A/N: All right! I sort of made another one. Haha, I couldn't stop the plot bunnies scampering in my mind. First of all, thank you for getting curious and reading this story of mine. Second, I couldn't help but write something for Jae-Ha, especially when he was - and still - a full-fledged womanizer in Awa (and anywhere) before he joined the group and the fact that he is a bit - from what I've noticed, I guess - unpopular. I mean, people see him as a womanizer, but his character has more depth than that, considering the fact that he has a strong value for liberty albeit a bit reckless.
Yet again, it is not my intention to offend anyone or any ships out there, but if you do not like OCs, please do not read it if it displeases you. But if you're still going to read it anyway, go ahead. I'm not stopping you there.
Warning: Mild language and an emotional rollercoaster (well once you delve deeper in the story, I guess).
Lastly, I hope I did justice to Jae-Ha's character!
Terms:
Makgeolli - is an alcoholic beverage native to Korea. Traditionally, it is served in a large metal or wooden bowl from which individual cups and bowls are filled using a ladle.
A/N 2: I'm not really paying attention, aren't I? I apologize. Apparently, I missed the part that someone called her in her real name albeit the fact that no one calls her in her real name, except for Jae-Ha. So really, you can call me an airhead for that but I hope you can excuse my distracted mind.
In her cage, she dances while he watches
Evenings in the small port town of Awa were the most unnerving for a menace skulked behind the shadows of the streets. Albeit the dread that flooded the houses, many brazen souls pursued to roam the ink-stained night for the sake of resisting the hideous realities that dampened their morose lives, and to be tantalized, intoxicated, and be absolutely pleasured for an arduous night drowning in a purple dream of endless ecstasy and mania.
Amidst the thriving red-light districts and taverns from the dark corners of the streets, there was a bordello bestowed a titular for being, 'The fantasia of a sinner's dreams'. Hongryeon, an impressive, splendid brothel, was said to have the finest women, who were guaranteed to create whatever desire a man held into a reality. It was rumored for lavishing men with the most exquisite, sensual experience of a lifetime.
Although, what made Hongryeon unique among its rivals was that these intrigued people would be enchanted and mesmerized to catch a glimpse of the Firelark.
The bellows of jovial laughter, both lush and sober. Men, from state officials to commoners, were littered with wide grins in their faces once a woman or two were draped in their arms. Colorful lights glittered alluringly upon the grand room. The scent of tobacco, blossom-scented perfume, and sex hung heavily in the air. Truly, it was a paradise for pleasure-seekers.
"The Firelark, hm?" said the awfully satiated, curious voice of Jae-Ha as he glanced at the courtesan, who was entwined on his strong bicep.
Ah, what was to be expected with the descendant of Ryokuryuu if he himself is one of the many hankering souls who would love to have a taste of life's most exotic, tempting graces? Entering a fine bordello and sleeping with a woman was no surprise if it was him. Though, he did come to this place, saved for his prime reasons, for the said entertainer who appeared and enthralled her victims in nightfall.
"Oh, yes," was the response of the charming maiden named— Bohee, was it? "The Firelark is a jewel here. The entertainer everyone adores. Every man would want to sleep with her— if they were given that chance, that is. You're very fortunate because she'll perform this night." Though her tone was mellow and seductive, he could sense that somewhat sour tone in her voice.
"Is there a particular reason why she only performs in rare nights?" He took a sip from the rim of his half-empty saucer.
Her shoulders shrugged, exposing more of her sweetly scented flesh from the ends of her sleeves. "I do not understand why she would do such."
His lidded, verdant eyes flicked at her in interest. "Well, you seem to know the Firelark."
"I am not particularly fond of her— at least, more so outside the stage," there was that slight contempt prevailing in her softly spoken, mild words. "Are you curious if she can be as good in bed as much as she is in stage?" she chortled at the whiff of surprise displayed by his visage.
He humored her a fascinated smile— maybe, a bit too charming for its own worth. "Is she?"
