TDLWFJ 08

Chapter 8

Three days later, Maldong brought back a letter.

“Miss, Sir Siyoung of Pungui-bang stopped by.”

Hari immediately checked the letter.

A smile spread across her face as she read the neatly written note.

As expected of Pungui-bang.

It wasn’t an exaggeration that they handled matters as swiftly as the wind.

Hari carefully folded the letter and stood up.

“Let’s go, Maldong.”

“Where are we going, miss?”

“To Hongyeongak.”

“Hongyeongak? The place in Hanyang that gathers all the best gisaeng?”

Hari took the head shawl hanging on the wall.

“That’s right. Is it really that famous?”

“Extremely. The food is delicious, and they even have special liquor you can only taste there. And the best part is Hongju, the owner of Hongyeongak.”

Hari knew of Hongju as well.

She was given a fairly important role in the novel.

Hongju, who seemed modeled after Hwang Jini, was talented in many fields and was often invited to royal banquets, where she frequently crossed paths with the female lead.

“How impressive can the head gisaeng of Hongyeongak really be?”

“Even high officials line up just to hear Hongju play the geomungo.”

Unlike other gisaeng, Hongju played the geomungo—an instrument associated with scholars.

Normally, imitating scholars would have earned harsh punishment, but Hongju’s performance was so exquisite that everyone praised her.

As expected, once you reach the very top, even gender barriers can be crossed.

Hari once again resolved to become the greatest divorce lawyer of Joseon and began walking.

Hongyeongak, located in the center of Unjongga, was very close to the legal office she had obtained.

It was within a ten-minute walk—close enough to say it was practically around the corner.

But the atmosphere was very different.

Once they passed the Hanseongbu office and turned slightly around Hwangtohyeon Hill, the air changed.

The calmness of Yukjo Street vanished, replaced by the bustling chaos of Unjongga.

Hari boldly pushed into the crowd.

Scholars, married women, and peddlers were all mixed together when a woman approached carrying a box wrapped in plain cloth strapped to her stomach.

Every time she moved, the pumpkin taffy inside clattered.

“Miss, please take a look! This is precious pumpkin taffy. It was boiled in a cauldron day and night for ten days!”

The woman’s desperate voice stopped Hari in her tracks.

“I’ll take ten.”

“Pardon?”

“I said ten.”

“Y-Yes, miss. That will be five pun.”

The woman quickly wrapped the taffy in rough paper and handed it over.

“Keep the change.”

When Hari handed her one nyang, the woman’s mouth fell open in shock. Maldong, on the other hand, smirked.

“Miss, you’ve just been scammed. Who pays five pun for ten small pumpkin taffies? Three pun would do. But you gave her one nyang!”

“So what? She’s happy. That’s enough.”

Because she still had Jeong Hari’s memories, she knew the taffy was overpriced.

But whenever she saw someone selling goods without a shop, she was reminded of her mother.

Jeong Hari’s mother, Jeong Soyeong.

After her divorce, the woman tried every job to survive. At one point, she sold kimbap during early morning commutes—rain, snow, even typhoons—standing in front of Yeouido Station.

And during the day, she handed out flyers, begging people to take just one.

How could Hari look down on people like that?

Behind the vendor stood a little girl who looked just like her.

A child of about five or six.

She looks like me when I was young.

Honestly, she wanted to give more, but too much kindness could cause problems, so she stopped at being a “cute sucker.”

“Well, since we bought it… shall we taste it?”

Maldong’s eyes sparkled.

Hari chuckled and handed him the entire bundle.

His cheeks lifted with delight.

He was so happy—why had he complained earlier?

With just one nyang, she had made several people happy. That was enough.

As they enjoyed the bustle of Unjongga, Maldong stretched out his arm.

“There it is!”

A flag reading Hongyeongak fluttered.

Unlike the busy streets they had passed, the area in front was quiet.

“They haven’t started business yet, so there’s no one. Come back at sunset and you’ll see crowds so thick you won’t even recognize Unjongga.”

Listening to Maldong’s explanation, Hari called out to the gatekeeper.

“Open the gate.”

As she raised her voice like in historical dramas, footsteps sounded from beyond the door, and the heavy gate swung open.

“Who are you?”

The man who appeared looked rough enough to be mistaken for a bandit.

“I have an appointment to meet someone here.”

“So who are you?”

The man scratched his belly and frowned.

He was a thug who chased out troublemaking noblemen from the gisaeng house.

He greeted guests himself during the day for a reason—wives who came during the day were almost always searching for their husbands, and they always caused a scene.

“H-How dare you! Do you know who our lady is? Move aside!”

Maldong stepped forward, trembling with anger.

“What? Dare? You little—!”

As the man raised his huge hand, Hari pushed Maldong aside and stepped forward.

“Go ahead and hit me.”

“What?”

“Do you know what happens when a lowly man lays a hand on a noblewoman?”

“….”

When the thug fell silent, Maldong made a throat-slitting gesture.

“Try it.”

The thug hesitated, but didn’t retreat.

Today, an elder from Pungui-bang was coming. Hongju had strictly warned him not to let outsiders in. If trouble broke out, he’d lose his head.

Just then, snap—the sound of a folding fan closing came from behind him.

The owner of Pungui-bang, Un, appeared.

“She is my guest.”

“S-Sir!”

Under his icy gaze, the thug quickly bowed.

“She is my guest. Open the way, and never treat my guests rudely again. There will be no second forgiveness.”

“Yes, sir!”

The thug pressed himself against the pillar.

Hari’s view cleared instantly.

“I had informed them beforehand, yet this happened. My apologies. Please come in.”

Hari didn’t refuse his apology and lightly stepped over the threshold. She turned back to the thug.

“Before I go, let me tell you something. If you had laid a hand on me, you would have lost three things.”

“W-What would that be?”

Hari lowered her shawl, revealed her face, and smiled.

“One—your livelihood. Two—your backside. And three—the pitiful fortune you’ve gathered. What a shame. I could have stripped you down to your underwear.”

Seeing her eyes, the thug knew—this wasn’t a bluff.

He bowed deeply, pale-faced.

“I’m sorry, miss.”

“Now you understand. You should’ve apologized to me from the start.”

“Let’s greet each other with smiles next time.”

As Hari approached, Un chuckled softly.

She had even made the notoriously fierce gatekeeper apologize.

He had worried she might cry and wondered if he had a handkerchief. His concerns were pointless.

“Why are you laughing?”

Hari glared at him.

Her boldness should have seemed improper—so why was he smiling?

“I wonder myself.”

With a gentle smile, Un led her inside.

As they entered the quiet courtyard, doors began opening one after another.

The owner of Pungui-bang, Un—known for being indifferent to women—had welcomed a female guest. Everyone was curious.

Curious and wary gazes shot toward them, but Hari was too captivated by the waves of tiled rooftops to notice.

“How many rooms are there? Are they all full every night?”

Seeing the dozens of buildings connected like a snake biting its tail, she asked Maldong in astonishment.

“Not just full—people line up and wait.”

As Hari slowed down, Un turned back.

With her mouth slightly open and eyes wandering, she looked like a rabbit in a wonderland.

“She might trip.”

“Watch your step.”

The moment he spoke, Hari caught her foot on the threshold and stumbled.

“Ah!”

Startled, Un threw aside his fan and quickly stepped forward.