Disclaimer: The SKKS-verse belongs to the creators of Sungkyunkwan Scandal.

Author's Note: Yes, I am still alive and plugging away at this story despite writer's block and a ton of RL stuff that needed doing. Thank you to khairunnisa, icklebrina, and Christel Paris for reviewing the last chapter. I hope this is worth the wait!

Chapter Twelve

Panic gripped Iseul. Backing away from him, she almost gave in to the mad impulse to run when she remembered that Madam Park was still in the house. She looked around frantically. Where was her grandmother? How much did she know? Sensing her distress, Kyo-eul rushed to her side, every muscle on the alert.

"Don't worry," Yong-ha told her flatly. "Halmeonim is asleep. She said she felt a little tired and excused herself to take a nap before dinner. I am to stay and eat with you, of course."

"Did you say anything to her?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice low and even.

"Nothing about this."

Well, that was a small relief. She forced herself to take a few calming breaths. "How did you know?"

"I recognized your mark." He gestured curtly at a painting hanging on the wall. Hwa-jae's flame burned in one corner.

"Ah," Iseul said, wincing. She had signed the minhwa that way in error and, rather than risk a clumsy cover-up, decided to keep the piece and just paint a new one for her client. She did not know then that she would pay dearly for the mistake.

"Is this why you knew to put your tongue in my mouth?"

She felt her face grow warm and covered up her discomfiture with a scowl. "Why are you bringing that up again?"

Yong-ha flushed as well, but ignored the question. If she thought she could divert the discussion away from herself, she was sadly mistaken. "Just how much have you lied to your grandmother?" he demanded. "She goes on and on about what a good girl you are. Are you truly as innocent as you seem?"

Iseul gasped in outrage and raised a hand to slap him. She would have struck him, too, if Kyo-eul hadn't lunged towards Yong-ha, forcing her to divert her efforts towards restraining the dog. "I am a painter, not a prostitute," she bit out as she pulled on Kyo-eul's collar. The dog subsided with a low growl. "And if you ever insinuate anything like that about me again, I'll kill you."

"All right, all right," he said, holding up his hands in surrender and feeling oddly relieved by her extreme reaction. Surely the death threat meant that she was telling the truth. "I'm sorry."

"And what about you?" she accused, feeling too wronged to dignify the apology with a response. "If you know who Hwa-jae is, then you must be familiar with my work. Obviously, you're not as innocent as you seem, either."

"Well, I'm a man."

"And my grandmother and I need to survive. If I must know a little more than might be proper about certain things so that we can have a roof over our heads and food on our table, then so be it."

"But don't you have—" Another realization dawned on Yong-ha. "The money you're earning as Hwa-jae is your 'inheritance,' isn't it?" After witnessing how the Mas treated her, it was clear to him that they would never settle anything on her out of the goodness of their hearts.

Iseul nodded briefly. "It pays for a lot of things—including the clothes I order from you."

He sighed. He'd had a feeling she would say that. "Well... I hope you're being discreet, at least?"

"Of course. Only the servants know, and they would never tell anyone." She hesitated, realizing that she now needed to ask him a favor. "You—you'll have to keep this a secret, too."

"I don't have much of a choice, do I? I can't have it become known that I'm betrothed to a woman who paints naughty pictures for a living."

"Then let's stop," she blurted out. She wished she hadn't said the words from the moment they came out of her mouth, but there was no taking them back. "We can call it off right now. It was never real to begin with, anyway."

Yong-ha frowned. "We can't do that right now—Halmeonim thinks I'm here to visit you. And you still haven't met my friends."

"Then we should probably start thinking about when we should end this, since my little sideline bothers you so much."

"It doesn't—" Breaking off abruptly, he winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was beginning to hurt. "I don't suppose you've ever considered ending your 'little sideline,' have you?"

Iseul had had a feeling he would say that. Unfortunately, it was out of the question. "Of course," she told him. "And I decided that I would stop when I'm certain that my grandmother is set for life."

That proved to be the last word in the discussion, for Kyo-eul suddenly barked and and started towards the door. They then heard female voices drifting through the still night air, growing louder as the women came closer.

"The agasshi is back, Halmeonim," the Kims' housekeeper informed Madam Park as she escorted the old woman, fresh from her nap, into the room.

"Hello, Halmeonim," Iseul greeted her, forcing some cheer in her voice. "Yong-ha said you were feeling tired and had to lie down."

