“What’s this nuna still doing here?” said Jessamy, with the careless loudness of the very young and very elderly. “I thought she went home?”
Se-ri gave him one of her effortless, naturally lovely smiles and said “Eun-hee unni invited me as well. I wasn’t going to come along, but Hyun-jun and I have spent so little time together lately that I thought I really should.”
“Ah,” said Jessamy, exchanging a confused look with Yong-hwa’s one of bored understanding. “Ah. Ye.”
“Dae,” said Se-ri, smiling another bright smile at Jessamy that entirely failed to move him otherwise than to prompt him to squint at her. I hissed in laughter; evidently his preoccupation with Ae-jung was protecting him against the wiles of other women. That was fortunate. It would have been tiresome to pry him away from someone like Se-ri.
“I think what Se-ri-ssi is trying to say is that she and Hyun-jun are engaged,” said Yong-hwa, wiping his fingers fastidiously on a napkin.
“Oh, well!” said Se-ri, still smiling. “We’re not advertising it.”
“No, we’re not advertising it,” said Hyun-jun abruptly, throwing himself down next to Ae-jung. He took the tidbit she was holding from her nerveless fingers and ate it himself. “I want to eat. Get me sujeo.”
“Do please join us,” said Yong-hwa, with only the slightest curl of the lips. He passed a set of sujeo to Ae-jung, and when she presented them to Hyun-jun, he replaced the kimbap she had been eating just as silently. Ae-jung wasn’t given the chance to eat it, however. Hyun-jun, with a dedicated selfishness that surpassed even Jessamy’s attempts to engage her notice, demanded her whole attention by requiring that Ae-jung pick out his lunch for him, piece by piece. Left to her own ministrations, Se-ri sat down on Hyun-jun’s other side with a great fluffing of skirts, staring around her in astonishment when it occurred to her, slowly but surely, that for once she was not the woman drawing all eyes. Jessamy, puffing out his cheeks in dissatisfaction, chose his lunch with a sullen mouth and made short, testing remarks at Ae-jung, who replied almost at random. Yong-hwa was entirely silent, his eyelashes dropped low. Only Hyun-jun, in his angry demands for attention—and perhaps Ae-jung, in attending to those demands—was satisfied.
When it became obvious that no one else would assist her, Se-ri fetched her own food, her eyes just a little narrower than usual, and then stalked back to the Overlander, whence she watched Ae-jung like a particularly angry, particularly baffled hawk. That meant trouble, because until now I hadn’t seen her gentle smiles slip for anything other than momentary surprise or outrage. If the martial light in Se-ri’s eyes was any indicator, Ae-jung was going to be made as uncomfortable as humanly possible.
“Is that why you searched her office?” I asked her, wafting closer to the Overlander. Se-ri was biting her lip now. “I wonder what you found there.” Maybe I should have paid more attention to the Dream at the time.
It would be more interesting to pay attention now, at any rate. I drifted along with Hyun-jun and Se-ri when they started off again, but there was only annoyed silence and practised smiling to be seen there, so I joined Jessamy and Yong-hwa instead. The Energy model was a far happier place than Hyun-jun’s Overlander, and the hours passed merrily enough that when I saw the outside of Eun-hee’s mansion, backed by the slowly sinking sun, it was with a sense of shock.
I woke with something of a gasp, the Dream shattering around me. “They’re here!”
Carlin, who was setting out a light dinner, put down the teapot with a rattle and dashed for the window, leaning out perilously with one knee on the window seat.
I sighed. “Carlin, what are you doing?”
“I want to see,” said Carlin, and there was the suggestion of mulishness to his chin. “I want to see him.”
“Who are you looking at? You’ve already seen Jessamy.”
“Not him,” Carlin said. I saw his eyebrows go up and heard the hiss of breath between his teeth. “Ah. It’s him. He’s the one? That one from the night of the dance?”
“What do you mean, the one? The one what?”
“The one you’ve been seeing lately.”
“All of them are the ones I’ve been seeing lately. Carlin, you might have noticed that I’m pouring tea myself.”
