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I worked tirelessly from there on, all winter, my soul renewed and happy.
When I completed my own dress, after having to redo a section more than once to Yua’s standard, I did my best to lighten the burden of the other women by picking up extra chores for them. One commenting happily on my warmer wear, and another informing me that Lord Kwan sent the men to clear the garden pathways after they’d complained that they’d also wanted to go to the shrine and never could. After what I’d done, the men didn’t have much of an excuse to ignore it. The human girl made a path. Lord Kwan was seen walking to the shrine as well in the path.
It wasn’t my intent to make that the case, but I returned the smiles they offered. I didn’t feel so much like an outsider anymore, or beneath them.
With the paths clear, I’d taken it upon myself to restock the tinder and wood beside each furnace that would heat the floors of the house. Morning and eve. When I found a shortage of tinder, I looked for a small hatchet I could use to make more. It was tedious work, and I had to concentrate so as to not let the cold numb me enough to slip and cut myself. Kenta had done so once, when mother was still alive, and seeing so much blood spill from his hand made me afraid to go near an ax of any kind for a long time. I couldn’t avoid it forever though, and always stayed cautious.
Little by little, I made smaller pieces out of larger split wood and piled it. It was midday when I stopped, and return the hatchet. Placed back in its shed, I closed the door, checking to make sure it was secure against winter’s touch.
Two men walked up, carrying shovels and other snow clearing tools. One appearing to need repairs as the metal head jostled on the end of the wood shaft. The two stretched and rolled their tired shoulders. I stepped aside, bowing politely; not the sort for a lord or an honored guest, but one slightly deeper than if I’d meant to say goodbye, as I thought that would best show my gratitude.
“Thank you for clearing the paths,” I said.
They both looked at me then, seeming to only just notice I was standing there. One, who I recognized as the man who sent me for the salt my first summer here, gave me a deeply annoyed look.
“It’s always to do with you,” said the man. “Every time the master is on my ass, it’s to do with you.”
“Sen, stop,” said the other, more quietly to better coax.
I retreated into myself, unsure of what it was I’d done.
“Had to speed up our work with the chimneys, work the farthest yard—no one went back there for decades!”
I felt cornered, not knowing what to do. Out of instinct, I tried to run.
He grabbed my arm, holding tight. “You sucked him off and got a cozy room and pretty dress out of it. Then you give him your ass regularly and suddenly you no longer have to do anything. His ugly, human whore.”
“Let me go!” I shouted. His grip tightened, painfully so, and I couldn’t break free.
“Sen, that’s enough,” said the other man, grabbing at Sen’s shoulder to pull him off.
Sen swatted him off. “You go into his room regularly, alone. You sit in the saddle with him, galloping somewhere secluded. Now suddenly you think you own the place. We never had to labor in winter, it’s the season of rest! Now we’re out here for hours every day because Kwan’s whore wanted to walk the gardens.”
I slapped him. Terrified and unable to escape, my anger boiled over. I felt my heart pound, my ears burning, and my breath growing heavy. A few seconds after, I realized I slapped a spirit. A new horror took me, deepening when he turned back to me with a hateful glare.
“I might forgive you if you sucked me off. Maybe then I’d see if the fuss over you is worth it.” He started to drag me back to the shed.
“Sen, stop. Let her go,” argued the other man.
“Why? She’s supposed to be a prisoner, right? So, she’ll oblige us with a little ass after we’ve worked so hard to clear the snow for her. She might like a little snow in her.”
I thrashed more fiercely, shouting at him to release me. Now, I wished I still had that hatchet, or anything I could use as a threat for my freeing, even if he was a spirit.
The other grabbed him. “You’re going to get us in trouble. Just let her go before you do something stupid.”
“Coming from a spirit who’s about as powerful as Kurai piss. Don’t forget that I outrank you still.”
My eyes went to the other man, pleading for help. But he looked away.
