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When Namjoo came to she was in some kind of box. The unsteady movement and faint voices outside told her she was being transported somewhere. Panic furiously shot through her. Namjoo attempted to scream out to her captors discovering too late she was gagged, her hands knotted at her lower back, and in this awkward slouched position she was incapable of much.

Namjoo moved her legs. Floundering about but only ended up kicking the wall of the box. Forced to lay in a crooked fetal position her knees ached. Her feet were asleep. Every inch of her body was uncomfortable. She couldn’t see out of the papered windows. How far from the bathhouse had they come?

Literally freaking Namjoo struggled to remain calm in case she retched. She would choke with this gag around . Deeply inhaling in order to gain a sense of self-control she fought to overcome the panic with rationality.

Too late. The palanquin stopped. Her weight shifted when the box landed on the floor and a man lifted the door. Blinding her with sharp light. Namjoo flinched digging a shoulder into the corner.

“Come out.” An arm reached inside to pull her out.

Namjoo struggled ridiculously. Collapsing the moment she was forced onto her feet because they were asleep and her legs wouldn’t cooperate from being in a cramped position for so long. She couldn’t move as she desired however much she tried. As if she had abandoned her will somewhere along the trip. The grip on her hand was a stronghold. Very quickly Namjoo counted four men. That was worse than four servant girls. Far worse.

Easing down Namjoo huffed angrily. Whoever it was that had snuck into her room no longer wore a black mask. All men wore identical topknots with some kind of cloth wrapped around their head as if to dictate which sector they were from. Of course, she bitterly thought, they were in all black. Such disguise for men kidnapping a defenseless woman! In broad daylight!

Far away from civilization Namjoo could hardly hope for a hero. Nothing but the chattering of birds around them. Forests covered every inch of the path. Wild thickets scattering across dry land.

The man in front of her with a very dense beard reached over to remove her gag. Namjoo’s fiery glare followed his movement.

“Bastard!” Namjoo shrieked. “Take me back right now! How dare you kidnap me?! You pigs!”

She landed on the ground with a grunt. Dirt swirled up into the air from her impact. Namjoo squirmed pathetically because she couldn’t find a way to stand. Her stomach was so empty and she felt so weak. How long had she been out?

Snagging the back of her top one of the men pulled her onto her knees. Forcing her head back and pressed a canteen of water to . Making her drink faster than she could swallow. Namjoo ended up choking as liquid spilled into her robe and down her clothes. She was thrown back onto the ground a second following. Namjoo wheezed and coughed. Curling up as she struggled to gather herself.

“Noisy .” Someone murmured.

“Careful. We can’t hurt her before we arrive.” A man cautioned with a gruff. Nodding back to the palanquin, “Get her back inside. And tie the gag back on.”

Like some worthless rag doll, Namjoo was pulled to her feet again. The gag returned around even tighter this time before she was dragged back into the box.

For several days Namjoo continued to be bound and gagged. Water and food forced down . Bathroom breaks were timed. If she couldn’t go, she’d have to hold it in until they decided to give her another break. Sometimes it wouldn’t be until 24 hours later. A man was always on watch. Even with his back turned to her, Namjoo’s privacy had never been breached so awfully before.

The last three days the men strangely became more lenient with her. Handing her beef jerky to gnaw on during the journey to who knows where. They never answered her whenever she demanded to know. At least they had moved her tied hands to the front allowing her to move more easily. The gag even came off.

Soon Namjoo realized why.

The palanquin finally came to a stop. Silence enraptured. Namjoo nervously awaited her fate. Listening to the men shuffle around outside. Trying not to let her heart pound too hard when the door lifted and she was pulled out. She could try as she may to fight against them, but she also really wanted out of the suffocating box. Refraining from the urgency to spit at them Namjoo bit on her tongue. Grateful for a whiff of fresh air at long last.

Maybe in the city, wherever she was, she could try to cry out for help. Someone would come.

