Shall We See That Face? (2)
"Mo-ran, you say...? Yes, she is here, but..."
The moment he heard that name, the nobleman's eyes widened like lanterns.
"May I ask... what business you have with her?"
I clicked my tongue in open disdain and shot him a chilling glare as he trailed off, unable to hide his discomfort.
"What a stupid question."
"Pardon?"
"Do people come to a pleasure house to play baduk with the courtesans, or to embrace them?"
"Kh, kuhup...!?"
The blunt remark left the nobleman gasping, staggering as if he'd been struck. His mouth opened and closed for a long moment, as though he'd heard something he shouldn't have. Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, he managed to speak.
"Young miss, I am truly sorry, but Mo-ran only shows her face to guests she personally favors. She has quite the pride, you see..."
He studied my expression carefully before continuing.
"However, as you can see, this is a red-light district where men come to seek pleasure. It is no place for a precious jade leaf from the inner chambers. By rule, women are strictly forbidden from entering..."
It was a roundabout way of saying it, but the message was clear: Get out.
But who did he think he was dealing with? I was Wi Yeon-seol, the man who had once pierced through the Shaolin's Hundred and Eight Arhats Formation and the Heavenly Net to claim the beauties I desired.
I crossed my arms and arrogantly lifted my chin.
"Doesn't matter."
I rummaged through my robes and pulled out one silver tael that Hyeon-wol had given me. Tossing it playfully in front of the nobleman's eyes, the silver flashed like lightning under the red lanterns, tracing a brilliant arc through the air.
"Aren't the red courtesans supposed to smile and entertain anyone who pays them, whether it's a man, a dog, or a cow?"
"W-well, that is true, but..."
As he struggled to find words in his bewilderment, a sound reached my ears.
-Jing, diriring.
My ears perked up at the melody drifting from somewhere above.
It cut through the grating music from the first floor and rang out from high above—delicate yet crystal clear, noble and refined.
-Ting, diing—
The sound of a geomungo played with perfect restraint and purity. The song that followed carried none of the usual coquettish airs of a courtesan; instead, it held genuine dignity and grace.
Found her.
I knew it instinctively. The woman singing right now was none other than Baek Mo-ran, the headliner of this establishment.
"Move."
With a short bark, I shoved the stunned nobleman aside, kicked off the floor, and soared onto the stage like a butterfly, my sleeves fluttering behind me.
-Tadak.
The moment I landed lightly in the center of the stage, the startled courtesan’s hands froze mid-performance.
""......""
An unnatural silence fell over the entire hall. The raucous noise that had filled the first floor like a marketplace gradually died down as if cold water had been poured over it. The guests who had been drinking, the courtesans who had been flirting with them—everyone stopped breathing at once and stared at me as I stood upon the stage.
I ignored the dozens of gazes boring into me and slowly approached the musician who had been irritating me since I arrived.
"U-um...?"
Despite her gorgeous attire, the woman trembled like a leaf, terrified by the sudden intrusion.
"W-who are you? You can’t just—"
"Shh."
I pressed a finger to my lips to silence her, then smiled sweetly with eyes curved like crescents. My voice was gentle, yet utterly commanding.
"Excuse me for a moment. I need to borrow that instrument."
"What?!"
I gave her no time to protest.
-Chuk.
I smoothly plucked the geomungo from her frozen hands, handling it as naturally as if it had always been mine, then walked forward and sat down at the front of the stage.
"N-no! Drag her down immediately!"
The nobleman, who had been staring blankly, finally snapped and shrieked.
At his signal, a group of burly guards charged toward the stage.
-Srrk.
With my back to the rushing men, I slowly closed my eyes.
The clamor grew distant.
And in its place, the sensation at my fingertips grew razor-sharp.
My long, slender fingers descended onto the strings like butterflies.
-Twong—
"Blue, blue are your collar and cuffs."
The clear, pure tone that flowed from my lips along with the sound of the strings filled the entire pleasure house. The charging guards faltered and came to a halt.
"Yet it draws my heart from afar."
The piece I played was Jagŭm from the Airs of Zheng in the Classic of Poetry, the very melody that had drifted down from upstairs on the wind.
It was a sorrowful love song of a woman pacing the watchtower, longing for a lover who would not come.
I gazed into empty air, layering my voice upon the melody Baek Mo-ran had cast out like a lure.
"Even if I cannot go to you, how can you send no word at all?"
This was the first time I had played the geomungo and sung with Seol-hye’s body.
I had worried that an unfamiliar vessel might cause mistakes, but that fear had been completely unfounded.
On the contrary, the delicate, slender fingers of a woman captured the vibration of the strings with even greater sensitivity, and Seol-hye’s clear, gentle voice added a sweetness and heartbreaking longing to the song.
