chapter seven; 
          snow and rain

“Aren’t you sick of seeing blood? You see it every time I kill yet you still like this thing.”

You said to the hawk as you fed it fresh meat while it was in your left arm. Its sharp claws had hurt you in the past, wounding your arms and shoulders countless of times no longer feel painful. There was no more sting, as if you didn’t feel anything anymore. Had your body become that numb?

“Aren’t you disgusted by the color and the stench of blood?”

You continued taking to your hawk as it looked at you with its sharp eyes, judging and observing you at the same time. Of course, because it can’t speak, all it can do for you is that.

“Why do you like it so much?”

You asked again but the hawk just continued eating the meat that you were holding.

“I anyone sees you talking to that bird, they’ll think you’re going crazy.”

Yifan whispered. His lips were near your ear, letting you feel his mischievous smirk.

“Let them. Why are you here?”

 “Aren’t I allowed to go inside your house? You always go to mine. Here. I’ll return these to you.”

Yifan said as he handed you a box wrapped in silk. Upon opening you saw that it contained your belongings; those that were given up for your lost wagers, that is.

“Why? I thought we’re playing a game for this.”

You looked at him in the eyes, confused.

 “We already did last time.”

“Last time? I was drunk last time.”

“Exactly. And I was too. It’s a fair game between two drunk people, don’t you think?”

He walked in circles around you, stopping at the front of you. He then traced a finger from your neck to the top of your chest.

“So… this one, you have to give it to me no matter what happens.”

-

“Give me the payment for the stall, sir.”

You said calmly, not looking him in the eyes but on the patterns of your intricate hanbok.

“My parents left this business to me and my brother. I don’t want to lose this one.”

“Agassi, if you’re being serious about collecting the money, why don’t you look at me? Such a beautiful face will go to waste if men can’t look at it.”

The man continued fanning himself. Judging by the way he speaks, he had a little too many to drink before you went to his house. He reeks of the revolting smell of cheap alcohol.

“I don’t give my gaze to men; specially the ones of your kind.”

“Are you looking down on me?!”

He angrily banged his fist at the table.

“I didn’t say such a thing. I’m simply implying it.”

You smiled, still looking at the skirt of your hanbok. You had been in this situation many times before and it always ends the same.

“Aren’t you of my class too? We’re rich but not of the noble class, somewhere between the line of the slaves and nobility.”

He moved the table away, allowing him to move his face closer to yours. You didn’t move. You are not afraid of him.

“Landlords and merchants may be of the same class but merchants work and get the nails of their hands dirty. Those hands of yours are already filled with calluses too. Why aren’t merchants any different from slaves?”

You look at him in the eye. Your intense stare compelled him to stay away from you.

“We don’t need to work and dirty our hands to feed ourselves. By looking at our degree of wealth and well-being, we can easily pass of as nobles. Know your place, merchant.”

“Such harsh words from a pretty lady.”

He moved closer again and touched your chin with his rough hands. It was disgusting and had sent shivers down your spine.

“But, don’t worry. I’ll make sure you learn your lesson.”

“On the contrary, I’ll be the one who’ll make you learn your lesson.”

You smugly smirked at him quickly obtained a sharp dagger from your clothes and placed it near his throat. The mannerless man looked at you with wide and almost teary eyes.

“Brother!”

You called out from the outside, signalling Jihoon to come inside. He was wearing an extravagant hanbok, equalling to yours; detailed and customized to be fitting of your form.

“This man said that he doesn’t want to pay the rent.”

“Tell me…”

Jihoon held the man on his shoulders while you were still holding the dagger up to his throat.

“Which is more important? Your money or your life?”

“I- I didn’t say that I don’t want to pay you! I was just trying to play with you sister.”

He shut his eyes to avoid looking into Jihoon’s eyes.

“The money! The money is under the table, inside a silk bag! Just please…”

Jihoon quickly released him as he placed his hands under the table where he found a silk bag made out of silk and full of coins. He smiled gently at the merchant and placed the bag in front of his eyes, estimating if it had the correct amount.

“Thank you for this. We’ll be back next time. Make sure you pay on time so that we don’t have to collect it this way.”

“Make sure you learn some manners too.”

You added.

-

Busy, noisy and dirty… If you would put the mercantile district into words, these would express it perfectly. It was full of people that only cared about three things; money, alcohol and gossip. The merchants busied themselves counting their money over and over again, not realizing that some of their goods were being taken away by some thieves. The men spent their time gambling and wasting money on liquor and kisaengs. They come home drunk and beat their innocent children and wives. Meanwhile, the women had spent almost all of their time gossiping with other women to get away from self pity. Their faces weren’t as lovely as before; pre-maturely aged from all the work and worry they had and some were black and blue from the hard rough hands that had slapped against it the night before.

