[CYM] 14 – The Dubious Master Ki

He focused on her voice, her actions. It had been a long time since she had felt such attention. That someone was fully interested in her.

As the day turned to dusk, their banter showed no signs of stopping. She was surprised at her own chattiness.

“I heard that some have seen a newborn demon in Muritmaegol, have you seen one? Oh, my mistake. You’ve been cooped up in your room. I forgot for a moment. I don’t understand what’s so great about that cramped space that you keep to yourself. Anyway, a few days ago, there was a meeting at the village chief’s house. They were debating whether to impose a curfew...”

Later, she was almost grateful to the young master for enduring her tedious chatter with such persistence.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✦ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

“Now that I think about it, you received something similar before.”

A listless voice came from nearby. It seemed that Nanhee had sent another letter and she was reading it quietly, hiding behind a pillar, but the young master had seen her.

“Did you get it from someone you adore?”

A pair of curious eyes peered through the door hole. She quickly folded the love letter and stuffed it into her baggy pants pocket. She walked away as if nothing had happened, but the young master was the type to dig until he was satisfied with his curiosity.

“What does it feel like?”

“What?”

“To be the object of someone’s affection.”

Well, it was doubtful whether this could truly be called genuine affection. She didn’t know love any more than the next person.

After all, what Nanhee and Ara liked was not her true self, but the boy they thought she was. The endless praises in their letters were for her face, fair as a pear blossom, or for gratitude in helping with their parents’ work.

If they knew that they were not adoring a man but a woman, they would surely not give her a second glance.

She didn’t dislike them, though. It was just that their relationship of mutual deception was uncomfortable for her.

“I don’t know.”

“How can that be? Receiving all those love letters you say are so wonderful.”

The young master expressed a desire to read them. Of course, she didn’t comply. He pressed on, curious about the women who professed their love, when she herself had never harboured nor received such affection. He was annoyingly persistent.

But she could never show him these embarrassing letters. Eventually, the young master, worn out from their verbal sparring, left in defeat. Victorious, she left him behind and stepped out of the pavilion.

Wandering along the tranquil path, she savoured a moment of peace. The autumn she had promised her mother was not far off. Leaving would mean the start of another struggle to settle down. 

The idea of leaving behind what she had grown attached to weighed on her. The prospect of not having friends to rely on was daunting, and it seemed certain that she would never have a lover or partner in her fate. Sometimes, she wondered what she was living for, but considering the heartache, perhaps it was better not to get attached at all, just like her mother.

As she stepped out to the outer buildings, she saw Master Ki pacing the courtyard. He was turned away, oddly shuffling his feet as if digging into the earth. She considered greeting him and moving on, but he noticed her first.

“It looks like you’re about to leave.”

“Yes, Master Ki.”

“How is my son doing? I pray that this old man’s plea for his recovery reaches the gods. But there seems to be no answer to my sincerity.”

“Mother has been offering fervent prayers.”

“I am well aware of Mrs Hong’s efforts.”

Master Ki curled his lips, which were framed by white hairs.

He was kind to her, perhaps because she was the daughter of the shaman tending to his son. Unlike the high-nosed nobles who looked down on their inferiors, Master Ki didn’t put on airs, which made him deserving of his good reputation.

Yet, separately from that, there were many dubious aspects about Master Ki. She knew he was a magnanimous man who shared his wealth with neighbours and was a respected leader. She acknowledged his business acumen that could revive a failing family fortune. But as a father, he seemed lacking.

During the time she frequented the young master’s hall, Master Ki never once visited his son. He only inquired after his wellbeing in words that seemed to be full of the utmost devotion.

But the dubious aspects didn’t end there. A few days ago, while searching for Master Ki, she stumbled upon a beautifully arranged flower garden with peonies in full bloom. Beyond it was a small pond, and above it floated a modest pavilion from which laughter and the strumming of a geomungo* resonated.

*Traditional Korean plucked zither.