Beautiful Flowers Always Have Thorns (2)

"Hmm?"

Rather than rejoicing at her tempting offer, I narrowed my brows slightly in suspicion. I had expected her to invite me to her bedchamber eventually, but the timing was far sooner than I had anticipated. A true master is supposed to hold their cards close, yet here she was, rushing to flip the board so hastily.

Rustle.

Instead of answering, I slowly turned my head and scanned the interior of the inn. The men on the first floor no longer paid any mind to the gisaeng in their arms. Mouths hanging open like a pack of dogs, they alternated their gazes between my face and Baek Mo-ran's, swallowing hard.

Eyes brimming with lust and desire clung stickily to our skin.

Is it simply because those stares bother her? Or does she have some other scheme in mind?

Either way, it made no difference to me. Resting my chin on my hand as if savoring the situation, I deliberately delayed my answer to stoke her anxiety.

"Hmm......"

When I trailed off as if troubled, Baek Mo-ran's eyes wavered.

"...Are you refusing?"

Her voice trembled faintly. After fully enjoying that adorable reaction, I shook my head with a bright smile.

"No, of course not."

Taking a step closer to her, I whispered in the gentlest voice imaginable.

"I, too, have been wanting to share a very deep conversation with Lady Mo-ran. It seems we have quite a lot in common."

At my acceptance, Baek Mo-ran's tightly tensed shoulders finally relaxed.

"A wise decision. I'll lead the way, so please follow me."

Without hesitation, she turned and began ascending the stairs. I followed leisurely behind the fluttering hem of her crimson silk skirt, like a hunter stepping willingly into the tiger's den, a faint smile on my lips.

Clack. Clack.

With each step up the stairs, the vague unease I had felt since entering the brothel hardened into clear certainty.

This is strange.

The experience from my previous life—where I had come and gone from countless such establishments like they were my own backyard—sent a sharp warning. No matter how proud and renowned a courtesan she might be, inviting an unverified outsider, especially an armed woman of unknown identity, into her private quarters was simply impossible. Moreover, without the brothel owner's permission or any interference from the noble guests?

Could they truly manage a commodity worth a thousand gold for a single night so carelessly?

This doesn't add up. This is no ordinary brothel.

A space where courtesans ruled as masters and rules were ignored. Beneath its flashy exterior, it was clearly a den for those harboring unfathomable schemes.

What were they plotting behind the mask of a pleasure house? Intelligence gathering? Assassination? Or something even filthier?

Good. This is getting extremely interesting.

A cool smile settled on my lips. Tiger's den or snake's pit, it made no difference. Tonight I would peel away this glamorous shell and lay bare every ugly secret hidden inside.

Suppressing the urge to hum, I stepped boldly into the darkness waiting at the top of the stairs.

The place I was guided to was Baek Mo-ran's private bedchamber, located at the highest point of Monghwagak.

Hmm.

The moment the door opened, a sight that could draw an involuntary gasp unfolded. The floor was covered in a thick, top-grade Western wool carpet deep enough to swallow one's ankles. The walls were practically papered with landscape paintings and powerful calligraphy by renowned masters of the age. Ebony tables, display cabinets gleaming with iridescent mother-of-pearl, and a bronze incense burner in the corner ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠emitting purple smoke. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The room exuded the lavishness of a royal annex.

And at the center of that splendor stood a seven-stringed qin, placed as nobly as a master sword awaiting its owner—clearly having unleashed a fierce performance only moments earlier.

"Please make yourself comfortable."

Baek Mo-ran guided me to the seat of honor and began handling the tea set with familiar, graceful movements.

Pour.

The fragrance of tea leaves rising with hot steam blended with the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lingering incense, creating a soft, dreamlike atmosphere. I brought the faint vapor from the teacup to my nose; beneath the rich roasted aroma hid a deep orchid scent that tickled my senses.

"It's Wuyi Rock Tea. Aged Rougui, I see."

At my words, the hand pouring tea into her own cup froze.

"...It seems you have quite the depth of knowledge about tea as well. For a disciple of the Buddhist sect, this is rather too fine a brew."

"My body had grown cold from the chilly weather, so I am grateful you would offer something so precious."

I smoothly deflected her question and took a sip. As the hot liquid slid down my throat, a bitter rock aftertaste bloomed into a sweet floral aroma that permeated my lungs.

Absolutely exquisite.

With a satisfied smile, I set the teacup down.

The brothel itself is a mess, yet they use the finest tea leaves. The more I see, the more interesting this place becomes.

Clink.

The clear sound of the teacup meeting its saucer split the silence. The moment it faded, Baek Mo-ran—who had been observing me with piercing focus—finally asked the question she seemed most desperate to know.

"Lady Seol-hye, where exactly did you learn to play the qin and sing like that?"

How could a woman who claimed to belong to the Buddhist order possess such divine skill? It must have been enough to make her head explode with curiosity.

"Ah..."

Instead of answering, I gazed at the surface of my tea and deliberately cast a sorrowful shadow over my eyes.

