Chapter 22………………………………………………..
Once words are spoken, they cannot be taken back.
Chohee slowly mulled over Dowoon’s words.
…Should I have just stayed quiet?
Even if Minamoto teased me, should I have just endured it? Just because I’m Japanese? Because I have to look good in front of him?
If I had to endure even someone groping me, how was I any different from the women selling themselves at the Giru?
Did Dowoon bring me here with that intention in mind?
At that thought, Chohee’s body shivered with disappointment. Her face flushed with shame.
“You—”
“Here!”
Ignoring Dowoon’s words, Chohee raised her hand toward the rickshaws lined up in front of the city hall. She fought hard to hold back the tears threatening to fall.
A rickshaw stopped in front of her. She quickly climbed in and turned her head. Soon, she heard Dowoon climbing in beside her. It seemed like he sighed, but she forced herself to look away.
She felt dizzy from confusion, shame, and betrayal. Surely her expression must have revealed it all. But she couldn’t show her emotions.
She wanted to keep at least that much pride.
“Hah.”
Dowoon’s faint sigh came from behind her.
Are all independence activists inherently this self-centered and shameless?
Chohee forced back her tears. If she cried here, it would make her seem like she was the one at fault.
The moonlight shone obliviously bright.
After a long ride, the rickshaw arrived at Gwangan. Dowoon got out first and extended his hand toward Chohee, still wearing a stern expression, signaling her to hold it and get down.
Rickshaws were high, and a woman in a dress couldn’t easily get down on her own. Usually, she would need someone beside her to help.
Every time she had ridden with Dowoon before, she had taken his hand to get down.
But this time was different. Chohee, like Dowoon, kept her face as expressionless as possible, ignored his hand entirely, and jumped down on her own.
She didn’t want to hold his hand.
Not even a little.
Dowoon frowned. He withdrew his hand and strode inside without caring whether she followed or not.
Unbelievable.
Chohee exhaled sharply.
“Hah! Who’s angry at whom right now!”
She yelled at his disappearing back, her anger simmering, and then followed him inside.
She was angry.
Dowoon, nervously loosening the tie around his neck, forcefully opened the front door.
{Hmm. The lady says she’s never been embraced, so I don’t suppose an apology is necessary.}
At Minamoto Sakura’s words, Dowoon felt his blood run cold.
He had messed up.
Minamoto Sakura was by no means someone to be trifled with. For her to speak so bluntly was a clear expression of displeasure.
Not receiving an apology could superficially appear as forgiveness, but in reality, it meant she would never forgive.
The Minamoto lady, from Kyoto, always spoke in ways that hid her true meaning.
She must have already sensed that her husband was lecherous.
So she likely noticed that he tried to embrace Chohee first.
{Minamoto-san, I never did such a thing—}
If only he hadn’t said that.
He could have covered for himself by claiming Chohee had embraced Minamoto first, smoothing over Sakura’s displeasure.
Both of them knew it wasn’t true, but truth didn’t matter.
What mattered was preserving Minamoto Sakura’s dignity.
But one word from Chohee collapsed the fragile facade.
Minamoto Sakura, who valued dignity, now knew in front of the policemen and others about her husband’s shame.
It was completely ruined.
Just days ago, he had thought the social calls to the ladies’ gathering would go smoothly.
Now, he could no longer rely on Minamoto Sakura for information.
“Let’s talk now.”
Chohee, entering the study and closing the door behind her, glared at Dowoon.
“What exactly do you think I am?”
“What do you mean?”
“That I should just stay quiet in that situation? If you were looking for someone to extract information using their body, you should have hired someone from the Giru.”
“Body? Speak clearly.”
Dowoon pressed his lips together, barely suppressing the anger he wanted to shout.
He couldn’t understand her at all.
“I tried my best to fulfill our contract. I acted like a lady to gather information because you told me to. I studied to appear like European high society, and though imperfect, I tried. I did my best in the capacity I could! And yet—”
“Your best? Was that really your best? If you had kept that mouth shut, you wouldn’t have ruined things.”
“You want me to give my body for the sake of the mission?”
The words, of course, if necessary, rose to his throat, but in that moment, his heated mind turned icy.
She was only being used.
So of course. Giving her body to ensure the mission’s success was only natural.
As long as it was a mission for the independence of the nation, such a thing was nothing.
Yet somehow, it twisted his insides.
Did she really hope to quietly let Minamoto hold her?
Dowoon fell silent, trapped by the confusion he couldn’t understand himself.
