“Yes,” I said. “It’s very interesting.”
“Are you sad?”
I had to think about that for a little bit longer. “Maybe,” I said at last. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But someone else is going to be, and I’m not sure how to stop it. Oh! This girl! Why is she going to him of all people for advice!”
“Who? Oh! There’s Ae-jung! Doesn’t she look pretty in my hanbok? Is she sitting with you, Clovis-a?”
“Never mind,” I said. “I have to go, Unni. I’ll come to sit with you later at the dance.”
This time in Reality, I saw Ae-jung enter the door to the upper gallery where I would normally have spent the entire dance, and said a soft breathless “Aish!” Somehow I was running, my feet heavy and clumsy across the carpeted hall, my only thought that I had to get to Yong-hwa before Ae-jung did. I heard Eun-hee protesting behind me, but she wasn’t unladylike enough to dash after me. She stamped her foot in a flicker of Dream, then turned and went back down the hall with a distinct flounce. She would fetch Dong-wook to carry me about, having failed to stop me, but I would find Yong-hwa before Dong-wook found me.
My foot was on the topmost step of the gallery stairs when Ae-jung left the bottom one. Yong-hwa, whose eyes were resting thoughtfully on the side door by which I’d originally planned to enter the room, didn’t see her until she said softly, “Seonbae?” and bowed to him.
“Ae-jung-ssi!” he said in surprise.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Seonbae,” she said. “Were you waiting for someone?”
I hesitated, my foot wavering between the top and the next step.
“Ani,” said Yong-hwa, smiling. Below, the quartet started up again, and above the happy room, my foot sank back into the carpet of the balcony. I faintly heard Yong-hwa say above the sound of the music, “Sit down, Ae-jung-ssi. What’s wrong?”
The dance joined on the floor with a muffled drum of footfalls that drowned out Yong-hwa’s conversation with Ae-jung more effectively than the music had. I could have followed the Dream of them, but I found myself edging away from it instead, my eyes on the Yong-hwa and Ae-jung in Reality, whose silently moving lips could be counted on not to say anything that I didn’t want to hear. Ae-jung, her hands clasping each other tightly in her lap, was speaking without quite looking up at Yong-hwa, who was leaning forward intently to catch her every word. They spoke for the entire length of that dance and on through the next, while I wondered rather numbly exactly why I had arranged things with Se-ri so that Ae-jung could sit pleasantly with Yong-hwa without fear of interruption. Midway through the next dance, however, the door that Yong-hwa had been watching so steadily earlier burst open.
Things got louder very quickly. “You!” said Hyun-jun furiously to Ae-jung, above the sound of the music. “Come with me!”
“Lower your voice,” Yong-hwa said. “You’ll frighten the other guests. Eun-hee-ssi is already looking over.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” said Ae-jung, tears glowing in her eyes. “Yong-hwa-ssi and I are going to be married.”
Hyun-jun’s white face jumped in my vision, and it was only after I felt the carpet beneath my fingers that I realised I was kneeling on the floor with my skirts around me.
“It hurts,” I said, and my voice sounded thin to my ears. I pressed one of my hands to my chest, my breath too fast, and said again, “It hurts. Why does that hurt?” It wasn’t anything more than I’d already known would happen if Yong-hwa met a willing Ae-jung again.
Below, Hyun-jun said more softly but with no less savagery, “So it was about the money after all? Keurae; my father might not die anytime in the next five years, and I’ll never see a penny while the old fox is alive. Ma Yong-hwa is a much safer bet.”
“Think what you like,” said Ae-jung. “There’s no need to be disturbing Eun-hee unni’s party like this. Go away.”
“I suppose,” said Hyun-jun bitterly, “that you expect me to believe you couldn’t care less about the money. But it’s easier to love a man with readily disposable income than to love one whose income depends on the generosity of a publisher.”
Yong-hwa sighed. “I’m very quickly reaching the point where I’ll throw you out, Hyun-jun-ssi. Please be more careful about what you say to a lady.”
“Fine,” said Ae-jung, without regarding him. “Fine. It’s all about the money. I told you last night—”
“There you are, miss!” said Carlin’s cheerful voice behind me. “You—miss, are you all right?”
