Chapter 11
What on Earth Are You?
Ah—Miyu started to shout but lost her strength instead. The stranger, startled by her sudden movement, let out a short gasp.
“You… Bok-sil?”
In front of her stood Bok-sil, the girl she’d seen earlier at the book-rental stall, grinning broadly.
“You’re still awake?”
“How are you here…?”
“I usually stay here. I’d been sleeping in the bookshop’s tiny back room the past few nights, but my body felt stiff, so I came back.”
Bok-sil furrowed her brow.
The two sat side-by-side on the wooden porch. Moonlight lay quietly over the courtyard, and a scops owl called now and then.
“You scared me,” Miyu said.
“Sorry. I thought everyone was asleep. Oh, there’s a dog I haven’t seen before—what’s its name?”
Bok-sil stroked the white pup’s head.
“Woo-yu!”
“Is she your dog?”
Miyu nodded, then asked, “You were staying at the bookshop?”
“Yes. Sometimes I do. If a new novel comes out, I might read until morning and just sleep there. Or if I run an errand far away, I stay rather than come back. I don’t feel like leaving in the morning anyway, and I can read more. But this time I didn’t come back for three whole days.”
“Bok-sil, you really love books, huh?”
“Of course. Once I pick one up, time disappears. I even taught myself to read and write while working. Those passionate love stories—they drive people crazy.”
Bok-sil clenched her fist and shivered with excitement.
“You like romance,” Miyu said.
“Romance?”
“You know, love stories between men and women.”
Miyu quickly rephrased.
Bok-sil stared at her with wide eyes.
“You’re like… someone from another world.”
“R-really?”
“Idol, romance—you use words I’ve never heard, but you don’t know the Four Books and Three Classics. And you act as bold as a man.”
Her assessment was sharp.
“No, I’m just a little…” Miyu searched for a word. Modern? Different? None felt right.
Bok-sil waited, but Miyu changed the subject.
“Where’s your hometown?”
“Cheongju, in Chungcheong Province. My parents are traveling peddlers. I roamed with them until I was twelve, but since thirteen I’ve worked here in Songpa Market as a clerk.”
“You must miss them.”
Miyu lightly patted Bok-sil’s shoulder as she stroked Woo-yu. Miyu herself had lost her mother at fourteen; Bok-sil had left her parents even younger. How frightening that must have been.
“I see them twice a year, on Lunar New Year and Chuseok. How did you come here, Sister?”
“Me? My mother died of illness, and my father works on civil construction in the provinces.”
“Drafted for fortress building, huh.”
“Something like that.”
“I thought you were a fallen noble’s daughter. Your face is beautiful, and you have this refined air—especially your pale skin.”
Partly natural, partly from long days indoors at school and work, plus careful sunscreen. Miyu’s flawless skin was her pride.
But here, she hadn’t used sunscreen at all. She brushed her teeth with willow twigs—sunscreen was out of the question.
Still, she’d find some way to care for her skin.
“Sister, can I sleep here tonight?” Bok-sil asked shyly.
“Sure.”
Both were lonely.
It had been ages since Miyu had lain beside someone, chatting until sleep took her. Back when her mother was alive, it had been common.
Soon their quiet voices mingled with the moonlight in the Songpa Merchants’ Guild guesthouse.
The next morning Miyu noticed something odd as Bok-sil washed her face: a small gourd.
“Bok-sil, what’s that by your leg?”
Bok-sil looked up, water dripping.
“A washing gourd.”
“A… washing gourd?” Miyu had never heard the term.
“You don’t know? You’re so smart, but you don’t know this? It’s a dried gourd filled with grain powder.”
Miyu crouched to peer inside. Yellowish powder filled it.
“What kind of powder?”
“Soybean and red-bean flour. You wash with it. Mung-bean powder foams better, but this is precious enough. It’s a luxury for commoners like us, but it’s trendy, so I splurged.”
Bok-sil grinned.
“You should try it. I’ll lend you some.”
“Thanks. If it’s good, I’ll buy some too.”
She still had two jeon left after yesterday’s drinks.
Bok-sil clicked her tongue at Miyu’s easy answer.
“Different as always. I hesitated for over two weeks before buying mine.”
While rubbing the grain powder on her wet face, Miyu replied,
“Caring for your face and body is an investment. Nothing to hesitate about.”
An hour later, after cooking and eating together, they left the merchants’ guild for the bustling market street.
They drew stares: two women in wide-brimmed straw hats, unusual for ladies, confidently walking a leashed puppy.
“Sister, people are looking at us,” Bok-sil said, embarrassed.
“What’s the skin’s worst enemy?” Miyu asked, shoulders proudly back.
“Th-the sun?”
