Adding Insult to Injury - 2
Moving into the new house turned out to be simpler than I'd expected.
The place came fully furnished, so all we had to bring was a bit of luggage. That was fine for me, but for a woman who'd been scammed out of her deposit and gotten her first bitter taste of the world's cruelty, it must have been an exhausting day.
Having survived the grueling night myself, I waited for Lim Hayeon at the door, hoping to comfort her for the effort she'd put into getting through today unscathed.
"You've worked hard today. Come in and sit down."
When I greeted her at the door, Lim Hayeon blinked in surprise, and I guided her to the table laid out in the main hall.
"What is all this?"
She asked in a startled voice at the sight of the table loaded with food.
"I hired some serving maids through the Seocheon Escort Agency."
Shocking, right? It shocked me too.
Who would have thought that merely mentioning cooking in front of the escort leader would get the Seocheon Escort Agency to rustle up maids for me this fast?
"......"
Lim Hayeon looked back and forth between the table and me with a somewhat dissatisfied expression. Did she not like the food?
"What's that in your hand? Moving boxes?"
"Oh—no, it's nothing. I'll just sit here, won't I?"
Startled by my remark, Lim Hayeon quickly took her seat and shoved whatever she'd been carrying under the table, hiding it between her legs.
Ah-ha. Something she doesn't want anyone to see, is it?
I understand completely. Back in my moving days, I had boxes sealed shut with triple layers of tape. DO NOT OPEN. PLACE DIRECTLY IN CLOSET. I'd even written warnings on them.
"You've had a long day, so let's eat."
Out of consideration for her, I deliberately pushed all thoughts of Lim Hayeon's mysterious luggage to a dusty corner of my mind, and we enjoyed our first meal together in the new house.
-----
The maids can really cook.
After finishing the meal, I sipped my tea and stole a glance at Lim Hayeon. She seemed to have quite liked the food as well—whatever displeasure had been on her face earlier had melted away.
Perfect timing. Time to bring it up.
I pulled out the conversation topic I'd prepared for solving Lim Hayeon's problem.
"Miss Hayeon. Starting today, let's write that novel, as I said."
Begin with the easiest path.
I didn't know the full story behind the Wushan Haomen incident, and I couldn't buy out her courtesan registry. But simply sitting around waiting wasn't in my nature.
A novel could be Lim Hayeon's hope.
First and foremost, I had to give hope to a woman despairing at the prospect of being dragged off to live her whole life as a registered courtesan.
I would actively support the thing she'd most wanted to do since coming to Yichang. Help her earn money from her own writing, and let her hold on to the hope that she might yet buy her freedom.
It was a plan I could start on immediately.
If Lim Hayeon's novel succeeds, my reputation rises right along with it.
After Hopil, Lim Hayeon too. The name of Daseogak's branch manager Kang Yunho would be firmly established.
Of course, I didn't naively expect her to write something on the level of Dangga Pungun. Even though she'd loved novels in the original story, she'd been the Shadowless Divine Thief and a courtesan—not an author.
Rekindling hope in a woman on the verge of despair. The novel was, above all, an insurance policy.
Because if we part like this... the connection between us could be severed.
I wasn't entirely sure how Lim Hayeon felt about me.
She'd been brought to me as her father's agenda, but she disliked her father and dropped the engagement. Employee and employer works well enough, yet she also harbors some resistance to my business tactics.
She asked me for help, so there's clearly some goodwill—but there must still be parts of me she views with quiet distaste.
It's nice that she came to me for help, but if things took a turn for the worst, our relationship could be cut off entirely. That's why I prepared the novel assistance.
Editor and author. Agenda and the daughter of an agenda. Employer and employee. Cohabitants. The relationship needed to be layered two, three, four times deep.
Even in the worst-case scenario, the two of us would stay connected.
As long as she didn't stop writing, she could keep in contact with me even after going to Wuhan. Manuscripts can be sent back and forth by letter, after all.
Lim Hayeon would keep her hope alive and challenge herself with her writing, and I, as the bookstore owner, would publish her books and maintain our good relationship.
In the best of times and the worst of times, writing would be the bridge between Lim Hayeon and me.
"Can I really do this?"
Lim Hayeon's shoulders slumped as she spoke in a doubtful voice.
