Lady of Dreams Read online

  She was tucking in a loose end of scarf securely as she walked, and, both preoccupied, they barely avoided colliding at the doorway.

  Carlin stopped abruptly, an apology half-uttered, then said, “Oh. It’s you. Didn’t recognise you without all the pink paint.”

  Se-ri curled her lip at him. “Don’t you have anything else to do but wander the grounds and insult the guests?”

  “Not today,” said Carlin, and added with awful sarcasm, “Why? I suppose you need me for something.”

  “What use would you be?” Se-ri said, looking him up and down in disdain. “I doubt you could throw a punch, let alone play guard.”

  She would have passed him by, but Carlin, his hands stuffed in his pockets, blocked her path. “You need someone hit?” He considered it, then nodded. “All right. I feel like hitting someone today. I’ll come with you.”

  Se-ri looked at him suspiciously, but she was a good reader of faces. She said, “All right. Come with me, then. I’m off to the ink factory Abeoji bought last year. You might not need to hit anyone; just stop them from ‘accidentally’ knocking me into one of the vats of ink.”

  Carlin grinned. “Happened before, has it? Is that why you’re dressed like that?”

  “Yes,” said Se-ri briefly.

  “I suppose it’s because you’re so lovable.”

  “No, it’s because the foreman is stealing money from Abeoji,” said Se-ri. “Just skimming enough off the top to line his pockets and keep it unnoticeable. He wants to convince Abeoji that it’s too dangerous for a delicate female to visit the factory because he knows once I see the books it’ll be all over for him.”

  “How many times have you visited?” asked Carlin, reluctant respect in his voice.

  “Three times now,” she said. “The first time they saw me coming and had everything hidden or destroyed so I couldn’t inspect the finances. The second time they ‘accidentally’ knocked me into one of the ink vats. After that one of them managed to get my hair caught in one of the mixing machines. I was lucky that time: I only lost my hair, not my head. After the last time, the foreman sent Abeoji a letter expressing his regrets and asking for me not to visit such a dangerous place again.”

  Carlin sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Didn’t know paper and ink was such a cutthroat business,” he said. “Are you walking?”

  “Of course,” said Se-ri. “If they see the lane puffer or the Contraption vehicle they’ll know it’s me straightaway and they’ll start getting rid of things I need to see. Your job is to make sure there’s a path for me on the way in, and that no one stabs me in the back as I’m leaving.”

  “Or throws you into another vat of ink,” agreed Carlin. “All right. Does your abeoji know what you’re doing?”

  Se-ri’s mouth thinned. “That’s none of your business. Just do as you’re told.”

  I gave a small sniff of laughter, and heard Yong-hwa’s voice say in amusement, “Clovis-a, are you ignoring me?”

  “Ani,” I murmured, slipping free of the Dream and back into the Reality of Yong-hwa’s presence. “Just making sure that Carlin is all right.”

  Yong-hwa’s eyes narrowed. “I see. And is he?”

  “I suppose so,” I said, blinking away the last of the Dream. “He’s always been—”

  “Jealous?” suggested Yong-hwa.

  “Overprotective,” I said. “And not always very good at doing as he’s told.”

  Yong-hwa smiled at the marble floor. “Particularly good qualities for a footman to possess,” he said.

  “Maybe not, but Carlin is more than a footman,” I said.

  Yong-hwa’s eyes flicked up at me again, the smile vanishing. “Is he, though?”

  “Oppa,” I said, my thoughts taking a different direction, “what are you going to do now that you know about me?”

  “Several things,” said Yong-hwa. “But not today, I think. I’ve already tired you too much.”

  “I meant, are you going to tell anyone?”

  He shook his head. “Ani. Drink your tea, Clovis-a, and I’ll carry you in shortly.”

  The tea was still hot, the honeyed curls of Yong-hwa’s magic moving in circular patterns on the porcelain, and when the scent of it came to my nose just a moment before I sipped, I laughed into the swirling steam. I looked up to find Yong-hwa gazing at me with sharp cheeks and bright eyes.

  “I believe you’re fond of Eppa Blue blend?” he said. “Though I think you like Chajin as well.”

