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Chapter 24
The first thing that came to mind was Punguibang’s guiding principle.
Punguibang never helped anyone without receiving something in return.
The same applied even when helping impoverished commoners. No matter how small it was—even if it was just a clumsily written note of thanks in Hangul—they always accepted something before offering aid.
That way, the people could accept help with dignity and face Un comfortably, without feeling ashamed.
But now, he realized there had always been a flaw in that reasoning.
‘So it was really for my own comfort.’
He had always felt burdened whenever people praised him as a virtuous man, a noble soul.
Whenever that happened, he couldn’t help thinking about all the people he hadn’t been able to save, and he would sink into self-reproach.
That was what he had wanted to avoid.
Saying he didn’t want others to feel indebted to him had merely been a convenient excuse—a justification for not wanting to get hurt himself.
A faint smile tugged at Un’s lips.
“I want to help. Please… let me help. I want to protect the child named Wang Eunyoung.”
And you as well.
Hari seemed deep in thought before finally nodding. She appeared to have decided to share her plan.
“Well… if you truly wish to help.”
With a light smile, Hari grabbed the front of Un’s robe and tugged him closer.
Though he was a grown man, he was helplessly pulled along by her slight strength.
Even after they were standing very close, Hari beckoned him with her hand. Her fingers fluttered gracefully like a butterfly’s wings.
“Sir, lend me your ear.”
Un cleared his throat awkwardly before lowering his ear toward her lips.
Hari quietly whispered her plan.
Only after listening to every word with widened eyes did Un finally voice his confusion.
“How do you know all of that?”
Hari grinned inwardly.
‘Because history is full of spoilers.’
Hari kept glancing at the mechanical clock imported from Qing.
Un had insisted she would need it and given it to her. She had repeatedly refused because it was so expensive, but in the end, he had forced the clock into her arms.
“Miss, why do you keep looking at that noisy metal thing?”
Maldong asked while organizing Hari’s wardrobe.
“I have an appointment.”
“An appointment? At this hour?”
Spring had made the days longer, but since it was the end of Yusi—around seven in the evening—the sun had already set, and darkness covered the streets.
“It’s about Eunyoung. I’m meeting someone.”
“Why are you only telling me now? If you’re going out, we need to get you ready.”
Instead of trying to stop her, Maldong immediately bustled about.
She took a blue lantern out of the closet.
Hari decided not to question why something like that was stored there and instead stopped her.
“I’m going alone.”
“What?”
Maldong’s eyes shook as if struck by an earthquake.
“Where are you planning to go by yourself? Absolutely not.”
She waved her hands firmly and quietly positioned herself in front of the door.
If Hari tried to leave alone, she was fully prepared to lie across the doorway to stop her.
Lately, one disturbing incident after another had been happening throughout Hanyang.
“It’s not something several people can do together. I’ll be going with the gentleman from Punguibang, so don’t worry.”
“With the gentleman from Punguibang… just the two of you? That’s even worse! Men and women are supposed to keep proper distance. What if someone catches you wandering around together in the middle of the night?”
Maldong was in the middle of her lecture when a thought suddenly crossed her mind.
The seriousness on her face faded into a mischievous smile.
“Unless… you’re planning to spend some quality time with the gentleman from Punguibang… In that case, I suppose I shouldn’t stop you. Considering your age, even a well-behaved cat ought to overturn the stove and finally get marri—Mmff!”
Before she realized it, Hari had walked over and covered her mouth.
“Stop talking nonsense. I told you it’s because of Eunyoung.”
“Then take me with you.”
“I can’t. Father or Brother might come looking for me.”
Ever since Hari had begun working in earnest as an oejibu, Jungho and Changgeun occasionally came to visit her at night.
They never actually spoke.
They simply stood silently outside the paper door for a long while before leaving.
‘They’re checking to make sure I’m safe.’
Watching over someone quietly and supporting them without words.
That was how the men of the Ahn family expressed their love.
“You stay here and do your work.”
Hari pointed at her writing desk.
Maldong had a build similar to Hari’s.
Hari was slightly taller, but once seated, the difference was hardly noticeable.
“What work could I possibly have sitting at your desk?”
“I know.”
Hari suddenly smiled knowingly.
“I know exactly what you’ve been doing.”
Maldong’s eyes flew wide open as though a terrible secret had been exposed, and she bit her lower lip.
“M-My work? All I do is attend to you, Miss.”
She feigned innocence.