“Does you good,” said Carlin, looking away from the window briefly. “Miss. You like pouring your own tea. He’s a bit pretty, isn’t he?”
“Which one?” I inquired, helping myself to milk. Hyun-jun, if you discounted the wild eyes and hair, was actually very good looking. He wasn’t Yong-hwa’s equal, of course, and Jessamy was more adorable than either of them, but each one of them could justifiably be called pretty.
“The one with the closed-off face. Oh! Miss, I think he’s courting the girl they brought with them.”
“He is,” I said tranquilly. “Are you finished at the window, Carlin? Do you think you could stir yourself to fetch the biscuits?”
Carlin slid off the window seat with a bound, his face cheerful again. “Yes, miss! My pleasure, miss!”
Eun-hee’s library is always a pleasant place on a warm day. This is because Eun-hee, despite appearances to the contrary, adores reading even more than I. Perhaps that’s the reason she likes me so much. Her love for books resulted in a library built where it would get the most natural light but the least direct sunlight. The windows are large and bright, and the books are shaded from the direct sunlight by several tall, nondeciduous trees that provide shelter year-round. Besides these advantages, the library is also dotted with various reading chairs, each more ridiculously comfortable than the last. Since my yearly visits began, a chaise longue or two have also migrated into the room, making my comfort complete.
I walked to the library under my own power that morning, followed anxiously by mother hen Carlin. Jessamy had come to see me the night before, as soon as he arrived—crumpled clothes and dust and all. His company had done all its usual work: I spent a sleepless, dreadfully heavy night, and now I could move my legs a little. They were stiff and unwieldy, but after an hour of crushingly weary movements to waken the muscles properly, I was able to shamble across the room with enough dispatch to prevent myself from pitching onto the floor. I have a small Contraption machine that I use daily that supposedly exercises my muscles, but it’s only when Jessamy is present that I feel the effects.
When I was safely ensconced in one of the library chaise longues, I sent Carlin away for ices and held off the Dreams with a book until Jessamy woke and came to find me. It was likely to be quite some time, since Jessamy at Eun-hee’s estate is a very different proposition from Jessamy in the city. In the city he is up with the street sweepers; at Eun-hee’s estate he can still be found in bed until the last time breakfast is called, at eleven of the clock. The Dreams were more docile this morning, possibly because all the players were around me, but I couldn’t count on them to stay that way. Reading, with its use of the imagination, provides a different form of Dreaming that can be more useful than anything else in keeping the Dreams at bay.
Shortly after breakfast I heard footsteps outside the library. Jessamy, perhaps? I leaned forward to see around the edge of one of Eun-hee’s freestanding bookcases—my current chaise longue being set in a kind of nook formed by three bookcases—and found myself looking full into the face of Se-ri as she entered the library, dragging Ae-jung behind her. No wonder the Dreams had been docile: the action was coming to me. The question was, would they see me? I waited with interest, reclining in full view, as they came around the bookcase. I’m always overlooked in a crowd or in a corner, but sometimes, if I’m too prominent to be ignored, I’ll be seen for a moment or two, and felt as an uncomfortable crawling at the back of the neck after that. Neither Ae-jung nor Se-ri had ever met me before, however, so I felt reasonably sanguine about my chances of not being seen.
Se-ri, without preamble—or any sign of seeing me—flung Ae-jung toward the window at my right and said coldly, “Aren’t you being a bit too much, Ae-jung-ssi?”
“I’m a planner myself,” said Se-ri, her anger vanishing behind a particularly beautiful smile, “but it wouldn’t have occurred to me to pretend to be the impoverished daughter of a copywriter in order to get closer to one of Eppa’s more eligible bachelors.”
“To get close—” Ae-jung stopped short, her eyes wide. “But that—I didn’t know Sohn Sajangnim would assign me to Hyun-jun-ssi! I’m not pretending to be impoverished, Se-ri-ssi; Eomma is sick, and when Abeoji died there was nothing left to keep her in medicine. I’m working because I have to work.”
Se-ri opened and closed her mouth, and there was a flicker of uncertainty to her carefully painted eyelids. She said sharply, “Then you should have chosen another publishing house—and you shouldn’t have interfered in my plans. I’ve worked far too hard at this to lose it all now.”