The boundary between the rich and the poor becomes much more evident everyday as the greedy merchants keep on increasing the price of the goods. Whether necessity or luxury, every single chance they get to keep up with the increasing amount they have to pay the corrupt officials. No matter how unjust, they don’t complain and continually bear with it for they know that they have no fighting chance.

Belonging in that place, you were the same. Both you and your brother only cared about money and nothing else. It is what keeps you living. It is the most essential in your lives. The both of you had lost your parents because of money and the greed that came with it. It’s funny how insatiable a person’s greed can be and how sickening it can be.

You flinched as you felt long and slim fingers intertwine themselves with yours, warming your cold hands. You looked up only to see a tall man with strong and piercing eyes and sculpted features.

“Yifan. How did you find me here?”

“A lady who wears such luxurious clothes that can rival any kisaeng’s and a perfume so strong it can only match someone with great beauty. Other women won’t be able to wear that perfume. Only you bear that scent, Jieun. How can I possibly not find you?”

True enough, you like showing of your wealth to differentiate yourself with the others, very much like your brother who likes to stand out. The scent you always wore was only made for you by a perfumer from China. It was made from the scented oil of a poisonous exotic flower only found in the desert. It was scent that can be lethal to the wearer if worn in extreme amounts. It was scent that can only match you.

Realizing that he still hasn’t let go of your hand, you looked at him.

“What are you doing? Let go of me!”

“Showing everyone that the most beautiful girl in the mercantile district is mine.”

He grinned, showing some of his gums. He looks younger when he smiles, brighter. He was given a lovely face that can make any woman swoon and a great physique; much like a god. Royalty should have been blessed with good looks. You heard that the crown prince was good looking too but was a little on the short side, not that you’ve already seen him. No one that can’t go inside the palace has.

“Come with me.”

-

You were sitting between his long legs. His arms were encircling you from the back as he placed his chin in you right shoulder and breathed slowly, taking in your scent and feeling you; drawing the scene inside his mind.

“This feels relaxing.”

He whispered into your ear. You felt him breathing deeply, taking his time. You can also feel his heart that was beating, letting you acknowledge his presence.

“Haven’t you done this with your mother before?”

You asked him.

“I didn’t even know what she looks like. I never met her.”

His voice was low and you can sense the sadness in his voice. You didn’t reply nor tried to change the topic.

They said that a mother’s love was more comforting than the greatest pleasures of the world. It was true and although it had been cut short, you still felt it. Yifan, on the other hand, didn’t even feel a single smidgen of that wonder. Your mother was your comfort and crying shoulder when you were young. You go to her when Jihoon had mercilessly cut you again during your many practices. She tended to every wound and tried to erase every scar with makeup and powder. She was a goddess in your eyes.

You didn’t try to ask him about his father for you already knew what happened to the deceased prince. You were very young back then and your parents were still alive. The women of the mercantile district had been saying that the deceased prince had poisoned himself when he found his princess dead and floating on the pond.

The crown prince’s mother and Yifan’s were different. Yifan’s was only a concubine. To secure the crown prince’s position, Yifan was ordered to live outside the palace gates. He can never go inside until the prince married a woman. He must have been so sad when he left. He lost just his father and then his home.

“Did she die?”

“No, she left me. They said that she ran away with a palace guard and was never found again. It looks that she didn’t really love me. If she did, she should have just brought me with her.”

You felt tears falling on the crook of your neck his grip around you tightened. You never realized that this man was also broken and beneath that playful smirk was a sad man who felt alone.

“She must have been really pretty.”

Your heart was racing. You tried to put a comforting hand on his hair; petting him, comforting him. He didn’t reply and kept quiet.

“Look at the bright side; you can still try to find her. At least your parents weren’t murdered, mine were.”

You tried to laugh but felt your tears threatening to fall.

“They died disgracefully, with clothes stripped of their bodies. My mother was stabbed, it even looked like the murderers her. Meanwhile, my father’s head was cut off from his body like a criminal who committed a very grave crime.”

“Then you must be suffering a lot too.”

He quickly turned you around and captured your lips, letting his tears smear on your cheeks just as rain kisses the cold snow; melting it, unravelling it. His lips tasted of the saltiness of his tears. His kisses were rough and needy but his hands were carefully placed on your back and face as if you were a porcelain doll, precious yet fragile.

The tears that you had been holding on too had fallen. You had let go of your pride for it was not the thing you needed now. You needed comfort.

It started to rain. The cold snow that had been too prideful to let itself mingle and mix itself among the rain that has almost no difference to it had to let itself melt once in a while, not minding its fading beauty. Its pale white mask turned clear, letting you see through it. Snow and rain… a beautiful match. 

 AUTHOR'S NOTES

Should a rate chapter 6 as mature? You know... the one with Jihoon in it? The killing scene... I mean there wasn't no but someone unsubscibed after I posted that chapter... *sigh*

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