“She’s a little slut. She wanted it. Do you think Kwan is going to believe her over us? He’s known us for more than half a century.”
He shook, face crinkling and a frown forming. “You’re that desperate to play with your cock, then go to one of the villages and claim you’re a Juneun.”
“Why do I need to leave when there’s a village girl right here?”
Desperate, I slapped him again, hard and deliberate. I went to strike him a third time, only for him to catch my wrist. Before he could make his next threat, a hand ripped his from mine.
Lord Kwan, stony faced, stood there.
Sen’s expression paled, and he fumbled for an excuse.
“You can leave Sen,” said Lord Kwan. “You’re no longer welcome on my lands, or that of any member of my family.”
“You’re not saying...” the words fled from Sen. “But, my lord.”
With every excuse Sen made, Lord Kwan stayed silent, letting his wordless stare reign. He said nothing, making us wait. “I cannot trust you with the women who serve my house, then I have no use for you. You will not be serving me. Or my future bride. I do not want a reckless and lazy servant.”
Sen opened his mouth, about to argue, until Kwan’s face formed a scowl.
A strange feeling took the air, a kind of magic, one that made me feel frail and uncomfortable.
Sen swallowed his words, giving a bow and marching off. The other also bowed, setting down the tools and awaiting his judgment. Replacing his superior, I expected.
“You may also leave,” said Lord Kwan. It surprised us both. “I have no need for a weak and cowardly servant either.” He pushed his long hair behind his should with the flick of his wrist, dismissive of all else.
The man, wide eyed with shock, bowed and left in a more somber pace.
I stayed where I was, holding the tender spot on my arm. Confusion wrapped around my brain. When both men were out of sight, Lord Kwan looked to me, irritated and with ample disapproval.
“Put these things away, Hisa,” said Lord Kwan, low. “And bring me a white tea.” He left, headed for the house.
What did he think of me? Or the scene as a whole? I didn’t get the chance to collect myself and explain, to ask questions.
My hands shook as I collected the dropped tools, my fingers slipping from the door twice as I pulled it open. In the shed, I felt sick. Sen’s words ringing in my ears. I’d been so happy to think I was finally accepted in a small way, never realizing that my effort to prove my worth put others on edge. It felt like, no matter what I did, I was causing some sort of trouble.
What hurt the most was the repeated phrase against me. Something that churned up the memory of the rumors about me in the village. Was that all anyone thought of me? I didn’t know why Lord Kwan brought me anywhere or asked me to do anything. All I knew was that I was here to serve out a sentence, temporarily forfeiting my freedom to save my brother.
Lord Kwan’s sharp words came back, and the image of Syaoran with one of the other women. Again, I had so many questions. As I waited for the tea to brew, my mind was a tempest, inquiries loud in my ears, frustration pounding my head, while the rest of me tried to rid myself of trembling.
Taking the kettle to his room, going through the expected motions, neither of us said anything. I’d poured the whole of the kettle into the teapot and served him. No offer was given to me. He sat, silent, sipping from his cup. When it emptied, I refilled, waiting in the uncomfortable stillness. In all the times I’d come and served his tea, I’d never felt as alienated as I did in that moment. I shifted where I sat, my leg threatening to fall asleep, while my eyes looked to anywhere in search of words to break this quiet discontent.
In a way, it felt like I’d done something wrong. I knew I didn’t, but the continued wordlessness whispered it.
At last, after he’d finished his second cup and refilled it, he offered a share to me. “Juro came mid-autumn.”
I stopped, startled by his words and casual tone.
“He was quite crestfallen to find you were unable to greet him or see him off.”
I stiffened. “I didn’t know he’d even come, my lord.”
He met my eye then, a gentleness to them, and that hint of a smile with it. Though, there was something that seemed like he was planning. “He commanded that I provide you with whatever you desire in his stead.”
“What?” I whispered, confused by it all.
