Visiting the Sento

I snapped awake as if a heavy curtain had been violently ripped away. The room was flooded with the bright, midday sun, yet the goosebumps on my arms refused to fade. It had been a nap taken in broad daylight, but the dream had been vicious. A peerless beauty in a kimono chasing me while shouting "Honey" in a deep, masculine voice—it was nothing short of torture.

It was at that exact moment that the mysterious brush I’d left at my bedside began to vibrate, emitting a faint, bluish aura. As I picked it up, a system window popped up before my eyes as if it had been waiting for me.

I cautiously tapped the "Yes" button.

"...Ha, why are you doing this to my brain?" I gripped my throbbing forehead. Honestly, it was a horrific memory I wanted to bury in the depths of my mind forever. But as I recalled Mina’s dazzling appearance from yesterday, a competitive spirit stirred deep within my chest. To overcome this damn 'insufficient level' that prevented me from even approaching her, I couldn't avoid the mission record in front of me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled out the memories of last night. The sense of dissonance hidden beneath the subtle scent of powder. The flat chest revealed between the flowing, colorful kimono hems, the men's underwear—the fundoshi—that tightly covered their front with rough cotton cloth. And the shocking visual of that area bulging out in a way that could never be considered a woman's...

As my thoughts continued, sentences began to be recorded neatly, one line at a time, on the system window.

F-rank? My rank is F? Does that mean the lowest rank? I held the brush and asked, "Hey, how exactly are the level ranks classified?"

At my question, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the system window flickered instantly and provided an answer.

'I see... Since Mina was S-rank, it makes sense that I, an F-rank, couldn't even approach her.' I realized the cold, hard rule: unless I reached the same level or accumulated a corresponding rank, I wouldn't even be given the chance to meet her, no matter how much I wanted to record her. But instead of disappointment, a sense of defiance surged within me. I had to level up quickly. I vowed to faithfully carry out whatever system mission was placed before me.

I stepped out of the stuffy room for a light stroll, and as I emerged, one of the maids, who had been meticulously cleaning the living room floor, spotted me and bowed with a bright smile. "Did you have a sweet nap, Master Painter? You woke up at just the right time."

The owner of that soft yet lively voice was Rumiko, a cute-looking maid who had just reached adulthood. With her small stature and round face, she stimulated a protective instinct, but the volume slightly visible between the lapels of her yukata as she leaned over to wipe the floor was anything but cute. She was the epitome of a "bagel girl" (baby-faced with a voluptuous body). She was a woman with a strange charm that made people feel good with her cheerful smile. Facing Rumiko's bright smile, the tension of being in a strange, foreign land felt as if it had eased a little.

Come to think of it, after returning from the yūkaku late last night, I had the opportunity to have quite a long conversation with the maids of this residence through Fujiwara's introduction this morning. As I silently reviewed them in my head, there were a total of six maids, both male and female, to look after me. The first one who came to mind was Reina, who had an incredibly innocent face and a slender, delicate body. However, the volume of her chest, which was subtly revealed, was just as sexy as Rumiko's. She was so shy that whenever I greeted her lightly or asked a question, she would immediately blush on her milky skin and answer in a voice no louder than a mosquito. She was a beauty whose shy appearance strangely made my heart flutter.

The last female maid was Kana, the cooking specialist in charge of the kitchen. Kana was a tomboyish type overflowing with energy. With her spirited personality, sturdy build, and sharp voice, I sometimes mistook her for a man, but her features were those of a beauty with bold, distinct lines. If she had been born in the present, she would be the type of character who would be the best daughter-in-law, good at cooking and housework, and would be loved by all mothers-in-law.

And in addition to Fujiwara, who oversaw them all, there were two more male servants: Sota in his 30s and Tanaka in his 40s. Sota and Tanaka seemed like quiet, diligent people who were blunt but silently did their jobs.