“Exactly. It ages skin, causes cancer, damages eyes. Once ruined, fixing skin is as hard as turning a villain into a saint.”
“So basically hopeless.”
Impressed, Bok-sil nodded vigorously.
Just then a familiar silhouette approached, also wearing a broad hat—not for sun protection but to hide his face.
It was painter Yi Woon, carrying his art bag. His plain white robe only made him shine more.
“Seeing you again so soon,” Miyu greeted brightly.
“Go about your business,” Yi Woon replied coolly, walking past.
“Che, so cold,” Miyu sniffed.
When Bok-sil recognized his face under the hat, she froze. She stared after him, then turned to Miyu, astonished.
“What’s wrong?”
“How do you know that man?”
“Had drinks with him yesterday.”
Bok-sil’s jaw dropped. Impossible.
Yi Woon, a renowned painter, was the only commoner among the scholars of the Four Books and Three Classics—famous for his looks. Dinner with him was shocking; drinking together, unthinkable.
“You knew him already?”
“No, just met him a few days ago.”
At that moment Inspector Hwang Hui came hurrying by with constables, black official robe and sword at his waist. He raised his vine staff in greeting when he saw Miyu.
“Inspector Hwang! Good work!” Miyu called cheerfully.
Bok-sil froze again, thawed, froze once more.
“How do you know Inspector Hwang…?”
“Drank with him yesterday. Together.”
Then from the silk-shop alley emerged Byeon Ha-yeon, impossible to miss in a pink cloud-patterned robe with a jade hat-string and a crystal pipe at his waist. He waved.
“Hey, Lady Miyu. Feeling better?”
“Of course. I told you I’m the wheat-beer queen,” Miyu answered boldly.
“You haven’t forgotten our meeting in three days?”
“Not at all. See you then.”
Watching him leave, Bok-sil was stunned.
“Don’t tell me Byeon Ha-yeon too…?”
“Yep. Drank with him. All four of us.”
“You drank with three of the Four Books’ finest men—alone?”
“Looks that way.”
“What on earth are you?” Bok-sil stared as if Miyu were some unknown creature.
“Me? Jo Miyu.”
Around noon, after checking the vegetable stand, Miyu approached the grandmother seated nearby.
“Grandma, I’m stepping out for a bit. Please watch Woo-yu.”
“Going for lunch?”
“No, I want to look at other vegetable stalls.”
“To buy something?”
“Just to see how they run their business.”
The old woman widened her big eyes, then sighed.
“You’re a strange one, truly. Fine, go. But shouldn’t Woo-yu watch me, not the other way around? Don’t worry, off you go.”
Miyu first visited the riverside vegetable stall. A sharp-faced, shrewd-looking woman owned it. Nothing special, but the spot was perfect for travelers coming off the ferry.
For everyday goods like vegetables, location is everything—people buy whatever’s most convenient.
Next was the Songpa vegetable stall run by a young bachelor. Not quite as prime a spot, but nestled between a side-dish shop and one selling powders and dyes, it drew many female customers—great for sales.
As Miyu neared the bustling stall, a young man selling greens caught her eye.
Not a porter, but shirtless and just in trousers—showing off a serious six-pack.
Porters hauling heavy loads often went shirtless from the hard labor and sweat.
But a shopkeeper? Rare.
Clearly he was showing off.
Bronze-skinned, thick-browed, he might not match the scholars of the Four Books, but he was handsome, sturdy, and brimming with energy.
“Come, come, take a look! Fresh greens just in! Ladies, eat our veggies and you’ll grow more beautiful!”
His booming voice shook the market.
“Oh my, our veggie lad has quite the voice,” one woman said.
“Ma’am, you’re already beautiful—just eat our vegetables and be as healthy as me,” he teased.
He called older women “noona” with easy familiarity.
“My, is that so?”
“Yeoju’s husband will get no sleep tonight!”
“Ho ho ho! Who wouldn’t like being called pretty—especially by such a sturdy young man?”
The women burst into giggles.
“Heave-ho!”
With no real need, the young man hefted a heavy basket of squash back and forth, muscles rippling like he was lifting weights.
Muscle men always have to show off, Miyu thought, half amused.
He wiped the sweat from his brow with the cloth around his neck, then dragged it across his broad chest, catching the beads of sweat on his bronzed skin.
The women’s eyes clung to him.
“Ladies, these greens are the best! No regrets—buy plenty!” he called with a playful wink that melted them like seaweed in hot soup.
Ugh, cheesy, Miyu thought, though she envied his thriving sales.
Then a sudden realization struck her like lightning.
He’s not just wasting strength—that’s the trick!
Miyu snapped her fingers, enlightened.
