Baengno 1787

The next morning, the town was abuzz with the rampage of the night. Gossip raged across the town, from the women in the anbang to the beggars sitting in their rat traps. How had a simple painting auction gone out of control? Prominent on everyone's lips was the duplicity of Chung. His empty promises of free food and drink had attracted droves of men of the wrong ilk, wastrels who drank themselves into drunken rages. Those who were there out of curiosity left soon after when they learned there was no chance of entering the gibang, something which they were thankful for. How many were injured? What would be done to those who were arrested? Most especially, what would the magistrate do with Chung?

At the gibang, there was no music, no laughter. All that could be heard were the sounds of labor as servants hurried to tidy up the place. Most of the debris had been cleared from the courtyard and pavilion. It was fortunate the mob had not the time to do more for surely, they would have tried to burn down the buildings. Iseul made her inspections with a subdued In-seon as she wrote down the repairs that had to be made in the book she held. Soban and crockery had to be replaced in bulk for too many were destroyed. Until the new items arrived, the gibang was temporarily closed.

In-seon repeated what she had written to Iseul, wondering how far everyone would have to contribute towards the restoration. There were also broken jugs and bottles of wine that belonged to the jumak and wine shops along with the medical bills for the injured guests still resting in the rooms to be paid. All in all, it was the worst business contract In-seon had ever taken up. She was sorry she had allowed greed to overturn good sense.

Iseul found she could not bide In-seon's morose voice that morning and took the book from her. Halfway down the list, someone called at the closed gates. A servant shouted to the visitor that the gibang was closed but the caller was insistent. On looking out, the servant looked back at Iseul as if he intended to ask for permission but opened the gates instead. To her surprise, it was Young-joon. He smiled cheerfully when he saw her, a servant followed behind. What was he so happy about?

"I see everything has been cleared up," he said as he glanced around before turning back to catch her impatient look. Understanding that her temper was short, he gestured to the servant to come forward. "My father sends this." He flipped open the small chest the servant was holding. In-seon's eyes widened.

"I don't think," began Iseul but Young-joon turned to wave to someone at the gates. A line of men trooped in, bearing stacks of soban and large packages, depositing them in the courtyard.

"It's just a small token I'm afraid," he said, picking up a string of cash from the chest. "But we can replace the soban and crockery."

"It's unreasonable that the house of Han should bear the brunt of the costs..."

"Although ours were but a small part, my father is most regretful that his pursuit in collecting paintings resulted in such an unfortunate affair. Please do accept our apologies," interrupted Young-joon, flicking a look at her that practically yelled; accept it!

"Please convey our thanks to old master Han," said Iseul, aware of the tension in In-seon oozing out with her assent.

"Ahh, mistress, the men will appreciate that you have lightened their burdens." Young-joon grinned, removing the chest from the servant and handing it over to Iseul. "We look forward to having your company for dinner at our residence tonight."

"I will be there," said Iseul and saw him off at the gates.

"How much is in there?" In-seon made to open the chest when Young-joon and the servants had disappeared. She halted when Iseul directed an icy glare at her. "I was just curious."

"Call all the gisaeng to the pavilion," Iseul said to the gatekeeper. "We will do the count together and inspect the wares." Another cold look at In-seon who followed her meekly to the courtyard, comprehending that there must be no suspicion or disension among them regards the money that would be used to compensate for the losses.

The man sat quietly in the corner but there was a dark and irritable look about his face. The others who shared the cell with him were too preoccupied with hangovers and painful bruises to care about any others but themselves. A few were still sleeping off the liquor they had consumed the night before. Snores filled the air. A warden walked past, wrinkling his nose at the sourness of dried vomit, reeking dried wine and vanished further down the corridor. Presently, he returned with two constables to unlock the door of the cell.

"Chung, the magistrate wishes to see you." The warden waited but the man did not move whereupon the constables went into the cell to drag him out.

"Unhand me!" he shouted but was ignored and hauled off down the corridor.