“He said it’s the payment owed for all the years of bringing ginseng tea, blessing the land, and now for closing the clay pit.”
“Closed the clay pit? So, it’s flat earth now, like the rest?”
He ignored my puzzlement. “What will he think if I say to him that your deepest desire was for a first kiss? I suppose he’ll insist that it ought to have been him to deliver such a gift.”
A shiver shot up my spine. “Lord Kwan, please—” I stopped when he tilted his head and I realized: he was teasing me.
“I suppose I should keep it secret this time. Lest he feel slighted by a trusted friend. Even if he has no right to command anything of me to begin with.”
I felt my cheeks pinking, and sighed in an attempt to push down my feelings.
He looked away, to a distant something that I couldn’t see. “I don’t know how to apologize to you. For Sen’s actions.”
I looked away from the distant nothing, back to him. “You don’t owe me that, my lord. It was his behavior, not yours. If anything, I should apologize for not thanking you for coming when you did.”
“You don’t owe me any thanks or apology for it. I’m ashamed. This is my house, and I allowed this kind of behavior to fester.”
I didn’t know what to say. I could see the guilt on his shoulders, and I wanted to do something to help, but I didn’t know how. With all my courage, I did something I knew I shouldn’t, and took his hand in mine. I wasn’t supposed to. We weren’t equals, or close enough friends, for me to take the initiative. He was a lord, and I was only a village girl and servant.
His head turned, quick, bewilderment painted across his face.
“You can’t blame yourself for what other people do. It’s Sen who should be ashamed, not you. You put things right. And you can’t know what everyone is doing at all times, no one can.”
He stared, jaw slack and slow blinking.
I kept my gentle hold on his hand, cool to the touch.
He reclaimed his expression. “Did you not arrive to take responsibility for your brother’s actions?”
Now it was my turn to reflect his bewildered look.
He turned his hand over, gently putting his fingers around mine. “Thank you, for your comfort. It’s rare that I find myself in the company of a friend.”
I started to smile, sliding back into my confusion. “But, Yua and Syaoran... aren’t they friends, my lord?”
“In a way,” said Lord Kwan, cocking his head in reading my expression. “But each has their own unspoken agenda as well. You speak on what your objectives are, making it easy to predict what you’re up to.”
“When you say it like that, it doesn’t sound very nice.”
He stayed silent, though I swore I saw something like laughter in his eyes. It was strange—like a part of him was sealed off, wanting to come out.
“It’s why I enjoy your company. Someone who’s there, simply to be in the company of another, brings a comfort and pleasantness with them.”
I smiled, leaving my hand right where it was.
“Do you have a question for me today?”
A chuckle escaped me. I’d been so caught up in an ever-changing storm of emotions, that I’d forgotten about that. “When I’m free to go home again, can I come back to visit my friend?”
His eyes took me in, as though he needed time to understand. Or, perhaps it was his usual pause and I’d wanted there to be something more. “Of course.”
My smile brightened.
****
Lord Kwan left a week later, kept away for nearly a month. As spring arrived, and the snows began to melt, the house was newly abuzz to prepare for hosting court. Three young men came back with Lord Kwan, newly in his service, each giving me a curious stare. They’d never met a human before.
While there were questions to be sure, they stayed devoted to their task. The women, meanwhile, hurried to get courtly clothing made for the new arrivals. I helped where I could, doing my best to alleviate some of the burden.
Days fluctuated in their climate, often starting cold, only to warm enough by midday to take off my deel, and then need it again before evening. A heavy mist might start the day, only for the sun to show by midmorning and be covered by clouds before sunset; sometimes the clouds came early and the sun never touched the ground.
One hazy morning, as I lit the furnaces and went to feed the koi so that more attention could go to the making of clothes, I spotted a peculiar thing at the edge of the water. A young rabbit had fallen in, looking as though it’d drowned. With pity, I hurried to toss in the koi food and get it out of the water. It kicked, weak as it was, showing that it still had life left; though it was cold and exhausted. My heart hurt for it. It’d somehow gotten itself separate from its family and into trouble.