"If you don't begin, white paper stays white paper, and ink stays ink. Nothing means anything. Rather than pacing the streets all night, better to stain white paper with black."
"I didn't even get an honorable mention at the Yichang Literati Society."
"You were eliminated before the final round. For a first attempt, that's plenty impressive."
That was part of why I'd encouraged her to write in the first place—her very first novel had narrowly missed the final round of judging.
Most of the finalists had won something, so considering the original story her odds were slim, but it was an attempt worth making.
And on top of that, I had a way to improve those odds.
"Even so."
"And more importantly—there's me, isn't there?"
Did she think she was dealing with just anybody? I spoke with a voice full of conviction toward Lim Hayeon's anxious expression.
"......"
Lim Hayeon stared into my confident eyes.
"Dangga Pungun came from Hopil's hand, but what made Dangga Pungun sell was my eye and my mouth. If you just write, Miss Hayeon, I can look after it as much as you need."
Hopil and branch manager Kang combined make Kang Yunho, but there was no need to mention that.
"Kang Yunho, the branch manager who backed Hopil and discovered Dangga Pungun... will look over my novel?"
I could see hope blooming amid the despair on Lim Hayeon's face.
Well then, time to throw some kindling on that hope.
"Take this back to your room with you."
I handed Lim Hayeon a box I'd prepared in advance.
"What is it?"
She looked at the prettily wrapped box and asked.
"Paper, brush, and ink."
"Writing supplies?"
"Your set wasn't ruined in the downpour, was it? It reminded me—I happened to pick up some fine paper, brush, and ink from Sichuan."
I'd received far too many writing sets as gifts from the Tang Clan for being an "author." I already have the one Hwarin gave me tucked away, so I don't need them.
They're yours. Use them.
"Wow......"
Lim Hayeon carefully unwrapped the packaging, and her eyes went wide at what was inside.
No surprise there. One look and you could tell it was top-grade. The kind of thing only a high-born scholar would ever receive as a gift.
It's leftover goods, so no need to be that moved. But Lim Hayeon's eyes trembled as she looked back and forth between me and the writing set.
"Haha. Don't you like it? I can get you something else instead. There are even ones with a feature that keeps your inspiration from flying away."
I deliberately shook her up with a light, joking tone, just as she was on the verge of being moved.
"It's— it's not that I don't like it! ...Thank you. I'll treasure it. I'll work hard."
"If anyone can do it, Miss Hayeon can."
Raising a fallen writer back to her feet—the trick was always a single warm word.
Two weeks had passed since moving in with Lim Hayeon.
Barring some major incident, an office worker's days repeat themselves much the same way. And an uneventful, endlessly repeating routine is exactly what puts a person back on an even keel.
Lim Hayeon, who'd seemed ready to be dragged off at any moment, had found a measure of ease now that hope had taken root and the Haomen had shown no movement for a full fortnight.
As for me, I'd gotten to enjoy a small sense of pride, walking side by side every day with a beauty in a qipao that would turn any man's head at least once.
"Another day's work done."
I offered a word to the visibly weary Lim Hayeon as we left work together.
"Ugh... I have to go straight home and write."
It had been two weeks since she started feeling the pain of a writer with a day job. Just yesterday I'd heard her alone in her room, muttering to herself in torment, unable to get the words out.
"Why not write a reasonable amount and show me what you have?"
I said with a smile to Lim Hayeon, who was grumbling about the sorrows of the moonlighting author.
"I've only just settled on a subject and roughed out the plot. I'll show you once I've written at least half a volume."
She didn't want help with the beginning of the story. If I touched that part, it would stop feeling like her own writing. Lim Hayeon was stubbornly insistent on that point, so I still hadn't seen a word of her manuscript.
"By the way, what was that thing you were saying to the maid yesterday?"
Yesterday I'd caught her cornering one of the serving girls in a nook outside the main hall, speaking with an earnest expression. Was something on her mind?
"You saw that?!"
"You think I could miss it, with a courtyard that size?"
"Ugh... I, I was just talking about how to prepare meals."
Having failed to anticipate a witness, Lim Hayeon pressed a hand briefly to her forehead, then told me.
"Ah-ha."
The maids do cook well. Not a trace of some hell-born fried fish or a mackerel that crunches on bones, and no soup that tastes like sludge.
Was it that she had foods she disliked and had told them to leave off?
"Could it be......"