A gate towered in front of her with two cavernous red dome doors. The giant gray knobs hanging off them looked menacing resembling a prison ward. From where she stood, she couldn’t tell exactly where the estate ended. On either end dark gray slabs stretched out concealing the interior. The mortar brick walls looked undefeatable if there was a raid. Perched above the red doors a classic black sign engraved with gold Chinese letters probably announced whose home she was entering. Too bad she couldn’t read.

One thing for sure, the home was grand and belonged to a powerful owner.

“Where are we?” Namjoo asked.

“In!” the man pushed her forward. Shoving her up the steps. Namjoo faltered nearly tripping over the stairs. Mentally cursing his rudeness.

What the hell had she ever done to be treated like some lowly criminal?

The home opened up to a beautiful manmade lazy river. Pretty lotuses floated on the water. Slowly inching toward the cute tiny bridges arched several steps of the way. Various buildings were erected around her. Appearing abandoned in daylight. Spotting no one Namjoo’s hopes of being saved dropped. Still, she continued looking around desperately, but the men hastily pushed her forward to continue their march.

They passed wide open doorways where she snuck glances of classily furnished homes. Expensive maple tables. Polished chairs. Refined floorings. A Persian carpet. Ceramic vases. Tapered windows. Golden artifacts sitting around as home decorations that interested her. Everything orderly and not a hint of dust.

Namjoo was forced to walk with the men quite a distance. Coming to a halt in front of a dark space. From where she stood, she recognized the smell of hay; the scent of horses nearby. Maybe she heard neighing, she wasn’t sure. Suddenly the men lined up on either side of her. Bowing courteously.

“My lady,” they greeted.

Namjoo looked them each over puzzled. Then straight ahead to where a woman appeared so suddenly without a sound like a ghost. Her pearlescent skin and perfectly oval face the perfect mirage of a Greek goddess. Holding herself in a dignified manner. Even her clothes were glazed with significant beauty. A haze of golden patterns sewn along the hem of her robe making her appear like royalty.

“Untie her.” she ordered, her tone so cool and icy.

The man nearest her did as demanded. Loosening the rope from around her wrists. Freedom at last. Immediately her skin felt sore and bruised. Maybe she’d gotten blisters from the yarn material. Namjoo wasn’t given the chance to look how raw her wrists were.

“Bring her in.”

Gripping her arm, the man led her up the high step into the building. As if she couldn’t walk herself. Noticing the faint hint of light stealing in from the open windows. Realizing this was where the horses were fed and cleaned before and after an outing. Hay was strewn over the concrete floor followed by dirt and mud tracks in the shape of hooves. Saddles hung on the wall. In one corner reins were organized neatly along a table. A tank of murky water sat against the wall. A lower feeding tube to be filled with clean water for horses was at ground level. It was currently in need of refreshing.

Namjoo also realized the lady wasn’t alone. A fair number of servant girls stood in background waiting for the lady’s order.

“Leave us.” She flatly demanded.

The man bowed. Shuffled backward and closed the door shutting Namjoo in with the women. Anxiety fluctuated through her. Namjoo tried not to gulp too loudly.

What was going on? Why had she been taken from the bathhouse for this?

The unhappy woman eyed her. Uncomfortable, Namjoo tried not to shift. She didn’t want to appear powerless or weak. In real time, she wasn’t a mere peasant girl. She possessed an upstanding title in society. Obtaining what many others wouldn’t in their lifetime.

The lady circled her. Those pinched eyes full of heat and disdain for her. Namjoo didn’t understand. What did the woman want?

“There’s nothing special.” She coldly commented disgusted. Insulting, “He likes this?”

Namjoo’s brows twitched.

“Why?” the woman snatched her unruly braid already falling apart from the days long journey. Namjoo grunted. Fury intensified within her chest. Boiling to a dangerous level.

The woman who Namjoo seemed to have offended, snarled. Leaning into her face. Mocking, because she saw Namjoo was angered, “Are you unhappy?”

“Let go.” Namjoo hissed.