  I blew lightly at the steam, watching it curl in on itself, and inhaled again. “Eppa Blue is smooth and soothing.”

  “I found it particularly so,” he agreed. “One day I’ll repay the comfort of that day, Clovis-a.”

  “Ani, ani,” I said. “There’s no need. It was a small thing.”

  “Not such a small thing to me,” Yong-hwa said, smiling at the marble floor. “For me it was warmth and comfort, and at that moment I . . . desperately needed comfort.”

  “You—” I stopped, finding the right words strangely absent, and tried again. “I meant what I said before, Oppa. I don’t feel kindly by anyone, and I don’t do things for the love of anyone but Jessamy. It was just that I knew you shouldn’t look so cold, so I sent something warm.”

  “That day, you were watching me in your Dreams?”

  “You, and Ae-jung, and Hun-jun. I made a cow chase Hyun-jun,” I added.

  Yong-hwa hissed with laughter. “So that’s what he was so out of breath about!” He leaned forward with his forearms resting on his knees, and said, “Then, your Dreams—how much can you see in them?”

  “Everything,” I said. “Anything. The Dreams follow people, but I can see anything around them. I can go through walls and hedges and foundations.”

  Yong-hwa’s eyelids dropped a little. “Dressing rooms as well as drawing rooms?”

  “Ah. That.” My face felt hot. Was I sick? Perhaps it was a new symptom of being around Yong-hwa. “Aniyo. I’m careful not to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I can walk out as well as I can walk in.”

  “Mmm.” Yong-hwa tilted his head, his cheeks just a little sharper. “Clovis-a, I think you sometimes drop into a Dream unexpectedly. What then?”

  I had a brief, inconvenient flash of memory: Yong-hwa, shirtless, his hair soft and silky from new washing. “Oppa,” I said, touching the backs of my fingers to my cheek, “I think I’m not very well.”

  Yong-hwa dropped his head and laughed until his cheeks were as flushed as my own. When he looked up, his eyes bright with laughter, he said, “Clovis-a, you’re not sick. You’re blushing.”

  I put the back of my hand to my other cheek. “Ah. So that’s what it feels like. I didn’t think I was capable.”

  “It would seem that you are,” said Yong-hwa. He sat back, the better to gaze at me, and crossed one leg over the other. “And I’m more curious than ever to know how you manage to avoid awkward situations . . . or not, as the case may be.”

  “I told you,” I said. “I can walk out as well as in. I try not to see things that I shouldn’t see.”

  Yong-hwa gave a low laugh. “Ah, this is harder than I thought it would be. I should certainly wait until tomorrow, but I don’t want to wait.”

  “Not tomorrow,” I said, looking away from the tea steam and at him. “Carlin needs a day to adjust. He’ll still be upset tomorrow.”

  Yong-hwa studied me thoughtfully. “Does it matter if Carlin is upset?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Carlin has been very good to me and I won’t have him being upset. Besides, Jessamy had a bit of a shock yesterday and he should be nearly ready to talk to me by tomorrow. You’ll have to come and see me the day after that.”

  “I can’t see you tomorrow at all?”

  There was a wistful tone to his voice that unsettled me. I said uncertainly, “You—But it’s only another day!”

  “I don’t want to wait,” explained Yong-hwa. “There are so many things I want to know about you, and about Dreaming. You really wo
n’t let me see you?”

  “No,” I said, hunching my shoulders against that pleading tone. Off-puttingly enough, it was having as much of an effect on me as Jessamy’s would have had. Yong-hwa shouldn’t be encroaching on Jessamy’s place.

  “Make sure you Dream of me, then,” said Yong-hwa. “I’ll play you some music if you do. Come. I’ll carry you back now.”

  He carried me to the manor on his back, the warmth and weight of his proximity balancing the lightness of the lingering Dream of Carlin and Se-ri. I kept it close, enjoying the unusual feeling of being able to see into both worlds so clearly, though I didn’t enter it again. I felt, curiously enough, that since Yong-hwa would not visit me tomorrow I would like to concentrate on him now.

  Perhaps Yong-hwa felt the same way, because he didn’t immediately take me to my suite; he took me to the conservatory instead, and ordered lunch to be brought in for the two of us.