Like with a stray kitten, I tried to revive it by tucking the poor thing into my deel and tightening the sash to prevent it from sliding out. It felt so cold and weak against my stomach that I worried I’d come too late.
It was one thing to trap a rabbit for eating later, but another thing entirely to just let something die. I kept a quiet prayer going for it while I continued with the chores no one wanted to do, or which took too much time. Every so often, I would peek down my deel to see its nose going, breathing, still alive.
When every task was finished, I set to finding where it could have come from. Lord Kwan likely wouldn’t approve of rabbits burrowing in his gardens. But if it was hidden enough and out of the way, maybe he wouldn’t find out. Pesky as they might be to such an immaculate landscape, they were just little creatures, living things, that didn’t know better.
Its fur was a dark brown, thick to stave off winter’s cold, and coarse, making it slow to dry. I remembered Syaoran saying about my mindless wandering and looking suspicious. Though, I didn’t know how to look for a rabbit hole casually, without drawing attention and raising brows.
“Hisa?”
I jumped at the sound of Lord Kwan’s voice. I’d been so engrossed in my search, I didn’t notice him walk across the newly emerging grass towards me. I acknowledged and bowed, trying not to shift too much and disturb my hidden animal. My mind flooded with worry, wondering if I’d looked like I was up so something or if a different matter caused him to seek me out.
“Still taking on an abundance of chores?” said Lord Kwan, his hint of a smile showing. “Even after I’d dictated otherwise?”
“I’m not one for staying idle, my lord.”
“I see that,” said Lord Kwan, a curiousness in his eyes. “What do you have hidden there?”
I looked down, not seeing any sign of how he could know I was hiding anything, and back. Over and over as I tried to come up with some compelling explanation.
“Hisa?”
Guilt washed over me. I couldn’t bear to break his trust, and carefully produced the small rabbit from the warmth and safety of my deel. It squirmed in protest, though still too weak to do much else. “I found it in the pond,” I said. Whispered, really. And tried to strengthen my voice. “It was soaked, and so cold and exhausted, I thought—if I could just get it warmed and rested and find...” My words failed when he reached to pick up the rabbit in a slow, deliberate motion.
He stared at it, watching as it curled into itself with a shiver. “You might have saved me a bit of trouble.”
“What do you mean, my lord?”
His gaze moved back to me, that hint of a smile broadening. “I have several nieces and young cousins who are not yet old enough to come to court. Now, I have an idea how to make it up to them.”
I repeated his conclusion, puzzled by the lack of context.
“I’ll have Syaoran find the burrow,” said Lord Kwan. “Catch them, clean them up and tame them. Then I can send them to live a life of luxury as a pet.”
“So, you won’t chase them out?”
“Did you want me to?”
I shook my head.
He cocked a brow at me. “Were you intending to keep it.”
“No, my lord,” I said, hurriedly. “I only wanted to make sure it would be okay, and put it back to the wild with its family.”
For a long time, we held each other’s gaze, measuring intentions.
“They’ll be well looked after then?” I asked, not knowing what else to do or say and wanting to break the stillness. “The parents too?”
He gave me a knowing look and walked away, rabbit gently in hand.
****
The equinox had passed. Spring came into its full. Grass grew thick, in need of taming, which the new men saw to. Flowers budded and bloomed. Gravel and flat stones were meticulously lain into new walkways and spaces where court would take place. Stands were thoughtfully erected, each reserved for some thing that would be viewed once guests arrived.
It didn’t make much sense to me, since it seemed like it’d be a far easier task to adjust the courtyard and gardens around the house rather than to lay out new foundations. But only the most important of guests would be allowed to wander the house grounds, and fewer allowed to stay. It was all so divided, as if to say that some spirits were less worthy than others. Even if some could perform godly feats of magic and others none at all.
