The New Employee - 4

"You've written it under a pen name instead of your real name, I see. Go give it another coat of paint and write your proper name."

The residence of Sangguan Yue, chairman of the Yichang Literary Society.

Having told the Tang family folk that I had business of my own to see to, I had spent the past several days verifying that the rookie writers were submitting their works properly.

"I'll go and fetch a fresh cover!"

"I shan't dock points for a dirty cover, so worry not and submit. Next! This does not match what is written on your registration — what is your relation to the author?"

"I am but his slave."

"Where are your manners, that the author himself cannot come? Is your master planning to have a slave receive his work in his stead? Literary Society submissions are to be made by the author in person. Bring him here at once!"

"Y-yes, sir! I'll go inform him straightaway!"

Cutting corners, is he? Does he think the posted notice is mere decoration?

"Is it proper for a Branch Manager to be doing such menial work?"

As I diligently sorted the works I'd received, one of the Literary Society men came over and asked.

"The works needn't be read until the final judging, so I'm keeping myself busy while I size up the writers."

"And what is it you've been jotting down separately whenever a submitter comes by these past few days?"

"Marking them down — partly to confirm that the identity information they filed beforehand is accurate."

I happen to have a personal use for it, you see.

Cross-checking the papers I'd obtained from Scholar Hwang's younger brother one entry at a time, I filled in the additional information I required.

"Tedious though it must be, you are remarkably thorough. By the by, it seems there are no more submitters."

At the man's words I stole a glance at the emptied-out scene around us, then tipped my head back toward the sky. The sun had finished its day's work without anyone noticing and was hurrying to clock out sharp.

"There is still one who hasn't submitted."

I said it in a voice of sincere regret, thinking of the woman who had yet to arrive.

Aren't you clocking out a touch early? Plenty of employees haven't even finished their work yet. Suddenly I could hear my old manager's voice, pleading: 'Please — when I'm off the clock, don't call me.'

The sun, it seemed, had taken the stairs instead of the elevator to make its sharp exit — and like a certain Mr. Kang whose retreating crown was all you could catch when you called his name, it was hurriedly hiding its face, deaf to my wishes.

"You said submissions were open until sundown, yet the sun is nearly gone. Everyone who means to come must already have come. Will you join us at the courtesan house with the rest of the Literary Society afterward?"

"She will come."

Undeterred by the man's words, I kept my eyes fixed on the gate and waited.

How long did I end up waiting?

While I endured the man's endless drivel — how the newly arrived courtesan danced divinely, how she kept her gaze fastened on him whenever she danced, and how he worried she might have fallen for him — a lone figure appeared in the distance.

"I'm not too late, am I?! Kang Yunho?! What are you doing here?!"

Im Hayeon covered the distance from the gate to my side in a single breath.

Incredibly fast. Her lightfoot work is the real deal, all right — fast enough to be mistaken for a streak of pink light.

"That was cutting it fine. Hand it over."

I held out my hand to her.

"Urk?!"

Like a schoolgirl guarding a notebook of shameful delusions she would die before letting the class bully seize, Im Hayeon clutched the book protectively to her chest the instant my hand came out.

She'll hand it over. She won't hand it over.

"Haha. So the reason you kept waiting, though the gathering might have dispersed long ago, was this young lady all along."

"You... waited?"

Im Hayeon stared at me with eyes gone perfectly round.

"I merely had no wish for someone who wrote her heart out to lose her chance by a hair's breadth. Now, hand it over."

In an indifferent tone, I stretched out my hand once more.

"...Here."

"Today's work is done, so everyone up — let us be off to the courtesan house!"

The Literary Society man bellowed like an office manager announcing the end of the workday and the start of a happy company dinner.

Did you have to announce that to my face? A small but unmistakable glimmer of contempt just flickered through ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Im Hayeon's eyes.

"Night has fallen. It could be dangerous for a young lady to walk the streets alone after dark, so I will see her safely home."

"I beg your—what?!"

She stared up at me as if I'd begun spouting nonsense.

"Follow me."

What, unhappy that I'm tagging along? Because I, for one, have something I need to confirm.

You're not thinking of refusing, are you? I am, after all, a judge of the very contest you've entered.

In the end, the moment I stepped out the gate, she followed quietly at my heels.

