disaster comes

by means of the mouth

There would come a time I would call it poison. On other days, a calamity.

However when I was seven, I called it nadai.

—

The storm winds had caught up earlier in autumn; carrying with it, an onset of heavy rainfall that lasted for five days and five nights. In the lands of water, where rain had been most beautiful, the people were also no strangers to its sunless cloud-spotted skies and its deluges that poured down in great abundance during the eighth month. Flooding was often an issue here, which if not dealt with discernment, led to the destruction of crops and unfortified dams.

This was a season where Father was the busiest; scarce were our meetings, seldom spent in his old study. Sometimes, I would like to believe that the autumnal storms whisked my father away from me. However for every stolen interaction I chanced on, they were one to keep stored within my recollections, like some kind of special token in a secret chest, for how rare and brief they were.

"Is that so?" spoke Father in his mild-mannered tone, despite the two sleepless nights taxing on his bearings. He was a diligent man. It was what made him reserved and persevered in his years, impervious as well to my mother's attempts in coaxing him to rest properly.

Despite that, I always made sure he received his daily tea. I poured his teacup with warm white tea; delicate notes of spearmint hinted from the soft steam swirling up. "Yes. And that's how he broke his arm," I couldn't repress a smile from the memory. "I guess it is strange to be excited over such a thing."

"As you said, there is always an interesting tale about him," Father gratefully drank his tea, "a bit of a reckless fellow, however."

"He is," I nodded earnestly, "but aren't most boys reckless anyway?"

"Hm, I suppose," Father agreed. "Now, Lili. It has come to my attention that you lack friends . . . of your like," and from my bemusement, he elaborated further: "It is not for me to say who your companions must be, but it does concern me that you don't have another girl to befriend."

"Father," I started in an accusing tone. "Is this because Haru is a boy?"

His shoulders may have dropped from the question. "Must he be a boy, my dear?"

My lips quirked up. "Try as I might, he can't change into a girl."

"I am well aware," Father sipped his tea, ruminating over his cup. "However I do take slight issue in your closeness; one can never be too certain, after all. Lili, when you come to a certain age, I'm afraid you will need a chaperone by your side," in his overprotective way, he then added: "just in case."

Taken aback, I sought to reason with him. My voice raised a pitch higher. "Father, he would never."

Adamant in his decision, Father shook his head. "Haru won't remain as a boy forever, my dear," he said, "so will young Soo-won."

Although I took his words to heart, I was wise enough to not contradict him for it, despite the strong urge to defend myself from the implication of idle affections. Father was always prepared to return my words with an argument, which oft headed towards a lecture that I was loath to listen to. Resigning to a nod, I drank my tea sullenly. "I understand," I abided, "but"—a discriminating brow arched at my direction—"I am free to select my own chaperone."

"My dear girl," Father started, "Se-hun and Dae-ho are not suitable chaperons."

I inwardly cursed. "Of course, I meant a female chaperon."

"Which must be approved by your mother."

"And I shall have one when I turn seventeen."

"As early as fourteen, Lili."

I pushed my luck. "Sixteen is an appropriate age then."

"Ah, but fourteen is a very generous number, you think not?" he continued on, "children are accompanied by one as young as ten summers."

I sighed in resignation. "Very well."

It wasn't as if I were at the receiving end of the bargain, anyway. So long as I get to choose.

Bobbing his head, Father seemed pleased of my compliance. "Moreover," he began, "you haven't told your mother about him yet?"

My head cocked to the side. "You didn't tell her about him either, Father."

"One day, she will need to know eventually."

"One day," I assured him, but my voice held no promise.

"You can't always keep these matters from her," Father advised placidly. "She is still your mother."

"I know," but the very thread of the matter was delicate; something so fine, it'd be simple to snap. Although Father was the austere one between them, he was tolerant of our friendship, because I believed that he understood me in a way my mother could never; she would be difficult to convince, I was certain, especially when she had her prospects for me. That I was suited for better things, deserving of the company of important people and noble children than that of a servant boy that never turned down a fight.

Haru was simple and honest, sometimes built from his own flaws. I liked him so much for those reasons. Though to my mother, anything less that she deemed in her eyes might as well be cast out from my life. I hated the thought, and so pondered on the question: could secrets be kept forever? At first, it seemed possible, but unlikely. Mere wishful thinking.

Secrets, despite their purpose, were never meant to be buried for so long after all.

"Why, I didn't expect to see my granddaughter here."

It slipped my attention then, when the sliding door gaped open and that there was an elderly lord that loomed behind it. Grandfather Mosu was old; I say this not in the manner one aged with a deep set of lines on his bearings and a doddering stride, but of how one could simply tell how he belonged to another generation, decades older to a time where lands were war-torn and the proud Koukan blade beheld glory.

He might be as tall as Father in his prime; once with flaxen hair, now paled into white, along with long brows and a lengthy thin beard. Slit-eyed like a fox, but the sharpness of his gaze may be seen more from that of a wolf's. Prince Yu-hon had a similar glare to his eye, but his nursed a tempest, while my grandfather held something akin to ice. Ice that burned, ice from a hailstorm.

"Father, I didn't expect you to arrive early from the capital," a hand gestured to the cushioned seat next to mine. "Please, sit down."

Grandfather held a slight limp in his stride. An accident, Father claimed, when he'd been waylaid by a troop of Xingese soldiers in Mong Him Pass along the southern border. Despite this, Grandfather maintained a certain collected confidence as he approached us. "Good evening, Lili," he bobbed his head, the cap above his brow unmoved; with a high knot, it encased his scalp in fine black and purple cloth that marked his station amongst the honorable true-bone ranks in the Council.

