Lady of Dreams

by W. R. Gingell

  And Ae-jung, who had at first been rueful at the thought of going so far out of her way home, was already smiling at his nonsense. By the time they were back at the office, Ae-jung’s face was bright with friendly laughter, a very creditable moon to Jessamy’s shining sun.

  “You go up first, Jessamy-a,” she said, when they were in the hall. “I have some things to attend to downstairs. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “See you tomorrow, then,” agreed Jessamy, all unsuspecting. He was very pleased with himself.

  When he had given her his last cheerful wave from halfway up the stairs, Ae-jung blew out her cheeks and laughed a little bit. Then she turned back down the hall and left the office, her steps more cheerful than they had been before she left the boardinghouse. I followed her instead of Jessamy this time, surprising myself a little. The thing was, Ae-jung was retracing her steps almost exactly to get home and would pass very close by the boardinghouse to get there. That I already knew. But beyond Ae-jung’s focal point in the Dream was another, much stronger one, and I didn’t think that focal point was still in the boardinghouse.

  What was Yong-hwa doing? Whatever it was, it was sure to be amusing; moreover, as I was Jessamy’s sister, it was obviously my duty to discover what his rivals were about. Perhaps I could be useful to him. I turned the thought over in my mind and shrugged.

  “Shall I be useful?” I wondered aloud. “Perhaps I shall. Who knows?” We were getting close to the boardinghouse now, Ae-jung’s steps swift and cheerful—the lingering effect of Jessamy, so familiar to me—and the magnetic focal point that was Yong-hwa growing stronger. This time I allowed it to pull me forward and found him at the head of the street that led to the boardinghouse, leaning against the stone wall of another boardinghouse. His head was down, his arms folded close against his body, and he gave off the quiet air of unapproachability that I was more used to seeing from him than the glowing looks Ae-jung had recently brought out. Still, his cheeks were sharp, and once, when he looked up toward the end of the street, I saw that that glow was still there, shadowed though it was by his posture and hair.

  I gazed at him for quite some time, mulling things over. What was he hoping to achieve? He was obviously waiting for Ae-jung to pass by again, teasing her. What else? He had made broad and otherwise startling hints at Ae-jung previously, shocking her and then soothing her, and this trick was obviously designed to catch her out in her second, secret life. How much did he know? Quite a bit, I was sure. So his games weren’t necessarily for the purpose of finding out things; he had been teasing Ae-jung with things he already knew and didn’t need verified.

  “I think you just like playing with her,” I said thoughtfully. “I think you’ve found out a few things on your own and now you—oh—”

  I knew the moment Ae-jung walked onto the street despite the fact that I didn’t see her: Yong-hwa’s chin came up immediately, the glow in his eyes warming his entire face, and in that face I saw pure mischief.

  “Oh,” I said. “You want her to tell you everything herself. Do you really think she will? We’ll see.”

  I watched her walk up the street, happily oblivious to anything but the end of the street and the promise of a trolley car farther up to ease her tired feet. Taking advantage of her preoccupation, Yong-hwa detached himself from the wall so seamlessly that Ae-jung noticed him only after he had been walking at her side for a few steps.

  “Yong-hwa-ssi!” she said, stopping in surprise and dismay.

  He bowed, a smile softening the corners of his mouth, and said, “Ae-jung-ssi. You’re late going home. I’ll walk with you.”

  A pained expression flitted across Ae-jung’s face and was quickly covered by a polite smile. “There’s no need for you to put yourself out, Yong-hwa-ssi,” she said. She added with an almost indistinguishable sigh, “I’m only going back to the office anyway. I’ll catch a trolley car home when I’m finished.”

  How many times would she walk back to the office? Now all we needed was for Hyun-jun to pursue Ae-jung outside with the aim of walking her home, and my evening would be complete.

  “I’ll walk you to the office, then,” said Yong-hwa, his eyes liquid with laughter in the softness of twilight. “It’s getting dark now.”

  For all that, when they reached the intersection at the top of the street, where turning right would have taken them back toward the city centre and the offices, Yong-hwa languidly steered Ae-jung in the direction of the Hilltop district instead. This route, I knew, would bring them to a trolley car stop—and was also the quickest way back to Ae-jung’s house.