“I didn’t interfere in your plans,” said Ae-jung, in confusion. “All I’ve done is work hard.”
“And fall in love with my fiancé,” Se-ri prompted, with an affectionate smile that was particularly well simulated. What part was she playing in her mind? Unni to dongsang? “You did, didn’t you? I can see it in your stupid little doe eyes. Fine; if you want to follow him around like all the others, you can do it from a distance. But you’re distracting him, and I can’t let you do that.”
Was that a flush on Ae-jung’s cheeks? There was certainly something of a shine to her eyes. “I’m distracting him?”
I betrayed myself by a soft sniff of laughter into my fan. It wasn’t attended to by either of the girls, but when I looked up I found myself looking at Yong-hwa, who was sitting across the library some distance away. Only a slight crease between his brows revealed that he disliked the idea of Ae-jung’s becoming aware of the fact that Hyun-jun wasn’t oblivious to her.
Since when had he been sitting there? I had certainly looked in that direction—not once, but many times. It was directly ahead of me, and the library doors hadn’t opened from the time I walked in until Se-ri brought in Ae-jung. He must have already been in the library when I arrived. Had he seen me, then? There was a Dreamlike quality to my shock that brought me to realise just how it was I hadn’t seen him. I’d become so used to seeing Yong-hwa—and Hyun-jun and Ae-jung—in the fluttering of loose Dreams around the edges of Reality that I had seen him without seeing him, my mind accepting him as something that was normal and usual. Leaning back elegantly in one of Eun-hee’s bigger chairs, he watched Ae-jung and Se-ri thoughtfully, and as shamelessly as I. It was evident that he could hear them quite clearly.
As I gazed at him, still blinking away my astonishment, Se-ri said in a tone of almost terrifying friendliness, “It would be a pity if you were to keep distracting Hyun-jun, Ae-jung-ssi.”
Ae-jung, growing bold—or at least less afraid—said defiantly, “Why would that be a pity? Hyun-jun told me about your engagement; it’s only a contract, and it ends in two months.”
That was surprising. How had the man who was too proud to ask Ae-jung if he could walk her home been able to humble himself enough to explain something like that to her? Across from me, Yong-hwa winced a little—a slight baring of the teeth. Of course: Ae-jung was just ingenuous enough to have asked Hyun-jun directly about it, and he would have taken the opportunity to answer the question, since it had been asked. I shot another look across at Yong-hwa; he certainly was hearing a few things he would rather not hear.
“He doesn’t belong to you,” said Se-ri. “Not for another two months. Never, if I have anything to do with it. And it would be a pity, because as his fiancée, I would have to tell him about this book I found, and the person to whom it belongs.” She held up a small, slim volume that was worn with much use and great age, and I saw Ae-jung grow pale.
“Where did you get that?”
“I found it in your office,” said Se-ri lightly. “Such a lovely inscription to you, and it’s even signed! Your father was actually very well known, wasn’t he? I wasn’t sure at first, so I brought my friend along to look at you yesterday. She knew you straightaway.”
Ae-jung took in a shaking breath and seemed to gather herself. “Even if you do tell him,” she said, “that won’t change anything between you and him. It’ll still be a contract, and it will still end soon.”
Se-ri slapped Ae-jung. I’m not sure she meant to, for she looked as surprised as Ae-jung. It made a shock of sound across the room, causing me to make an involuntary movement of my fan and Yong-hwa to sit forward abruptly, his half-lidded eyes opening fully. He started from his seat, and in his doing so his eyes travelled past the two women to rest on . . . me. For a moment he seemed to see without comprehending, his eyes dwelling on me as though I were one more of the marble statues that dotted the library at random. Then, as I put one finger lightly to my lips, warning him against giving himself away, he sank once more against the seat back, his lips very slightly parted.
He was still looking at me through the two women when Ae-jung said, shakily, “I’ll tell him myself.” Yong-hwa’s gaze faltered, turning back on Ae-jung, and he gripped the arms of his chair as though surprised to find himself still in his seat.
