself. "You better apologize to her, tomorrow. You're inconveniencing other people by now, father. Oh, there she comes. Don't throw up, please. I won't clean you up when we're home."

Turning to her friend, she grabbed her father beneath the arm, heaving him up and to hauling him to his feet again. "Can we knock his head into the wood, just once? It would make me feel a lot better."

@❁ 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.