Outside the ok, it was business as usual. Bored constables glanced up and down the street now and then as they stood at the gates. After the excitement of the night, they had relatively nothing to do. Conversation was focused on the culprits of the uproar, now languishing in the jail cells. Criticisms were heaped on the supposed famed painter. How foolish could that fellow be, making such claims and making empty promises? Was he a fool? They stopped for a moment when they heard faint thumps and cries before smirking to one another. One lamented that with the gibang closed indeterminately, he would not able to see his lady for a few days whereupon his colleagues passed bawdy remarks on him. In the midst of their unruly teasing, two men approached the gates. One of them hobbling painfully. The constables stopped in surprise. Was that not Chung? Who was the man with him?

The two men stepped through the gates and down the street as the constables gazed after them, looking at one another. Were the charges dropped against Chung? Was something offered to the magistrate? They huddled in a group so as to gossip softly, afraid of being overheard. An officer strode by and saw they were not paying attention to their duties. He shouted at them in reprimand and handed out punishments for dereliction of duty. Truly that Chung fellow was a harbinger of troubles!

Further down the road, having observed Chung's painful hobble, his companion proposed they rest at a nearby jumak. The suggestion was accepted eagerly. As Chung sat down gingerly, his new friend called for drinks and a round of dishes. When the wine arrived, he poured out a measure for Chung before filling his own cup. As he sipped, he observed Chung with amusement as the cup was emptied in a flash.

"My thanks for your help, master Ghim," Chung sighed. The wine was ambrosia to his parched throat. Picking up the bottle, he poured himself another shot, downed it before he picked up the chopsticks to grab a piece of chicken from one of the dishes. Ghim said nothing but waited till he had wolfed down enough to satisfy his hunger.

"Prison fare was not palatable?" he picked idly at a plate of jeon.

"There was none to be had!" Chung spat angrily. "No water either!"

"Drunken men need no victuals," Ghim put down the chopsticks, disinclined to eat anything after that vociferous statement which saw bits of food flying from his companion's mouth. Why waste any more time with this fellow? "I'm curious. Why did you claim to be Hyewon?" He leaned forward curiously as Chung flushed.

"I did not claim to be Hyewon," he said indignantly. "Can I help it if people think I'm him?" Ghim only looked at him without comment. "I had the painting, everyone likes my paintings, that's what they said about me." He gulped down another cup of wine and eyed his benefactor. "I'm not a bad painter myself. I'm just as good as any of the famed painters: Danwon, Hyewon, In-mun, Bang-un, Yak-yong. It takes the ones who can really appreciate my work to see the beauty." He saw Ghim was not convinced and decided to return to topic. "I do not see why I have to say anything. What they think can only drive up the price," he said candidly, feeling he could be honest with the only man who had stepped forward to help him.

"Where did you get the painting? Can you describe it?" Ghim ignored what the man was not saying, being more interested in another matter.

"I found it in a pack washed up to shore, in Gangneung," Chung coughed and upended the bottle. Impassively, Ghim ordered another bottle of wine.

"If you found it in Gangneung, why come all the way to sell it here?"

"I found a collateral with it, to collect six hundred nyang from old master Han. I thought I'd deliver it and get the money myself." Chung did not think his new friend was interested in the food so he began to clear up whatever was left on the dishes with the fresh bottle of wine when it arrived.

"Six hundred nyang. Is that what the collateral stated? Did it specify it's for the painting?"

"No but that was what I assumed," Chung said sourly. "There were only the two items in the pack. Since whoever it was could not claim it, I came here and tried to get the money. That old man refused to pay since I didn't offer the painting."

"You kept the painting?"

"I made a second visit and tried to get a better price but he refused, so I kept it. Why shouldn't I?" Chung slapped the table indignantly. "There was no owner's imprint. It was mine to do as I please," he declared and his face darkened when he remembered the painting was lost. "I should have accepted the six hundred nyang." He pounded the table, the impact rocking the dishes and cups violently, ignoring the looks directed his way from the other customers at the jumak.