Before she could utter a word, the lights snapped shut darkening the entire room. Then, a sudden flash of light flared up again onto the empty pavement in gold, orange, and red. Avid tongues were silenced. Gazes were prodded at the pavement in utter anticipation and excitement. The customers were drawn at the deft movements of the emerging figure. To his surprise, he could not cease gazing at her. At the Firelark.
Captivating music was played, and then she begun her dance of enchantment. Her foot spun her with an elegant whirl brushing her crocketed shoe against the high pavement. Her adroit limbs splayed with fluid and alluring twists and motions to her audience's liking while her hips rocked along the wild, staccato beats of the drums. Passion and unrestrained enthusiasm gushed through her dancing with an enthralling surge.
Gold and silver embellishments garnished her entire form making her glisten from the reflected light— even the smallest flash of her skin appeared to glow in the dulled lamps. Her marvelous, scarlet twin fans, tufted with expensive plumes of wild tangerines and golds, flailed by the nimble twists and flicks of her hands. Her loosened, prolonged sleeves wafted along with her skirt flaring for the people's delight. It made her appear like the graceful, flaming bird they remarked her to be.
Her hair was wild and free, her fiery curls springing in spry. Beads, blossoms, and a golden headpiece swayed with her to and fro as if it were being consumed by a heap of flickering flames. Not only was her dancing charming, but her own beauty as well. No wonder men begged to sleep with such a woman. Her appearance made her appear exotic and desirable.
There was something wrong. Although, her performance was spectacular, Jae-Ha was perceptive enough to notice the kink in her behavior. There was a silent, melancholic mien misting around her. Even her remarkably daubed face could not conceal her forlorn. She was like a beautiful, endowed bird pleasing the blinded eyes of many in her furbished, elaborate cage.
With one last twirl, the Firelark gave a bow earning contented applauds and awe-stricken praises. Then, she strode away within the beaded and silken curtains.
"Jae-Ha," a delicate voice sweetly chirped in his ear. "Impressed?"
A smile then curved his lips. "Very."
"Are you willing to see her?" Another chortle. "Or maybe, get to spend with her for a night?"
"She is quite captivating," he remarked frankly. "Why do you ask, Bohee?"
"Nothing much, really," said the musing courtesan. "But I might get you to meet her."
His brow arched dubiously. "What are you plotting?"
Instead of gracing him a satisfying answer, she struck him with another question. "Would you like to meet her or not?"
Unsure, he replied, "I suppose there is no harm in it." He drank the very last drop of his liquor.
"All right then," she beamed in mirth. Maybe, this little ploy of hers might bear fruit. "We should settle in a quiet room now, no?"
She was the daughter of a whore.
Indeed, that was what she was called and naught more but a child borne from scandalous pleasure and wedlock.
Filthy child.
Pitiful child.
Bastard child.
"Firelark! Bohee is asking for Makgeolli!"
Placid and less enthusiastic, the earnest woman rose from her idle musings and begun to comply the task given— or rather, shouted at her. Heading to the lower grounds where the pantry and cellars were, she weaseled a ladle and a porcelain bowl, along with two cups, a jar, and a wooden tray, then started pouring into the said bowl the contents of the jar which contained the rice wine. Finishing the deed, she proceeded gingerly with a tray and porcelain ware in her hands.
Her sandaled feet sauntered steadily. Out of ennui, her cinereal gaze wandered at the pristine and flamboyant corridors she grew to detest over time. Ah. If there was anything to describe Hongryeon, it would be a first class whorehouse gussied up with over the top fittings and decor for the swines to swoon over to lavish their spare capitals for a night with a bunch of minxes, whose beauty can par with their stupidity.
Harsh. Of course, Min-Seo had always been that way.
Especially, if she was an unwilling captive to such shameful place.