It wasn’t quite that way in the village, where we all had to rely on each other to pull through, especially in hard times. There were those more skilled or more experienced or wiser that we might look to in some circumstances. Other villages might be better with their harvests, or produce more livestock, and we bartered with them. But I never thought of one being superior to the other. Perhaps I was naïve.
“I’m telling you, there’s been a weird smell lately,” said Syaoran. His fox ears pinned back, and his posture looked unnerved by something.
“That nose of yours is overreacting,” said Yua, dismissively. “Unless there’s evidence of some wry thing, don’t bother the master. Things are stressful enough as it is.” She went about the work being done, taking notes as she paused to study the progress.
“It’ll be more stressful when whatever it is disrupts the viewing and upcoming announcements,” said Syaoran, sour in his tone.
I could be remised for forgetting that the purpose of Lord Kwan holding court, despite his dislike of it, was to announce his engagement to a princess of the Juneun. Over the time spent here, where I’d formed a friendship with my jailor (odd as that sounded), all else fell away from my concerns at times. Lord Kwan wasn’t in love with her, he’d said, and spoke little of her at all. It was an arranged marriage, as I understood it; something tragic in my mind. I didn’t understand how anyone could make two people marry when they didn’t love or even like each other. Perhaps, if one were in love and the other in desperate state—though it still sounded like a tragedy.
I wasn’t ignorant of my own state, my lack of beauty and wealth. Even so, I didn’t think I could be compelled to marry for money. Listening to how the other women spoke, sometimes, about what brought them into Lord Kwan’s house, I wondered if I’d be seen as selfish or stupid if I refused a rich man too blind to see what I was. Considering the rumors now, that may be the case. My brothers, and my father, might be understanding; but someone from another village might twist it into something cold.
In trying to avoid a weighted pain in my heart, I began to busy myself with imagining what the princess was like as I brought things to and from the site. My imagination painted her to have the silkiest black hair, so long that it trailed behind her. Porcelain skin, since she wouldn’t have to ever work outside, and could stay comfortably in the shade every summer. She probably wore the most beautiful dress, an array of colors and patterns. She must have a voice that was perfect for singing. And she smiled a lot, having lived a life without having to labor or go hungry.
I spent so much time thinking what the future would look like, imagining that I’d stay to have tea and my usual lessons in their company, of showing the improvement to my drawing, that I missed Yua calling me.
When I did snap from my daydreams to notice her, she held a severe look on her face and bid me to go to her. I did, embarrassed by my lack of awareness.
“Come along,” said Yua, impatient. “The water is already running.”
I repeated her statement as I followed behind.
“For the tub. Looking our best does take time, otherwise we’d stall until the night before. And there’s still the fittings to be had, to make sure no adjustments will be necessary.”
“You mean for the clothes we sewed?”
“Obviously,” said Yua, a little annoyed that I fumbled in trying to keep up with her agenda. “It’s not something that can be put on alone, so we’re to be divided into two groups the morning court opens. Someone will be sent to wake you an hour before dawn. You’ll go to Lin’s room, since it’s the second biggest and assist where you can.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. It was already confusing, but I didn’t want to provoke her any further.
In the bath house, the small assembly of women waited, undressing only after Yua and I entered and closed the door behind us. The tub was near full, and oils had already been added. I wasn’t shy about a group bath; we did similar in my village at the river, our river.
There was talk almost instantly about what will happen after court. If a bigger household will be brought in, and if that meant any of their own positions hung in the balance. Defensive points were made, justifying their necessity to the estate. One of the girls was teased for her indiscretion in visiting Syaoran on occasion.
“Of course, you won’t have to worry, Hisa,” said Lin. “Lord Kwan likes you well enough, and you’re stuck here anyway.”
I allowed my brow to bend and plead my case. “If he did want me away, though, I wouldn’t argue it. I miss my family.”