Embarrassed at being caught being a picky eater? Lim Hayeon suddenly quickened her pace a couple of steps ahead, then drew the words out cautiously and asked me.
"Hm?"
"Is there any food you especially like?"
"Nothing I avoid, really. If I had to name something... home cooking?"
This being a martial arts visual novel world, I'd never thought to fuss over the food options.
Granted, I do miss the simple home-cooked meals. But no one's about to set them out for me, so there's no point dwelling on it.
"You mean Joseon food, right?"
Why the shock? Lim Hayeon turned back to look at me with a strained expression.
"Something like that. If you're going to tell the maids, you don't have to specify Joseon cuisine. I'll eat any meat you put in front of me."
She must feel guilty for having only told the maids her own preferences. Anyway, saying "Joseon food" would only invite questions about whatever bizarre dishes they imagined, so no need to bring it up.
Hand me a tonkatsu or some stir-fried pork and I'll demolish it, no questions asked.
"Joseon food... I see. I'll remember that."
Lim Hayeon clenched her small fists, nodded as though she'd resolved on something, and turned away. There was really no need to burden the maids over it.
Home cooking matters, but worry about the manuscript, please. You'll gain weight at this rate.
I held back the remark that would surely have gotten me stabbed as I headed toward our new home with her.
No matter how much you beg people to keep it quiet, gossip has a way of spreading.
Before I knew it, word that Lim Hayeon and I were living together had spread quietly among the employees.
"Branch manager, is Hayeon unnie running late today?"
Ha Soso asked after Lim Hayeon, who was absent this morning, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
"She had a hard time of it last night, so I told her to rest today."
I'd opened the door carefully in the morning and found her asleep at her desk. I didn't bother denying anything, just relayed the news of Lim Hayeon's absence to Ha Soso.
Lately Lim Hayeon's writing had picked up speed—her lamp had burned all through last night in the main hall.
All that writing burns through calories, so apparently she's been poking around the kitchen for late-night snacks. I'm debating whether I need to say something before she loses her battle against the novelist's greatest enemy—her own body.
"A hard time at night?!"
Ha Soso's face went wide with shock at my words.
"Miss Hayeon's been terribly short on sleep lately."
"Short on sleep... ahahaha......"
Had her question not been answered to her satisfaction? Ha Soso backed away from me with an awkward laugh.
What's gotten into her?
Before I knew it, Ha Soso had gone over to the other women and was whispering something in their ears. Then they all started murmuring with the same expression Ha Soso had worn a moment ago.
"So the rumors were true."
"And here Hayeon denied it so stubbornly."
"But the whole day? She can't move for a whole day?"
"Branch manager is black-haired, you know."
"Ah... yeah, I suppose a whole day makes sense."
"The male staff saw it in the bathroom—a python, thick as......"
"No way?! Really?!"
"I heard from a friend of a friend. Apparently it's not just one—minimum two, maybe even three......"
"Now that you mention it, I think I've heard something like that too."
The women kept glancing at me—no, to be precise, at a particular region of me—with faces caught between horror and awe.
One remark about a hard night's work, and the misunderstanding spread in an instant.
"Branch manager."
Ha Soso came back up to me with a worried face.
"Yes, Miss Soso? Some strange rumor seems to be going around."
"You may be from Joseon, branch manager, but Hayeon unnie is a Central Plains woman... so you really need to be considerate about that sort of thing."
Ha Soso spoke with the unmistakable worry of a younger sister thinking of an older sister worn down by married life.
"It's a misunderstanding."
"The other unnies are saying that even with martial arts training, one person alone might not be enough. Unnie's taking on two, maybe three people's worth right now, so......"
I said it's a misunderstanding.
I was about to let it slide with an indifferent air, but this one I'd have to nail down firmly.
"WHO IS IN CHARGE HERE!"
Just as I was about to give Ha Soso a piece of my mind, the doors of Daseogak burst open and sword-carrying martial artists stormed in.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Who are these people?
Three martial artists in total, every one of them wearing a blade at his hip. Perhaps they'd been on a long journey—unwashed faces and scruffy, unkempt beards.
Going by their looks, cheap liquor and gambling tiles would suit them better than tea and books.
When I asked them with a puzzled expression, they approached me with threatening glares and said something entirely unexpected.
"We heard a courtesan who fled our quarters is working here. We've come for her."