Much to her displeasure, some lowly men whistled once their beady eyes caught the sight of her— goodness, some even winked licentiously. Disturbingly. Ah, and worst of all, most of them ogled her with lechery. It perturbed her and she loathed it. She knew well enough that time will dawn upon her and turn her into a woman— the center of desire of any libertine. If she only had enough authority in this place, she would have slandered those filthy rakes till they wished they had never done such a thing. Pigs.
But, this was a brothel. What can she expect?
Finally faltering, Min-Seo found the extravagant chambers of Bohee's client. Special room, hm? Albeit being a woman who did less to mingle and lend an open ear to trifling hearsays, she heard - or rather, eavesdropped - the said client's reputation in this bordello. Astoundingly, his visits always enlivened the moods of the prostitutes, kissing the ground he walked and showering him with flattery and remarks. He was worshiped here.
On the other hand, she barely met him— or even caught the slightest glimpse of his so-called "perfectly chiseled face". The only inkling she ever had of that man was, aside from bedding Bohee in this particular room, no less than to be a pig-headed debauchee like the rest.
With a sharp sigh, her hand slid the door open and sealed it inaudibly after she went inside. Unwary of her surroundings, she did not expect a figure loom before her petite frame. Startled by the stranger's presence, she ineptly stepped the hem of her garb, unintentionally dropping the tray onto him. A blare nicked the silence.
Jae-Ha did not exactly expect his clothing to be smudged by liquor, especially if he was agile enough to resist this plight.
Damn. She wasn't always this disgraceful with her footing. Her face was creased in frustration. Apparently, more on the mess she made than the man she had spilled alcohol to. The callous maiden gave him a short, scrutinizing glare then proceeded crouching down to the wooden floor to gather the porcelain shards using the tray. Well, he wasn't wounded.
His placid emerald beauties could not help but curiously ogle the woman before him. Auburn locks, which were held by a band, draped the small of her back while some wispy strands brushed her visage. Clearly, he could notice the youthful glow she held yet the sharp features and scrunches she made contradicted his conceptions. Then again, she did not appear flustered when she unintentionally spilled wine on his clothing, but rather stern and accepting of her blunders unlike the women he met before her.
Hm, quite refreshing from the sight of flushing faces and dreamy glances.
Interesting.
So this was the famous Firelark.
Hasty treading rustled the wooden floor. A supple woman with a crown of brunette locks scampered to the man with concern. With a worried moue, she clutched onto his arm as if her life depended on it. "Jae-Ha, are you all right? Your clothes are soaked." Was her syrupy remark— too disgustingly saccharine and mawkish.
Min-Seo glouted in repulse. My, my, what a nice way to lure another libertine. "Hmph, the man's fine. It's not like he'll get scorched with wine."
Sniffing in vexation, Bohee said in placated choler, "Firelark, it is best if you acted decently in front of a customer, no?" her lithe arms clung closer to her customer, quite alluring and a tad bit possessive.
Rolling her eyes, she ignored the pair. She would rather continue her menial chores than humor petty whores. Finally collecting the last shard of porcelain from the ground, a slender hand was gallantly reached out to her. A suave smile was graced before her sight.
"It would be best if a lovely woman, such as yourself, not lower before me."
Her hand coldly slapped his fingers away.
"I did not lower for you," Jae-Ha caught the sight of her fierce eyes, daunting and roughened from an opulent amount of hardships. Orbs of slate-gray, framed with long, dark lashes. He could have said it was a striking sight, if not for the hostile, unrelenting glower in those twin pools of ash. "I lowered because of my mistake." She rose haughtily through her feet with her chin raised and her gaze unwelcoming.
"How dare you—"
"Indeed, I dare."
The chestnut-haired prostitute snarled in ire.
Sharp-tongued as well, thought the descendant of Ryokuryuu.
Another voice intervened in a pacified yet irate tone. "What is the meaning of this din?" mouths were sewn shut when an elderly woman went in the chamber with her arms crossed. A smoke pipe was intertwined within her scraggy fingers and an unimpressed frown tugged her crimson-smutched lips.