  “Let’s go this way,” he said. Ae-jung stumbled a little, and he steadied her by one elbow with nothing more than a slight sharpening of his cheeks. “Are you all right, Ae-jung-ssi?”

  “Dae,” murmured Ae-jung, ducking her head. There was a worried crease between her eyebrows that Yong-hwa must have found particularly endearing, because I saw his eyes roaming her face quite often, and in them was that warmth I had seen so often since he met her. “Mianeyo, Yong-hwa-ssi. Eomma always says I don’t watch my step well enough.”

  “The terrain around here is challenging,” said Yong-hwa, without even the faintest suggestion of emotion in his voice. I was surprised into a giggle. “You should be more careful.”

  “Dae,” said Ae-jung again, a little more dubiously. “Yong-hwa-ssi, why are we walking in the Hilltop district? The office is that way.”

  “Mmm,” agreed Yong-hwa. “But it’s such a beautiful evening, and I’m in need of your help. Besides, there’s a nice little tea shop around here; we’ll stop there for a while. Perhaps you’ll remember a delivery you have to make in the Hilltop district while we’re there.”

  “A delivery?” said Ae-jung, astonished. I saw the moment her face lit up.

  “Don’t!” I said, turning my smile away so that I wouldn’t have to look at Yong-hwa’s bright, laughing face. There was a wealth of unexpected and unfamiliar laughter bubbling up somewhere in my chest, and it felt as if it would be perilous to let it loose. “It’s a trap!”

  But she said, drawing a breath, “Well, actually—”

  “I thought you might,” said Yong-hwa, nodding. “But we’ll have tea first.” And he bore her away through the streets without giving her a chance to protest further, threading through lanes and roads with an abandon that made me think his path was entirely random until I saw the growing panic on Ae-jung’s face.

  Yong-hwa must have seen it, too; he couldn’t have avoided it when his eyes were so often on her face. What was he—Ah. He was, slowly and methodically, finding out exactly where Ae-jung lived. With his eyes on Ae-jung’s face, he was deliberately picking any route that worried her. I took quick stock of the streets around me, remembering the few times I had followed Ae-jung home, and calculated that we were quite close already. Soon we would pass through a charming, well-kept café area with picturesque covered stalls and more select side shops that sold overpriced luxuries such as chocolate-covered rose petals and ridiculously tiny cups of coffee.

  “Just a little further, I think,” said Yong-hwa, his eyes flicking back to Ae-jung’s face. I saw her swallow convulsively.

  They were fairly in the café area when I spotted a familiar figure. Hyun-jun, his hair as picturesque as anything around him, was stalking through the stalls with the eye of a hunter. Ae-jung spotted him at the same moment, her eyes opening wide in dismay, and looked around her for any means of escape. Yong-hwa’s eyes, which had lit with further laughter, looked steadfastly to the front, carefully oblivious to her panic.

  “Are you going to leave Yong-hwa in the street, then?” I said to her.

  Evidently so: she ducked down one of the side streets the next moment, just before Hyun-jun’s gaze met the pair of them. He saw Yong-hwa instead, and perhaps the flutter of Ae-jung’s skirt, because his eyes narrowed immediately. He started across the road with a sublime disregard for lane puffers and other pedestrians alike. Yong-hwa, laughing like a schoolboy, escaped al
ong behind Ae-jung but managed to banish the most obvious signs of mirth from his face by the time he caught up with her.

  “This is fortunate,” he said, pushing her before him into a small café just as Hyun-jun appeared at the head of the road. A bell tinkled at their entrance and then again as the door closed behind them safely. “The very place I was trying to find!”

  “You have a very undeserved amount of luck,” I said, looking around at the café. For a port of safety chosen because it simply happened to be there, the café was exactly the sort of place in which I could imagine Yong-hwa spending a lot of time: it was quiet and warm, with small, smoky windows that isolated the café in its own Dreamy little world. I could picture him sitting here with his stave paper and pen, scratching out notes while the day passed unnoticed outside.

  “Oh, dae,” said Ae-jung, craning her head to see through the windows. When it became obvious to her that she couldn’t see out—and that it was therefore impossible for anyone else to see in—she let her breath out in an audible sigh. Yong-hwa’s cheeks may have sharpened a little, but he gave no sign otherwise that he had heard the sigh. He held out a chair for Ae-jung and, when she mechanically took it, sat down himself, beckoning the waiter over to them.