"...I learned from my mother, who passed away early from a chronic illness."

Infusing my voice with moisture, I added a layer of pathos.

"She was truly a beautiful and immensely talented woman. She possessed a face as lovely as a flower and equally remarkable gifts, yet she lived her entire life in longing before she left this world. What I learned were merely fragments of the resentment she carried."

It was the pure, unadulterated truth without a single lie. That was why it was flawless. Recalling my mother's lonely back from memory, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠let out a pitiable sigh and made my eyelids tremble.

Perhaps my mournful act had been too perfect. Baek Mo-ran couldn't hide her flustered expression and let out a short gasp.

"Ah... I'm sorry. I touched on a painful subject..."

The sharp aura with which she had been interrogating me had vanished completely. She fidgeted with her teacup, at a loss in her guilt.

"It's alright. It's all in the past."

"Your mother must have possessed truly exceptional mastery. That performance earlier was incredibly beautiful. It was a sound I have never heard in my entire life."

She praised me with utterly sincere, unclouded eyes.

Hmm.

I stared at her intently over the rim of my teacup. Sudden compliments. She had seemed like a proud, haughty woman, yet perhaps she was surprisingly tender inside?

No. That's not it.

Sweet flattery to win favor, dismantle defenses, then dig deep. This was the most classic, time-honored technique for extracting information—one I had used countless times when I was Wi Yeon-seol.

And sure enough, once the mood had sufficiently ripened, she gently yet sharply drove to the main point.

"With such skill and beauty, you could have become a palace musician or even a court lady. Why did you choose the path of Buddhism?"

A hook cast with praise as bait. But instead of biting, I clasped my hands together and formed a serene smile.

"Hehe. Life is such that one cannot see even an inch ahead. Only the heavens know which current a mortal life will follow."

With an enlightened expression, I slipped away like a loach instead of taking the bait.

"Hmm..."

Baek Mo-ran paused briefly at my answer, then her eyes flashed with resolve.

"If it's not too rude... Could I ask you to play the qin and sing once more? I wish to confirm your artistry again with my own eyes and ears."

It was both a pure request to learn and a stubborn attempt to verify me by any means.

"Of course. It's no trouble at all."

I gladly accepted as if I had been waiting for it and approached the seven-stringed qin in the center of the room.

Rustle.

As I adjusted my robes and sat, a poem perfectly suited to the situation naturally came to mind.

Yes. This one will do nicely.

Baek Mo-ran, a woman who hid a cold blade within gorgeous silk. There could be no more perfect song to probe her hidden nature.

With narrowed eyes fixed on her, I placed my fingertips on the strings.

Twang—

The heavy first note sliced through the air and cut apart the silence. Then, from between my red lips, a meaningful song flowed forth.

Until the very last note, I watched Baek Mo-ran's expression closely. Sure enough...

"...!"

A subtle crack ran across her face as she listened. Bewilderment, distress, and an unmistakable chill of killing intent flashed across her beautiful features.

"......Haa."

Baek Mo-ran breathed heavily until the lingering resonance of the long performance finally scattered. Only after carefully composing her pale complexion did she offer an awkward clap with rigidly stiffened hands.

"Truly... remarkable. It was a sound that made my heart ache."

"You flatter me. I simply played whatever came to mind."

"Not at all. I'd like to offer a matching reply song, but......"

Swallowing dryly as she rose, her eyes had grown coldly subdued.

"Before that, my throat feels rather parched. It would be a shame to enjoy such precious refinement without wine. Please wait a moment."

Offering alcohol outright to a disciple of the Buddhist order?

Leaving my question behind, Baek Mo-ran headed without hesitation to the ebony cabinet in the corner.

Rustle.

What she brought back were two flawless white jade cups and a wine bottle carrying a cool blue glow.

"This is Zhuye Qing. I had been saving it to serve to honored guests, but I brought it out especially for you today, Lady Seol-hye."

"Oh my, I'm honored. To offer such precious wine to a humble practitioner like myself."

She set the jade cup before me and tilted the bottle with graceful motion.

Pour.

Watching the transparent liquid fill the cup with a clear sound, I gave a tiny nod she would not notice.

So that top-grade Wuyi Rock Tea earlier was a setup for this.

It was wisdom learned from the ruthless ways of the unorthodox path. If you suspect someone harbors dark intentions, you must beware the second cup they offer. The first is clean, meant to dispel suspicion. Then, once the other party lowers their guard, the second cup—the one with real poison—is presented.

A very typical method, and precisely because of that, one that works exceptionally well.

"Here, please drink."

I accepted the jade cup she offered with expectant eyes, maintaining a grateful expression.

Clink.

The cold touch against my fingertips. Before wetting my lips, I naturally inhaled as if savoring the aroma. A refreshing bamboo scent and the sharp tang of medicinal herbs. Through that gap slipped a very faint, sweetish, fishy odor that an ordinary person's nose could never detect.

As I thought. I knew it would be like this.

The suspicion had now become certainty. The corners of my mouth curled upward in a strange arc.