"Are you sure you needn't go with them?"

Perhaps walking in silence felt awkward; Im Hayeon asked me about what had just passed.

"A courtesan house isn't much fun."

Drinking with a pack of grizzled old men whose faces I barely know? That's a company dinner. I hate those.

"Do you have any idea how hard the courtesans work to make it enjoyable? How can you say such a thing?"

That is a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠very odd thing to take offense at. She addressed me with her lips pursed in a peculiar pout.

"And did you work hard on it?"

I gave a small snort at her tirade and asked after her manuscript instead.

"Ugh... I wrote so hard I forgot to eat and sleep."

"Haha. It certainly shows."

I let my gaze drift over Im Hayeon from head to toe.

Her skin looked dry and dull, as though she hadn't had a proper meal in days, and her hair, thrown up in a hasty tangle, was a magpie's nest utterly bereft of shine.

"Wha?! Is something wrong with the way I look?!"

Only now aware of her own dishevelment, her mouth fell open and her face froze solid.

"Something smells wonderful up ahead. Miss shopkeeper — pack me some dumplings to take with me, would you?"

I'll have to dodge that one. Ignoring her entirely, I made for the dumpling shop, steam billowing from its pots.

"Ack! Good heavens — look at my hair!"

Im Hayeon grabbed at her own hair and set about desperately managing the catastrophe.

"Here, take it."

"Ugh... don't stare holes through me. What even is this?"

Lest anyone glimpse her face, Im Hayeon bowed her head low and rolled her eyes upward to peek at what I handed over.

"You haven't eaten, I'd wager. Go on and have something."

I have to land the fish called Im Hayeon. And to land a fish, one casts the bait first.

My voice threaded with consideration, I passed her the wrapped dumplings.

"..."

"I had them tuck in some kimchi dumplings, too."

"...Give them here, please."

Im Hayeon gingerly accepted the paper bag of dumplings and held it to her chest.

"My consideration ends here. The judging itself will be fair."

Once the bait is cast, you must watch whether the fish takes it.

What is the feeding response of the fish I've set my sights on? No appetite whatsoever? So repulsed by me that she wants no entanglement at all?

Hungry enough only to nibble the bait once or twice? Or does she harbor an appetite for something more?

The dumplings were a courtesy owed to my sworn brother's daughter. The judging was not. So I declared, watching her with a carefully blank expression.

Now then — let's see that feeding response.

"J-just please don't be too h-heartless!"

Having secured her dumplings at last, she bolted off like a shot. Look at her go. I doubt any constable in the empire could catch her at night.

I let a small smile loose in the direction she had vanished.

Too wary of me to come right out and ask for anything — but she wants to be a writer, doesn't she?

Good. Very good. Now she'll move exactly as I intend.

I turned on my heel and headed back for the Literary Society chairman's residence.

"I take it things didn't end so well with the lady you left with?"

When I arrived at the gate, the Literary Society men were standing there — including the very one who had been at my side mere moments ago.

"Haha. She wouldn't even see me to the door."

"Will you join us at the courtesan house, then? There may be no beauty like that young lady just now, but it is a place of courtesans of uncommon artistry all the same."

"I'm grateful for the offer, but no. I have business that calls for another meeting with the chairman."

"Might I ask what this business concerns?"

"I have a proposal to make for a Literary Society event."

The feeding response was confirmed. Now came the time to draw up the proper blueprint.

The Literary Society's awards ceremony proved quite the grand affair.

Not only was the event itself imposing in scale — the roll of arriving guests glittered too.

Sangguan Yue, chairman of the Literary Society, was a former grandee of the Hanlin Academy, a man of high office and lofty title. It went without saying that local magnates, officials, and personages of every importance flocked to any event he hosted.

"Assistant Minister Heo! This young man is Kang Yunho, Branch Manager of Daseogak."

"Kang Yunho of Daseogak, at your service."

Connections are everything. In the old days I'd have drawn nothing but sneers — what's a black-haired barbarian doing at a gathering like this, begging scraps from the table? But now I've been invited in as a judge, free to boldly press my face-stamp on the powerful and spin my web of connections.

"Ah, the famed Branch Manager Kang who discovered Author Hopil! I have heard tales of your Daseogak."