I turned my head blindly, seeing his face through a bright haze. I said, “Take me back to my room, please, Carlin.”
“I’ve got you, miss,” he said, crouching beside me. “Didn’t I tell you not to go out? Put your head there, miss; up we go.”
A Dream tried to follow us as Carlin carried me into the hall, but I pushed it away flintily. I didn’t want to see any more of Ae-jung’s protestations or Yong-hwa’s protectiveness. I didn’t want to hear again that his first love had been at last successful.
“I must have been wrong, Carlin,” I said exhaustedly, as the wallpaper passed by in an indiscernible blur. “I never thought I was ill natured, but I think I must be. Oh! Why does it hurt so much?”
I was lowered to sit in one of the hallway settees, Carlin’s anxious face looking down at me. “Where does it hurt, miss? What happened?”
“Here,” I said, sinking back against the wall and pressing my palm into my chest again. “It hurts here. It won’t stop.”
“What happened at the dance?” he asked, kneeling to gaze at me. “There was shouting below when I came in, wasn’t there?”
“That—” I said, and hesitated. “That was . . . the world realigning, I think. Take me to my room, Carlin. I want to sit in my own chaise longue and rest for a while.”
“All right,” he said, unwillingly. “But I know you’re not telling me everything, miss. You used to tell me everything.”
I gave a small, panting laugh. “When did I ever do that? You’re imagining things, Carlin.”
“Yes, miss,” said Carlin, smiling at me. “That’s better. I’ll take you back and make you some tea.”
It wasn’t until another hour passed that there was a knock on my door. I looked at it listlessly, empty of any thought but that no one should be knocking on my door while the dance was still going on elsewhere in the manor.
Perhaps Jessamy had grown sick of it all. I said hopefully to Carlin, who was squinting through our peephole, “Is it Jessamy?”
“It’s him,” Carlin said, and added reluctantly, “Ma Yong-hwa. Do you want me to go to my room, miss?”
“No,” I said. “Stay here; I can’t talk tonight. Put the quilt over me.”
“You’ll be too hot,” protested Carlin, but he did as he was told. He tsked at me when he saw the shawl I’d put around my shoulders. “Are you trying to get heatstroke, miss?”
“Never you mind,” I said shortly. I wasn’t sure why, but I was quite certain that I didn’t want Yong-hwa to see my dancing dress from tonight. “Make yourself busy getting me a cup of tea after you let him in.”
“Yes, miss,” said Carlin, his eyes shaded with concern. I would have to get a better grip on myself; I hadn’t ever been cross with Carlin before. I closed my eyes against his worried look and leaned my head into the arm of the chaise longue, the familiar curve of it against the back of my neck both wearying and comforting at the same time.
The door opened and closed across the room, but I didn’t open my eyes. It was only when Yong-hwa tapped his finger lightly against the back of my hand that I opened them a little.
“Dae? Oh, it’s you, Oppa. I’m tired today; we’ve been meeting every day for the last two weeks. I’m going to rest for a little while.”
Yong-hwa frowned faintly. “Clovis-a—”
I let my eyes glaze a little as though I’d faded away from Reality, and murmured, “Mmm?”
“Clovis-a,” he said again, softly, “have you been Dreaming about me ton
ight?”
“Ani,” I said, closing my eyes. “Go away now, Oppa. I can’t think.”
The lightest of kisses settled on my brow and I instinctively shied away from it, turning on my chaise longue. There was silence for a moment, and through my lashes I saw Yong-hwa’s hand reach out.
“Clovis-a—”
“Good night, Oppa,” I said.
“This way,” said Carlin. “Sir.”
“I’ll come back to see you when you’ve rested,” said Yong-hwa quietly. “Until tomorrow, then, Clovis-a.”
14
It’s a fact of life that the people we love will leave us. I’ve lived my life without loving too greatly, but even for me, sooner or later, everyone leaves. Mother was the first to go, then Father. Even Jessamy is always leaving, and although he comes back every time there’s always the knowledge in the back of my mind that one day he won’t come back, either.