"Good evening, Grandfather," I courtly said, taking notice on the winking jade stone on his knot's hairpin; the status of the Minister of Affairs. "I am pleased you had a safe journey here."

"You appear to be in good health," Father observed. "The Gods have been kind to you."

"May they continue so," Grandfather returned, sitting on his cushion. "I might say otherwise to you, Joon-gi,"

"I am grateful of your concern, but I am faring well. How have you been? The capital does not lack any interesting tale as of late, it would seem."

His temples scrunched at the mention. "Had it not always? It appears that there is a surplus of young men in the court nowadays. It is rather cumbersome, especially when most only share a good word about the King's intentions of offering part of our land to Sei. Had I still been the Grand Counsellor, this issue might have been prevented," and then Grandfather sighed, long and indignant. I couldn't determine whether he'd been more upset of the new officials or the peace offering to Sei. "It is a shame that our new one prefers his court men affluent and green."

"Is that so? How unfortunate," commented Father in a phlegmatic tone. Typical of him, to say the least. "Grand Counsellor Hwan seemed capable at first."

"It should have been Lord Euk-shi," Grandfather returned with a dejected shake of his head. "He was bright and promising when he'd been my Appointed at the time. He had accomplished many a thing in his recent term as well. It would have been so, if not for his scandal."

"He lost his station for it."

"I'm afraid so."

I poured them tea. The talk about the capital went on for awhile. The both of them didn't appear to be bothered by my presence in the midst of their exchange. I certainly didn't mind, really; listening throughout the tidings of the country with an attentive ear. My opinions were held, of course, of every discourse about the mismanagement of the bone-ranks, the Council, the Tribes, and the poor decisions of King Il. I was determined to follow the very last thread of their conversation, if not for Father's reluctance to speak further when it'd been about the Water Tribe.

For a heartbeat, I almost swore Father kept a quick glance at me before suggesting that it was late, and as he put it, "my daughter needs her sleep for the morrow. She still has lessons in the morning."

Grandfather understood, voicing out from his contemplation, obscurely: "educating her is necessary."

"Of course," Father only said in a stiff tone.

Once I was ushered out with a maidservant by my side, Grandfather's voice echoed behind me, "Now, Joon-gi, you know better than I that the problem cannot remain as it is. . ."

—

There was a time Old Guo showed us a coin trick.

Although Old Guo would insist that he used a real incantation to get a rise from the boy, I always knew that there was something more beyond the surface than just sleight of hand. There were times he had customers on his stall who had more muscle and scar than one could count; gamblers, drunkards, scrappers, idle soldiers, and even the occasional traveller who kept a knife on his belt.

Old Guo never minded the company. He would even go so far as to share a hearty laugh alongside them though there was always something about their interactions that didn't all seem like a casual talk. Just when the snakehead leered from his wrist, his hand would move in that particular manner; wrist rotating, fingers drawn, and then palm tucked within the sleeve. Despite my suspicions, his stall was a relatively normal steam bun shop. The locals still gathered here; some familiar faces of vendors and loaders coming in for a bite.

Observing a pair of hulking men from the corner of his eye, Haru whispered conspiratorially, "Wanna bet if they killed people before?"

I chewed contemplatively on my food, braised pork at the crook of my teeth, and then swallowed. I elbowed his rib. "That's not funny, Haru."

Shrugging, Haru went about sulkily munching on his meal between his hands. "It was just a thought."

The sweet bread and succulent pork belly of the steam bun couldn't spare me from the prospect that made even my stomach churn.

I downed my barley tea, along with the consternation. I cleared my throat. "Hey," I glanced back at him. "Show me where you work, all right?" I'd been pecking him about it for days. He should be worn from my incessant nagging at this point.

"So you can tell off Ma," Haru rolled his eyes before spatting back: "traitor."

"I'd never. . ." I started, taken aback. "Fine. My mouth's sealed. Happy?"

His dark eyes bore down on me.

"Swear it, Li."

I sighed, defeated.

"I swear it to your Fists of Fury," I forced out, annoyed of how childish it sounded. "There."

Haru, however, was very pleased by this, munching gleefully. "M'kay," with a mouth still full, he managed to word out toward the elder hobbling at our direction, "Whaddya wont nah, ya geeshmm?" he wiped his lips from the back of his hand, ignoring my offered handkerchief.

Old Guo didn't appear offended of the boy's lack of manners; he even grinned in the lopsided manner he always did. Something about it promised mischief, only to poke fun of the boy's temper, but there was also a knowing look to his eye, smirking as if he knew a big fat secret no one has ever heard of yet. He leaned in. "Heard you've been goin' around, stall after stall."

Swallowing, Haru didn't deny it. "And?"

Old Guo procured a silver coin behind his ear and slid it to him from the table, whispering conspiratorially, "Are my steam buns better?"

Haru smugly didn't take the bribe. "Heh, scared of runnin' out of business?"

"Maybe," Old Guo shrugged with a wry smile, making the coin disappear between his fingers. I was still mulling over how he pulled off that trick with such casual ease. His gaze then seemed trained on the crew of street performers across his stall, loud and boisterous enough to attract an amused crowd. He didn't appear to be pestered with all the jeering and raunchy humor they'd been emitting. "You know, there're some crazy rumors these days."

"Hm, what kind of rumors?" I asked, finally giving into my curiosity to what lured his attention.

"Lo and behold, it is I, Minister Wu Euk-Shi! Highest of foreheads, smallest of cocks," the masked jester then flounced out a flash of his phallic-shaped prop between his legs, causing his spectators to erupt into a roaring guffaw. He then exaggeratedly wept like a child, tossing and flouncing about with his prop. "Oh, oh, woe, is me! Where art thou greedy lovers to nurse my frail manhood!"