  “I won’t ask any more questions,” he said, as though forestalling objections. “Not today. Today we’ll eat together and watch the birds play in the garden.”

  Twilight was creeping over the garden outside by the time Yong-hwa took me back to my room. He settled me on my chaise longue, which had returned from the gazebo with a stray leaf or two to show where it had been, and hesitated only a moment before he said, “I’ll not see you tomorrow, Clovis-a?”

  “Nae,” I said. “But I’ll see you, Oppa. I’ll answer your questions next time.”

  Left alone, I wandered back into my Dream to see Carlin and Se-ri at last on their way back to the manor. Carlin’s nose was bleeding, and Se-ri’s dark clothing had a few darker splotches on it, as if she’d stood too close to an ink vat when something sizable fell in. Despite that, she carried an armful of paper and account books, and there was a distinct light of triumph to her eyes. Carlin, on the other hand, was swearing under his breath as they walked. As I watched, Se-ri sighed, wheeled, and twitched Carlin’s chin up to examine the damage.

  “Don’t be a baby,” she said, releasing him after a brief inspection. “It’s hardly even bleeding any more. If you’d been quicker about dodging after you hit him, you would have been fine. I told you he’s got a stone jaw.”

  I giggled. So Carlin really had hit someone. He should be feeling better, then.

  “At least I got in the last punch. I suppose you get hit all the time,” muttered Carlin, wiping away a small trickle of blood. “What would you know?”

  Se-ri shrugged. “Think as you please. You’ve obviously never been to a school where you’re richer but lower born than all the other students. But thanks for today anyway.”

  She tossed him a small pouch that clinked in the air, and turned on her heel to reenter the manor through the servants’ door. Carlin, left alone, hefted the weight of the pouch in his palm and blew out his cheeks in surprise. At length he grinned and shoved his hands into his pockets, pouch and all. Then Carlin also reentered the manor, whistling beneath his breath.

  He returned to the suite at length, his hands still in his pockets and the blood dried on his face.

  I said, “So you’re back safely. Did you have fun, Carlin?”

  He grinned reluctantly. “Maybe a bit, miss. I see you’re back safely, too. He didn’t get too close again, did he?”

  “He had to get close enough to carry me back,” I said. “But it’s all right; I’ve figured out how to balance the heaviness so that it’s not too much.”

  Carlin scowled. “I suppose he’s coming back again tomorrow?”

  “No. I’ll go out in the Contraption chair tomorrow.”

  “Yes, miss! Would you like a tea tray, miss?”

  I caught the flicker of a Dream. “Yes, I think so. You can let Jessamy in on your way to get it. And get your face seen to, Carlin.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  Jessamy came in, his expression gloomy, as Carlin was going out.

  “Sit down, Jessamy-a; Carlin will bring tea in a little bit. Didn’t Hwan-chul come to see you today?”

  “Nuna,” he said pathetically, flopping down on my chaise. “Nuuuuuna.”

  “I know,” I said. “But what can you do about it? She’s a girl.”

  “Did you already know?”

  I shook my head. “Not before yesterday. I doubt that even Yong-hwa oppa knows. She’s very good at hiding it.”

  “She’s been doing it for the last two years,” said Jessamy, with an amusing secondhand pride. “Silver Heart doesn’t accept girls as students, you see, and her father went there, so of course Hwan-chul wanted to go as well.”

  “She’s been attending Silver Heart as a boy for the last two years?”

  Jessamy nodded eagerly. “She says that so long as she doesn’t score too highly or speak too much in class, no one bothers her.”

  “It seems a waste to go to such desperate measures to get into Silver Heart, only to get mediocre scores,” I said. The buoyancy of a new Dream was nudging at the edges of my mind, promising escape from leg muscles that were beginning to ache. It wasn’t an important one; it was just Yong-hwa at his window, smiling out at the evening and drinking tea, but it was pleasantly familiar.

  “Hwan-chul has thought of all that, Nuna,” said Jessamy. “There’s the final exam in two years; if she does her best in that she’ll get the highest score Silver Heart has seen since Yong-hwa hyung was there. And it’ll be too late for anyone to bother her.”