I knew that one day you would go, too. I knew I shouldn’t let myself care too much, or get too attached, and at first that was easy enough. But now that I’ve started to feel things, it seems that I can’t stop. Care must have crept in before I was aware of how much I was beginning to feel, and now that I can feel it, it’s a pain in my heart. However it was that it happened, I got used to having you there, and now that you’re gone . . .
I suppose I just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.
That’s not important. Not really. I just wanted you to know. I wanted you to know that even if I didn’t always know it, I did love you. And I’m glad I sent you away, because I couldn’t love you as much as you ought to be loved, or in the way that you should be loved.
So don’t try to come back. Trust me one more time to do the best thing, and stay with her. She’ll love you better and more than I could have done, and I think she needs you as much as I ever did.
Be happy. Be well.
And if things don’t work out, I’ve left you an exit.
***
It was curiously hard to sleep that night. Dreams crowded around me, thick and sticky and insistent with importance, but there was a pressing heaviness in my chest that wouldn’t release me for long enough to fly away into them. I wasn’t sorry not to Dream, but I regretted the absence of my accustomed lightness and insubstantiality of feeling. And just as I didn’t dare to push too strongly to Dream, fearing what I might see, I didn’t dare to examine the weight of feeling that pressed me to the bed.
At last, heavy and languid, I rose to dress again and left my room. Music from the dance floated up the stairs and into the hallway as I walked, and I caught the edge of a Dream of the ballroom, bright with Contraption lighting and colourful clothing. Dong-wook was there, clearing a frown from Eun-hee’s face by telling her that Carlin had carried me away to my suite, but neither Ae-jung nor Yong-hwa was there. I put out an unsteady hand to the wall and kept walking, blinking the Dream away before it could show me anything else, and stumbled upon my object—Jessamy’s room. I hadn’t expected him to be at the dance, and neither was he, but I had expected him to be awake.
He wasn’t. Instead, he was sprawled on his bed amid an inky mass of stave paper scribbled with barely legible notes, his arms and legs flung wide like a puppy’s limbs.
I sank onto the bed beside him, as heedless in my heaviness as he was in his sleep, and curled up next to him with a crackling of paper. “Jessamy-a,” I said, tugging at his hand with both of mine. “Jessamy-a, make it stop hurting.”
Jessamy, without opening his eyes, murmured, “Nuna,” and patted my head with more goodwill than accuracy. He fell asleep again almost immediately, and I was left to feel the warmth of his hand against my head without feeling any of the relief his touch usually brought me.
The morning came at last, and brought with it more Dreams, pressing and enticing. I considered each one, gazing into the light insubstantiality of them, and felt heavier than ever. In my heaviness I left Jessamy in the bed and sat by the window instead, curling up into a big, faded brocade chair that had seen too many sunny Eppan mornings. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad thing to go back to Dreaming as much as I’d used to do. I would rejoin my Dreams to be as light, carefree, and bored as I had always been.
“Nuna,” mumbled Jessamy, from the bed. “You can’t go pushing into suites on the men’s wing. What if you get the wrong door?”
“Apologise and blush every time the owner of the suite talks to me for the entire summer,” I said, with a smile that felt as thin and stretched as old stockings.
“Nuuuna!” he complained. He sat up, scrubbing his fingers through his wild mess of hair. “Why did you have to remind me? Ya, your eyes are all big and glossy again—didn’t you sleep last night? I thought all the Dreams went away if I was touching you.”
“You’re not as useful as you thought, Jessamy-a,” I said. “Go down to breakfast. I’ll sit here for a while, I think.”
“I’ll bring you up a tray,” he said, with a smile as bright as the morning. “Or do you want the Carlin . . .” His voice faded away, and he trotted forward to peer at me, his face twisting. “Nuna, what’s wrong? Your face was never like that before.”
“I’m all right,” I said, smiling the stretched-thin smile again. “Don’t worry, Jessamy-a. It’s just that I’ve been heavy for too long. I need to Dream for a little while again.”
“But—”
“Go to breakfast,” I said again. “I’ll Dream here for a while. Don’t tell anyone where I am, Jessamy-a; I need peace and quiet today.”