"As well you should," Ghim said pointedly, hiding his disdain for Chung. "What was the painting about?"

"It's just some depiction of a dancing couple and musicians." Chung rubbed his nose and sneezed, not seeing the look of distaste that crossed Ghim's face.

"I am familiar with Hyewon's works and every piece that had recently appear over the last few years. Definitely, that is a new one. Old master Han had offered you a fair price," Ghim signaled the tavernkeeper and paid up when she bustled over. "It is unfortunate that the auction should get out of hand."

"It should not have turned out that way," Chung grumbled. "Wait," he put out a hand to prevent Ghim's departure. "What did you do to get the magistrate to release me? I was certain I would be charged and sentenced to manual labor."

"I didn't do anything, merely convinced him that you meant no harm." Ghim looked at the hand on his sleeve. Chung got the message and let go. "I'm curious about the man claiming to be Hyewon, that's all. Have a good day," he said before walking away.

What a foolish egoistical fellow! Ghim stifled a yawn. He should not have risen so early just to get a fool out of jail but he had thought there would be something interesting to learn. What a disappointment. He should just go back home and sleep before paying a visit to the art gallery later although he doubted he would learn anything momentous. Yes, that was what he ought to do.

Behind him, Chung sat for a moment before getting to his feet, wincing at the pain from his bottom. Although he had been released without serious charges, still, the magistrate had seen fit to order a number of strokes for his part in disrupting the peace. He supposed he was lucky, he thought as he made his way down to the minchon. What should he do next? Certainly his plans were in ruins but he was not about to give up as yet. The next most important objective was he should shift to another jumak, preferably out of town. The jangsi jumak would do, it was just a few miles south-east. Too, that girl was staying there. She might not have left yet.

There was astonishment when he appeared at the jumak he put up at. Ignoring the looks and whispers, he went to his room and began to pack. Within moments, he was done and left the room. The tavernkeeper was waiting for him with a couple of men. Clearly, she thought he would flee without making payment. He held back his contempt at her surprise when he paid her what he owe. As he hobbled away, he fingered his money pouch. There was still a respectable amount of money left. It should be enough to tide him till he made his next profit.

Ghim Residence

When the servant announced there was a visitor, Ghim was hardly surprised. After the incident, he supposed master Um came to report. What would he have to say? He waited at the courtyard, gesturing to the man to follow him to the garden when he appeared with the servant.

"You have heard of the events of the night," master Um said.

"I have. How can I not when everyone speaks of it? From the inner quarters to the slums, tongues wagged," Ghim waved at the walls.

"There is nothing to be found," the man paused. "My search is fruitless."

"Are you weary?" Ghim paused by the lotus pond.

"How can one not be? This is a fruitless task."

"Reconsider," Ghim said. "As long as you turn up nothing, the search continues. That is what you have agreed to," he turned to master Um who was staring into the water. "Yes, it is difficult but think of the benefits and farther beyond that. Who knows you will not attain your objectives tomorrow?"

"What if I say I am on the verge of attaining them?"

Han Residence

"He has not left town."

The announcement came as no surprise to those who sat at the daecheong. The gathering was cosy, formed with old master Han at the epicenter with three forming a semicircle with the three women just sitting at the perimeter, in reach of the large soban in the middle. As the night was chilly, the punhapmun were closed and a brazier providing additional warmth was placed just behind old master Han.

"Where has he gone?" Yunbok set the bowl of sujeonggwa on the soban after taking a sip.

"The jangsi jumak," said Suk-kwon. "It only goes to prove that he has some other agenda to grind."

"Not for a while yet." There was an air of amusement about old master Han. "He should be smarting for a day or two from the punishment meted out."

"I don't understand this part at all. Why did the magistrate release him so easily?" said Young-joon. "Shouldn't the sentence be heavier?"