The woman twisted her braid pulling on her lower scalp. “Dissatisfied? You’re just a lowly bath girl. You should have stayed there groveling in dirt instead of pleading for attention!” She literally spat in Namjoo’s face. “Know your place!”

Undone by the pain screaming mercy Namjoo shoved her away. “I said let go!”

The fragile woman literally skidded backwards ten steps. The servant girls gasped. Hurrying to her aid.

Namjoo grimaced at her mistake. Then when she saw the woman brushing her robe off and regaining her balance, Namjoo glared. Fearlessly.

Who was this to mess with her?

“Who are you?” Namjoo asked disgruntled.

“Put her,” the woman huffed, “in the water.”

Namjoo staggered a step back when the girls closed in on her. “What are you doing?” She tried to shake free when they grabbed her arms. Trying to shake loose. “Let go! Let go of me! Let go!”

Never in her life had she put up such a fight as she was right now. Refusing to get onto her knees when they dragged her over to the feeding tube filled with even dirtier water. She spotted dead spiders. Grass and strands of thick pale yellow hay.

The girls pinched her in their own spite. Snagged her sleeves. Tugged at her clothes as if to demoralize her by making her .

“Put her in the water!” the lady shrieked.

The servant girls shared a look. Gestured with their heads in a quiet pact and pulled Namjoo over to the tank of murky water. Namjoo fought. Put all her weight in her feet. Stretching away from the designated torture pot.

A hand palmed the back of her head. The lady in charge had stalked over because the girls weren’t progressing fast enough. With great force Namjoo’s entire head plunged into the warm water. Gulping a mouthful as she went in and nearly puked.

The hand vehemently held her down. The girls had released her giving her the chance to grip onto the rim of the circular tank and push herself up to no avail. If the lady was screaming obscenity, Namjoo heard none of it.

She choked on air when the woman finally let go and crumbled to her feet in shock. Struggling to gather bits and pieces of herself. Half soaked Namjoo coughed. Spat, gagged, whatever. Unable to regain her conscious quick enough before the woman snatched the front of her robe, pulling her up, and slapped her. Once. Twice. Thrice. Stinging both sides of her face red.

“How!” she breathed enraged, “Are! You! Better! Than me?!!”

Livid, the woman belted a frustrated scream. Clawing her long fingers into Namjoo’s hair, she forced her face into the feeding tube this time. Holding her down much longer. Namjoo nearly passed out when she came up for air a minute and a half later. Sitting limply against the tube with her loosened hair swimming in her almost death bed.

She could still hear the woman maddeningly fuming in choppy breaths. “Change her.” were the last orders she gave before stomping out of the building with fire on her heels.

Namjoo squinted as sunlight streaked onto the floor. Hands d her. Yanking her to her feet. Exhausted, lost, bewildered, unable to straighten her thinking she paid no heed where they took her. Laying in a half-conscious state as they stripped her and forced new but dried clothes on. When the door closed, she was left alone finally.

The floor was hard. There was no soft embroidered blanket or silk curtains. No personal bedroom decorated with drawers, a vanity, a round table. No servant girls waiting on her or peeking into her room to see if she needed looking after.

Namjoo’s hair was still damp. Left to fare for herself, Namjoo to her side and curled up as she fell asleep.

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It was rather peaceful when Minseok returned to the Jin household. Aware he wasn’t held on a pedestal like Chanyeol he didn’t expect noise. Yet he thought there would be someone welcoming him back.

Guess not.

He first led Sun to the horse shed to let him have some water and remove his saddle. His attention became perked when he noticed a messy shed. Water sloshed everywhere.

“What happened here?” he murmured aloud.

Sun whined uncomfortably.

“Right?” he agreed clutching onto the reins beneath the animal’s throat. Patting the stallion, he led him forward.

Once Sun seemed happily hydrated, Minseok led him to his stall. Hefting his luggage over his shoulder he happily trotted toward his quarter. Expecting Chanyeol to be in. Wondering how the guy had managed to survive with all the female attention. Hopefully they hadn’t clawed him apart.

