Chapter 6

Venice, Italy 1840

            Seulgi closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.  Her nose is straighter than that.  Then she opened them, retracting the pencil from her lip and penning the image of the young girl from the train platform, all those years ago.  The chilly, dense breeze ruffled the ends of her gown.  She sniffed, bringing her eyes instead to the stagnant water in front of her.

            Venice felt more peaceful than London.  Although she had spent a little more than a month in the blooming city, she couldn’t seem to have developed a new rhythm.  She wasn’t sure what made her move.  Perhaps it was the mulling everyday scenery from her dingy loft in the heart of the city, or the impelling feeling that there was something more to life, something that she was missing in life.

            And perhaps, the underdeveloped, small heart of emotion in her body wished to find the adventure Irene had noted four years ago.  Seulgi was oblivious, but not naïve.  She had read enough novels and poems to identify that fleeting, nerve wracking feeling she experienced in Irene’s embrace.

            But Seulgi was no longer that seventeen-year-old girl, walking away for the first time in her life.  She was aware she was not the same, but she couldn’t quite find out what kind of a person she was now.

            “Excuse me,” she called to the man rowing his boat across the passages, “do you have the time?”

            He smiled amiably, “Fifteen past four, ma’am.”

            Seulgi nodded, closing her notebook and making haste towards the bell tower in the center the city, where a man in a grey suit stood waiting.  When the man in the small boat disappeared along the sleepy street, Seulgi smirked to herself before flicking the of her coat along with the cough of the wind.  She was gone in the blink of an eye.

            “How are your studies?”

            Seulgi placed lukewarm cup of tea on the table before eyeing it warily.  Within moments, wisps of steam circled around it.  “I am not sure as to what extent my studies should continue to.”

            “Boundaries are never clear,” he replied, eyes never leaving his apprentice’s.

            Seulgi rubbed the ring of skin on her finger, “But bindings are permanent.”

            He said nothing for a moment, and Seulgi felt her wit drip away with every second that past.  He drew a long breath, “You were bound to the competition years ago—”

            “—and I have an obligation to finish it.”

            He nodded.

            “I do not know who my opponent is.”

            An enigmatic smirk grazed his lips before her turned away, “You will find out in due time.  There is no rush.”

            “Time is not a factor?”

            “Time sets boundaries, and boundaries are never clear.”

London, England 1840

            Seulgi clutched the edges of the shawl wrapped around her bare shoulders.  Ribbons weaved through the midnight gown, painting elegance in the work of art that was Seulgi.  For the first time since she had turned eighteen, Belle Kingly had come to fetch her and work her magic until the little girl she once worked with, transformed into the alluring young woman with the cat-like eyes and an air of mystery in her step.

            As she held the arm of the man in the grey suit, she couldn’t help but wonder where he was leading her to.  Not once had he introduced her as an acquaintance in any of his meetings.  The night was young and the streets smelled of dew, from the rain that had fallen the night before.  Nostalgia tugged against her every sense: the uneven cobblestoned pavement, the smog of the factories, the grey sky that had encased her in a likewise lifestyle.

            “We are nearly there,” he said.  Seulgi nodded.

            The two walked for a considerable distance until they stood at the cast-iron gates of a Circus.  Not any ordinary Circus.  No sign of color could be seen in the entirety of the event.  Sharp shards of black and white cut through the grey background.  Even the grass had been painted a