"Choon-Hee-sama, she spilled wine to the customer and dared to insult his presence." Accused Bohee in an arresting voice as she pointed the auburn-haired woman.
Her beady eyes landed at the troublesome lass delving for an answer. "Is this true?"
Her lips thinned solemnly. "Yes."
With a miffed sigh, Choon-Hee approached him placidly, the silk of her own elaborate clothing tailing behind her. "Pardon that insolent girl for ruining your attire with wine, but as compensation, she will prepare a bath for you and will attend to your needs until you are fully satisfied here."
Her gray orbs flew open in muddle and sheer roil. "Choon-Hee-sama, I believe my contract here is to work for menial tasks, not to fulfill customers' whims!" the ginger-haired maiden protested defensively, raising her voice several pitches higher.
"Hold your tongue, girl!" chided the galled elder. "You've caused our customer trouble enough!"
"I do not mind at all. A simple mess like this is harmless enough," Jae-Ha beamed with assurance, which mollified the heightening tension among the women in the room. "Though, I would look forward meeting this fiery maiden later on." He winked at her from afar, which she scoffed in peeve.
"If that is what you wish." She gave a respectful dip of courtesy. "Bohee, you will entertain another customer."
Her dun-colored head bobbed submissively. "Yes, madam." Her arms released his clothed limb, disappointed to not hold it if it was bare, as she strode outside of the chamber. She glanced at him at the corner of her eye, then smirked mischievously as if she was saying - Good luck with her.
Her ebony eyes then nippily glared at Myung-Hee's disgraceful daughter. "And you," her sandaled feet neared her unfazed form as she whispered harshly, "Be grateful." With that, Choon-Hee walked out of the room in prim and austere strides, leaving the pair alone by themselves. Only Min-Seo knew what she meant, and she loathed the gist behind it. Be grateful to her, for not making her satiate his carnal whims. Damn her.
His twin pools of calm emeralds glanced back at the chafed woman, who did no such thing as to look at him nor even spare him her words. Or even those oh so bitingly delicious retorts of hers. "You're quite a troublesome woman, aren't you?" A lax smile greeted his lips.
Her dark brow cocked. "Trouble finds its way to greet me." She shot him an unimpressed glare.
Well. Though that glower of hers stung, it did push him to know what more her lips can conjure than dart her tongue in another man's mouth. "You don't seem pleased to see me."
"I do not."
The descendant of Ryokuryuu chuckled at her bluntness. "And why not, dear?"
It did struck her in a halt once he uttered such endearing phrase, but completely ignored his words. "Does it matter?"
A charming smile— no, more of a delighted smirk that desired for her presence chiseled his lips. "How much must I pay in order to sleep with you?" well, that was something to admire for not many brave hearts could withstand the burns that she left remorselessly onto their battered chests. None of those lovesick fools could even hardly smile anymore. Yet, he did and he seemed to love those barbing words of hers no matter how nipping.
A grim glout tugged her mouth. Crossing her arms huffily, Min-Seo snapped in dark ire, "Unfortunately for you, I do not work here as a prostitute."
His green irises broadened at his own obliviousness, his breath slightly hitching. Her disclosure had utterly befuddled him. The Firelark, the fiery bird enchantress of the night and the desired woman of willing men, was not a courtesan. She was not in Hongryeon to titillate the repelling libido of unsated, pitiful souls. Nor was she one to bootlick a man to bed her. She was none of the conceptions he had conceived, and that alone made him feel a biting pinch of guilt.
"Pardon me for accusing," he placed his hand humbly to his chest in deep regret. "But if you are not what you say, why do you work here?"
"None of your concern."
"If you say so," he replied in an accepting voice, then another smile was drawn in his handsome visage. "Ah, what may be your name?"
