What was I thinking? Taenggu leans against the door, eyes closed, chest heaving from the hurried steps she took all the way from the garden. I’m losing it. I’m losing my mind. I’m going to give myself away and Heechul is going to say ‘I told you so’. Then I’m going to end up in jail for fraud. I have to stop this. Stop it right now. Finish the painting and get out of here. This is a big mistake.

Taenggu goes to the bed and lies on it. If she was not pretending to be male, she would not have to live life like this. But if they had not made the decision to do this, they would probably be beggars on the street by now. Or bullied and beaten up. Left to die on the roadside. If they had not done this, they could never have afforded to buy warm clothing, let alone rent for a warm room during the cold winter months. Not to mention what would have happened toher, a female without the protection of a family or home. Lucky would be finding a husband who will demand children and daily chores from her. Unlucky would be . . . Taenggu shudders at the thought of being taken by a self-entitled man, stripped of her worth, and thrown back out onto the streets.

No, there are no regrets. Choosing this path was the best thing they could do to survive. Choosing this path was the only choice. Besides, she had always envied the freedom that men are endowed with. Pretending to be male is definitely not the worst. But getting caught will definitely be hell on Earth

=

The change is obvious. Taenggu’s answers are short, curt and while none of it can be considered rude, it is difficult to carry a conversation with him. This cold reality is a far cry from Miyoung’s eager expectations. After last night’s emotional exchange, she had thought he would be more open to her. Maybe it is the effect of daytime. Everything is bright. Everything is visible. So dark emotions run away and hide. But she doubts she will find him below the same tree ever again so how is she going to get him to talk?

“Thank you for your hard work today, Taenggu.”

“It is what I am paid to do, Miss Hwang.”

Miyoung bites her lip. Frustration with his standoffish attitude gives rise to the swell of tears in her eyes but she does not want him to see her cry over nothing. Somehow, her pride will not allow it. Keeping her head low, she does not meet his eyes when she replies, “I appreciate it, regardless.” She does not loiter after that.

“Little sis, where are you going in such a hurry?”

“I’m going back to my room.”

“Did it go well today? The painting?”

Miyoung nods.

“I will have lunch with Taenggu at Jade Dragon today. Would you like to join us?”

Tempting. But probably not a good idea. “I wish to rest. I’ll have lunch at home.”

“Alright.”

Miyoung returns to her room and sits at her dressing table. She stares into her mirror, fixes her hair and changes a pin. Then, she signs. What is wrong with her? Why is the artist affecting her mood like this? When did she begin to care for their conversations and when did she begin to care for him? Her eyes widen in the mirror. Care? Does she care for him? Is this why she is bothered when he is not talking to her like before? But she can’t care for him. Not more than a friend. Not when he will leave for another town soon. Not when her father has all the say in affairs of marriage. Her father has given her a wide enough berth as it is, considering how she even gets a choice in the man she is to marry.

She knows she is lucky to be the youngest daughter. She is lucky her older sister had already married the eldest son of the wealthiest family in the next town. The act alone had boosted both families’ businesses to entirely new heights as they combined two sectors of the jewellery business—production and retail—and streamlined the processes, increasing profit twofold. With this boost, her father is happy and comfortable and the necessity for her marriage to be of use to the family is lowered considerably. Of course, the men who are interested cannot fall below her father’s expectations and one of the requirements would be a wealthy family. Or wealth earned independently. Wealth, in general, any sort of wealth, is required.

Wealth. How wealthy is Taenggu? Would he qualify in her father’s eyes? And is she seriously considering this? Is she seriously thinking about marriage to Taenggu? How is it possible to even be thinking about marriage with a man she has known for all of six days? Where are all these feelings coming from?

She picks up her comb and runs it through her hair. Young Master Fan, Young Master He, Young Master Han, Young Master Lin. None of them tickle her fancy. None of them have Taenggu’s crystal clear eyes that seem to be able to see past her eyes. None of them have Taenggu’s look of concentration while painting. None of them are as talented as Taenggu. But all of them are richer than him. All of them come from stable families, large and fairly powerful. How does he compare against them? Who would she pick out of the five? The answer seems to be clear. Yet the answer does not seem to be ideal, nor is it practical. Does Taenggu even like her? Does he even want her? Would he be content to marry her and settle down in this town or the next? These are useless fantasies, she knows very well.

“Young Mistress Miyoung, your lunch is ready.”

Reality descends upon her like a splash of cold water and she puts her comb down. The thoughts of a bored young lady are so pathetic and embarrassing. Fortunately, her maid cannot read her thoughts.

=

“The painting is completed.”

“What?” Miyoung is not ready for Taenggu to leave. “It’s completed already?”

“I promised to complete the portrait within six days. Today is the fifth day.”

“Oh.”

Taenggu smiles for the first time in the past two days. “Don’t you want to see it?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” Miyoung stands with blood racing in her veins and forgets about Taenggu’s impending departure from her family’s estate. She hurries to his side and is immediately stunned into silence by the incredible depiction of her. Where is she to begin looking? Every bit of the portrait screams for her attention. Her eyes. Are her eyes really as mesmerizing as they look in the portrait? And her blissful expression. She has no words to express how beautifully she has been painted. Every strand of hair. Every bit of skin. Every crease in her clothes. The amount of detail is astounding. The accuracy is just—

“What do you think?”

Miyoung lifts her eyes to Taenggu’s in disbelief. “You painted this?”

His lips curl as his eyes sparkle with laughter. “Yes. I have been painting in front of you for five days. You are my witness.”

“Taenggu!” Wave after wave of emotion surge in Miyoung’s young heart and she throws her arms around him, hugging him with all her heart. But she jumping back in the next moment, casting a furtive glance behind her. Fortunately, her maid’s attention is taken by the stitching she is doing. “I have never seen a painting like yours. It’s like looking in the mirror but even more moving.”

Taenggu stands stiffly before her, looking as though he has seen a ghost. “Miss Hwang, I do not deserve this much praise from you. Much less the hug.”

“I’m sorry. I was overcome with emotion when I looked at it. You have exceeded my wildest imagination with this portrait. I believe both my brother and father will feel the same.”

Taenggu coughs out awkward chuckles. “You exaggerate.”

“I am not exaggerating.” Miyoung frowns. “Why can’t you accept my compliments? Your talent is unbelievable. Your style of painting is in a class of its own. You should be known throughout the land, like the great painters of the times before us.”

“If you say so.”

“Ye