Painting each person is a different experience. Painting an old lady makes her feel older. As though the years have gone by. The look in a grandmother’s eyes is much harder to portray because of that. How does one paint that depth of expression? How does one put the decades of experience on paper? At the same time, the experience is not only framed by age. It is also framed by the personality of her subject. For example, a person with a black heart will look mean in the portrait. Hence, some people will not like their portrait simply because they reflect too much negativity in their demeanour, a fact that Taenggu had learned the hard way when she first started this business.

The blessing and curse of Taenggu’s gift is the ability to depict exactly what she sees so in such cases, when she is sure her painting will offend, she will employ the use of what most wealthy people are shackled by—superstition and Feng shui—to get out of the fix.

“Bad luck will befall your household if you put up a new self-portrait in your house this year.”

“The portrait will clash with your qi. It will bring misfortune to you as a result.”

“It is inauspicious for you to get yourself painted right now. You will have to wait six months when the stars aligned once more.”

Key words like ‘inauspicious’ or ‘bad luck’ never fail. None of her customers have ever insisted on having a portrait done after hearing those words. A little bit of psychology is all it takes.

But psychology doesn’t seem to be holding up right now. Miyoung seems to be immune to Taenggu’s little mind games. In fact, Taenggu is now a living victim of Miyoung’s brand of mind games and she has no way out. Other than completing Young Mistress Lee’s portrait as quickly as she can, there is no other plausible plan at the moment and it unnerves her.

She has always had a way out. Even during the darkest hour of her life; when the furious flames ate up her home and everything else with it; when her parents were taken from her and killed. There had always been a way out. But not this time. Perhaps, she has finally met her match.

=

“Why can’t I look at it? I’m paying for it, aren’t I?”

“It’s a matter of principle. I wouldn’t want an unfinished portrait to be revealed.”

Young Mistress Lee her head to a side, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “What if I insist?”

“No one has insisted yet because they would like to be surprised by the completed portrait. But if you were to insist on looking at it, I would have to insist that you don’t.”

“So technically, you can’t stop me.”

“No, but I will try my best to stop you.”

“What if I were to ask for my money back if you won’t let me look at it?”

“Even the most impatient person I’ve ever painted managed to curb her urges and wait the three days it took to complete it.”

“I might be the first person you’ve ever painted who manages to sneak a peek at the unfinished portrait.”

Taenggu frowns. “I would be able to stop you from looking at it. But it will change my impression of you and it will affect the portrait adversely.”

“Is that . . . a veiled threat?”

“No, I am merely stating the facts. I paint by impression. That’s why my paintings are life-like and realistic to a fault. So if my impression is that of a lady who is obstinate and disrespectful of the art, the portrait will reflect that as well.”

“Okay. You have curbed my curiosity for today.”

“What about tomorrow?”

Young Mistress Lee flashes a smile that promises trouble. “Tomorrow is another day.”

Taenggu can only sigh. “Yes, tomorrow is another day.”

=

“Artist Kim, Young Mistress Hwang is waiting for you at the stables. Are you ready to go?”

Taenggu knows she can’t get out of this. She doesn’t want Lim Dayu to get into trouble because of her, so the only thing left to do is follow him.

Miyoung is already on a snow-white horse when she arrives. Sitting comfortably and holding the reins. Looking young and beautiful, Taenggu cannot take her eyes off Miyoung and the red and black riding suit she’s in but has to look away when Lim Dayu leads a horse to her side. It is brown and its eyes, black. Kind eyes, she thinks and takes to this horse immediately.

“It is called Kwang Ben.”

A slice of fear slips into Taenggu’s heart. Kwang Ben? I hope it doesn’t take after its name . . .

“Dear Kwang Ben loves to race,” Taenggu almost squeaks when Dayu dashes her hopes, “but he’ll settle for a nice trot too.”

“I see,” says Taenggu, trying desperately to ignore her thumping heart. “Alright.” I’ll be alright. I’ll be fine. Kwang Ben will be fine too.

“Do you need a leg up?”

“Yes, please. I, er, I have weak legs.”

Lim Dayu nods and puts his hands out, locked into a step. Taenggu puts her foot on his hands and shrieks as an unexpected force sends her flying up into the air. She lands over the horse on her stomach, one hand gripping the reins as though her life depends on it.

“Artist Kim! Be careful!” Lim Dayu’s worried voice comes from behind.

Taenggu can only grunt as she tries to swing one le