At first, I wondered what kind of great person the painter Seomun Jin must have been to enjoy such undeserved luxury in a foreign country, but the question was answered through Fujiwara's mouth. The current Shogun had given special instructions to treat the Joseon Tongsinsa envoy as state guests. The result of one word from the highest power-holder was the excessive care I was currently enjoying. Thinking that power was indeed good, I opened the main gate to head out to the yard, when Fujiwara appeared out of nowhere, bowing and speaking to me familiarly.

"Master Painter, are you heading out for a walk? If it's alright with you, may I accompany you to guide the way?"

"Let's do that. It's better than walking alone, it won't be boring." I nodded readily.

The afternoon in Tosu village was full of life. Clear air lingered among the quiet wooden buildings. However, not long after I started walking, I felt strange gazes. As I passed by, young women were secretly stealing glances at me. They covered their mouths with their sleeves and giggled as they passed, and it wasn't just one or two. The gazes felt quite stinging. Fujiwara, watching the scene, said with a satisfied smile.

"Master Painter's popularity is no joke. Rumors are already spreading among the neighborhood girls that a tall, handsome scholar from Joseon has arrived."

"Ah... yes? What are you saying... Haha." I fiddled with my hat strap out of shyness and cleared my throat for no reason. I felt secretly happy, thinking that even in this era, they liked Korean men, just as I heard that Korean men were popular in Japan due to the Hallyu wave in the present day where I lived.

As I walked down the village road, I noticed that the faces of the people coming out of a building across the street were all flushed red, as if they were heated by intense heat. Their appearance, walking out with towels around their necks and refreshed expressions, was very impressive.

"Mr. Fujiwara, why are their faces so red when they come out? It looks like there's a bathhouse nearby."

"Oh, I was just about to tell you. That is the most famous bathhouse in this neighborhood for its excellent water quality. You must have accumulated travel fatigue from your long journey, so why don't you take this opportunity to soak your body and refresh yourself?"

As soon as Fujiwara's suggestion ended, a bright blue system window popped up in my field of vision as if it had been waiting.

'Oh, this mission is doable. It's just going to a bathhouse. I guess the system has a conscience after all.' I cheered inwardly. There was nothing better than a bath to heal the mental damage inflicted by the kagema last night. It was just a bath, so I even felt lighthearted.

"That's good. My body was feeling stiff, so this is perfect. Let's go in."

"Master Painter. Then I will wait outside the entrance, so please wash comfortably and come out." As Fujiwara tried to step back as if it were natural, I gently grabbed his sleeve.

"It's fine. It's just washing my body at a bathhouse, so let's go in together. And Mr. Fujiwara, from now on, you don't have to be so formal about status when you're with me. You're much older than me, so if you keep treating me like a master, it actually makes me uncomfortable."

"Oh my, Master Painter! That won't do. How could I dare enter the same bath naked with a noble Master Painter from Joseon? The laws of the land..." As Fujiwara waved his hands and refused vehemently, I deliberately put on a solemn face and lowered my voice.

"This is an order from me as a painter of Joseon. So, don't say anything else and come in with me."

"Ha... Since the Master Painter says so, I have no choice. I understand." Fujiwara seemed deeply moved by my treatment of him as a human being, even while he was flustered as if he had no other choice. The two of us walked into the bathhouse side by side.

The very moment I took off my clothes in the changing room and pushed open the heavy wooden door of the bath, from which warm steam was pouring out—I froze like a stone Buddha in my place.

'...Crazy, what am I looking at?' It was because several men and women, without a single thread of clothing, were washing their bodies, mixed together as if it were nothing, inside the wide bathhouse spread out beyond the hot steam. The Japanese 'konyoku' (mixed-gender bathing) culture I had only heard of was unfolding vividly before my eyes.

I finally understood why the system window had popped up with the mission at this timing. It wasn't just a bath; it was a shocking sight that would be impossible to find in Joseon. I had heard of mixed bathing, but I thought it was only done at rural hot springs where only old people went, so I never dreamed it would be an atmosphere where young men and women were washing while rubbing shoulders in the same bath from the middle of the day.

