MBCH 19

Chapter 19……………………………..

{Mr. Minamoto!}

Dowoon broke into a picture-perfect smile, as though genuinely delighted to see him.

{Have you been well, Mr. Minamoto? You look even better than the last time we met.}

{Hahaha, do I? Well, a few new girls joined Hongwon Pavilion recently, and I’ve been enjoying myself quite a bit. That must be it.}

{Haha, is that so?}

At Dowoon’s polite flattery, Minamoto let out a lecherous chuckle. For a man so small and thin, he always carried himself with excessive confidence.

{You should stop by soon too, before the others get their fill.}

{If you recommend it so highly, I’ll be sure to pay a visit.}

Suppressing the familiar wave of disgust he always felt in Minamoto’s presence, Dowoon smiled smoothly.

Following Minamoto’s lead, Dowoon entered the reception room. Minamoto settled comfortably into the seat of honor and clamped a thick, tightly rolled cigar between his lips. Each time he spoke, dense smoke billowed out.

{So, shall we set a date to visit Hongwon Pavilion?}

{Ah—unfortunately, that may be difficult for a while. I’m newly married, you see.}

{Newly married? What—since when? You got married?}

Minamoto stared at him in surprise. Dowoon responded with the story he and Chohui had rehearsed.

{Things happened rather suddenly, so I wasn’t able to greet you properly beforehand. I hope you’ll forgive me, Mr. Minamoto.}

{Ho ho! To think you’d gotten married! Why the rush? And without so much as a word to me?}

{Haha, circumstances made it unavoidable.}

At Dowoon’s evasive reply, Minamoto stroked his mustache and tapped ash into the tray. He tilted his cigarette back and forth near the edge, grinning.

{Well now… something smells fishy.}

{Haha, Mr. Minamoto, whatever could you mean? Both families were firm in their wishes, so things moved quickly—}

{Come now, be honest with me, Mr. Mikael. I’ve never seen a marriage happen so fast—like roasting beans over a lightning strike. You can tell me the truth.}

Normally, Minamoto addressed him as “Mr. Ri,” always attaching the surname—a subtle way of keeping distance from a Korean, no matter how friendly he pretended to be.

But just now, he had called him by name.

He really must be curious about the reason for the marriage.

{Go on, tell me. What made our Mr. Mikael rush so much?}

At Minamoto’s question, delivered with a sly smile, Dowoon’s expression stiffened slightly.

On the surface, it sounded like praise for Chohui’s beauty—but the intent beneath was obvious. A vulgar joke.

Dowoon immediately caught the ugliness of Minamoto’s implication and hesitated. Should he give the answer the man wanted?

Of course, doing so would make things go more smoothly.

But he didn’t want to speak of Chohui that way.

{Ah, the fire of youth, you know—hehe. It is the prime of life.}

Minamoto snickered as he spoke.

{Next time, I ought to teach you a thing or two, Mr. Ri! Me, I’ve been with countless women, but I always kept things clean afterward. I’ll share my secrets with you.}

So he was boasting that despite sleeping with other women, nothing had ever gone wrong?

Despite the fact that there was nothing to brg about, Minamoto wore his shamelessness proudly. Dowoon forced himself to maintain a smile.

Endure it. This doesn’t even qualify as a joke.

A man who routinely slept with geishas thought nothing of making such crude remarks.

Normally, Dowoon would have taken it in stride and replied with practiced charm.

But today, for some reason, irritation bubbled up, and no smooth retort came to mind.

Is it because he’s talking about Seong Chohui that way?

The thought struck him as ridiculous, and he let out a faint, incredulous chuckle.

When he was full of plans to use her.

There was no reason he should feel offended by crude remarks about her.

There had to be another reason.

Trying to suppress the inexplicable heat rising inside him, Dowoon clenched and unclenched his fist repeatedly.

Meanwhile, Chohui calmly sipped her tea, unfazed by the subtle exclusion from the other women.

After all, everything they whispered to belittle her was untrue.

She wasn’t some nouveau riche.
She hadn’t bought her position as a wife with money.

She wasn’t even a real wife to begin with.

Their gossip—no, their outright snide remarks—held no power over her.

{But why is your name “Lucia Ri,” exactly? You didn’t think changing your name would make you one of us instead of a Joseon woman, did you?}

After spending quite some time picking at Chohui, Mrs. Hiranishi finally asked, displeasure evident in her tone.

Rather than feeling offended, Chohui cheered inwardly.

{Actually, I studied abroad in England from a young age, so I find an English name more comfortable.}

Not only the women sitting across from her, but even Mrs. Minamoto—who had remained silent, simply drinking her tea—looked surprised.

For the first time, Mrs. Minamoto met Chohui’s eyes.

{Where in England did you live, Ms. Ri?}

{I lived in London when I was young, then mostly in Bath. I returned to London for university.}

At Chohui’s answer, Mrs. Hiranishi clapped her hands in surprise.