Old Guo continued on, "Some secret affairs, buncha dirty secrets, is all."

Dressed gaudily with feminine masks, three actors emerged, a coy fan on each hand.

"You and you and you, court wenches! Take my stolen gold for a taste of your virgin clams!"

Another burst of laughter. The drums beated their noise; the masked jester dove humorously into their flurry of skirts.

"You, young man! Take my stolen gold for a taste of your—"

"Poor fellow, that Euk-shi."

I turned back to Old Guo, withdrawing myself from that vulgar display of entertainment. The people were divided of the matter. Most loved it. Treated it like some kind of inside joke. The others, however, openly showered stones than coins over the street performers' heads.

On the other hand, Haru was indifferent of the commotion and the steam vendors next words: "The folk like their story, eh?" and then the silver coin once again materialized itself out of thin air, specifically tucked behind his tapered beard. Spinning it around with a flip, Old Guo disclosed garrulously, "Reminds me of the time when a queen friend of mine was publically shamed for sleepin' with a servant. Those were dark days for her."

The coin dropped. Haru flicked it back, which Old Guo swiped back in a nick of time. "Pshh, like you know royalty."

"Oh, yeah, we were close friends too. Told me she could speak to dragons and those snow leopards."

"As if," scoffed Haru. "Queen friend, my ass."

"Sorry," I uttered calmly, as I always had when I mumbled out excuses for him. "Tends to talk shit a lot, bad habits."

"You're the smart one," Old Guo then said to me; the snakehead slithering from his sleeve, a glint of silver tucked beneath. "You know better to tell that boy off, eh?"

—

I had only heard of Nancho House by name, twice; firstly and very faintly, from a string of muddled conversation from a pair, or perhaps, a group of men, rambling on about women and culture over their cups of ale. The latter, however, from the boy that guided me down the path between the residential and teahouse districts, where lay a raft of scenic architecture of inns, bathhouses, and charming bridges, veined by waterways from the river beneath. The brothels in this area were never few and far between, in number and popularity.

Within the grandiose establishment of Nancho House; offensively out of place—we stayed in a waiting area at the backend of the brothel, amidst the finery of its servants, and occasionally, a small drove of passing courtesans, who wore refined elegance from the sleeves of their robes. Powdered and painted, the courtesan's faces were marked with flowers above their brows; most women had lotuses, peonies, orchids, and roses, while the seemingly younger and fresh-faced had a blue plum blossom.

Albeit indirectly, I was enlightened of what they were and what they served in the society to a certain extent. Daughters born from poverty, shamed highborn ladies, and girl-children bartered off to pay for their families' debt—Se-hun commented once, offhandedly. I was morbidly curious then, I supposed, when I brought up the topic.

While the cost of their virtue remained questionable in their position, I was aware that courtesans were skilled in the arts. They were remarkable hostesses for ceremonies and even renowned celebrities, I reflected on my mother's words. Though some would claim they were glorified harlots, expensive mistresses, painted women on picture-scrolls; especially, when there was a saying about them: 'sold in copper for their beauty, silver for their gifts, and gold for their beds.' Yet the separate stripe, prostitutes, was a different matter altogether, it seemed.

After all, comparing the two was similar in the manner one saw a lotus from a water lily; ostensibly different, yet sharing a similar root that thrived afloat from the water. Or drowned in it, I mused in consideration.

"While I was gone," I started, "what in the world have you been doing?"

"I told you I got a job," Haru sniffed, rubbing his nose irritatingly. "Quit that staring, Li. It's just another job."

"Outside the palace," I clarified, mouthing my words with emphasis. "How did you even end up here?"

"I got looped in into something, okay? Now, quit it," Haru berated. "You're making me look bad."

The nerve of this brat. I huffed in response.

Striding at our direction, the young man was as ornate as the courtesans, painted with a bird on his forehead. Rice powder made his skin fair, so were his face, his neck, and even his collarbones, from the suggestive dip of his collar. "So you're here again," spun nonchalantly with a hairpin, his hair stirred from his shoulder because of a head tilt, stray strands like ink strokes on silk. He set his sights on me. "And this is?"

"Not important," Haru dismissed, waving a hand. "Lead the way, Yoseop."

Obliging, Yoseop gestured a one-shouldered shrug. It nagged me a little how the one side of his purple jacket drooped from his shoulder, sliding bare the fine robes beneath. A step behind him, we followed suit from the narrow halls.

From his distance, Haru observed a throng of women lead a drunken official to a red sliding door. "This isn't where we usually go."

"I'm afraid, we'll have to take a different route," spoke Yoseop, unconcerned despite his imparted words. "The one there is being repaired at the moment."

Haru's eyes lit curiously. "'Cause of a fight?"

"No," Yoseop denied him of an intriguing prospect. "Just a leakage."

Yoseop then flit his silvery gaze at me. He simpered; a wry curl of full lips, devoid of affection. "Hello," he greeted. "I'm Yoseop, Miss . . . ?"

Bobbing my head, I went with being terse. "Lin."

"You know, Miss Lin," Yoseop began in mild interest. "I'm quite surprised he actually has a friend."

"That's understandable," I humored him, mulling over how he was acquainted to the boy. "Did he cause someone trouble? He does that a lot."

"Why, no, not so far."

"Oh," a slow telling smile crept up my lips. "Well, that is surprising."

"I can hear the both of you," grunted an annoyed Haru, making me amusedly flit back my gaze at him. "It's a bit noisy here today."

"There are plenty of customers as of late."