The auburn-haired woman paused for a moment. They never asked for her name before. They always called her 'Firelark', but never her name. Never the name her shameful mother gave her in this world. Some bit of her callous heart felt somewhat...light. She shook her head. It did not matter. He had no effect to her, and he never will.
"Min-Seo."
How fitting.
"A lovely name from an equally beautiful woman," he remarked gallantly. "I am—"
"— does not matter."
"Jae-Ha."
Much to her vexation, he still kept beaming.
"It's prepared, like what was said."
Before she could even attempt on leaving him behind in his room— in his bath, Jae-Ha called out behind her, "Where are you going?" he voiced out his words, not in curiosity, but in unmistakable frisk and gay amusement. Teasing was a fitting word to describe his query.
Much to her annoyance, she paused, hotly blowing a stubborn strand from her face, and turned to meet that utterly juvenile, larking grin of his. "I am not going to aid you at this point." A sour glout tugged her lips as she crossed her arms defiantly.
Then, there was that unblushingly impudent answer she detested to hear. "I believe you will."
Her jaws tauted. Her balled fists were blanching from her iron-like grip. He really was trying to test her patience. Damn him. "Well, you strip yourself," scrunching the bridge of her nose, Min-Seo frowned distastefully. "I won't taint my eyes with your nudity."
Grinning mischievously from ear to ear, he teased, "Ah, the vehement Firelark is a virgin."
Well, she was not granting him any opportune to see her blushing. "I am proud that I am still one up to this point." Her chin tipped proudly. At least, her virginity was unsullied unlike the willing prostitutes in this brothel who allowed unworthy men to deflower them.
"It intrigues me how long it will last."
"It will last until I say so."
"And if I do something about it?"
"It is terrible to play with fire."
"That's what makes it interesting." Was his remark. In an attempt to see her flushing face for a worthy tease, he thoughtlessly - intentionally - began to unbutton his collar, his fingers stripping the expensive fabric before her wide, exposed eyes. "Well, I suppose I am fine by myself, unless you want to—"
Before he was even given a chance to finish his sentence, she abruptly slammed the door in front of him. Real hard. The descendant of Ryokuryuu might have pressed her buttons too hard. He might have even heard her spat a curse behind her breath. Virgins were always quite fun to tease.
He snickered in response.
The moment the jade-haired man stepped out of his bath, respectively dressed and spruced, he sought for the Firelark, who might have found him as the peskiest bacterium that ever crawled under her skin. A soft laugh was released by his mouth. She really was quite an amusing woman albeit glaring at her victims with piercing spades.
His emerald beauties easily caught sight of her listless form. At the moment, she embodied broodiness, extinguishing her blazing flare and chafe. Wistful, aloof, and immersed in the depths of her musings— strangely, almost troubled. Troubled? To be honest, when she danced upon the pavement, that familiar melancholic air roamed about her. What was she troubled about?
Then, his scrutinizing gaze trailed down from her face to her hands, fumbling, opening, and closing— almost irritated and impatient. His eyes broadened once he saw her pale fingers. They were bleeding.
"Your hands."
Flabbergasted by his presence, she tucked her fingers in her palms and hid them behind her back. "Shouldn't concern you." Said Min-Seo in an indifferent tone.
Swiftly taking hasty steps towards her, Jae-Ha gently took her wounded hands as he inspected it thoughtfully. He cared little if she did not permit him to grasp her hands or if she wanted to lash him with her wrath. Concern weighted his chest more than her foul impressions on him. It peeved him for a bit that he did not even notice her bleeding when she gathered the broken shards earlier. She did not even seem bothered when she was cut. At least for now, she did not make too much movement to rip her hands away from him.
"Let go."
He was reluctant to speak as he payed no heed to her words.
His placid glare was prodded at the cuts and callouses patched on her fingers. His green eyes softened at the sight. He wiped the thin, streaks of blood through his crisp sleeve, lightly brushing the small wounds. Ah. The touch of her hands were rough akin to the hands of a laborer, yet they appeared so frail and slender. These gentle hands. He mulled what horrid tasks her hands had undergone to make its skin crack and blister. What terrible undertakings she had to perform to make her callous and untrusting to others.