"Unlike the previous satto, the current official is open to discussion," Suk-kwon smiled at Young-joon's doubt. "If master Ghim's arguments have merit, he would act accordingly."

"That accounts for the beating and the fine," mused Yunbok. "The magistrate can argue his case if the provincial governor questioned him."

"He can turn it to his advantage," Suk-kwon nodded in agreement. "Moreover, he had the foresight to muster the troops. They would not have arrived in time if he had not."

Young-joon and Su-dae stared at him in surprise. The magistrate had the soldiers waiting?

"But of course he should," said Iseul. "How can he not be suspicious of someone making dangerous and provocative promises?"

"There were also too few constables at the gibang," pointed out Suk-kwon. "The rest of them and additional troops had been deployed to other key positions to prevent a mass riot."

More surprises, what else did they not know about? Iseul glared at Suk-kwon who winced and hurriedly continued on. "With his reputation in ruins, what can Chung do?" he frowned as he thought of the man's behaviour.

"His character is such that he may not leave without trying to get what he came for," said old master Han. "Yet, there are no options open to him. If he does come up with an alternative plan to recoup his losses, whatever offers he could make would be regarded with suspicion," he mused.

"His next blandishment cannot be a deception." Suk-kwon picked up his bowl of sujeonggwa. "I don't see what we can do but wait for his next play."

With no further developments, the topic on Chung was suspended. The discussion shifted to the restoration of the gibang. Iseul was immensely grateful for the Hans' donation for business resumed faster than expected. After such a setback of such proportions, it was unlikely such public contracts would be entertained in future. The talk meandered to general topics. The trading expeditions had returned with new foreign products of the likes that could only be seen in Hanseong, prices of commodities were maintaining an even keel. With the seasons running as scheduled, there would be no disruptions to harvests. It would be a good year.

Village tavern

"I can't believe he came here!" the complaint was muted but vexed.

Dong-min made no answer. Having heard it numerous times for the course of the day, it was just noise to him. His attention was focused on the book he held in his hands instead.

"Why does he have to come here? Surely there are better places for him to put up in? The farther away the better." Silence for a moment that hung heavily.

"There is nothing we can do," he said finally, knowing she was waiting for him to say something, "but to bide patiently for him to finish whatever he intended and leave."

"Oppa, it is obvious what he intents." Soo-jin lay out small ribbons on the floor, admiring the colours.

"Aren't you jumping to assumptions? Coming here is probably the only way he can escape the scorn and gossip." He turned a page.

"The only way to leave the scorn and gossip is to head as far away as possible from here and change his name!" Opening a small pangjiggori, she rolled up the ribbons and stored them. "I wish we could leave."

"Yes, let us do that, sneak away quietly in the night," he looked up and grinned. "With so many feet and so much to carry."

"Not everyone, just us," she huffed at his deliberate obtuseness. "I doubt ajoshi will agree, he seems to have formed an attachment."

"I think he is near the end of his task or he will not have done so." He put down the book as visions rose before him. "Imagine us as a complete family!"

"Do you really think so?" she said doubtfully as she got up to check the cage. The pigeon did not stir as she gently lifted the cloth.

Gentle hands, gentle as feathers Soft as a whisper, light as a gaze comes a warm breath, to settle a fluttering heart Heartbreak for the mosi seeker

She made no answer to his offering, merely to throw him a peeved look.

"If Chung were to see this sight, he would fly into a fit," he said wryly as she fussed over the cloth, ensuring no draught could slip through. "And perhaps roast the little one for dinner."

"I'm off to rest, don't you let anything happen to Sojo!" Opening the door a crack, she peered out warily as he watched with amusement before slipping out.

