By Zephyria 
HF 16
===
* * *
The place Ho-yeon went to, carrying his seven-stringed zither, was the Jade Pavilion. Since more money was always better, he didn’t just sell his embroidery skills but also his only other talent: playing music. However, the place he ended up working was, of all things, a courtesan house. As the demand for artists was limited, Ho-yeon had no other choice.
Having tied his long hair with a jade-colored silk ribbon, Ho-yeon finished his preparations and stepped onto the performance platform. As soon as he sat down, he scanned the guests of the pavilion. He wondered if Mu-gyeong might be drinking here.
The Jade Pavilion boasted one of the three largest scales within the main sect. However, whether he had gone to another house or had business Ho-yeon knew nothing of, Mu-gyeong was nowhere to be seen.
Ho-yeon rested the seven-stringed zither lengthwise on the instrument stand and let out a small sigh.
Young Master Yeom, who had been waiting for Ho-yeon’s performance, cleared his throat to get his attention. Young Master Yeom was a man full of boisterousness and a major patron of the Jade Pavilion. As famous as his own personality was, so too was his mother. She was Eum Yohwa, one of the fifteen greatest masters of the demon sect.
Regarding the seven-stringed zither, Eum Yohwa was called the greatest under heaven across both the orthodox and unorthodox sects; her mastery of sound-based attacks had reached the pinnacle. It was said that even those born without human emotions would feel the seven passions and shed tears upon hearing her play.
With such a mother, the fact that Young Master Yeom had visited today, following yesterday, just to hear his zither made Ho-yeon’s pressure indescribable. Still, he had to earn money, so he straightened his back. Then, he placed both hands neatly upon the strings.
As the wide sleeves of his robe draped downward, his wrists and white forearms were fully exposed. Young Master Yeom focused a glistening gaze intently on them. Ho-yeon felt the gaze, but since Young Master Yeom had courtesans flanking him just as he had yesterday, he dismissed it as a mere trick of the mind.
Starting with a low pluck of a string, Ho-yeon’s performance on the seven-stringed zither continued. The resonance of the strings sounded as if it were coming from the depths of the water, gradually taking on a vivid hue. Though the music could have been drowned out by the boisterous noise of the guests, the untainted, clear tone was unexpectedly not fragile, filling the pavilion without hesitation.
From the incense burner in front of him, mist-like smoke rose, flickering as if caressing the nape of Ho-yeon’s neck. His slender fingers slid across the strings, rolling the notes.
In the gentle tremors, one could feel the breeze through leaves passing through a forest; when he plucked the strings, the passion of a waterfall was felt. It was as if all the things in the world were contained within the seven strings.
The moment he struck a string strongly, a single strand of hair slipped from his tied hair. At that moment, Ho-yeon looked up instinctively and discovered a man standing by one side of the wall.
It was Mu-gyeong.
No, he was certain of it, yet the man’s face was completely different from Mu-gyeong’s. Mu-gyeong had an impression where his handsome eyes were clearly visible even when covered by a mask. However, this man was plain, with no particular feature standing out among his eyes, nose, or mouth. His silhouette also felt leaner than Mu-gyeong’s.
Even while plucking the zither, Ho-yeon glanced at the man several times, but he could not understand why he had mistaken him for Mu-gyeong.
Young Master Yeom, who had been greedily staring inside Ho-yeon’s sleeve, suddenly turned his head sharply. There stood a man of ordinary appearance. He was the first person Ho-yeon had shown interest in, whereas he had ignored Young Master Yeom and the other guests while playing.
Even looking at it from an upside-down perspective, he was far superior to that ordinary fellow; why had Ho-yeon looked at him? Sarcasm naturally leaked from Young Master Yeom’s lips.
“What should I do with these eyes that can’t even recognize the one who will make his life miserable?”
Young Master Yeom’s pupils returned to Ho-yeon. Beneath the acorn-colored hair, the white, small face was remarkably delicate. Perhaps because the hair color was light, the blue-gray eyes were also peculiar. Young Master Yeom had always been fond of looks, but he was particularly weak for beauties with a special quality.
His eyes were so gentle that he looked as if he would shed tears just by being poked with a finger. When he paid Ruju some money to dig up Ho-yeon’s background, he was told he was a cultist from that foggy corner of the valley. Since it was a beggar’s neighborhood, it was easy to imagine what his life had been like.
“Young Master, please have a drink.”