  “Have you ever tried Chajin blend tea, Ae-jung-ssi?” he asked her.

  “Aniyo,” murmured Ae-jung, jumping at the sound of a bell.

  Yong-hwa looked over her shoulder at the still-shut entrance and then toward the kitchen. In some amusement, he said, “How charming. The kitchen door also has a bell on it. I suppose it prevents accidents.” To the waiter he said, “A pot of Chajin blend and your sweet platter.”

  “She won’t appreciate it,” I said to him, settling myself down in the window seat across from them. I’d seen Ae-jung drinking tea once or twice, but never with any great enthusiasm. “You shouldn’t waste good tea on the girl.”

  But when the order came he waited until the waiter had poured for her before he sat back with his fingers clasped around his own teacup, his eyes on her face over the rim. Then I understood: Yong-hwa was sharing one of his favourite things with her, and he wanted to know if she liked it.

  I said slowly, “That’s . . . quite sweet.”

  Ae-jung sipped and seemed to relax a little. “You said you had something to ask me, Yong-hwa-ssi?”

  “Ah, that,” said Yong-hwa. Unlike Ae-jung, who was politely sipping her tea, he had become positively catlike, his face warm and content and his eyelids lowered. His elbows were on the table, his teacup never far from his lips, while the steam danced in and out on his breath. “Sohn Sajangnim was kind enough to say that I could make use of your services temporarily—if it wouldn’t inconvenience you too much, of course?”

  “Oh, but I know nothing about music!” said Ae-jung in surprise.

  “I don’t need your help with the music,” Yong-hwa said. “I need fair copies of a few songs; just the lyrics for now. I’ll show you how to mark the notes later on.”

  Well done, I thought, nodding in commendation. He had managed to ensure both that he would have Ae-jung’s company every day for the next couple of weeks, and that there would be a reason for them to sit and work together. I wondered how Hyun-jun would take the news that he was about to lose some of that attention that had clearly become very sweet to him. Still wondering, I went to find him. Ae-jung and Yong-hwa looked as though they would be talking for some time, after all.

  I found Hyun-jun back on the main café strand; now he had a paper bag in one hand, but he still looked vaguely suspicious. What was he up to? If I seemed destined to Dream of Ae-jung, Hyun-jun, and Yong-hwa, Hyun-jun seemed destined to be in nearly the right place and time to catch sight of Ae-jung at every moment. I wandered closer and peeked into the paper bag; it held a flowered cushion and a small vial of mint leaves. Hyun-jun was arranging for the comfort of someone traveling, then. How interesting. I’d never seen him show the slightest hint of interest in anyone but Ae-jung—if that could be construed as interest—so it stood to reason that it was Ae-jung he was thinking of. Was he planning on driving her out of the city? With him to Eun-hee’s estate, perhaps? If so, it was probably just as well he’d bought mint leaves and a cushion; I couldn’t picture Hyun-jun’s driving as being anything other than erratic.

  By the time I made it back to Yong-hwa and Ae-jung, Ae-jung was looking much more at ease and Yong-hwa was sitting back with a freshly filled cup of tea.

  “Then it’s settled,” he said, smiling at her. “You’ll assist Hyun-jun in the morning and come to me for the afternoon. Two weeks should be enough time, I think.”

  “Dae!” said Ae-jung, her own smile coming out brightly. “I’ll enjoy that, Yong-hwa-ssi; I’ve never copied music before!”

  “It’s easy once you know how,” said Yong-hwa, his eyelids dropping again. I gave a small hiss of laughter; he was revelling in the warmth of that smile as much as he had previously revelled in the warmth of his cup of tea.

  “I’ll work hard!” promised Ae-jung. Over her shoulder, the entrance bell tinkled its violent welcome through the café.

  A smile came and went on Yong-hwa’s face. Ae-jung, her eyes wide and fearful, didn’t dare to look over her shoulder.

  “How annoying,” sighed Yong-hwa, and added helpfully, “An entire bevy of adolescent girls. I’m afraid it’s about to become noisy in here.”

  His reassurance came too late, and he knew it; Ae-jung was again stiff and uncomfortable, her thoughts obviously far away. Yong-hwa sighed again, resigned to the inevitable, and said, “Did you enjoy the Chajin tea, Ae-jung-ssi?”