"It's barely midday," Haru complained half in disbelief, half in disgust. "Someone's already fucking?"

"The business is flourishing this time around," Yoseop reasoned in a soft serene voice, his wrist rose to conceal half of his face with a flowery sleeve; however there were shadows in his eyes. "Some just can't resist."

The room was heavily draped and decked with Kai-inspired furnishings; opium chairs, thick lacquered coatings, and elaborately decorative woodwork. Lungs filled with sweet-scented incense, we were led to one of the rosewood couches. There was a hospitable offering of dried wild berries on a porcelain bowl from the table before us.

Appearing behind a curtained door, the Madam was a vision of vicious beauty; tall and slender, her figure was clad in a flaming scarlet gown—of expensive glossed silk, I supposed, that must have been gifted to her by a nobleman—which contrasted the pearl-white skin of her ample cleavage and arms, cloaked in a patterned over robe and a sheer gold-lined shawl that hung loosely from the crook of her elbows.

The Madam reclined on her lavish couch; the woodwork of its backrest resembled a gilded cage of a sort, where intricate inlays of nightingales and peonies tangle between twine and twisted branches. "Hm, why if it isn't the rowdy boy," her painted lips then curled charmingly at me, "and friend."

Taking note of my presence, she then proceeded to her introduction: "Ah, my manners. I am Moon Jeheon, Madam of the Nancho House."

A red strand of hair brushed her shoulder. Madam Moon had such unique hair. Her locks possessed a deep shade of plum red, coiled and braided in an elaborate manner that interwove her natural hair with her false one. It made me ponder how difficult it must have been to scour tooth and nail in finding the color of her wig. A rare red, I mused, thinking back of the rumors surrounding Princess Yona's famed hair. To the paintings of King Hiryuu and his glorious crimson mane.

The coiffure of her hair was ostentatious in appearance; emblazoned in semiprecious stones, satin ribbons, and hairpins, the top portion was wrought into a tall bun with twin tresses curved at the side of her brows and pinned behind her ears. The lower half of the style left the hair untouched, leaving a train of long luscious locks spilling on her back.

However her ashen eyes looked terribly familiar.

"It is a pleasure to meet you."

Out of deference, I acknowledged her with a nod. "Likewise, Madam Moon," I replied. "I'm Cho Lin."

"Haru, you didn't tell me you'd bring such a comely face in my establishment," spoke Madam Moon in mild curiosity. "Are you in need of a job too, pretty?"

"Hey, back off, lady. She's off limits," Haru interjected with his arms crossed.

"Idiot boy. I don't mean to offer one of the more risqué jobs here," Madam Moon corrected, and then her cheek rested elegantly on her ringed fingers, uttering aloud: "well, I am in search of an apprentice."

"Off. Limits." Haru emphasized next to me, blowing out an indignant sigh on my behalf. He shot her a glare. "Anyway, I already did what you told me," his words were grudgingly vague and simple, but the slight clench in his teeth meant something else.

Madam Moon, however, had a face as smooth and unaffected as a clean sheet of silk paper. Nothing mottled her expression, especially her red smile.

"So you are capable," she chortled, almost mockingly, as she motioned for a waitress to serve them a receptive meal on her table. There was a platter of mussels and snails, cooked in wine and plated delicately for plucking, Xingese mandarin cakes, thinly sliced figs and dates, a bowl of lychee, candied fruit, rose wine, and red tea that smelt so dizzyingly sweet one could ponder whether it'd been from a fruit or a flower. "Please, I insist," she motioned to her offering, which only further vexed Haru.

As to appear polite, I helped myself over a picking of snail. It tasted marvelous. Despite Haru's hard glances back at me and on the table, I still helped myself over the fresh fruit and the mandarin cake, flaking from my chin. About to take in a cup of their red tea, the boy snatched it from my grasp and gestured at me with a small shake of his head. Don't.

"Interestingly, little Cho Lin seems to appreciate my spread, unlike you," the Madam had only eaten her share of mussels and snails. "I've hired cooks from Kai to make these special dishes. Only those of high status are able to dine on such, you know."

"I don't like snail," Haru retorted. "I want my answers, not your noble food."

Madam Moon drank from her cup, the wine the color of crimson summer. "Then, ask."

"Where is he?"

Her ashen eyes flitted up to him, and then me. Her long fingers toyed the ends of her shawl. "From what I have gathered, he is in Nairiso."

"What is he doing in Nairiso?" the boy then bolted up from his seat, eyes wide from the revelation. "Was he . . . was he drafted there, is that it?"

"Perhaps, he was. Perhaps, he wasn't," was Madam Moon's reply, lowering her dark spidery lashes. "But he lives there. Still very much like himself," her hand rose thoughtfully, veiling her mouth with the sleeve of her over robe, "not as sober, however."

Though Haru wasn't content with her answer. "And, what else?"

"That is all I could give," Madam Moon took a delicate sip of her wine. "You know the rest."

And so we departed; I oblivious still and the boy left with a stab of indignation. Whatever the matron of Nacho House imparted to him got under his skin, when he had willingly stomped his way out of the establishment.

Trotting behind him, I attempted to tug his sleeve but could only wring the ends of his shirt. I was almost tempted pulling his hair too, with the manner he disregarded me. "Haru, hey, slow down," I told him. "Why are you even—"

"Why's this, why's that! Always with the damn whys," Haru barked out. "I already brought you to my other job, Li. Stop it already."

His arms flailed wildly to his sides, and there, I couldn't help but think how I should catch him before he finds himself steeped further down in that sweeping fury. Haru did stupid things when he was angry, whether he seized the chance to hurt someone or himself. What mattered was that he let it out, even if it meant erupting in a blaze of mindless rage.