Hari had pretended not to know because Maldong clearly wanted to keep it hidden, but seeing her try even harder to conceal it made Hari’s lips itch to spill everything.
“‘Why Madam Gave Rice Cakes to Dolsoe,’ ‘Until Magistrate Jipyeong Heard the Curfew Drum,’ ‘The Geumbu Officer’s Burning Passion,’ ‘Every Night at the Servants’ Quarters…'”
Each time Hari folded down another finger while listing the titles, Maldong’s face alternated between bright red and ghostly pale.
Every single one of them was a paeseol—popular stories written by Maldong.
People looked down on them as vulgar literature, but in modern terms, they were romance novels.
After lowering her hand, Hari asked,
“Should I keep going?”
“No! I’m sorry, Miss. I’ll never write those again.”
“What are you talking about? You should write them immediately! Don’t you know why I gave you my writing desk? Didn’t you say you were writing the sequel to Until Magistrate Jipyeong Heard the Curfew Drum? How long are you planning to keep everyone waiting?”
Hari frowned dramatically as she scolded her.
“Y-You’ve… read my stories?”
“I didn’t know they were yours when I first read them. They were so entertaining that I tracked down every one of them.”
Maldong’s stories had greatly helped Hari adapt to life in Joseon.
She became so absorbed in reading them that before she knew it, she had grown accustomed to this world.
“Oh dear… what have I done? To someone as innocent as you, Miss…”
Maldong covered her face with both hands.
She felt as though she had splashed ink onto Hari’s pure heart.
What on earth did I make my lady read? Someone as clear and pure as a forest spring…
“Maldong, I’m twenty.”
“Yes, Miss. You’re twenty. It’s not as though I’d forgotten your age.”
“I know plenty.”
“…What?”
Patting the startled maid on the shoulder, Hari said,
“Don’t overthink it. Just write the next chapter.”
Maldong’s paeseol weren’t just daring and entertaining.
They were also filled with social satire.
Hari was certain that if these stories were preserved and passed down through history, future generations would study The Rice Cake Tale, The Magistrate Jipyeong Tale, The Geumbu Officer Tale, and The Servants’ Quarters Tale instead of The Tale of Chunhyang.
Of course, all the steamy parts would probably be cut out, leaving generations of students complaining.
Maldong stared fixedly at Hari.
Maybe she’s just saying this because she’s trying to leave me behind.
She carefully searched Hari’s face with suspicious eyes.
Little by little, her expression brightened.
Hari was telling the truth.
She had really read Maldong’s novels.
She had genuinely enjoyed them.
Maldong felt as though she could fly.
Not even when people lined up outside the bookstore to borrow her stories…
Not even when the bookstore owner handed her a heavy pouch of money…
Had she ever been this happy.
Receiving recognition from the person she admired most in the world—the one who had taught her how to write—was worth more to Maldong than anything else.
A thin layer of tears shimmered in her eyes.
“Were they… truly that entertaining?”
“They really were.”
For a writer, nothing inspired creativity more than hearing a reader say, It was fun.
Unfortunately, the story Hari was eagerly waiting for would not be continued anytime soon.
After hesitating for a long moment, Maldong finally spoke.
“Miss… don’t wait for the Magistrate Jipyeong story anymore. I don’t know when I’ll write it again.”
“What? Why?”
An indefinite hiatus.
To a devoted reader, it was nothing short of devastating.
“I’ve started wanting to write something else. It’s based on what’s happening right now, so it might be difficult…”
Lowering her voice, Maldong teased a little information about her new story.
Hari’s ears perked up.
“What is it?”
“Well…”
During Hae-si, between nine and eleven at night, Hari met Un.
Avoiding the patrol guards’ notice, the two made their way to Punguibang.
There, Hari changed into the pitch-black clothing Un had prepared for her.
Dressed completely in black with her hair tied up, she looked exactly like a thief.
After fastening his sword at his waist, Un turned to look at the fully prepared Hari.
“Well? How do I look?”
Hari spun around in front of him with a bright smile.
Wearing the black outfit she had only ever seen in dramas and movies made her feel as though she had stepped into a spy film.
And seeing Un, who looked as though he had just walked off a movie screen, made her even more curious about her own appearance.
‘Do I look this cool too?’
It was a shame there wasn’t a large mirror.
Even Punguibang, which seemed to have everything, didn’t possess one.
Hari smiled brightly and waited for Un’s answer.