“That’s something we can all relate to,” said Lin, a heavy laugh in her tone. “I haven’t seen my family in over a century.”
“It’s ninety-six years for me.”
“Seventy-one for me.”
“About forty for me.”
“Lord Kwan doesn’t allow you to visit them?” I asked.
“It’s not the way things are done,” said Yua. “It’s not merely to work for a lord, it’s the adoption of a lifestyle.”
“They don’t do that in the human world?”
I shook my head. “At least, not in the villages. Everyone goes home to their families at the end of the day.”
“That sounds weird.”
“So how do you bring yourself and your family up if you always return home like an ordinary laborer?”
I twisted my face, not understanding.
“You know, to gain more titles and wealth, your status with the ruling families and how much consideration your given.”
“And if you’re lucky enough to be picked as a mistress. The more a lord or a prince or king likes you, the better you’re treated and pampered.”
“If I were a prince’s mistress,” said Lin, “My father would be gifted lands and a lesser title.”
“It’s the best we ladies can do for our families, since we’re not noble and stand little chance of marrying well.”
“Sometimes at all.”
I felt barraged by the information, the revelation of it all making my head to pound. I had a hundred questions, and was too meek to ask any. They seemed like they’d be personal and cause offense.
“But Lord Kwan is fond of Hisa, he might command her to stay anyway.”
I broke from my thoughts and idle scrubbing in that moment.
“But I just realized, if Hisa leaves, that means we won’t be able to skip out on chores now and again. It’s work, work, work all the time.”
“And the men get lazy after a while. Can you believe they have the nerve to say we have it easy?”
“Maybe we should all pretend to be sick when Lord Kwan is away and make them pick up the slack,” said Lin. “That’d show them just how much work we do.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” said Yua. “Slight the master like that over your pride, and you’ll be out the gate in an instant.”
The quiet from her scolding didn’t last for long.
“If the village girls are all that hard working, maybe Lord Kwan could be convinced to adopt one every few years.”
Yua shot her a look.
“Humans are short lived,” said Lin. “It’s different for them. I don’t think many live to see their first century. A mere decade is probably a lifetime.”
“It is a long time,” I said, shy, if only to get expecting gazes off of me.
“The only one who’d really know is Gi. He’s been fascinated with humans forever.”
“Probably because he started off collecting the offerings and saw them more often.”
“I heard he used to get Syaoran to disguise him as a villager or something, and would sneak off to be with the village girls he especially liked.”
“That would make sense why Lord Kwan keeps changing his station. Keeping him out of trouble. But trouble just seems to follow that poor fool no matter what.”
“He is a little handsome, though, when he’s not armored.” That garnered teasing from all the other women. Even Yua’s strict features softened into an amused smile.
I felt more at ease among them than I’d had in almost two years. For the time, we were just girls around each other. Though, I was still perplexed and a little uncomfortable with their more strategic talk.
“Are you men getting a good view?” announced Syaoran from beyond the paper-paned doors.
At once, we all sank ourselves a little deeper into the water and covered with our arms. A slew of accusations, demands to leave, and names were shouted.
Syaoran laughed. “I’m only kidding. There’s no one here. But I can have a look, can’t I?”
More of the same came from the women.
He snickered, his shadow walking away.
“Of course, the real prize for us would be if Lord Kwan decided to take a mistress, but Syaoran is a good enough second pick with his standing in the house.”
“If he picks you and makes it official.”
“Maybe one of us will be lucky and catch the eye of a visiting lord during court,” said Lin.
“You’ll get nowhere with any of the lords, behaving as you are now,” said Yua.
I thought it all strange. I wouldn’t want to be someone’s mistress, there on the whim of some lord who could easily cast me out. There wasn’t a security in that—there wasn’t a love in that. While the chance was likely impossible, I made myself a wordless promise to refuse any offer of becoming a mistress to anyone.