“You don’t know who I am only by the way I look.”

Apink, Eung Eung

I stood in the middle of the crowd, looking as the two boys pounded each other in the dirt with a wry expression on my face as I watched intently.

All around me, villagers milled to see the fight, voices deafening as they shouted and cheered on the two, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see a hunched old man walking around, loudly calling for bets.

I shut my eyes as he approached. My god, the smell.

Years of doing this and I still can never get used to the smell.

“Hello, girlie, fancy a bet?” he asked, “Who do you think will win?”

I rolled my eyes, eyeing the matted hair that made him look half-deranged. “Not interested.”

He drew closer, jingling the coins in his basket. “Either way, girlie, you’ll be satisfied. I hear you personally know both our contenders.”

“Hoseok, you and I both know the sleazy crook act isn’t fooling me. Move on and get the coin, you’re not getting a single one from me,” I deadpanned, pinching my nose with my hand, “Also, please go to the river and get a proper bath later, you smell like someone died.”

He grinned, showing yellowed teeth – teeth I had helped to stain with turmeric that we had stolen from a merchant. “I dipped myself in the murky pond this morning,” he told me proudly, “The effort I put in to make sure I’m convincing enough.”

“Well, good for you,” I said, half-choking.

He beamed, shuffling to the next person, a man in a bright red hanbok. We had noticed the man come to watch the fight, and it seemed like he was new to the village.

A perfect setup for the perfect crime.

I turned my attention to the pit, watching the two boys roll on the ground, wincing when Jungkook landed a punch against Namjoon’s jaw.

That looks like it hurt.

“Come on, Joon,” I whispered, while eyeing my twin brother as he approached a man across me, trying to hide my smile as a disgusted expression fell across the latter’s face.

The smell helps to distract people from the fact that my brother is doing a bad job of disguising himself.

I tiptoed and stumbled, falling off the stool and bumping into the man in front of Hoseok.

“Hey!” he cried angrily, as I apologized profusely, “Watch where you’re going, boy!”

I bowed so he couldn’t see my face. “Sorry, sir,” I said in a deeper voice, adjusting his smooth red hanbok, “Was an accident.”

He shoved me backwards. “Dirty scum,” he muttered, getting up and walking away from Hoseok and me.

“Did you get it?” he whispered amidst the loud chanting.

I met his face with a satisfied smirk of my own, flashing the heavy pouch that I had hidden in my sleeve. “You?”

He looked extremely smug. “I got something better,” he said, and I drew closer to him, holding my breath as he held out two gold bars.

Well, well, well. Father would be pleased when he gets back.

I couldn’t help letting out a giggle. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What about them?” he asked, jerking his head to the fight.

We peered through the crowd.

Namjoon looked like he was struggling as Jungkook pummelled him, but at the last minute, he rolled over, pinning the younger boy down as he held him in a choke.

Somewhere inside of me, I felt relief course through my veins.

“God of Destruction wins!”

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Just then the man from earlier appeared in view, flanked by two men in dark hanboks. “Thieves! They stole my money!” he yelled, pointing at us, “Get them!”

Oh, dear.

I felt my brother slap my arm. “Time to go.”

I did not need to be told twice.

Hitching up my hanbok, I took off, thanking the heavens that I was in disguise as I raced towards the markets. I threw a glance behind, seeing two men chasing us down.

Probably the servants of the man just now.

Pushing through the countless people who were busy going about their errands, Hoseok was cackling madly, hopping over carts and baskets as I followed close behind, doing my best to breathe as much as I could.

Darting through the carts, I ran between the gaps of the people. It was still morning, the perfect time to be a troublemaker, with all the noise and movement as people bought and exchanged goods.

But it seemed that we were in the presence of actual bodyguards; the rich man must be a lord.

“Hoseok!” I yelled, and he shot me a look. I pointed behind me.

He gave a nod, taking a sharp turn, away from our usual route.

The two men were still on our tails, and I was starting to feel the tendrils of fatigue creep into my legs. Whoever these two were, they weren’t the typical villager.

Hold on, Eunji. We’re almost there, I willed myself, pushing myself as we wove through the various buildings, until we reached a cul-de-sac.

The two men were upon us, much to our panic, and the adrenaline rush made it almost seem like I was flying as we ran towards the high wall of Mistress Song’s establishment.

Almost there.

Hoseok interlocked his hands, resting them above his knee. “Come on!” he yelled, and I ran faster, using the momentum to launch off his hand and up the wall, almost slipping off it as I climbed up.

Before I could hold out my hand to Hoseok, he let out a yell of pain, and I gasped, seeing the two men drag him away from me.

“Hoseok!” I cried, about to rush to his rescue.

“No, stay there!” he shouted, stopping me. He rolled away, getting to his feet before retaliating with hits of his own as I watched, almost transfixed as his fist connected against one man’s jaw, before landing a kick against the other’s abdomen.

Before they could react, Hoseok did a flip backwards, narrowly missing a hit to the face before he slid across the dirt, momentarily distracting the men as he kicked off the wall and launched himself up beside me.

He smirked. “See you later, idiots!” he sang, swinging himself over to the other side before he held out a hand to me.

I took it, bouncing off his knee and landing on the ground with a thump. “That was a close one.”

“Do you think they’ll come around?”

“Well, better not stay too long to find out.”

Someone cleared their throat. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the village idiot and the little street mouse.”

We froze, slowly turning to see Mistress Song, the madame in charge of the village brothel. Tall and lithe, the middle-aged woman was as fearsome as she was elegant, and she stared at us now, holding her red parasol above her painted face to keep the sun from ruining her complexion.

People whispered many things about her: her lack of morals, her fox-like personality, and the endless stream of wealth that she enjoyed. Some even said she had been a concubine to the King but was cast away when they found out that she was a secret lover of the King’s sons. It did not help that she didn’t care for gossip; she neither confirmed nor deny any of the stories.

I had some kind admiration for her, except not when she directed that gaze to me.

“And just what do you think you’re doing here?”

Hoseok plastered a smile on his