Ghim Residence

Lounging lazily on the poryo, head propped on a hand, he waved a hand in the air in accompaniment to the hyangpiri. Ahh, music for the soul, to raise him to the heavens. He eyed the woman appreciatively, noting the delicacy of her fine skin. Humming and nodding his head approvingly, he reached for the cup on the soban before him and paused when someone called outside the door. Did he not say he was not to be disturbed? The music faltered as he sat up and answered angrily. The door opened. The servant bowed lower than usual, knowing he had roused his master's ire but proffered the letter he was holding. Stupid fellow, was he expecting him to get up? He barked an order. The servant hastily ventured into the room to hand it over before retreating to the door again.

Total silence as he opened the envelope and read the letter, for the music had stopped. The gisaeng waited patiently. The contents seemed rather long as he flipped from one page to the other but the colour of his face changed alarmingly when he came to the end of it. The papers were crumpled. He rapped out unexpected order; the servant was to send the gisaeng back to the gibang. There was no disappointment in her face as she bowed and left. Entertaining this customer was not much gratifying, being well known for his stingy and overbearing ways.

Alone in his room, he read the letter again. It was a jest surely? A mistake. But no, everything was as he had read initially. The fool. The stupid fool. Why did it have to be him to clean up the mess? Could they not have sent someone else to mind the dimwit? Heaving a sigh, he folded the letter and went to the door, shouting loudly for a servant. Was he still at the jumak or had he moved on? It would make his task easier if the fool had left.

He never had it so easy as the current arrangement, an opportunity that the heavens had cast his way. All he had to do was keep an eye open and an ear to the ground. Even if he had nothing to report, his business was assured. The profits dropped into his bowl without having to run himself to the ground. A good wife to keep him in comfort. A roof over his head, money to spend and good company to be had. He did not need a fool to start ruining things for him. Where were the servants? Shouting at the top of his voice, he marched off in search.

Uiryeong gibang

Although the air was frosty, he basked in the warmth of the wine, the glowing brazier and the company of the woman beside him as he sat at the verandah. It was mostly empty, except for a myriad of sounds coming from the other rooms. From where he sat, he could see into the garden, the courtyard and the pavilion. All of which stood empty. It was less noisy too, for business at the gibang had only partially resumed as per Iseul's orders.

"You seemed at peace tonight," said Hyeja as she refilled his cup.

"Perhaps a false peace before the storm," he said carefully, not shifting his gaze from the dark sky.

"What do you anticipate, if it is the repose you seek."

Should he express his hopes? He recalled the conversation he had in the afternoon. "What if I say I am on the verge of attaining them?"

"Attaining them? What purpose do you speak of?"

"To gather what was lost, what could be, into a flourishing garden. The one I seek, the one I see."

"The one you see," she said quietly, "is affixed. Words do not unchain."

"Yet they are the first step to the unraveling." He looked at her and reached into his coat and brought out a norigae. "I saw this while roaming around the marketplace with my niece. I thought perhaps you would like to have it."

She hesitated for a moment before taking it. His eyes lit up with her pleasure as she examined it. It was a eun hyanggapnorigae, purple tassels and maedeup with a perfume case with the words gang and nyeong engraved on the roundel. The pendant was beautifully wrought, intricate. It must have been costly. Hope rose swiftly before she squashed it firmly.

"This is too...," she began to protest, feeling he should not splurged and made to return it to him.

"I have travelled a long wearying lonely journey. It is not often I find peace and comfort. And..," he added hesitatingly.

"Yes?"

He said it quickly before he changed his mind in speaking of it. "Let this be the first unraveling of the chain."

Paper mill

The leaves rustled in the wind as it brushed against the trees. A few dropped to the ground, weakened by time and cold. Emboldened, the wind swept to the doors but there, it met an obstacle it tried to overcome and was largely repelled. Some of the chill managed to creep through but was once more beaten down. Music, warmth, solicitude permeated the room. Such was the hold of serenity that it was sometime before she realised they were not alone.

He was at the desk, painting. It seemed to her the brush was dancing to the pulse of the music. Fascinated, she moved closer, the better to see. The gayageum did not cease as the song came to an end. It swept into another and another until he lay down the brush. Feeling the outsider, occluded from their sphere, she watched them smiled at each other, conveying their empathy in a way not tangible to her. How she envied them for their affections, this little haven they had made for themselves.