"I feel better now that I've had some rest," her grandmother assured her, and chuckled. "I was sure that you and Yong-ha wouldn't have any trouble entertaining yourselves."

She blushed. "We were just talking. Weren't we?" she asked Yong-ha, turning away from the newcomers to shoot him a warning glance.

He arched an eyebrow in reply. "You were talking," he corrected her. "I was wondering if I could steal a kiss before dinner."

The older women giggled at the audacious remark and Iseul's cheeks flamed hotter. "I suppose you'll have to try again another time," she told her "betrothed" with false sweetness. "Now, you were just about to tell me—to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Although they managed to maintain a good front for Madam Park's benefit, the visit was nevertheless thick with tension for the "couple." Iseul did not begin to calm down until much later that night, well after Yong-ha's departure.

The gifts he had brought did little to help. Even though she could appreciate the sumptuousness of her new winter jeogori and its matching cap, she also could not forget the infuriatingly insulting things he had said when he confronted her with her secret.

Her reasons for becoming Hwa-jae were perfectly valid, she told herself. Her earnings from teaching and painting the occasional minhwa were simply not enough to support the household, so she found a way to augment her income. Surely, an astute businessman would come to understand that.

Besides, it was not as though she was doing anything, well, terribly immoral. Knowing more than the average unmarried woman usually does about the act of love was not the same as actually putting this knowledge into practice.

She took some more deep, calming breaths. There was no point in getting angry all over again. Iseul had already done all the explaining she cared to do; and even though Yong-ha apparently disapproved and could have denounced her to her grandmother at any time during his visit, he had said nothing.

Hwa-jae was safe... for now.

Yong-ha, too, did not begin to recover from the shock of his discovery until after he had arrived home and retired to his room. "What a night," he muttered, sinking to the floor.

Playing at being in love with Iseul was easy enough by now, but that night, it had been difficult to carry on as usual. He might have been able to forget, even just for a little while, about their debacle of a kiss; but trying to forget her secret identity was another thing altogether.

He shook his head, still not quite able to believe it. Anyone who looked at his "betrothed"—especially before she had seen the light and come to him for some much-needed fashion advice—would never imagine that the frugal, hardworking young woman was also one of Joseon's most celebrated erotic artists. It had certainly never occurred to him, even though he knew how enterprising Iseul was. Decent women didn't do such things.

Most decent women, anyway, Yong-ha amended, frowning even as he felt relieved all over again. Although she was not selling her body along with her paintings, Iseul had made it clear that she would rather end their "betrothal" rather than stop painting as Hwa-jae.

Somehow that was a little hard to swallow.

After a seemingly endless wait, the day on which Yong-ha would present his "betrothed" to the rest of the Jalgeum Quartet had finally arrived. As hostess of this momentous occasion, Yoon-hee and her household servants were in a flurry of activity, cleaning the house, preparing that evening's feast, and ensuring that the children were presentable.

"I hope she's nice," Yoon-hee said to her husband as they dressed for the party.

"Why wouldn't she be nice?" he asked, donning his second-best overcoat.

"I don't know... I suppose I find it a bit strange that Yeo-rim sa-hyung waited so long to introduce us to her."

"Well, we're all busy," Sun-joon pointed out. "He's still working to get the Chamber of Commerce established, isn't he? And he said that his betrothed gives painting lessons. I imagine that doesn't leave her a lot of free time, either."

"He also refuses to tell us anything about her personality," she added, "so I don't know what to expect." She inspected her reflection and made a face, although she did not do so in reaction to her appearance. "What if she's horrible?"

"He wouldn't ask her to marry him if she was horrible."

"You'll never know," she insisted. "People can do crazy things when they're in love."

Sun-joon couldn't help but smile at that. They both knew quite a bit about doing strange things in the name of love. Nevertheless, he felt obligated to temper his wife's expectations. "Well, if he is in love with this woman, then she must have some redeeming qualities. It is our duty as Yeo-rim sa-hyung's friends to find them."

Yoon-hee sighed. He had a valid point, but she could not help but have some misgivings especially after having to wait so long to be introduced. "Do you have to be this reasonable all the time?" she complained, pouting.

He grinned and bent down to kiss his wife's forehead. "Someone has to keep you out of trouble."

As Yoon-hee made sure one last time that everything was ready for the night's festivities, the guests of honor were suffering through a tense ride towards the Lee home.