""....""
The air, thick with lust and intoxication, grew heavy as lead and sank.
The hands lifting wine cups, the lips selling laughter, the greedy fingers groping secret places—all movement ceased, frozen in midair. Every ounce of attention turned toward my lips and fingertips.
And within the heavy silence, only the pure melody spreading outward from me drifted through the hall, ruling over the atmosphere of Monghwagak.
The clear tune naturally spread to the upper floors as well.
-Drrrrk, tak!
The tightly closed doors of the private rooms flew open one after another. Guests poured out onto the railings, craning their necks to look down.
-Ting, diing, ting.
I accepted the countless gazes pouring down on me from every direction like a sudden downpour, and plucked the strings with even greater nobility.
And at the exact moment my song completely seized every corner of Monghwagak—
-Twuk.
The faint sound of the geomungo that had been continuing from upstairs suddenly cut off.
Heh. An obvious reaction.
A faint smile spread across my lips.
She was quite skilled, but I, Wi Yeon-seol, had been acknowledged as the greatest even among the courtesans of Manhongru, the most prestigious pleasure house in the Central Plains. If I were to lose to a mere famous courtesan from Yeongpa, I could never show my face to the mother who had taught me the geomungo.
-Diriring, diing—
As if to show off, as if to make her listen, I poured even more emotion into my fingertips. I played the strings with greater sorrow and pathos, raising my voice.
Then, moments later—
-Ttang— Ttarang.
A sharp melody tore through the silence.
"Blue, blue is your jade pendant. Yet my thoughts are only of you."
The lyrics belonged to the second verse of Jagŭm.
Whether stimulated by my song or because her pride had been wounded, her voice carried both suppressed emotion and dazzling technique.
Just from the tension in the strings and the tone of her voice, I could tell.
Baek Mo-ran has a strong sense of pride and hates to lose.
We hadn’t exchanged a single word yet, but I could see it clearly. In every vibration of the strings, in every breath, her fierce, competitive nature shone through like glass.
It would be possible to completely crush her here with the skills I had in mind, but that wouldn’t be any fun.
Rather than pressing her, it’s better to step back slightly and support her subtly.
I gently eased the strength in my fingers and softened my melody like flowing water, creating a foundation that would make her sharp performance stand out even more.
I layered harmonies to fill the gaps in her voice.
"Even if I cannot go to you, how can you not come to me?"
When my warm tone wrapped around Baek Mo-ran’s previously cold voice, a mesmerizing resonance filled the entire pleasure house. Like two butterflies that had finally found their mates, our voices entwined, caressed each other, and soared all the way to the high ceiling of Monghwagak.
"...Ah...!!!"
The guests on the first floor had forgotten both their drinks and their breath. They sat spellbound, completely lost in the voices of the two women.
And so, sensing each other’s breathing, we recited the final verse together.
"Pacing beneath the gate tower, I wait for my beloved."
"One day without seeing you feels like a year, like three months and ten days have passed. My heart burns with longing."
The two voices overlapped into one and gradually faded.
-Jiiiing—
Until the final vibration of the strings scattered into the air and disappeared, not a single person moved.
"""...."""
A silence so profound it felt like solitude itself.
It was a heavy quiet where even the sound of breathing would have been a sin.
Inside the pleasure house, now so quiet that the drop of a needle could be heard, only the lingering aftertaste of that spine-tingling beautiful performance echoed sorrowfully through the empty space.
-Srrk.
I slowly lifted my fingers from the faintly trembling strings, raised my head as if savoring the lingering notes, and scanned the interior of Monghwagak.
The expressions on the faces of the men crowding the first floor were truly a sight to behold.
Beyond simple lust, their eyes held the same aching tenderness one might show toward a beloved who had stolen their heart—like boys experiencing their first crush.
Drunk on something far more potent than alcohol, they could only gaze up at me with feverish faces, not daring to even think of reaching out.
In contrast, the eyes of the courtesans were trembling violently.
Raw shock, jealousy, and overwhelming admiration for a true artist. Behind their makeup, their faces were tangled with envy, defeat, and an irresistible yearning.
Hoo. This should be enough.
Satisfied, I rose gracefully with a soft, charming smile.
Right at that moment—
-Tadak, tadadak—!
The sound of light yet urgent footsteps hurriedly descending the wooden stairs reached my ears.
I had pretended to be indifferent, but the moment I heard it, I clenched my fist tightly inside my sleeve and cheered.
She took the bait. Just as planned.
That duet had been a provocation no proud artist could possibly ignore.
I leisurely turned around and slowly examined the face of the person who had stopped at the bottom of the stairs.