Chapter 38………………………………………………
Chohee put on a wistful smile and recited the lines she had prepared.
“This was meant for Lady Minamoto. It’s something left over after everything else was disposed of, but I just couldn’t throw this one away. I know it’s greedy of me, but I wanted to deliver this to her personally.”
“T-to Lady Sakura?”
“Yes. Then I’ll be on my way.”
Without adding another word, Chohee rose to her feet. Surely Mrs. Hiranishi was dying to know what was inside the other box.
According to the information Dowoon had given her, the gossip-loving Hiranishi would never simply let her leave like this.
So stop me. Please.
Outwardly calm, Chohee prayed inwardly.
“Wait! Are you going to see Lady Sakura right now?”
“Of course. I should pay my respects to Lady Minamoto as well.”
“…Lady Sakura isn’t home at the moment.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“She’s here. At my house. I’ll pass the message along. Then we can open that box here.”
Chohee swallowed. It was obvious Hiranishi was using Lady Minamoto as an excuse to satisfy her own curiosity.
But thanks to that, things were unfolding smoothly for Chohee.
“Please wait here a moment.”
Without even waiting for Chohee’s reply, Mrs. Hiranishi hurried out of the drawing room. Chohee let out the breath she had been holding.
Phew.
So far, everything was going according to plan. Predicting Hiranishi’s behavior had been easy.
But now came the real challenge. Lady Minamoto was not someone easily handled.
Worse, she was the sort of person whose inside and outside never matched. There was no telling what she might say. All Chohee could do was pray that the acting she had practiced for days would shine.
Slide—!
The paper sliding door opened.
Lady Minamoto stood there stiffly, emanating a cold aura as she glared at Chohee.
Beside her stood an anxious Mrs. Hiranishi and Mrs. Daiichi, watching with keen interest.
Daiichi Keiko was someone Chohee had seen at the last gathering—the one who, unlike Hiranishi, had openly displayed hostility toward her.
Sweat dampened Chohee’s palms. She pressed her parched lips together.
“I heard that Satsuko had something urgent to say, but I didn’t expect this. Satsuko, I’m disappointed.”
“Lady Sakura, please, just hear Lucia Lee out!”
“I have no desire to listen to a Joseonjin.”
With snake-like narrowed eyes, Lady Minamoto made her displeasure blatantly clear.
Chohee had never expected her to say something so openly rude. The woman who had always maintained outward decorum was now baring her true nature.
Only now did Chohee truly feel that this woman was indeed Minamoto’s wife. In the end, husband and wife were the same.
It wasn’t an unexpected reaction. Chohee slowly rose and approached Lady Minamoto.
Then, in a desperate voice, she spoke.
“Lady Minamoto, please… please help me.”
Instead of Minamoto, it was Mrs. Daiichi who exploded, her lips curling upward in apparent delight.
“Help you? What audacity! This is why one should never associate with Koreans, Lady Sakura.”
Chohee didn’t so much as blink at her words.
She kept her eyes fixed solely on Lady Minamoto and continued.
“There is no one but you who can help me, Lady Minamoto. I know I have no right, but I came anyway.”
Not an apology—but a request for help. As if she couldn’t quite grasp the meaning of the unexpected plea, Lady Minamoto frowned.
There was an opening. Chohee seized it.
“If not you, then there is no one in Sinŭiju—no, in all of Joseon—who would understand the true value of ‘this.’”
“You little—”
As Chohee both flattered and piqued her curiosity, Lady Minamoto’s lips twitched.
“That’s enough.”
At the lift of Minamoto’s hand, Mrs. Daiichi clamped her mouth shut. Minamoto’s gaze returned to Chohee.
“…This?”
“Yes. This.”
With a resolute expression, Chohee opened the prepared box.
Though Lady Minamoto tried to appear indifferent, her eyes naturally followed Chohee’s hands.
And the moment the box opened, soft gasps escaped from all three women.
“Oh my…”
“Good heavens, what is that?”
Inside lay an antique-style dress that a noblewoman in British high society might wear, carefully arranged among flowers. Mrs. Hiranishi made a great fuss.
“My goodness, what a beautiful dress! What on earth is it?”
“This is a dress I received while I was in England—from the Countess of Noddington.”
“The Countess of Noddington?”
“Yes. The mistress of Devonshire.”
Lady Noddington was a fictional figure Chohee had invented, but Lady Minamoto, unaware of this, nodded slowly.
Chohee had crafted the character precisely to stimulate Minamoto’s longing for British high society and her vanity.