  “So I see,” I murmured, tethered lightly between the pull of Yong-hwa’s Dream and the anchor of Jessamy’s presence.

  “Nuna, are you ignoring me? You’re Dreaming about Yong-hwa hyung again, aren’t you?”

  “What makes you think I’m Dreaming about Yong-hwa oppa?” I asked in surprise. “I don’t Dream only about him.”

  “Well,” said Jessamy, his face twisting thoughtfully, “it’s that smile. I hadn’t seen you smile like that before you started Dreaming about Yong-hwa hyung.”

  “When did I smile?” I scoffed, pulling away from the Dream. “You’re imagining things. Tell me more about Hwan-chul.”

  “Well, Nuna,” said Jessamy, “she looks different when she’s a girl . . .”

  I didn’t drift back into that Dream until much later, when Jessamy was snoring from where he’d fallen asleep on my chaise, and Carlin had gone to his own room. The softness of the bed wasn’t enough to soothe my aching legs, and I let the Dream draw me in again with its pleasant lightness. Yong-hwa was still where he had been earlier, though now he was stretched out on the window seat with bare feet and no waistcoat, leaning into the embrasure to gaze out at the stars.

  I joined him by the window seat, looking out into the starry night, and Yong-hwa’s head turned just slightly. He smiled as if he’d been waiting for me, and said, “Good night, Clovis-a. Sweet Dreams.”

  The next day was a fine one for an outing. Carlin, his nose still slightly swollen, was nevertheless in a mood as sunny as the day, and set the dials to keep the Contraption chair puffing at a brisk pace along the garden paths. I allowed him to chatter and even replied with more precision than I usually mustered, though I felt Dreams bobbing around me with ever-increasing strength, one of Yong-hwa the most prominent of all.

  I resisted them all until noon and lunch came, when Carlin parked me by the fishpond to eat. Then I ate a little, drifting in and out of a Dream of Jessamy and Hwan-chul, who were discussing a particular set of instructions for a music sheet in an amusingly polite way, both newly awkward even though Hwan-chul was back in her boys’ clothes. It pleased me to give the precariously artistic stone chair that Jessamy was sitting on the smallest of taps as I passed, which sent him tumbling to the grass and made Hwan-chul laugh aloud.

  “Ya,” said Jessamy. “You wait, Hwan-chul-a! You can’t disrespect your seonbae like this!” He hurled a dry clod of earth at her, which prompted her to throw back a few strands of water-weed from the pond nearby, and by the time I wandered on again in search of the particular Dream I’d come for, they were both perilously close to f
alling into the pond.

  I trailed on through the garden and through Yong-hwa’s open window, seamlessly slipping from one Dream to the next, and papers around his music room fluttered in the breeze as I passed.

  “Ah,” said Yong-hwa softly. “There you are, Clovis-a.”

  He was kneeling at his gayageum somewhere toward the centre of the room. I wandered between the gently shifting pieces of paper and ran an insubstantial finger over the strings of his violin, which was in one corner. There was a faint chord of fifths that made Yong-hwa smile before he went back to his gayageum.

  “You’re later than I was hoping for,” he said. “I saw you pass my window with your footman two hours ago.”

  “I was busy,” I said to him, this time not troubling to try to keep my voice from piercing through to him as it did with Jessamy. “Do you think I only Dream of you?”

  Though I’d taken no pains to stay unnoticed, it still gave me a fizz of surprise when Yong-hwa murmured, “I think you Dream mostly of me.”

  “Conceit!” I said in surprise.

  “I think,” he said, “that you don’t know what you feel.”

  I sighed. “I don’t feel anything.”

  He nodded. “I remember you said that. Listen carefully, Clovis-a. I want you to see how you’ve threaded yourself so much into my existence that I was writing you into my music before I knew it myself.”

  He started with the piece I already knew, the one he had written with Ae-jung in mind. I heard the same subtle harmony beneath the melody that I’d noticed before, but this time it was stronger. From that piece he went on to another, this time an older one from the days when I’d watched him composing on the balcony of the boardinghouse back in the city. The harmony was fainter in that one, more a suggestion and less of a real harmony, but it was there just the same.