That’s right, I thought. Forget about me. But just the same, I was careful not to make another move, sitting as still and silent as though I were one of the marble statues. What an awful man! If Ae-jung and Se-ri hadn’t seen me, what reason could there be for Yong-hwa to see me? They were much closer, after all.
“I’ll tell him myself,” said Ae-jung again. “I was going to tell him anyway.”
For the briefest moment, Se-ri was shocked into silence. Then she said softly, “Sohn Sajangnim doesn’t know about you, though, does he? He’s such a careful man. I wouldn’t think he’d provide Hyun-jun with your services if he knew your father was the one who wrote all those critical pieces about Hyun-jun in the papers. In fact, I don’t think he’d provide anyone with your services if he knew about it. Hyun-jun wasn’t the only one damaged by those articles. The publishing house nearly went out of business.”
“Don’t,” said Ae-jung miserably. “Don’t do that, Se-ri-ssi. I have to work.”
“You should have thought of that before you annoyed me,” said Se-ri again, and her voice had for the first time a quality very different from her usual carefully cultivated sweetness. I could almost think she was sorry if it weren’t for the hardness to her eyes. What an odd, frightening sort of girl she was. “But don’t worry, Ae-jung-ssi. I’m sure I can find a use for you at Abeoji’s company. As a matter of fact, I could make good use of a personal assistant.”
I wasn’t surprised to see Ae-jung shrink a little. “Can I think about it?”
“I suppose so,” said Se-ri, shrugging. She was back to her flawless, friendly self. “But don’t take too long, will you? I don’t like to be kept waiting.” She turned lightly on her heel and left the room in a graceful waft that was very different from the way in which she had entered it. Ae-jung, left behind, sank into a huddle on the floor, her arms around her knees.
I expected Yong-hwa to come and comfort her, so it was a surprise to see him gaze silently and thoughtfully at her for some time before rising and treading just as silently to the door. What was he playing at? He opened the door soundlessly, but didn’t exit, and I smiled suddenly. Of course! He wanted to appear to Ae-jung as if he had just arrived. He shut the door with a moderately loud bang and a few rattles of the door-knob for good measure, but his caution was wasted. Ae-jung only stared straight ahead of her—which put her gaze on the bookcase just beyond my motionless feet, if she had been any more inclined to see it than she was to see me—and showed no sign of having heard him enter.
Yong-hwa smiled faintly and did something with his fingers that tugged at the air. I barely refrained from drawing in a sharp breath at the strength
of it and watched in astonishment as magic warped the library shelves into a hazy tangle behind Yong-hwa’s fingers. Then came dancing from his fingers tiny instruments: a fat, happy tuba doing fat, happy little blat blat blats in time with the exuberant twin trumpets that were making sharp, frilly filigrees of melody around each other. After them came a riot of other assorted brass, pushing a snubby, off-beat tune ahead of them and dancing as though their tiny lives depended upon it. And Ae-jung, who hadn’t looked up at the first strains of jazzy brass, at last lifted her chin—at first in surprise, then in wonder, her mouth dropping open.
The dancing brass sashayed toward Ae-jung and did a syncopated strut around her head, while she made a sniffling laugh into her folded arms. That made Yong-hwa smile in a crooked sort of way, and he took one step toward her just as the library door abruptly opened and Jessamy’s head of spiked hair twitched into the room.
“Hyung? There you are! I thought I heard your music!” Jessamy looked from Yong-hwa to the crouching Ae-jung, who was poking at a coyly dodging tuba with one finger, and came fully into the room. “Mwohya?”
Yong-hwa gazed at him in silence for so long that I expected Jessamy to repeat the question, but my brother knew Yong-hwa better than I’d given him credit for. He waited with his hands in his pockets, looking enquiringly at Yong-hwa until Yong-hwa said softly, “It’s good timing, Jessamy-a.”
Jessamy looked to Ae-jung again, and said in a voice modulated to match Yong-hwa’s low tone, “What’s wrong, Hyung? What happened to Ae-jung?”
“She’s had some unpleasant news. Why don’t you take her for a walk in the garden and try to cheer her up?”
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