Wait a Minute. Is This a Flag? (Revised)
“Cough! Hack! Urk, cough! H-hey, is anyone there?!”
“I know you're in there, you bastard!”
“Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused us?!”
Kim O-dong was throwing a fit, trying to claw his way out of the ondol room choked with smoke from the burning straw. His escorts had blocked the furnace with planks, waiting for him to wear himself out.
“M-Master, what in the world is going on?”
Cheong-yeon, who had been peacefully resting in the room, stared at me in utter bewilderment.
“Well, you see...”
I glanced out the window before answering. No one was visible, but the sounds suggested the situation was under control—for now.
“You were right. Kim O-dong's actually alive. He killed his own mother and has been hiding in the ondol chamber this whole time. That's what we're dealing with.”
“In, in the ondol chamber?”
Cheong-yeon's face flushed beet red as she repeated the words. No wonder—she'd be horrified to think a creepy stalker had been living right under her feet.
“Th-then...!”
Her eyes widened in shock as she swallowed hard. Her expression hardened with resolve.
“Wh-what should I do?”
“You? Nothing. Just stay put here. It'll be over soon...”
Wait a minute. Is this a flag?
“Aaaagh!”
My uneasy premonition never missed. A scream pierced the air through the wide-open window—one of the escorts.
“Aaaagh! Master! He's got a knife!”
“He's stabbing through the gaps! What do we do?!”
“I'll handle it!”
From the sounds of his desperate thrashing, the end was near.
“Cheong-yeon, stay here. Got it?”
“Y-yes.”
Leaving her nodding reluctantly behind me, I hurled myself out the window. In the backyard, one escort was already clutching a bleeding hand.
“Hey! Kim O-dong! You ondol-hugging bastard!”
I drew the pistol from my belt and advanced on the furnace. Two escorts were fending off hands and blades, struggling to keep the planks in place.
“Move! Come out! Just come out already!”
The moment they stepped back, the wooden planks exploded outward. From the smoke-belching furnace hole emerged a soot-blackened face, blinking.
What are you, some kinda Pennywise?
“Hey.”
I flinched inwardly but leveled the gun at Kim O-dong's grimy face.
“Cut the bullshit and come out. Unless you want a hole in that ugly mug of yours.”
Even the pitch-black soot couldn't match the darkness in his eyes. Those jet-black pupils, stark against the whites, stared unflinchingly at me.
“Just come out. Hey! I said come out—where the hell are you going?!”
Like a black curtain vanishing into shadow, he blinked not once before slithering backward. Peering into the furnace yielded only white smoke and inky darkness.
This won't work.
“Block it again.”
Still gripping the pistol in my right hand, I used my left to shove a plank back over the furnace. The escorts swiftly sealed his only escape.
“Cough! Cough, cough...!”
Violent hacking erupted from inside. I figured he'd hold out and try again, but the coughs faded into the distance. They finally stopped, leaving an uneasy silence.
One of the escorts blocking the furnace raised a flag.
“Is he dead?”
Crack!
“Ow, come on! Don't say that!”
The flag went up, and immediately, something shattered outside the annex. I yanked the planks aside and bolted toward the noise.
“Hey! Don't move, you!”
Kim O-dong, his entire body caked in soot, was crawling out of the broken chimney.
“D-don't come closer! You fucking bastard!”
Halfway out, Kim O-dong swung something—a soot-covered kitchen knife.
“I-I'm gonna be happy too! W-with Cheong-yeon! I-I just want to be happy too!”
Happy? The moment you fed your mother to wild beasts, you lost any right to that.
Oblivious to the obvious, Kim O-dong crawled out and staggered to his feet.
“Hey. I'm warning you.”
I cocked the hammer on the revolver I'd drawn but not yet fired, aiming the sighted barrel at him.
“Move, and I shoot.”
“Shoot me! Do it!”
Far from flinching, his eyes bulged wildly as he screamed.
Fine then. He asked for it.
Steeling myself, I gripped the handle tight. My finger hovered toward the trigger guard.
But I couldn't.
“H-hey. Don't.”
“Y-you think th-this scares m-me?!”
“I said don't.”
“Y-you can't s-sever the b-bond between m-me and Lady Cheong-yeon!”
“Who the hell...!”
I told you not to!
Cheong-yeon crept up from around the annex corner, brandishing a club from who-knows-where.
“L-Lady Cheong-yeon?”