Yong-ha tried to take a deep breath, regretting that he hadn't thought to borrow his mother's palanquin for Iseul to use. If he had done so, then she wouldn't need to ride pillion behind him. She wouldn't be so close. "Please lower your arms," he said. "Waist level is still appropriate, remember?"

"Sorry," she replied, carefully lowering her arms until her thumb brushed the knot in his belt.

"And could you please not hold on so tightly? I can't breathe."

"Sorry," she said again.

"I didn't mean you should let go! It's dark here. What if something happens to the horse and you fall off?

"Ouch!" Yong-ha yelped suddenly, just managing to keep from startling his horse and making his worst-case scenario a reality. "What did you do that for?" he complained, rubbing the spot in his side where she had prodded him and glaring at her over his shoulder.

Iseul glared back. "I know you're angry with me, Gu Yong-ha, but if you're going to argue with me over every little thing tonight, you won't have to worry about me falling off—I'm going to get off, on my own, and walk back home."

Yong-ha opened his mouth to retort, then closed it. "Sorry," he said finally. "I'm not angry with you. I'm just nervous about tonight, that's all. Now, could you please hold on to me before you fall off?"

"Are you sure you're not angry with me?" Iseul's arms went around him again; hopefully it meant that she wasn't going to make good on her threat to leave. "Not even about... that thing you found out recently?"

He cleared his throat and turned his eyes back to the road. "Let's not talk about that right now. I'm still trying to get over the shock. Why don't we just concentrate on getting through this evening?"

"I don't see why you're so worried about this evening. They're your friends, aren't they?"

"Yes, but still. This is the first time I'm introducing them to a woman."

"Our betrothal isn't real," she reminded him.

"Even so," he insisted, "I want things to go well."

"I'm sure everything will be fine," Iseul said, wishing she felt as confident as she sounded. She wasn't going to admit it, but she wanted things to go well, too. After all, who wanted to waste an entire evening feeling disliked? "We've had lots of practice pretending in front of Halmeonim. How hard could this be?"

To Sun-joon's satisfaction and Iseul's relief, no one at the gathering that night turned out to be horrible. There was some initial awkwardness as everyone became acquainted, but soon the women were were chatting, laughing, and teasing the men with the easy familiarity of old friends.

Iseul was glad that the wives were friendly—Yong-ha said that they had been especially keen to meet her—and that their husbands followed their lead. Even their host's children, who had joined them briefly before the meal was served, seemed to like her well enough. Hopefully, the cordial treatment meant that they deemed her worthy. At the very least, she did not have to endure their obvious dislike on top of the tension that had arisen between her and her "betrothed" due to certain recent events.

"How interesting that the two of you met when you went to the shop to order clothes!" said Lady Cha, who was married to Yong-ha's closest friend. "Who could have imagined that you would go on a simple errand like that and end up falling in love?"

"Is that so big a surprise?" Yong-ha preened, buffing his nails on his bright purple overcoat. "Clearly, my beloved has impeccable taste, both in clothes and in men. Work with me here, Geol-oh," he added when Lady Cha's husband snorted.

"I suppose I shouldn't try to scare her off until it's too late," the other man said with a crooked grin.

Lord Lee, their host for the evening, shook his head indulgently at his friends' antics and sought to keep the conversation going. "Our senior says you are a painting teacher," he said to Iseul.

"She's the best in Joseon," her "betrothed" interjected. "You won't believe how talented she is."

"I'm afraid he exaggerates, my lord," Iseul said with a self-conscious chuckle. He sounded sincere, but she couldn't help but wonder if there was a barb hidden in the compliment. "I just do my best, that's all."

"How do you like teaching?" asked their hostess, Lady Kim (who was apparently a very distant relative). Yong-ha had mentioned that she and her husband were professors at Sungkyunkwan University.

"I think it's very fascinating," Iseul replied. "All of my students learn the same basics—philosophy, technique, that sort of thing—and yet no two of their paintings have ever come out alike. The way a person sees things plays a very big role in the end result."

"Oh, I know just what you mean! I've always wondered at how differently each student can interpret the exact same lecture. No two of their essays ever turn out the same." The other woman laughed. "Well, they do sometimes, but only because they copy answers from each other."

She laughed, too. "A teacher's life is never boring. That's probably why I've kept at it for the past several years, and I don't think I'll ever stop."

"Not even after you and Yong-ha are married?" Lady Cha asked curiously.