"I have heard much of your benevolence, Honored Minister. To think you would extend your interest even to so humble a thing as a little bookstore in Yichang — truly, rumor falls far short of the reality!"

"Ahem! Rumors are not to be trusted. Hahahaha!"

The flattery hit its ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mark. Unable to contain his delight, the Minister laughed until the corners of his eyes crinkled.

"Such a fine figure of a young man — no wonder you plucked an author out of hiding at a single glance!"

"I've read Wind and Cloud of the Tang Clan myself! We could use more novels like it."

"I will devote myself to seeing novels like Wind and Cloud of the Tang Clan flourish here in Yichang."

Most of them written by me, naturally — under the name Hopil.

Having greeted every soul worth greeting behind my customer-service smile, I took my seat, hiding a trace of fatigue.

Is she here yet? I swept the seats in search of one face, but the woman with the pink twin-tails was nowhere to be seen.

Surely she hasn't gone and been late again.

"C-can I sit here?"

I was still debating whether to go rummage for a drink somewhere when a voice drifted over from one side.

"Ooh, you're pretty, miss! Are you here for the rookie writers' event too? Come sit with me!"

Thankfully, no lateness today.

"It appears all our participants are seated, so we will now begin."

"First, we shall hear words from Sangguan Yue — Scholar of the Hanlin Academy and Chairman of the Yichang Literary Society."

"Ahem. Literati of Hubei Province gathered in this hall. Distinguished guests assembled upon this most auspicious of days. Nothing delights me more than to behold every face here gathered in one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠place. As the sages of old taught... according to time-honored custom... my friends..."

You truly cannot beat a school principal's ceremonial address.

Come to think of it, a Hanlin Academy scholar is essentially a teacher. Time itself seemed to be freezing solid. I resolved to stop thinking entirely until the address concluded.

"While I deliver words of great import — who is that person with head bowed, pawing at the dirt with his feet?!"

The chairman, it turned out, was no third-rate principal lost in the sound of his own voice.

"Forgive me!"

One of the literati thus called out cried in a panic.

Busted! I was in the middle of my sand art, too. I hastily scrubbed out the butterfly I'd been sculpting in the dirt floor.

"I had intended to end there, but witnessing such a sight, I must add a few words more! As the old poem says — 'The young age all too soon, and learning is hard to complete; not one inch of time may be lightly spent.' And as is only proper, one must study in one's youth..."

Somebody, please. Just end me.

"We will now begin the presentation of awards. The Encouragement Award will be presented by Kang Yunho, Branch Manager of Daseogak."

My turn already? I had said I wished to be a presenter, but the grand prizes were beyond my station.

"Is that really Kang Yunho presenting?"

"Who is this Branch Manager Kang Yunho?"

"You haven't heard? The Literary Society brought in Daseogak's Branch Manager as a judge this time around."

"An outsider serving as judge and presenter for the Literary Society? Impressive!"

"It means he's earned that much recognition, I suppose."

"First, as one member of Yichang, I offer my thanks to the Literary Society and to the literati of this city for shaping so honorable an occasion."

Having stamped my face into the memory of everyone present with a round of polished pleasantries, I promptly drew out the list of winners.

"This year's Literary Society Rookie Writer Encouragement Award goes to..."

I glanced carefully toward Im Hayeon. Hands clasped in earnest prayer, eyes fixed on me — she looked exactly like an exam candidate scanning the posted list of successful applicants.

"Yoo Sung-jin!"

"Yes! Alright!"

But what of it? It isn't you.

At my announcement, Im Hayeon's head sank low with disappointment.

Regrettable as it was, her head would not be rising again.

"The winner of the Bronze Award is..."

"The winner of the Gold Award is..."

"And now — the momentous Grand Prize goes to!"

For Im Hayeon's name was not on the winners' list.

Why had Im Hayeon struck away my helping hand?

A runaway courtesan. A thief who never steals. A woman who cannot even manage a proper meal. In such straits, why spurn the help of the man who stands as her father?

Because she simply hated her father?

No.

It was because she had hope — the hope that she might become a writer.

However dire the circumstances, so long as hope remains, one can afford one's pride.

So where does one begin?

How could I make her accept my help?

How could I make her an employee of Daseogak?

"Naturally — it all begins with her one and only hope disappearing first."