“She took a liking to me and lent this to me when I returned to Joseon. She knew I wouldn’t find suitable clothing here.”
“Then there are other dresses as well?”
“Yes, several. But…”
“But what? Stop hesitating and speak!”
Hiranishi urged impatiently. In the most trembling voice she could muster, Chohee continued.
“But my mother-in-law took them all, tore them apart, and burned them.”
“What? Why would she do such a monstrous thing?”
Even Lady Minamoto leaned in slightly at Hiranishi’s outcry.
Inside, Chohee smiled.
To Lady Minamoto—who equated herself with Westerners—this story would feel like an insult. And naturally, she would begin to sympathize with Chohee, the victim.
Lowering her head pitifully, Chohee went on.
“My mother-in-law believes it inappropriate for an Oriental woman to wear Western clothing. So she burned them to ensure I would never wear such things again.”
“Heavens! Then is this the only one left?”
“Yes, Lady. I managed to save this one in secret. If she discovers it, she will surely burn this one as well. That’s why I came to you, Lady Minamoto.”
Forgetting her anger, Lady Minamoto leaned forward.
“Why? What do you expect me to do?”
“As you can see, it is a very precious dress. If I keep it, it will surely be ruined.”
“So you thought of me.”
“Yes! I believed that something so fine should belong to someone who understands its true worth… and that there is only one such person—Lady Minamoto.”
Chohee lifted the dress from the box and placed it into Lady Minamoto’s hands.
Completely captivated now, Lady Minamoto ran her fingers over the embroidered stitching.
“As Lucia Lee says, it is indeed a fine garment.”
Not missing a beat, Chohee pressed on.
“Lady, will you accept it? You may scold me, despise me if you wish. But please—please accept the dress. The dress has done nothing wrong.”
She let her eyebrows droop in a sorrowful expression.
She did not over-apologize. Instead, she asked for help—elevating Minamoto’s discernment and preserving her dignity.
And she did all this in front of the loose-tongued, tactless Mrs. Hiranishi and Mrs. Daiichi.
That way, word would spread among the other ladies, further enhancing Lady Minamoto’s reputation.
Lucia Lee, who had lived in England, had sought Lady Minamoto’s help. Lady Minamoto possessed refined taste.
And the clever Lady Minamoto would surely understand that calculation as well.
Now much softened, Lady Minamoto examined the dress carefully.
“Hm.”
Gulp. Chohee swallowed.
“Indeed, it would be a waste to burn such a dress.”
“Lady—!” Mrs. Daiichi began in protest, but Lady Minamoto had already decided.
“Very well. I shall keep it.”
“Thank you so much, Lady! I am deeply indebted to you.”
Beaming, Chohee bowed. After a moment’s thought, Lady Minamoto spoke again in a gentler tone.
“Why not stay for a cup of tea?”
“Yes, Lady. Thank you.”
That was what she had been waiting for.
Lady Minamoto’s heart had softened. Suppressing her elation, Chohee rejoiced inwardly.
Instead of returning home as he had told Chohee, Dowoon lingered near the Hiranishi residence.
If necessary, he intended to go inside and extract her.
To be honest, he hadn’t been comfortable with her plan.
Could a single dress truly soften someone’s heart?
But he hadn’t stopped her.
Usually, devising and executing meticulous plans was his role. He disliked when others took the initiative; too many unpredictable variables could enter the equation.
Ordinarily, he would have revised Chohee’s plan under his command.
Yet strangely, when she kept asking him to trust her and follow her lead, his lips refused to move, as if sealed shut.
Rather than dissect and modify the plan—
He simply wanted to trust her.
It felt unfamiliar that someone had strategized for his sake. And oddly comforting to rely on someone else.
So he followed her wishes.
But now he regretted it slightly.
Had he known how anxious it would feel to wait outside like this, he might have forced his way into the plan.
As he wandered aimlessly, his steps halted.
Who?
He felt a gaze on his back—an unmistakable hostility that could not be concealed.
Without alerting the other person, Dowoon maintained his pace and stride. Then he led his pursuer into a deserted alley.
Right twice, left once. Then he suddenly quickened his pace. The pursuer matched him.
After one final turn, Dowoon stopped.
He immediately drew the pistol hidden inside his coat and aimed it at the killing intent approaching from behind.
The man who had been following him raised his own gun in response.
On the pursuer’s face twisted a strange mix of exhilaration and hatred.
“A Joseon native carrying a gun!”
“…Inspector Yoshihara.”
“There’s no escape now! I’ve finally got you!”
At Inspector Yoshihara’s cackling laughter, Dowoon let out a cold, mocking smile.