That brought Iseul up short. "I, ah... we actually haven't discussed it yet," she improvised, "but I always thought I would keep on working even after our wedding." She glanced at her "betrothed." "That—that's all right, isn't it?"

Put on the spot, Yong-ha managed to stammer, "Y-y-yes! Of course it is! I mean," he added, "my income will be more than enough to support us, but it's not a bad idea for you to have some money of your own."

"Your mother won't mind?"

"She probably will," he admitted, then smiled. "But my father won't."

He was quite sure his father really wouldn't mind having a working woman for a daughter-in-law, Yong-ha thought as Yoon-hee started talking about how good it was for a woman to have interests outside of the home. Master Gu might not be as approving if he ever found out about Hwa-jae, but Yong-ha had a feeling that Iseul could somehow sway him. They seemed to have gotten along well at their one meeting, with his father asking about her teaching and even praising her on supporting a household on her own. Although he might not like her secret sideline, perhaps Master Gu would eventually accept it.

Yong-ha realized then that he himself seemed to be coming around. At least, he was slowly growing accustomed to the idea of Iseul drawing erotic illustrations to augment her income as a teacher. It was still disturbing to think that beneath her plain (well, maybe not so plain anymore, since she now wore his creations), virginal exterior lurked a woman of the world.

Maybe I shouldn't be thinking of things that lie beneath...

His heart gave a funny little lurch when Iseul's eyes met his. For a moment, he feared that she had read his mind, but then some of the others chuckled. "Did I miss anything?" he asked.

"I think the question should be what didn't you miss, sa-hyung," Yoon-hee teased. "If you were a student in my class, then this would earn you an automatic fail."

"I seem to recall him actually having a lot of those back when he was a student," Jae-shin snickered.

"That was all in your dreams, Geol-oh," Yong-ha managed to retort. "Because I seem to recall you sleeping through most of our classes."

"I hope this doesn't make you look less favorably on our senior, Teacher Kim," Sun-joon said to Iseul. "As you might have observed over the course of this evening, we tease each other a lot."

"It's all right," she replied, laughing. "I'm enjoying listening to all of you."

"It's more fun when you join in," Ka-hai told her.

"Maybe next time," Iseul demurred.

Yong-ha shot her a playful scowl. "You aren't threatening me, are you, my darling?"

"You can make of it what you will, sir," she answered with a smile.

He had seen his "betrothed" smile often enough in the past. There was nothing out of the ordinary in this particular smile—not in the curve of her lips, nor the dimple that appeared in one cheek, nor the hint of deviltry that flickered across her face whenever she smiled.

Nevertheless, he hiccuped.

"I like her," Ka-hai announced that night, after she and her husband had returned home, stopped by Minister Moon's study to bid him good night, checked on their children (all of whom were sleeping soundly), and finally retired to their bedchamber.

"Who?" asked Jae-shin, who was already abed and reading a book. "Yong-ha's betrothed?"

"Yes." She disappeared behind the screen that hid their washstand. "I think Iseul is just the kind of woman he needs."

"How do you know that?"

There was a pause characterized by much splashing of water, and then Ka-hai emerged again, wiping her face with a cloth. "Well, she's a bit more serious and down-to-earth than I imagined she would be," she said as she sat down before her cosmetic case. "I thought Yong-ha would choose to marry someone, well, more like him."

"He can be serious and down-to-earth," Jae-shin declared loyally. "At least, when it's absolutely necessary."

"Oh, I know that, but we must admit that he can also be rather flighty at times. Iseul's personality complements his nicely." She opened a small jar and began to pat its contents onto her cheeks. "It's a bit like breeding horses, you know? Sometimes you choose a sire and a dam to reinforce certain traits, other times you do so to balance them out."

He chuckled as he turned a page. As far as his wife was concerned, everything came back to horses.

"And most important of all," Ka-hai added after she had finished her nightly ablutions, "Yong-ha seems to like Iseul, too. He could barely take his eyes off her all night!"

She got into bed. Jae-shin put away his book and blew out the lamp. "Maybe she had dirt on her face. You know how he tends to fixate on things like that."

"I do, but there was nothing wrong with her face and he didn't look at her in that way. He seemed more... confused, I suppose."

"That's not very romantic."

"I think it's a good sign. Iseul's going to keep Yong-ha on his toes for sure."

He laughed and gathered his wife into his arms. Whatever she had put on her face smelled nice. "It's about time someone did."