My pupils were shaking wildly, having nowhere to land. Fujiwara, who had no way of knowing my inner turmoil, tilted his head and asked me, seeing me standing blankly in front of the door.

"Master Painter, what is the matter? Please, go on in."

My face flushed as if it were about to explode with embarrassment and bewilderment, but I barely managed to keep my wits about me. If I made a fuss alone here, bowed my head, or hesitated, it was obvious that I would be seen as a strange person by the people. I walked into the bathhouse, pretending to be as calm and cool as possible.

As I approached the bath, the gazes of the people inside the bathhouse focused on me all at once. My appearance with my hair tied in a sangtu was very exotic in their eyes, so it was natural for their gazes to be concentrated. I fixed my gaze on the empty air as hard as I could and started washing my body by scooping water with a wooden ladle. To calm my mind, I started desperately singing the national anthem in my head.

'Until the East Sea's water is dry and Mt. Baekdu is worn away... May God protect us, long live our country...'

However, the effect of the national anthem didn't last very long. A young woman with outstanding beauty, without a single thread of clothing, sat down right next to me and started washing her body. As her smooth skin and curved body entered my field of vision, I desperately repeated the national anthem in my head even more strongly to try to suppress the reaction of my 'little friend' that was becoming excited. But I couldn't help but keep glancing at the woman next to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me.

Eventually, I kept glancing and ended up making eye contact with the woman. Just as I was about to turn my head in embarrassment, she smiled brightly at me and greeted me in a soft voice.

"You are the Master Painter from Joseon, right? You are a handsome man, just as I heard. You have a good body, too. Hoho."

"Ah... yes, haha. Thank you..."

The woman kept smiling and asking questions, not knowing the inner situation of me, who was becoming excited to the point of exploding because of her. "Compared to our Japanese bathhouses, how are the bathhouses in Joseon?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

At her question, I stuttered and ended up blurting out my sincere inner thoughts without realizing it.

"Jo, Joseon doesn't have such excellent bathhouses. So, I think this place is about 100 times better."

"Hohoh! You are a very funny person." The woman laughed while holding her stomach, and only then did I realize what I had said and slapped my own cheek inwardly. Fujiwara, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who had been soaking in the bath nearby, watched the scene with satisfaction, then slipped over to me and whispered low in my ear.

"Master Painter, once you've splashed some water on yourself, you should properly relieve your travel fatigue. I will call a Yuna for you."

"Yuna? Who is Yuna?"

At my question, Fujiwara added the explanation that Yuna was not a name, but a person who meticulously washes a guest's body.

'Ah... so she's a body scrubber.' Since I was someone who liked to entrust my body to a body scrubber when I went to a bathhouse, I nodded readily.

"If so, please call her. I have no reason to refuse."

"You thought well. Then, please go to the private bath room with the door closed inside and wait for a moment."

I opened the door to the bath room, which was a room as Fujiwara had instructed, and went inside. Inside the room, there was a small bathtub filled with warm hot water and a flat wooden bed where I could lie down. As the noise from outside was perfectly blocked, a strangely erotic tension lingered. At that moment, breaking the silence, a blue system window popped up in my field of vision once again.

'Experience and record the Yuna... but, I've never heard of scrubbing in Japan?...' It was the very moment I was tilting my head, harboring doubts inwardly. Click— the closed wooden door opened softly. Before long, I couldn't help but be surprised once again at the appearance of the woman walking into the room. The woman who entered the room was a beautiful woman wearing only underwear, with her hair tied up in a 'Katsuyamamage', a flashy and unique hairstyle that was popular in the Edo period. The woman, with a fascinating figure that revealed her body line through the thin cloth, smiled at me and closed the door.

'Were Japanese body scrubbers this sexy...'