BSMF | 09

~Chapter 09~

 Without even knowing what kind of woman you are

The gisaeng arrived at the guild and began her preparations with the help of her attendants.

Over her body, which had been freed from her Western-style clothes, layers of hanbok were draped.

Both the jeogori (jacket) and chima (skirt) were cloud-like white, but the translucent jeogori was embroidered with small yellow butterflies like stars.

Her hair, braided into a single plait, was rolled into a round shape and fixed with ornate hair accessories.

Her face was pale and smooth, her eyebrows long and straight, and her lips a vivid red.

Yet there wasn’t even a hint of a smile on her lips.

The gentle expression she might show when facing Woo-geon had vanished; only a cold, icy look remained.

“Shall we go?”

Finally ready, the gisaeng took a step forward. Other gisaengs followed in line behind her.

“We’re ready to depart.”

The rickshaws carrying them sped through the streets of Gyeongseong.

They arrived at Songhwa-gwan, a popular restaurant alongside Pyeongchun-gwan, frequently visited by gisaengs from the city’s guilds.

“Let’s go in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her silk shoes pressed softly on the floor as she entered.

Without guidance, the gisaeng walked confidently through the corridors, her path revealed by the harsh voices and the distant sight of policemen.

At last, she stopped. The gisaengs behind her silently took their places.

The policemen guarding the doorway counted the gisaengs before announcing:

“The gisaengs from the Gyeongseong guild have arrived.”

“Let them in.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the sliding doors opened smoothly, everyone inside gasped at her appearance.

She raised her butterfly-like lashes and scanned the room.

The room was filled with members of the Imperial Diet, high-ranking police officers, shareholders of the Oriental Development Company, a military police colonel, and Tairo Sosuke.

“Your neck must be tired. How long will you stand there?”

Sosuke’s crooked voice reached her.

It was like a beast’s growl—wild, untamed, ready to bite anyone who defied him.

The gisaeng suppressed the tension in her brows and led the others inside.

“Waiting must have been tiresome. Shall I amuse you first?”

“If you can, it would be courteous to try.”

With a nod, she signaled the gisaengs to move in unison.

All but the musician lined up for the performance.

The gisaeng stood in the center, looking like a celestial being wrapped in clouds, mysterious and ethereal.

Her voice flowed melodiously, accompanied only by the janggu drum.

Her rhythm, as if she herself were the instrument, seemed to control the very air.

When the gayageum began, the other gisaengs danced in perfect harmony around her.

Their movements gathered and scattered like clouds, mesmerizing everyone in the room.

Only Sosuke watched her like prey.

At last, the dance ended.

Unlike the others who sat where they were directed, she walked steadily to Sosuke’s side.

Everyone knew she was his favorite gisaeng.

“I told you I hate waiting.”

It was troubling that Sosuke could be cruel even to his own gisaeng.

“I only came at the appointed time.”

“I know exactly when you’ll arrive.”

“I didn’t intend to offer extra payment, colonel…”

Bam!

Sosuke slammed his glass down.

The sudden crash drew the attention of everyone in the room.

“You’re late because you were preparing for me?” he growled, grabbing her hair and pulling her forward.

No one dared stop him.

“Make all your actions and thoughts revolve around me,” he said.

His twisted obsession was apparent.

“Then everything will be easier for you.”

Even as he glared, she didn’t flinch. Her gaze met his directly—something only she could do.

“I treat all my clients equally.”

“Then that teacher of yours is just another client?”

Her icy eyes wavered for the first time, hearing Woo-geon’s name here.

“Recently, there have been rumors about you and that teacher.”

“Most rumors in Gyeongseong are nonsense.”

“Three out of seven may involve you.”

A chill ran through her. She thought he ignored gossip, but when it concerned her, he reacted.

“If I see the truth with my own eyes, that teacher will die by my hand.”

She knew he meant it. His obsessive attachment had been proven countless times.

She concealed her unease.

“Don’t spill unnecessary blood. It will only harm you.”

“I’ve been like this for years.”

His fingers traced the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

“You’re already tainted. One or two more won’t matter.”

He pressed his lips to her glass, forcing her to taste strong liquor. She frowned.

“If you want to protect someone, stay out of my sight. I will destroy everything.”

Sosuke finally released her and drank the rest of his glass, leaving without a word.

The sliding door closed with a thud.

Those left behind breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

“Are you hurt?”

She quietly wiped her lips and scolded the gisaengs.

“Don’t make a fuss. Sit down. There are still guests.”

Despite the violence, she remained calm. Today was actually a quiet day for her; otherwise, the room would have been overturned by now.

“I’ll fix myself quickly.”