However, this time, it appeared as if he'd still been repressing something, nursing it deep within himself and struggling to lock it in because it was keen on bursting out of his chest.

I wouldn't allow it, and so approached him without all the questioning stares and admonishments. "Then let me in on this whole thing you're in," I said, and very carefully added: "you can trust me, Haru. You know that."

Briefly, our eyes locked. I was prepared to confront a petulant glare and a scowl, but I was met with a fleeting glance; part of it was incensed but willing to listen, while the other was ruefully guarded, uncharacteristically so. Rubbing his neck, Haru mustered out, "I know."

Bobbing my head, I guided him to a nearby bench. We both sat quietly.

I initiated first. "Who were you trying to find?"

Haru swallowed a breath. "Just," and then he held his tongue, as if it'd been stuck, fenced within gritted teeth, "just someone . . . important."

It didn't deter me from asking my next question. "And Madam Moon knows who this is?"

"Yeah. She gave me a lead, sort of," admitted Haru, knitting his brows together. "Still can't trust her, though."

"And you work for her," I reminded dryly.

"It's just a one-time thing!" Haru defended, fuming at me. "Besides, I can't stand her and that place. You know why? 'Cause she's a damn fake, Li."

"But how do you know if she's telling the truth, about where he is?"

"Because we made a deal," his hand balled into a fist. "She got what she wanted."

After that, the boy spoke no further about it.

In Suiko Palace, we parted. Drifted, really, mumbling out half-hearted goodbyes. His secrets haunted him like the shadows under his feet.

—

I wandered deep with the gardens, to a curving path I hoped that veered me somewhere else instead of a well and the wilting moon wisteria; shedding pale blues and violets, their twisting skeletal arms were laid bare, and under one of them, on a spine-like trunk was another stone moss-ridden dragon; its jowls were crooked and it was missing two claws. Perhaps, I anticipated for something, like the company of a passing raven, or a friend.

Then the footfalls came, snapping twigs and dry leaves beneath. Here, I expected again, of a deadpan stare from green eyes and an unspoken chide. However it didn't occur to me that Se-hun could best Dae-ho in searching for me first.

Se-hun offered a half-smile, scrutinizing my surroundings. "This is quite a depressing place."

I cocked my head to the side, eyes darting next to him. "Dae-ho is not with you."

"He left, my lady," Se-hun informed me. "He is visiting his relatives."

To Nairiso. "I see," I said. "I wish he told me about it."

Evening shadows loomed; stretched across the field, shrouding us in its dark veil. Then a crackle of thunder. "It was quite urgent from what I reckon," Se-hun recalled, tightlipped. "Come now, my lady, before it rains."

—

Chan-mi was young, too young, to bear the burdens of calloused hands, drudgery, and child-rearing onto her shoulders. There was a time she'd been a girl, whimsy and wishful and free, but the lines that grooved beneath her eyes told of what was lost—or as Haru commented, too tired and busy to dream. This time, with a respectful dip and a humble voice, she approached me wearily. "Lady Lili, have you seen Haru?"

I didn't expect encountering her in the stables. "I haven't seen him this morning."

Her brows furrowed. "Do you think he is outside again, my lady?"

Perhaps. Haru's been avoiding me for two days. But I confronted her, replying: "I'm not sure."

Her concern dented itself deep onto her bearings, however I did note from retrospect that Chan-mi also wore her patent worrying with a face of ire and grievance. It was an aspect that Haru shared with his mother, alongside their volatile tempers. "Really, that boy," She sighed under her breath. "Goes off on his own without telling a word," and offhandedly, muttering: "like his father."

"His father," I brought up, crumbling away her vexation with that of surprise. "He doesn't live here, does he?"

"No, my lady," her words were spoken in a placid-mannered tone, though to my ears, they left her lips in a quiet hiss. "He never did."

—

"His mother died."

"Is Dae-ho . . . is he doing well?"

"I'm afraid," Se-hun said, his head hanging low. "I don't know."

"Se-hun," I took a step forward, waiting and waiting, "when will he come back?"

However even the answer turned to ashes in his mouth.

"I don't know."

—

The days lagged on, slowly. I didn't see Haru as often, his mouth sealed in solemn resolution.

He couldn't even hold a solid glance at me. "Not now, Li. Another time."

Another time, I clutched onto the promise, molded it into a hopeful star upon my lips, until the words aged with time and the lie burnt itself black on my tongue. Because that boy had always been a terrible liar—I knew it and he knew it too, in his regret.

—

Perhaps, it was my impatience that made me storm to my father's study.

"Father, it's been weeks," I cried out, nearly losing all my composure. "I'm concerned about him. He isn't responding to my letters."

"He lost a dear person, Lili. Give him time," Father continued to write stoically. "A man needs to grieve."

But. My lips thinned into a taut line, remembering Se-hun's hesitant words like coarse sand chafed against my knees.

"I heard rumors of a drunkard, while some claim the man was cursed rabid and hysterical, as if he were possessed . . ."

"How about the man responsible for his mother's death, shouldn't that person be—"

"That is a different matter," Father's tone cut, bone-deep. "You shouldn't concern yourself over such things."

—

I waited for him in the stables that night. Even Rihito didn't appreciate the boy's absence.

The horse neighed. I drew in a breath.

"I know, Ri-Ri. Maybe, he'll talk tomorrow."

—

Even in my dreams, there was no such thing as respite.