"Does it lighten your heart?"

Iseul said nothing for a moment but watched Jeong-hyang cover the gayageum and propped it with care against the wall.

"Some," she admitted. "It is not easy to lay it aside however."

"Because of your acceptance?" He dipped the used brush into a small bowl of water. "It must have been a shock, to perceive the intensity of the layers and the wilderness you have stepped out to."

"It is as you said. I do not know if I can survive it." She looked up when Jeong-hyang sat down and caught her hand.

"Dear sister, why do you think you face it alone? We are in it together, even if at times we are not there in body."

"I feel alone," sighed Iseul. "It is not so simple as facing down ruffians at the gibang or listening to covert conversations. To take an active part is to effect consequences far beyond, something I have stayed away from."

"Do you want to recant?" Satisfied that the brush was clean, Yunbok hung it on the brush stand. "Old master Han will not take it untoward."

"He terrified you, didn't he?" Jeong-hyang said when Iseul stayed silent.

"Death has never seem so near as it was then," admitted Iseul. "Nevertheless, I do not regret my pledge to serve."

"The claws would not hold fast if you have a clearer understanding of the role you are to play." He rolled up the painting after making sure the ink was dry. "The murky depths of the ocean is your fear. Clarify this with master Park, I am sure he intends to guide you."

"They can't possibly hand you tasks you are not ready for," said Jeong-hyang.

"Even as I was prepared for the chaos, the reality is much different." Iseul shook her head.

"That is how it is for everyone."

To Iseul's astonishment, Yunbok handed the painting to her. "No, how can you give this to me?" she protested. "It's too dangerous."

"Take it, as a token of our regard." Jeong-hyang stayed Iseul's hand when she made to return it to Yunbok.

The paper seemed to weigh Iseul down and yet buoyed her with warmth. It was the most precious gift that anyone had given to her, she felt. A stirring from the desk. She looked up to see him reaching for the tunggyong.

"It is getting late, we should turn in," he said. "There is much to do tomorrow."

Third Watch

The darkness was encompassing, with a few spots of light shining in the distance. All was quiet saved for the shuffle of footsteps. Holding their chorong, the noctivagant watchmen twirled their clubs as they strolled along the winding path, looking to the walls now and then as they chatted. Unnoticed behind them, a shadow crept along before passing the boundary wall of the house he was seeking. With a quick silent leap, he got onto the top of the wall. Assured that no one was about as he looked over, he dropped down to the ground.

Swiftly, he ran across the courtyard and stopped at the punhapmun. Locked. Fishing out some small tools, he jiggled and worked at the spoon holding down the latch of the door. It sprang loose after a while but did not fall to the floor. Instead, it dangled on the string he had managed to loop at the end. Closing the doors behind him, he went past the daecheong, putting out his hand along the wall as soon as he came to the first door of the sarang.

On silent feet, he moved along the corridor, counting and stopped. Would the door be locked? He gently tried to open it and couldn't. Slipping his tools through the crack, he replicated his trick. As he entered the room, he listened for a moment before proceeding to the walls. It should be where he last saw it. Should he risk a light? Glancing at the closed bedroom door, he brought out a small candle and lit it. There was a small pop as the match flared to life from the live ember he brought along. The ember he dropped into the brazier in the room.

Where was it? He looked at the walls. There. A series of movements before he snuffed out the candle. He left the way he came, a thieving shadow.

Korean Words

chorong - portable lantern

hyangpiri - small flute

ok - jail, usually located far away from town residences

jeon - pan-fried delicacies

norigae - pendant worn by women

punhapmun - panel, removable doors that ranged from four to eight, can be lifted up

satto - district magistrate

sujeonggwa - fruit punch made of dried persimmons, ginger, cinnamon and honey (autumn to new year drink)