{Bath—isn’t that on the itinerary for our planned trip, Sakura-san?}

{…I believe it was.}

Mrs. Minamoto still looked displeased, but reluctantly agreed.

Chohui seized the opening at once.

{Oh my—are you planning a trip to Bath, Madam? If you’d like, I could recommend places you absolutely must visit next time.}

{You must have lived there a long time.}

{Indeed. England could be called my second home.}

At her words, a ripple ran through the women. They all admired England, yet not one of them had ever been there.

Hearing that it was like a hometown to her stirred both envy and curiosity.

This was exactly the scenario Dowoon had prepared for her.

Just as he’d said, Mrs. Minamoto was now paying attention to her.

Now came the real beginning. She needed to win their favor just a little more—enough to lead naturally into another meeting.

{Hmm. If you lived in England so long, you must be quite fluent in English.}

{Of course. Oh—come to think of it, didn’t you say this was an English study group?}

{Yes. We’re preparing for a trip to England next year.}

At Mrs. Minamoto’s reply, Chohui beamed and clapped her hands.

{How wonderful! May I join you as well? I don’t know many people in Sinuiju, and I’ve been quite lonely on my own.}

{Hmm…}

Caught off guard by the sudden request, Mrs. Minamoto fell silent, thinking.

Oh no—did I push too hard?

Chohui quickly added,

{I’ve been reading Pride and Prejudice lately, you see. I’m so immersed in it that chatting like this feels just like gossiping in high society—I couldn’t help myself.}

She delivered the lie smoothly. Instantly, all eyes locked onto her.

They looked as though they’d heard something shocking.

{High society?}

Mrs. Minamoto, who had seemed cold all along, responded now with an excited tone.

{You’ve experienced English high society, then?}

{Of course, Madam. You can’t talk about England without mentioning social parties.}

The murmuring among the women grew louder—no longer disapproving, but buzzing with anticipation and curiosity.

{Ms. Ri, what are English society balls like? Are they really like the books?}

{And debutantes? Where did you learn to dance?}

Questions poured in all at once. The subtly dismissive atmosphere from before had shifted.

Chohui answered as calmly as she could. The time she’d spent studying with Dowoon was finally paying off.

Some questions she could answer using knowledge from books. Others, she had to improvise with imagination.

The only one watching her with visible displeasure was Mrs. Daiichi—the same woman who had snapped at her earlier.

Sitting to Mrs. Minamoto’s right, she observed Chohui closely, clearly dissatisfied.

So Mrs. Daiichi is Minamoto’s right hand. More wary than I expected.

Fortunately, Mrs. Hiranishi, seated to Mrs. Minamoto’s left, now looked openly friendly. If Chohui focused on her, she might very well secure an invitation to the next gathering.

{Oh my—time has flown by already.}

Chohui deliberately broke off the conversation. As expected, the women reacted with disappointment, clearly wanting to hear more.

{I only stopped by briefly with my husband today. If there’s another chance, let’s talk again.}

At her words, Mrs. Hiranishi clutched Mrs. Minamoto’s arm eagerly.

{Sakura-san, how about inviting Ms. Ri to the next gathering? Aren’t you curious about life in England? And she speaks English so well—it would help our studies.}

{Hmm…}

Once again, Mrs. Minamoto hesitated. But the tide had clearly turned in Chohui’s favor.

Putting on the most harmless, innocent smile she could muster, Chohui looked at her.

Please—invite me.

{Very well. A new face will freshen things up. I’ll officially invite Ms. Ri to the next meeting.}

{Really? Thank you so much, Madam.}

Chohui smiled brightly. Mrs. Hiranishi clapped with delight—she seemed even happier than Chohui herself.

As the women resumed their lively chatter, footsteps approached from inside the house.

{What are you all chatting about so cheerfully?}

Minamoto emerged into the garden where the women were gathered. Dowoon followed behind him, hands clasped behind his back.

It was Chohui’s first proper look at Minamoto, and she swallowed reflexively. He was even more scrawny than she’d imagined. Still, she smiled politely.

Yet something about him felt strangely familiar.

Where have I seen this man before?

Minamoto was the very man Dowoon had been so desperate to gather information on.

Now she knew—it wasn’t for business.

It had to be tied to the independence movement.

The realization sent a sharper, deeper tension through her than before.

{We were greeting Ms. Ri’s wife. She’ll be joining our gatherings from now on.}

At Mrs. Minamoto’s words, Dowoon’s eyes gleamed briefly. His gaze met Chohui’s—only for an instant, but unmistakably.

A flicker of triumph crossed his eyes, as if to say, Well done.

At Dowoon’s faint smile, Chohui’s heart thudded hard, as though it had dropped.

Was it happiness? Relief?

Did I just feel happy because he looked pleased?