She stood up, and no one tried to stop her.

Alone in the corridor after closing the door, she let out the tension she’d held in.

Her eyes, sharp and cold, stared down the empty hall.

Unable to release her anger, she bit her lip.

“Filthy beast. I will make you suffer as much as you have.”

Her lips finally stained red with blood.

Spitting on the floor, she disappeared into a dark corner.

Late at night.

Hak-je collapsed into a chair as soon as he returned home.

He sighed deeply, exhausted from a day full of activity.

Since arriving in Joseon, he hadn’t rested for even a single day, so returning home always left him drained.

His expensive suit was crumpled, but he didn’t care.

He just wanted to relax.

After a long pause, he slowly opened his eyes.

The constant laughter from earlier was gone, leaving only quiet loneliness.

“Joseon… is such a chaotic country.”

After dealing with countless people for business, he always thought the same thing:

Those who lose their country and accept it as normal, or those desperate to profit from it—their shameless cruelty was astonishing.

Watching them, he thought humans were nothing but beasts in disguise.

Those oppressed by such people were the only ones he felt sorry for.

“Of course, it’s not really my concern.”

He only needed to achieve his goals here and return to his homeland.

All that mattered to him were the benefits he could gain for his business.

“Why did my mother want to return here so badly…”

He thought of his mother, who had longed for her homeland until her last breath.

At the time, young Hak-je didn’t understand why she couldn’t just go.

He didn’t know that her inability to leave, even from a tiny room, was because of his grandfather.

His grandfather was ambitious in business.

His mother, a descendant of independence activists, was a hindrance.

To protect her, his father, too weak to resist, let her be confined.

Hence, the family business passed to him, the grandson, instead of his father.

‘If only I had been a bit older…’

Then maybe he could have helped his mother.

“…Useless thoughts.”

He smiled wryly. He resembled his grandfather too much to be a truly good person.

“Sir, you seem like a genuinely good person.”

He thought of So-hye.

Her pure face and clear gaze, their two chance encounters, and a memory from his childhood—her words pierced his heart like a thorn.

‘I will become a good person, I promise.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I am my mother’s son. I can promise her, unlike my father or grandfather, that I will be good.’

His mother always told him to be a good person.

Why did he see his mother in So-hye? He didn’t know.

“…Hah.”

Breathing deeply, he exhaled his anxiety.

Tap, tap, knock.

A small girl peeked through the door.

His little sister, Lin-jin, just turned eight, with short hair, a pale face, and large round eyes.

Hak-je smiled and picked her up, her light frame dangling in his arms.

“Still awake?”

She shook her head.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

• I heard you coming.

Lin-jin couldn’t speak due to a congenital throat issue, so she used gestures.

• Were you tired?

Seeing her hands, Hak-je realized how worn out he must have appeared.

He shook his head playfully.

“I’m fine now that I see you, Lin-jin.”

She pressed her hands to his face.

• Really?

“Yes, really. Now, let’s go to bed. It’s late.”

Carrying her upstairs, he let her rest her small head on his shoulder.

Her tiny hands patted his back gently.

“Seeing you gives me strength, Lin-jin.”

He smiled genuinely.

Click, click, tap.

In the research room, the typewriter clattered until dawn.

“Phew…”

Woo-geon removed his glasses, pressing his temples to ease the headache.

He glanced at the papers stacked beside the typewriter—an article for the school journal.

He compared the typed version with the handwritten original.

The manuscript was complete, perfect even, yet he typed it again carefully on a three-key typewriter supporting Esperanto and Japanese.

The expensive typewriter allowed him to exchange papers with entomologists abroad. Without it, he wouldn’t be the scholar he was today.

“Nothing missing…”

He checked the typed pages against the handwritten draft.

He noticed intentional errors in Esperanto wherever he had made handwritten corrections.

He didn’t fix them; these errors were secret codes for the Hanyeoldan, known only to senior members.

After a spy incident five years prior, Woo-geon devised this method.

But every time he sent orders via the journal, he felt guilty.

Most missions were extremely dangerous; success didn’t guarantee safety.

He sent his comrades into danger with his own hands.

If he could join them, perhaps the guilt would lessen.

He was tormented by having to send them into deadly missions while he remained safe.

The butterfly—his mission—was both duty and suffering.

‘Please see it as beautiful. Don’t see it as sad.’

So-hye’s words had once felt like sunlight to him.

Even a casual remark felt like salvation to Woo-geon.

“…Even if it’s just fleeing, it means I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

He closed his tired eyes, imagining a woman’s face smiling at him.

Her pale face and gentle smile seemed to float toward him like the wind.

“…I’ve missed you. Even without knowing what kind of woman you are.”