“All right,” he said doubtfully, and, unusually enough for him, he kissed my forehead before he left. He was scarcely out the door before a Dream folded around me, buoying me up and out of the brocade seat, but not quite taking away the remembrance of weight in my chest.
In that Dream, Yong-hwa was knocking at the door to my suite. Wary of his ability to sense me even in my Dreams, I drew back to the very edges of that Dream, my breath light, and watched. Carlin opened the door with a snappish kind of tug that made it clear he’d been looking through the peephole again, and said with the same kind of snappishness, “Yes? Sir?”
Yong-hwa gazed at him for a moment, his face entirely humourless, then said, “I need to speak with Clovis-a.”
“You can’t,” said Carlin. “Sir.”
I saw a glow of anger to Yong-hwa’s eyes. “May I ask why not?”
“She’s not here.”
“I see,” said Yong-hwa slowly. “Or rather, I don’t. Where is she?”
“Don’t know,” Carlin said. “Sir. She doesn’t usually leave her rooms without me.”
“I’ll wait here, then,” said Yong-hwa.
Carlin shrugged and stood aside from the door. “All right.”
Yong-hwa tilted his head to one side and looked at Carlin for another long moment before he gave a short, unamused laugh. “I see,” he said again. “In that case I think I’ll look elsewhere.”
“Sir.” Carlin promptly began to close the door.
“Wait.”
“Sir?”
“She said she didn’t Dream about me last night.”
“Is there any reason why she should Dream about you, sir?”
“I was certainly beginning to think so,” said Yong-hwa, unconsciously straightening a tie that was less tidy than usual. “But I didn’t sense her last night, either at the dance or—or later. Are you sure you don’t know where she is?”
“She didn’t Dream about you,” said Carlin. “I don’t know where she is.”
Yong-hwa nodded shortly. “Arraso. Then I won’t keep you.”
“Yes, sir,” said Carlin again, and shut the door before Yong-hwa could change his mind.
Yong-hwa, left in the hall, straightened his tie one last time and slowly walked back toward the stairs. I pushed away from the Dream and from him, content that I was safe in Jessamy’s room for a little while longer, but sank into another Dream almost immediately, unwilling to find myself back in the room alone and heavy. This time I found Hwan-chul, wh
o was playing with her ball in the garden, kicking it from foot to foot in a rhythm that I recognised as such only because I watched for long enough to hear it repeating. That explained the faraway look on her face when she played with the ball: just like Jessamy, who kicked his heels against whatever he happened to be sitting on when he composed, Hwan-chul was forming rhythms and melodies in her head.
I watched her kick her ball until one of the library windows opened and Se-ri’s head emerged.
“You! Little boy!”
Hwan-chul turned her head and said cheerfully, “Ye?” without missing time.
“Run a message for me,” said Se-ri. She held up an envelope. “This. Take this to Hyun-jun-ssi and I’ll give you a present.”
I watched her moodily. I could have interfered, but what was the use now? It was already too late to unsee what I’d seen, and unhear what I’d heard last night. Whatever other form Se-ri’s machinations took, it was no use trying to stop them now. No doubt she was planning on marrying Hyun-jun as soon as possible now that Ae-jung had announced her engagement to Yong-hwa.
“What present?” asked Hwan-chul, who hadn’t stopped kicking her ball. Her tone was thoughtful but not convinced.
Se-ri’s eyes flicked up and down that boyish figure. She said, “Money, if you like. Or perhaps you’d prefer to have a pretty frock?”
“Ya!” said Hwan-chul, missing the ball completely in her shock. “Don’t say that sort of thing out loud, Nuna! What will people think?”
Se-ri shrugged. “It’s your choice. Money or a frock, I don’t care. But if you don’t want people to notice that you don’t have an Adam’s apple, you should remember to keep your collar buttoned.”
Hwan-chul fastened her top button, looking narrowly at Se-ri for a very long time. Then she nodded. “I’ll take your message, Nuna. I’ll take a tip for it.”
“If you like,” Se-ri agreed carelessly. “Make sure this gets safely to Hyun-jun. If he asks you where I am before he opens it, don’t tell him. You can tell him after he’s opened it and looked at it—if he asks you. He might not. He might just rush off again.”
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