The silence between them pressed down suffocatingly. Chohee’s eyes reflected the light, sparkling like lanterns in the gloom.
Damn it. Is she… crying?
“…Do not cry.”
“Since you’re avoiding my answer, I understand your intentions clearly.”
“….”
Chohee’s voice was icy as she turned, opening the study door. Her normally low voice trembled slightly.
“…Dowoon, I am not your tool.”
Bang!
The study door slammed, and Dowoon’s legs gave way. An inexplicable pain stabbed his chest. He sank to his knees where he stood.
“Damn it…”
He had thought of her as a tool. Of course.
Of course. Yet…
The goal was only the nation’s independence. Hana. If it meant achieving that, he would use anyone.
And he had. Seong Chohee was just one of many tools.
So why did he feel like his mood kept plummeting?
Dowoon groaned repeatedly and rubbed his face.
The next morning.
At the dining room, Sunhwa-daek cautiously observed Dowoon.
He sat alone at the breakfast table, looking vacant yet stern, staring as if the empty chair in front of him could pierce him.
He had already downed three glasses of water instead of eating.
Was last night’s meal too salty?
Sunhwa-daek nervously asked him,
“Master, aren’t you going to eat?”
“…I’ll eat when the teacher comes down.”
Dowoon’s reply made her sigh inwardly.
The young lady staying at the house over the past few days had brought warmth to the cold household.
Dowoon usually skipped meals and often stayed away from home entirely. When he was home, he remained in his study all day and left again.
Since she arrived, he had been eating all three meals.
Not only that, but he hardly spoke, even to the servants. He was like a lonely winter tree—aloof and dry.
Hearing his laughter in the house was something Sunhwa-daek had not experienced in over ten years.
Over time, the study echoed with his laughter, and the empty house gradually filled with life.
Even setting the table in the dining room instead of the study had only recently begun.
Yet now, he was alone again.
“Should I call the teacher down?”
“No need.”
“But Master, she’s been waiting for an hour.”
“If someone wants to starve, there’s no need to call them.”
Sunhwa-daek tilted her head in confusion.
“Then, Master, why not eat first?”
“Sunhwa-daek. What does it mean when someone who insists on eating all three meals now skips a meal?”
“Huh? Maybe he isn’t hungry.”
“That’s not like him.”
“Then perhaps he feels unwell.”
Dowoon paused at that, unconsciously clenching his teeth and whispering just loud enough to be heard, as if speaking to himself.
“You don’t even want to see my face.”
“Huh?”
He muttered incomprehensible words, pressing his temples, then abruptly got up and headed to the study.
Sunhwa-daek hurried after him.
“Master, aren’t you going to eat?”
“I don’t care.”
“Then what about the meal? Should we leave it?”
“…Leave it. He’ll come down eventually.”
With that enigmatic remark, Dowoon slammed the study door.
Sunhwa-daek exhaled in relief, finally free from the icy tension.
“He even makes love quarrels sound dramatic…”
Shaking her head, she hurried back to the kitchen.
Growl—
Chohee, sitting on her bed, clutched her stomach.
Her body had grown accustomed to three full meals a day, and the loud rumbling was an unwelcome reminder. She had long been used to skipping meals. Even in Kyungsung, she sometimes survived on one meal for days.
Going downstairs for dinner now risked running into Dowoon—a potential disaster.
Yesterday, she had expected him to apologize first.
But as evening approached with no sign of him outside her room, her stubbornness grew.
I stayed here for a reason.
She had not left immediately upon learning he was an independence activist—partly to honor their contract, partly because of his goodwill.
He wasn’t as bad as she thought.
She hadn’t stayed to be treated this way.
Annoyed thoughts about Dowoon brought tears to her eyes again.
She looked at the ceiling and clenched her eyes to hold them back.
Growl—
Luckily, she managed to suppress the tears, but not the hunger.
“I can’t wait any longer.”
With the house empty all day, Dowoon must still be in the study.
Chohee made up her mind and left her room. She believed she would not run into him.
She had intentionally waited until well after dinner.
Quietly descending to the first floor, she sighed in relief as she saw light filtering under the firmly closed study door. Dowoon was still inside, just as she expected.
She tiptoed toward the dining room, which led to the kitchen. Luckily, the lights were off.
Bang—!
“Ah!”
The moment she turned on the light, Chohee gasped and covered her mouth.
The table was filled with cold dishes. And in the darkness behind it sat a figure alone.
It was Dowoon.