One of the courtesans beside him smiled warmly and brought a wine glass to Young Master Yeom’s lips. Contrary to the rumors of him being a good man, the courtesans knew well what a vile, two-faced personality Young Master Yeom possessed. He was a petty man who laughed boisterously to one’s face and stabbed them in the back. He had been quiet for a while, but since meeting Ho-yeon, he had been busy casting filthy glances and getting hard.
As Ho-yeon finished his performance and prepared to step down, Young Master Yeom slammed his palm onto the table with a loud crack. With internal power meant for bravado, the wine table split in half, and the snacks and wine spilled everywhere.
Startled, the courtesans quickly stood up to check if Young Master Yeom had gotten wet anywhere. Young Master Yeom pretended to be a good man, handing a few coins to the courtesans and apologizing for startling them.
“My apologies. The artist’s skill was so outstanding that I was overcome with admiration and made a mistake.”
Young Master Yeom handed silver to the waiter who had moved them to a new seat. It was a considerable amount, far exceeding the price of the broken table. Regardless, Ho-yeon was tidying up the seven-stringed zither and preparing to leave the platform. Young Master Yeom clicked his tongue at Ho-yeon, who did not even look surprised by his profound internal power. Then, he licked his lips, thinking it was actually better that he was like an idiot.
Swish. Young Master Yeom took silver from his inexhaustible money pouch and threw it at Ho-yeon. He crossed his arms, intending to enjoy the sight of Ho-yeon hurriedly picking up the silver from the floor, but Ho-yeon reached out his right hand and snatched the flying silver with a snap. Ho-yeon belatedly confirmed that what he held was silver and looked at Young Master Yeom as if asking why on earth he was giving him this money.
At Ho-yeon’s direct, unwavering gaze, Young Master Yeom felt a surge of excitement once more. The thought of wanting to see him pick up silver from the floor vanished completely. Young Master Yeom smiled deeply, barely suppressing the urge to fumble with his crotch.
“‘Only Loving You.’ Can you play it?”
It was a piece that meant loving only one person. It was more famous as a song where a beauty sang along with a pipa rather than a zither. However, it was a whole one tael of silver. Ho-yeon had no particular reason to refuse, so he laid the zither down again and sat before it.
“I ask that you include your nightingale-like singing as well.”
Ho-yeon had never once had a conversation with Young Master Yeom. As far as Ho-yeon was concerned, he didn’t care if his voice sounded like a nightingale or a rat.
“I can only provide a lacking performance; I do not know how to sing.”
That truly is a nightingale, that voice! Young Master Yeom, admiring the sound, could no longer hold back and reached under the table to fumble with his crotch. It wasn’t visible from where Ho-yeon sat, but even if it had been, Ho-yeon’s gaze would have been directed toward the man by the wall. However, the man had vanished as suddenly as he had appeared.
Ho-yeon’s heart burned again with thoughts of Mu-gyeong. He was worried that Mu-gyeong might be spending money lavishly at courtesan houses like Young Master Yeom, but currently, Mu-gyeong did not have that kind of money.
Ho-yeon soon began playing ‘Only Loving You,’ but he did not sing.
“Playing hard to get, are we?”
Young Master Yeom had no intention of opening his pouch for Ho-yeon any further today. It would be troublesome if the habits of someone he intended to keep by his side became spoiled too early. While Ho-yeon played the zither, Young Master Yeom drank without pause. He intended to enjoy it to the fullest, if only because it felt like a waste to spend one tael of silver on such a short piece.
However, the courtesans knew. ‘Only Loving You’ was a long piece that even most artists found difficult to memorize. He had played a trick to keep Ho-yeon there as long as possible. Regardless of being Eum Yohwa’s child, Young Master Yeom had no knowledge of music.
Ho-yeon did nothing more or less; as soon as the piece ended, he bowed to the guests and stepped down with his zither. Young Master Yeom, who had become quite drunk in less than one meal’s time(1), also rose from his seat.
“Young Master, won’t you drink a bit more?”
A courtesan, worried for Ho-yeon, held onto Young Master Yeom. However, upon seeing Young Master Yeom’s fierce eyes, she quickly withdrew. The quick-witted courtesan immediately signaled the pavilion’s warrior.
It was a sign to tell the zither player to hide himself anywhere quickly, since Young Master Yeom was drunk. The warrior nodded and hurried toward the interior where Ho-yeon had disappeared.
* * *
(1) The time it takes to eat one meal, approximately 15 to 30 minutes.