He took a small compact from the inside pocket of his clothing. Good thing that it was handy too. It was fortunate news that they did not take his clothes away albeit being drenched earlier with alcohol. It was a bit risky divulging his identity through the astonishingly amount of knives and weaponry he had hidden underneath the fabric.
"You should be more careful at least," opening the compact, his finger swiped some plaster and gingerly rubbed it onto her cuts, making her slightly tense from his touch. "Especially, if you still need these hands when you perform." He smiled amiably at her, worry somewhat overtaking the affability of his eyes.
Slightly wincing, she said with a rueful smile, "Well, I have nothing to worry about," a dry chuckle rumbled from her throat. "Since what they watched earlier ago is one of the final appearances of the Firelark."
The descendant of Ryokuryuu snapped his glance at her. "Why do you say that?"
"Soon, I will finally leave this godforsaken place."
Finally releasing her hands from his clutches, he questioned pryingly, "What are you truly doing in this place, Min-Seo?" to his disappointment, she did not grant him anything, but a nipping glower and her silence. Ah. It was supposed to be none of his business, and that it was most probably a personal matter that she did not wish to disclose to anyone, especially to a stranger. "I understand if you don't want to answer." Was his response, which caught her baffled.
"Why do you care so much?" she said in a nonplussed, demanding octave. "You hardly know me and I even insulted you. Shouldn't you hate me for it?"
Those twin pools of mossy green gazed at her with such sincerity and resolution that it almost ignited a pleasant feeling of hope in her chest. Inspiring her lost desire of freedom. Making her fetters a little less painful and a bit lighter. It was an appeasing gaze. "Well, I believe firelarks are not meant to spend their lives behind cages," he smiled at her without pretense or jejune. "They are best liberated."
She was rendered speechless.
No one had ever spoken those words to her. Never to her. Never to the endowed bird they had kept unfairly in her cage.
Yet, he did.
The first and only one to say such words her ears pleaded to hear.
Why did you say that to me?
"You..." she mumbled unconsciously. "You confuse me."
Catching her words, he asked in intrigue, "Why so?"
Finally composing herself from her perplexity, she cleared her throat and shot him a deadpan reply, "That was none of your concern."
He said in mirth, "May I visit you again?"
"I am not a courtesan."
"Then, may I at least seek your company?"
"No."
"There is no harm in it."
She frowned at the thought of his constant meddling and flirting if he truly did plan to visit her. "You'll only distract me in my work."
His eyes glistened playfully. "Oh? So you find me distracting?" he cheekily leaned closer to her.
Her brow twitched. "And annoying." She added bitingly.
His hand mockingly clenched his chest as if he was in great agony. "I'm wounded, Min-Seo!"
A sigh rolled off her lips. "Are you done?"
A lighthearted laugh intervened. Smiling genuinely, he enunciated with an enlivened spirit, "Well, I'd still like to meet you again."
Min-Seo would have retorted that his mere presence was a nuisance, but she merely quelled her mouth, to her utter surprise and likely his. He was a fool, she thought in her vexation. No, maybe she was the fool for not even having a morsel amount of willpower to respond back to him that she wanted him away from her— away from her miserable life, and that maybe in some twisted, pathetic way, she would end up regretting saying such words and he might not be heartened enough to even gaze back at her again.
Though, she was selfish for not even uttering a blistering reply. Did she even want him to return back to her? She wished she did not. He was resilient. He did not mind her sharp tongue that could wound like a knife. He accepted that course nature of hers in his own amicable, foolhardy way. He was undoubtingly kind. He was different. For a moment, she cursed why she found him different in the first place. He could have made it easier for her— to simply snap at her and walk away. Alas, he did not.
You confuse me too much.
Disclaimer: I do not own Akatsuki no Yona.