There was a great storm. It made even the ocean such a wrathful god from all the wild stirrings from the skies, the strong gust swirling in the air like a stream of serpents. Then surged the crash of waves, tall and powerful as mountains, and the clash and collapse of the currents, overlapping and overcoming, as the violent waters threatened to consume me whole. From the clap of thunder above, the chasm that clutched underneath, the salt in my tongue, and the prayers in my breaths; the ancient seas raged and roiled still, against the heavens, against the earth, against the winds, against the fires.

Yet in this rain and hail, on this high stone I clung onto from the grit of my nails, I reached and reached desperately for that hand in the midst of it all. It was close, then it was far, so far, so distant from the shores, from this stubborn rock, as that hand drifted and dragged and drowned into those dark depths.

Here I was, for so long, unable to even grasp that hand.

The world sunk, despite it all.

—

"You look troubled for some time now," said Mother, padding towards me near the windowsill. "Look, sweetling. I bought you a new hairpin," she handed the ornament to me, complimenting: "the pearls are from the waters of Isoei Isle."

I inspected it between my palms. The hairpin wasn't garish. Simple as it was, the milky-blue lacquer of each plum blossom was rare; wrought over with silver and saltwater pearls that my mother loved to thread in her hair. Another token of affection, another trinket to store in my chest. My fingers curled on a petal from the tail-end of the ornament, pearls winking in cream and pale gold. I affected a smile. "This is very lovely."

"It is, isn't it?" Mother beamed, as if she had done it for my sake, and gestured to my hair: "may I?"

I nodded complacently.

Her hands wove through my locks; they were gently tugged and smoothened by the fine teeth of a jade comb. "Would you like to visit Lady Yong-hi with me?" Mother proposed as she started to twist a portion of my hair. "Soo-won must have missed you," she then added, after having spotted the untouched letter on my table, "he even wrote to you."

And it was unanticipated, Soo-won's letter—and all the inked amity that must have been poured into it. I reflected then, of what could have waited for me in Jinsei; the roads slick with mud, and hanging above its slopes of mountains, and fertile plains, and high roofs were the pre-winter rains. The air would be cold, the grass dewed, and a thick fog would settle over a tall hill, silhouetting the pale castle on top of it. The Lady would have anticipated for our arrival, smiling her bright smiles, reciting poem verses in foreign. That boy would have been there. Perhaps hesitant, perhaps thrilled, when he invites me to a game of shogi and a cup of tea. I would see his eyes again, eyes like the seas, like the skies, crystalline and brilliant and full of youth.

However I would also see a pair in jade green and charcoal, bleeding into one, reminding—and how it stung to be reminded, to remain tethered over the sentiment and the unvoiced dread that came with it. "I," my breath caught in my throat. "I don't want to leave."

Sliding in the hairpin, Mother told me in earnest, "You are unhappy here," she looked at me, and there was something consoling in her blue eyes, as if she understood all the weight I carried in my chest. A mother's stare, I knew. I ached. "In Jinsei, you seem livelier," she said in a tender voice, "and you have a friend there."

But she didn't understand, after all.

"I-it's not that," I began reluctantly. "I—"

I've always had a friend here.

Holding back, I breathed in and spoke, "I'm fine, Mother," the words were driven out of my mouth, and perhaps, it was rather insensitive of me to admit, how lying had always been a viable option when it came to my mother. "I . . . don't want to leave."

"All right."

With a heavy sigh, Mother tried to smile. She always did, for my sake. "However it saddens me when you always wear that look," her fingers pushed back a stray strand behind my ear. As she pulled me into a sudden embrace, she tried to reach out for me and I let her. I wish I could have tried harder. "I'm always here, Lili," she cooed to my ear, keeping me close. "You can tell me anything."

Yet I couldn't.

—

"You must be curious now," the head matron of the Nancho House remarked. Yoseop stood behind her, as if to remain as a witness in our secret meeting. "It's in your eyes, pretty. He's kept some things from you, apparently," and then, in a persuasive voice: "would you like to know?"

Seeking confirmation, I drawled out, "Is there. . ."

"A price," finished Madam Moon, her eyes glowing from the lamplight as with flickers of ember amidst ash. "Everything always has a price, little Cho Lin," upon imparting that piece of advice, my hand readily tossed a purse at her table. It hadn't been necessary to inspect its contents when there was a heavy brattle from its collision on the wood. Even the purse alone was worth more than ten silver pieces. It was a small expenditure to the An Clan's fortune after all. The Madam, however, simply clarified in the mildest of tones: "but there's no need for such."

I raised a brow at her direction. "Do you require some other payment then?"

Madam Moon smiled. It was one full of veiled meaning. "As of now, I'll be considerate. I am not always such a heartless woman, you know," she said this with a hand poised on her chest. "Besides, I find myself quite fond of you. Come back again here, if you are able. That is what I only ask."

I would have questioned her intentions though I pushed the thought aside. "All right," I complied, hoping I could remain as collected in our confrontation.

"Very well," Madam Moon delighted at my answer. For a time, she then sighed, musing to herself. "There is nothing truly interesting about the tale, to be honest. Ama was a mere patron here, even when he used to be a soldier," she went on, "and he, too, is that boy's father."

—

Maybe one day, I'd let myself believe I was flying.

Fluttering out the blue wings of my sleeves, swooping down frost-coated streets with artless grace—and falling in a nosedive, stumbling from my cumbersome dress, but I lifted myself from the ground, heaved a breath, pushed the weight off my chest. My legs sprung on a full sprint. I soared.

The snow fell earlier this year. It flaked atop my hair and crunched beneath my shoes. It burned, too. Burned against the skin of my palms and cheeks; nothing like the hot sting I felt beneath my rushing feet. It was a biting cold and it singed against flesh, after running frantically in search; the cold seeping through my clothes, whipping at them with lashing winds.