  “Dae?” Ae-jung looked startled, then said hurriedly, “Oh yes, very nice, thank you. Should we go now?”

  “I think so,” agreed Yong-hwa. He was smiling a little ruefully, though whether at himself or at Ae-jung, I wasn’t sure. “You have a delivery to make, after all.”

  I drifted away from them as Yong-hwa was bowing Ae-jung into her own house, his eyes bright with amusement. By then the Dream was weak enough to allow me to escape it, and I spent the rest of the afternoon pushing away the thread of a new one while Eun-hee pretended to sew and instead talked to me and ate her way steadily through the biggest bag of boiled sweets I’d ever seen.

  The Dreams lingered through the evening, showing me nothing amusing and nothing useful, but as sticky as ever despite that. Instead of Jessamy, Ae-jung, or Yong-hwa—I would have even spared a little interest for Hyun-jun!—I saw only the interior of Father’s offices in the city. The evening secretary was doing her end-of-day business in a half-hearted kind of way while being harassed by a well-dressed and sweetly smiling woman who was pushing the Dream before her. She seemed familiar, but I didn’t care to look closer and discover why. I hovered as far away from the Dream as I could manage, eating a late dinner with the businesslike interior of Father’s offices superimposed on my dinner tray and Eun-hee’s face alike.

  Fortunately, Eun-hee is used to talking through my glazed looks and wasn’t disturbed at all. Still, it was wearying to be bothered by Dreams that weren’t important, and looking at the room through Father’s offices was beginning to give me a headache.

  “So irritating,” I sighed, chancing on an unusual lull in Eun-hee’s conversation. “I don’t even know the girl.” I could see the woman stalking through the wall and over to Eun-hee’s chair—somewhere she shouldn’t be, I rather thought. In the Dream’s Reality, she had walked right past the evening secretary and toward the upstairs offices.

  “Very annoying,” agreed Eun-hee, as if she understood perfectly. “There’s nothing worse than having to pay attention to people one doesn’t even know. And they’re so pushy!”

  I nodded absently, watching a shadowy evening secretary chase the unrelentingly smiling woman up the stairs. “Mmm. And she doesn’t stop smiling, either. It’s unnerving.”

  “They’re the worst,” Eun-hee said, with conviction. “You know I’m not the sort of woman to pull hair, Clovis-a, but if there’s one thing that
makes me want to pull out a woman’s hair, it’s venomous smiling. I’d rather be insulted honestly.”

  “I remember,” I said, feeling the slow curl of a smile that even creased the corners of my eyes. “I think Dong-wook oppa remembers, as well. It’s probably his warmest memory: you, dragging Cha Ha-ni out of the parlour by the hair, on his behalf.”

  Eun-hee went very slightly pink. “Oh well, she shouldn’t have been so nasty to the poor boy, then. And then to top it off by suggesting I dye my hair! So rude!”

  That was a foolish thing to say to Eun-hee; she looks ridiculously youthful for her thirty-seven years, but she’s had a pure silver streak from roots to hair end since the death of her husband. It’s a pretty thing on her right temple, and it fits with her general air, which is cheerful unconcern for her appearance. That’s not true, of course, but it gives that impression very convincingly. And for all Eun-hee’s vanity, she never tries to look younger than feasible, or to do anything other than moisturize in an attempt to hide the faint crow’s-feet that soften the edges of her eyes. She doesn’t look thirty-seven, but she doesn’t try to look seventeen, either. I think it’s one of the reasons Dong-wook loves her so much—and one of the reasons he’ll win out in the end, despite the twelve-year age difference between them.

  I wasn’t one to pull hair, either, but as I watched the smiling girl peep into Jessamy’s office before going on to thoroughly search Ae-jung’s office, I had the feeling that if I were, I might enjoy pulling this girl’s hair, too, just to see if that smile would slip.

  I drifted in and out of Dreams for the next two days. Toward the end of the week they drew in tighter and closer to the boardinghouse in which Hyun-jun and Yong-hwa lived. That was a little bit irritating, but since Jessamy was with Yong-hwa both evenings (even sleeping on the floor by the table after he stayed too late to exit before the lower doors were locked for the night), it wasn’t as annoying as I would otherwise have found it.