“Chanyeol!” Minseok brightly exclaimed splitting his doors wide open. “Oh?”

The room was empty. Not a peep. Not even a man lying on the bed intentionally isolating himself from the women.

Stricken with surprise, Minseok glanced from the orderly bed. Seemed untouched for several days. There wasn’t even a crease or a wrinkle to signify someone had recently been here. His eyes wove next to the bedside table. Stepping inside to peer at the sole item sitting on it, as if on display for the world.

Minseok’s arm slowly lowered. Dropping his package beside his feet. Eyes glued onto the artifact.

A woman’s shoe.

A delicate piece.

Reaching forward, Minseok picked the item up. Held it up to observe like he’d be able to determine its owner.

His lips pursed.

And just like that, he knew.

Replacing the item, he picked up his luggage and exited the room.

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Wherever it was Chanyeol had gone, he hadn’t returned by morning. Minseok had checked his room once more before walking out to make his presence known. Just in case the ladies in the kitchen weren’t aware he was back, because he wanted his breakfast.

Cheerily whistling to himself he strolled through the inner courtyard. Swaying his arms too energetically.

Although he didn’t look forward to it or expect it, he wondered why none of the girls were wandering around. Because Chanyeol wasn’t here?

Where had the guy gone? And without a word?

Crossing one of the bridges, Minseok passed a garden of potted greens. Tiny herbs sprouting in colorful assortments on the lower floor. Flowers climbing up the pole connected to one of the buildings. Stepping into the hall, Minseok wound his way toward the kitchen.

Today was as busy as any other. The women occupied with their tasks. Standing outside the open doorway, Minseok smelled herbal chicken soup. Perhaps for the sick Madam Lin. Roasting duck for the younger girls to feast. With hints of sautéed side dishes. A pinch of salt, pepper, and oil to taste.

Outside the doorway, Minseok peeked into the large kitchen. Catching the eye of one of the younger cooks. A white apron draped over her gray uniform. Minseok grinned. Satisfied that he’d made himself known he stalked off. Hands tucked politely at his back.

Now to return to his room, but he’d be bored without his friend. On the other hand, he was curious what the girls were up to. Why they weren’t sitting around gossiping or strategizing how to topple the pretty Chunghee. Maybe he’d even join them for fun. Let them in on Chanyeol’s likes and dislikes.

He always knew all the girls wanted him. Tall Chanyeol, somehow always at the center of attention. The reserved man despised the attention. Because of that Minseok found it fun teasing him.

Knowing from the start that coming here so far away from home and leaving his aging mother alone had been difficult. Minseok sympathized with the obedient son. Both of them from the same roots. Growing up in a humble environment with miniscule opportunities at home, so they’d been urged to venture into the world despite their unwillingness.

Minseok crossed another bridge. Ears twitching upon the raise of chaotic female voices. Scoffing to himself that the girls were certainly enjoying themselves this early in the morning. What would their mothers say about their behavior?

Increasing his pace, Minseok hurried on. Curious what kind of party they were brewing. But as he neared, he saw a tray flipped over. A round teapot half broken on the floor. Hot liquid pooled on the tabletop and dripping over the edge. More so, his eyes landed on the woman whose back was to him.

“I said pick it up!” Chunghee screeched. Sitting prettily on the closest chair. Haein, the older Lin sister, was sitting opposite her.

Shooting to her feet with a menacing expression Minseok had never seen before, Chunghee’s face distorted. Her eyes widening menacingly.

“Chunghee-ah, isn’t that your mother’s precious teapot from China?” Haein took a sip from her delicate cup.

“Did you hear that?” Chunghee raised her voice. ing her finger toward the obvious ruins. “My mother’s!”

Minseok’s eyes curiously ran over the woman whose face he couldn’t see. Something about her was very familiar.

“But,” the woman coolly spoke, “who are you to order me around?”

That’s it.

He knew her.

Minseok lunged forward when Chunghee’s hand flew into the air.

***and onto the second half!