Everything at the moment felt vaguely nostalgic; small footprints, fallen snow, and chasing—wild reckless chasing, a game of tag and hurtling misshapen snowballs. Only that it wasn't, and that I wasn't going after that boy because he wanted me to hightail after him all the way to the borders of the city. I panted, tamping in a coughing fit. I was close. My eyes shone from the distant image of Suiko's massive gates, painted and glossed over with ice. Carriages lined themselves near stalls. Carters and travelers bundled up for winter and packed themselves for their journey.

And then finally, I found him.

For a heartbeat, I felt relief. However, a dark tremor sown itself within me, its vicious roots gnarling over my chest, squeezing it, at the sight of him; unaware, his back turned, with only but a bag to accompany him. For that, I really hated him as well, and while I could have careened towards him, blasting out a plethora of harmless hits and curses and chides, my hand bent down and aimed a snowball at him. It landed on his head, satisfyingly so.

Haru took it unpleasantly, swerving back with a riled fist. That was until he saw me, and that the very edges of his wrath melted off him, softened the sharp glare of his eyes to lead and something in-between disappointment and buried guilt. After sending a quick word to a carriage driver, he strode up to me. Before I knew it, I was being dragged to a private corner, away from the carriage. A jacket was hurled and wrapped sloppily all over my shivering form.

"What're you doing here, Li?" Haru demanded, clicking his tongue. "Damn, of all the days. . . you're not even trying to hide who you are," he motioned at my regal attire, lacking a dull disguise. I would have argued it wouldn't matter, since no one recognized me and I would have simply passed off as another highborn child.

"I came here for you, you jerk," I replied, low and livid. "You were going to run away!"

Equally enraged, Haru cut in. "I wasn't. Who even told you I was—that's not the point, you're not supposed to be here!"

My voice found its strength in the bottled anger I never realized I had the chance to unleash. Taking a step forward, I pointed at him. "You too! You're not supposed to be out here, thinking you can just run off somewhere at this time! What would your mother think?"

"I don't care what she thinks!" Haru hollered out before he registered my words. His hands planted themselves on my arms. "Ma's just going to. . . shit, Li. Did you tell her? Did you?"

"For your sake, no," I told him, unwavering. "Because you're coming back with me."

His face hardened, eyes stubborn. "I'm not, Li. I mean it," Haru said sternly, about to walk away from me. "Go home. I don't expect you to understand anyway."

"That's because you're not talking to me!"

"Well, it's not like this is your conce—"

"Don't dare say it, Haru," I shook there, irrepressibly; something was boiling, breaking, in me, like a weatherworn dam, and the currents only pushed and pushed through. It felt like drowning all over again, my throat choking for air. "It's," my voice cracked, certain for a fraction, "it's my concern too."

Until I crashed down, and all the calm confidence in me seeped out from its fissures. My sight blurred and the salt burned from my lashes; it was really difficult to blink, to breathe properly, when there's all this rain and rapture building up inside. I was so tired of it, being shoved away, disregarded, and kept far from the problem to protect me—to protect themselves, or whatever wretched truth they were hiding.

"Hey," I hated it, how this boy could wear that crushed look in his eyes. He seemed to fumble, too, because he was failing and trying all the same. Maybe hoping, he could reach just enough. Firm hands on my shoulders, he closed our distance, consoling me out of it. "Li, don't make me go through this . . . don't cry. I'm sorry, okay?" and he meant it, almost chipping away himself: "I'm really sorry."

I was harshly rubbing my eyes. They still burned. "I'm not crying," I denied, and it was a pathetic attempt. Everything still convulsed and it was a little hard to think straight from the tightness of my throat, lips pulled taut because of the trembling. "It's just cold," I sniffed, "but you don't have to go too, you know."

"But I have to," Haru said, backing his words with conviction. "I need to, Li."

"Dae-ho also went to where you're going," I explained, reliving the spent days in his absence. The warning in Pyong-ho's words about Nairiso plagued me then. "He didn't come back. Father hadn't done anything about it. I can't—it's just that . . . it's not safe for you," I admitted, wavering, "what if you. . ."

Sighing under his breath, Haru looked at me in assurance. "You're not going to lose me," his mouth lifted a little; the tilt wasn't as cocky as it should, but it tried, anyway. "I'll kick ass."

Really, this kid. I would have chuckled, but opted to simper instead. "I'm only saying you don't have to risk so much."

"Yeah," Haru nodded, understanding. "But I guess I'm just dumb like that."

"You're not dumb," I corrected him. "He must be really important."

"Yeah, he is," his gaze then longingly stared ahead to an immeasurable distance, to a specter maybe.

"But what if," I interjected, "it's not what you expected it to be?"

"Then," Haru sucked in a cold breath. "I guess I'll know."

I pursed my lips together. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Bobbing his head, Haru quirked the corners of his mouth up. "Li, you. . ." until his dark eyes pulsed wide, staring in panic behind me. "Li!"

A stranger's hand on my collar. An interval of struggle, a cloth gagged on my mouth, a throbbing pain from my skull.

And then everything was dark and everything was sunken.

Exposition corner:

The Council: also known as the Purple Council, it is the highest governmental organ, comprising of the Grand Counsellor (highest bone-rank; chief adviser to the King) and the four Ministers; Affairs, Treasury, War (Sky General), and Courts. They advise and discuss Kouka's matters of policy and their areas of expertise to the King. This differs greatly from the Council of Tribes, which consists of the five Tribe Generals (provincial governors) that discuss about territory and the external affairs of the country; while the Council of Tribes is slightly higher than the Purple Council, the latter is usually the one that internally oversees Kouka.

