Moon's Whisper, Heart's Echo

9.The Charmer

Tae-young traced the worn edges of the carved bird with his fingertip, his cheek pressed against the cool wooden desk. The morning air carried the rhythm of servants preparing breakfast - the soft clatter of rice bowls, quiet footsteps on worn planks, the distant murmur of kitchen girls discussing the latest palace gossip.

"So this is where you've been hiding." His mother's voice held that particular tone of fond exasperation reserved for wayward sons. "Should I be concerned that you're actually at your desk before noon?"

He didn't lift his head, just tilted the carving to catch the light. "The day is still young, Eomma. Give me time."

"Aigoo." She clicked her tongue, though he could hear her smile. "At least you're honest about it." The rustle of her skirts paused near his desk. "Though I haven't seen you this interested in your father's treasures since you tried to trade them for those foreign books."

"I was twelve," he protested mildly, finally sitting up. "And they were very interesting books."

"They were banned books."

"Which made them even more interesting." He turned the bird over in his hands, noting how the wings caught shadows like real feathers. "Did you know about this? About Nandi's father?"

His mother settled onto a cushion, her movements carrying the easy grace. "Your father rarely speaks of the past. Yet last night, talking about Nandi's father..." She smiled softly. "I haven't seen him so animated in years."

To that he simply nodded, turning the bird about in hand.

Much later that day, Nandi settled at her low table, grinding ink with practiced motions. The stone whispered against the inkstick as she worked, her mind focused on capturing the way light played across the mountains in her landscape painting.

"My lady?" Young-ah's voice carried a note of uncertainty that made Nandi's brush pause mid-stroke. "Young Master Park is here to see you."

Nandi looked up to find Tae-young already crossing her courtyard, his white hanbok catching the lights of day. The formality of his dress only emphasized how deliberately he'd abandoned his scholarly pretense. Young-ah shot Nandi an apologetic glance before quickly retreating, though not without a curious backward glance.

"May I help you?" Nandi kept her voice coolly professional, though her hands instinctively moved to cover her painting.

"Don't stop on my account." His voice carried that particular blend of authority and amusement she was beginning to recognize. "I've been told my presence can be quite inspiring."

"Have you?" Nandi continued her work, refusing to look up. "How fortunate for you."

He circled her table with unhurried grace. "Though perhaps not for your painting."

"I wasn't aware I'd requested a critique."

"Consider it a gift." He settled beside her, close enough that she could catch the subtle scent of him. "Like your hospitality in receiving an unexpected guest."

"Unexpected and uninvited," she pointed out, though her voice held less bite than intended.

His eyes studied her painting with the same intensity he seemed to bring to everything. "The mountains are well-observed," he offered, surprising her with the genuine note in his voice. "Though your technique..."