Chapter 8  The Charmer

Dong Mae stood in front of the French Bakery.

He stared at the piles of colourful candies stacked up high in trays. 

He was a man whose tastes inclined toward the savoury and the spicy.

Sweets had never appealed to him.

Until the day he had seen her chewing her candy, right here, at the precise spot where he was standing, her eyes lit up with delight and wonder and laughter, looking so gloriously, so wonderfully alive.

He closed his eyes, remembering that moment, savouring the moment, allowing it to fill every part of his mind, every part of his being.

Determinedly, he forced away the other memory of her, the memory that hurt him so, that caused him pain. 

The shop owner swallowed nervously.

Dong Mae pointed to the pink and white pile at the edge.

“How much for those?”

The shop owner scooped a handful into a bag with trembling hands. 

“Are these enough, sir? Would you like more?”

Dong Mae reached inside the folds of his kimono.

The shop owner swayed. He appeared to be on the verge of fainting.

Dong Mae took out a handful of coins, tossed them on the rack, grabbed the bag of candy, scowled at the shop owner, and strode off.

The shop owner sagged with relief.

Dong Mae reached into the bag, took a candy, and put it whole into his mouth.

Gingerly, tentatively, he bit down on it.

It was hard and sweet and sticky.

She had chewed on it with her teeth like this, too.

He smiled, thinking of her that day, in front of the French Bakery. 

She had bitten down on it, like so; and grimaced, like so, at its hardness. 

He rolled it about his tongue, and around his mouth, so that his cheeks bulged, like her cheeks had bulged that day.

It made him feel connected to her somehow, chewing on the recalcitrant ball of candy; it made him feel light, carefree, the memory of her taking over, filling the entirety of his mind.

It was a memory to be cherished in the most private of moments, the most precious of treasures to be locked away in the most secret, the most sacred part of his heart; to be unlocked, reimagined, and relived, over and over again, when the shadows encroached, and the loneliness became too much to bear, when the days were bleak and long, and the darkness beckoned.

But the other memory of her could not be subdued for long.

It crept up on him sinuously, slyly, as he walked the last stretch toward the tarot card shop. 

“Traitor.”

He remembered the contempt in her eyes.

“Traitor.”

He remembered the ice in her voice.

“Traitor.”

He remembered the door of the carriage clanging, with her inside, shutting him out.

Twenty years ago, he had called her a fool for living in a fool’s paradise.

All of a sudden, the truth came to him with startling clarity.

It was he, not she, who was the fool.

He was the fool, the fool who had been living in a fool’s paradise.

She was not of his world. She had never been of his world.

He could never be, would never be a part of her world.

“You fool,” he said to himself softly, “you poor, poor fool.”

He spat out the remnants of the candy in his mouth, every last bit, until they lay crushed and broken on the ground.

He threw the bag of candies on the table where the tarot card reader sat.

“They are too hard for me,” he said sullenly. “They leave a bitter taste in my mouth.”

She did not say a word, but he saw understanding, and pity in her eyes.

He strode out, slamming the door behind him.

Kudo Hina sat at her manager’s desk in the lobby of the Glory Hotel, and sighed.

It had been an exceptionally dull day, and the American in Room 304 had yet to make an appearance. He had gone off early this morning, before she had a chance to accost him, and get to know him better, but it was clear he was preoccupied with other more pressing matters than to indulge in a dalliance with an attractive widow. As for Dong Mae, she cast out all thoughts of him resolutely; she had not been in her right frame of mind, and had allowed wild thoughts to colour her reason. He was just an old friend, who had displayed concern, and nothing more; and if she allowed herself to give in to fanciful thoughts, it would serve no purpose, and be a distraction that might harm their cordial ties. So she put him out of her mind, and chose to focus on the American, instead. 

But the doors of the Glory Hotel swung open a little after midday, and in walked the most striking-looking gentleman she had set her eyes on since, well, since the American walked in the day before.

Two handsome gentlemen had descended upon the Glory Hotel within a day of each other! What a remarkable coincidence!

Kudo Hina’s heavy-lidded eyes opened wide.

This new gentleman was tall, lean and good-looking, and cut a striking, elegant figure in his expensive brown suit with the smart black lapels, and a top hat in a matching colour.

He smiled at her charmingly.

“Madam, I have just arrived from Japan,” he announced grandly, sweeping off his top hat with a flourish, and bowed, “and I would like a room, if it would be no trouble.”

He smiled again, so dazzlingly, she was momentarily blinded.

“Certainly, sir.”

“You have just returned from Japan?”

“Are you from Joseon?”

“Indeed I am. You may know my late grandfather, and my father, Lord Kim An Pyung, of the Kim family in Joseon.”

Kudo Hina opened her eyes even wider. 

The Kim family was the wealthiest of the noble families of Joseon, laying claim to more land and more wealth than any other noble family in the whole of Joseon. Back in the old days, before slavery was outlawed, the Kim family had owned more slaves, too, than any other noble family in Joseon, and the townsfolk still spoke of the incident of the runaway boy slave, whose father was beaten to death on the orders of Lord Kim, who, purportedly, had sold the woman to his friend, a prominent nobleman, who had coveted the woman for his own. The woman threw herself into a well to escape her miserable fate, and her son, a mere boy of nine, ran away, never to be seen again. Some said he died, others speculated that he stowed away on a boat, and was safe, somewhere, although nobody could say exactly where; and nobody cared, while Lord Kim lived to a ripe old age, and died peacefully in bed, surrounded by his loved ones: his son, his daughter-in-law, and his precious grandson. His friend, the lecherous nobleman, meanwhile, went on to become the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Joseon, a respected Pillar of Society; which underscored, yet again, the unfairness of life, that the weak are easily discarded and forgotten, and the rich continue to thrive.

By all accounts, the grandson was a wastrel, who had squandered an astronomical fortune on frivolous pursuits. He had studied in Japan for several years, and had been betrothed at birth to the Lady Ae Shin, that kind and noble lady who had emulated the good deeds of her grandfather, Lord Go, that esteemed government servant, and a most honourable gentleman, held in high esteem by the people of Joseon, and spent her time helping the poor and the unfortunate. The local townsfolk loved Lady Ae Shin, and spoke not too kindly of her fiancè, who had finally returned, after a long absence, and was standing in the lobby of the Glory Hotel, smiling so charmingly, and indulging in flirtatious banter with the worldly Madame Kudo, attractive widow and owner of the Glory Hotel.

“You are the grandson who went to Japan to study?”

“Indeed I am that grandson.”

“Kim Hee Sung, at your service.”

“I have returned.”

“I would have returned sooner if I had known that Joseon had so many beautiful women,” he looked at her meaningfully, and winked.

Ah, he was a charming rogue, but, oh, so irresistible!

She smiled back at him, and handed him a key.

“ I have given you a very comfortable room, with a very pleasant gentleman as your neighbour.”

“If you need anything, anything at all, please do not hesitate to bring it to my attention at once.”

“Nothing is no trouble,” she lowered her voice to a purr, and curved her full red lips into a slow smile, “no trouble at all.”

“We live to please.”

She handed a key to him.

“Room 303.”

“Enjoy your stay, sir.”