I'll try my best not making this too complicated because I really had to take notes for this one and correct myself from my previous PGC classes. Basically, everything's a bastardization and mixture of a Heian court rank system and bureaucracy, as well as Korean Silla's bone-rank system. Well, with major alterations, but you get the picture.

(Just an overview for now; will be discussed in detail in future chapters.)

Courtesans and Prostitutes:

Koukan Courtesans are more comparable to Korean kisaeng and a bit of Japanese oiran. They are educated and trained in the art of performance; those mainly being dancing, singing, playing an instrument, tea ceremony, poem-reciting, and hosting. All courtesans are literate, some are even excellent in poetry writing – Kaisho poetry, in particular. Politicians, scholars, poets, and even philosophers are said to visit their brothels to share their company, mostly for their intellect than entertainment.

As we all know it, courtesans do wear wigs in order to flaunt their beauty and enhance their appearance. Hair is a big thing in Kouka; so the thicker and healthier the hair, the more beautiful you are. Wigs help with that. Why it isn't a common thing with nobility as a fashionable trend is because they desire kempt natural hair and are very prudish when it comes to purity and propriety. There's a reason why it's highly raved in the aristocracy to wear sterling metals and jewels in their hair, aside from showing off status, and that's because those materials (gold, silver, jade, etc.) are considered pure (Of course, it wasn't, but people in this time period didn't know any better).

So when it comes to a courtesan's hairstyle, it comes off semi-elaborate. Top half of the hair is styled ostentatiously while the lower half is left unbound. The reason behind that is because a courtesan is a fully-fledged woman but unmarried, while committing sexual acts. The unbound hair loosely signifies a fallen woman, though not necessarily because courtesans are redeemable due to their education and skills in the arts.

The markings on their foreheads signify status in their establishment. The status of a courtesan is loosely based from how the ranking worked in an Edo-Yoshiwara brothel. There are two top tier ranks: the Lotus Mistress and the Peony Mistress. They wear the flowers they are named after on their foreheads, painted in red or gold. The former is the highest ranked courtesan while the latter is the second-highest ranked one. These two should be comparable to desirable celebrities.

The lower ranks are as follows: the Rose Mistress, the Orchid Mistress, and the Plum Blossom Mistress. Like the top tier ranks, they wear the flowers they are named after. The Rose Mistress and the Orchid Mistress's markings are painted in pink or purple. They are less popular and often deal with the more risqué jobs.

On the other hand, the Plum Blossom Mistress is a courtesan who is about to make her debut, aged in the years fourteen to twenty. One may refer to her as an 'apprentice courtesan' and is often sought after by male patrons, bid for having to share one night in her bed. The pay is high due to the Plum Blossom Mistress being a virgin. Her markings are painted in soft blue. Outgrowing her status, she either exceeds in the top tier ranks or fall on the one of the lower ranks.

When it comes to other employees within the brothel such as dancers, waitresses, and bathhouse workers (popularly called as Water lilies), some do partake in illegal prostitution. However this highly depends on the establishment. There are cases that employees don't engage in sexual acts. Male prostitutes also exist for certain preferences, though they serve their roles more as prostitutes than entertainers. They paint a bird marking on their forehead in green.

Apologies for the long info dump. It's just that there's going to be a time where we're going to handle the complicated dealings of prostitution in future chapters and that at least you have a chapter to go back to when you need some info about it.

(Yeah, and I'm so not sorry about the dark implications and transition we are heading with this. . .)

Guest: 'my other point is that the progression is really damn slow.' 'i get it that it's there to clear up misunderstandings and all but not everyone's going to read through thick paragraphs of exposition. while i appreciate the new stuff, i'm just saying to not always rely on info dumps.'

I do welcome criticism so I appreciate how blunt this one is. However I would like to clarify some things; firstly, I did mention that this will be a slow burn, considering that I am introducing a load of characters and a world before heading straight to the canon plot. Though I do understand if the pacing isn't your cup of tea. I'm having slight issues with it myself, but I hope you give it some time. Things will get faster after I've established some important happenings.

Secondly, about the exposition corner, it's optional. It's not a requirement for anyone to read. It's there because there are a lot of things I have to cut out from the actual story and the last thing I want is to hinder the flow of the story through unnecessary exposition. That's why there's an exposition corner; just some additional info and details about the world. Besides, the exposition I already wrote in my chapters is already enough.

Guest: 'what the hell is up with tae jun'

If you find him off, the best thing I could say is that you're on the right track.

A/N: Happy New Year! As usual, the chapter's unedited and rushed. Will edit later after sleep. Might change some bits if I feel like it. Not supposed to leave an author's note for this one, but as to keep everyone updated:

Bad news: I may be going into a terribly long hiatus by mid-January. I still have to deal with my thesis by then, and welp, I'm graduating (hopefully). By the time, I'm seriously unsure when I'll come back. There's a lot on my plate right now and it sucks.

Good news: Well, while I'm out, I'm willing to make up for it for someone asking me a question or two about anything, and umm, I'd like to interact with my readers so, please, go ahead! Also, since it's still my break, I might update a chapter before my hiatus comes up, but it's tentative and it'll most likely be short.

Aside from that, all of your opinions about Tae-jun is . . . interesting. He won't show up now, but do watch out for him. He'll have a special role in this story, eventually. No Soo-won for now (he's gotten quite popular here, wow). At this point in the timeline, he's about to go through his own problems. Lili's going to have a very hard time. Haru has a lot of explaining to do. Dae-ho is still MIA.

You're all lovely and wonderful! For that, I have a surprise in the next chapter! Everything's a conflated mess at the moment, but it'll fall into place soon. Anyways, thank you for the amazing feedback!