By the time Kim O-dong turned, the club was already arcing skyward.
“Who...!”
Hidden behind Kim O-dong's back, I could still picture her expression.
“Who’s your lady?!”
Thwack!
The club that had pierced the heavens crashed down like lightning. Kim O-dong crumpled like a marionette with cut strings—direct hit to the head, out cold.
“Who?! Who’s your lady, you fucker?!”
Cheong-yeon didn't care. She raised the club again, ready for more. I could understand her rage—the dainty girl who never slept soundly because of this stalker.
But I couldn't let her beat him senseless.
“Whoa whoa whoa! Hold on! No! Stop! Stop it!”
I hurriedly uncocked the hammer, rushed over, and blocked her path.
“Don't hit him! No!”
“Master! Move!”
“No! Not yet—”
“Move, or I'll crack your skull too!”
“Wh-what?”
I doubted my ears. Forgetting Kim O-dong might wake any second, I blurted,
“Cheong-yeon, did you just say—”
“Fuck! I said move!”
“O-okay! Hold on! Don't hit him yet! Not yet!”
Realizing I'd heard right, I spun to Kim O-dong, snatched the knife from his limp hand, tossed it away, and patted him down for other weapons.
Only then did I step aside, clearing the way for her.
“Okay. Hit him now.”
“You shit-smeared bastard!”
Obviously not talking to me. She was bludgeoning the already-downed Kim O-dong.
“Because of you! You dog! Because of you! I couldn't sleep! Fucking! All day! Awake!”
Thud! Crack! Smack! Wham!
“U-urgh! Ack! Ack!”
He twitched at first, then came to after a few blows. Instinctively shielding his head and curling up, he wailed,
“L-Lady Cheong-yeon! I-it's me! M-me! K-Kim O-dong! Ow!”
“Who the fuck are you to pull this shit?!”
The clubbing didn't stop even after he woke. I stayed vigilant, ready to intervene if he lunged.
“Heh! There's the young miss's temper!”
“What? If she'd always been like this, she'd have burned the annex down.”
“Burning it would've been merciful. Ow, that hurts.”
The escorts approached, hands bloodied but knowing grins on their faces. I joined them in watching Cheong-yeon and asked,
“Was she always like this?”
“Oh yeah. A real terror as a kid. She'd beat up senior gisaeng if they pissed her off.”
“Her? Huh, makes sense.”
Thinking of her usual demure grace, then seeing her wild-eyed club-swinging fury—it clicked. Maybe the signs were there all along. When I showed her Kim O-dong's filthy letters, she'd yelled,
“That fucker!”
Yeah, just like that.
“Hah! Hah! Y-you fucker!”
Only when Kim O-dong was a bloody mess did Cheong-yeon stop. Her neatly braided hair was a tangled mess, her face flushed with excitement, leaning on the blood-soaked club like a cane.
“You fuck. Why'd you have to make my life such a pain, you dog. Hah, hah.”
“L-Lady Cheong-yeon...!”
“F-fuck. If this bastard can still talk... apologize first.”
“Hey, Cheong-yeon.”
Timing to step in, I thought.
“What?!”
“N-nothing. Never mind. Keep going.”
My mistake. Not that I was scared of her death glare. Absolutely not.
“Agh, fuck. Seriously.”
Thankfully, she didn't swing again. Leaning on the club, she glared down at him.
“Because of you, dog, do you know how tired I've been?”
“S-sor... ry...!”
“If 'sorry' fixed it, why's the master of this villa here, huh?”
Me? I'm just standing here. Why me? No, that's not the point.
“Cheong-yeon. I'll take him to the magistrate. Come out for a sec.”
“Hey!”
Cheong-yeon suddenly raised the club—not to hit him, but pointing the bloody end at my face.
“Master, are you fucking impotent?”
“Cheong-yeon, you're way too worked up right now—”
“Get worked up for once! Pin me down already! Please!”
“Cheong-yeon?!”
“Yeah! I'm Cheong-yeon! Successor to Master Cheong-wol! So why the fuck are you ignoring me?!”
“Wait, hold on! Hold on! Don't hit me!”
The club reared back like it was about to strike, and my words tumbled out in panic.
Thankfully, it never came down.
“Just say it outright.”
She planted the club like a cane again, panting and glaring. After a tense few seconds, she dropped the bomb—words I'd have preferred to take to the head instead.
“Shut up and take me as your concubine.”