8 |✓

Four | She lost him because of Class Differences

▬▬▬▬▬▬

1 5 1 8

A slow rumble of the drums. A trill of notes from the zither. On cue, she drowned out all thoughts and glided into the routine that she rehearsed countless of times over the past months. She poured her all into the steps, for she could not afford to make any mistake. Not even the fire in her feet could stop her.

She had the bandages on her feet removed in order to fit into her dancing shoes just before this exam. Now, her toes bled with every move. She drowned out the pain; she had to fight it. It was mind over body, and she kept the smile plastered on her face, determined to triumph over the sting from her feet.

Teacher watched her calmly, not missing the spot of red that grew every second at the shoe's fabric. Once again, she had not failed her expectations. This child was the most talented in her Kisaeng house. She was young, but she displayed mastery of her emotions. For that, she would thrive. For that, she became her favourite student. She would groom her as her successor, and she prayed sincerely that the child would not stray, that the child would not be swindled into love - an impossible fantasy for people of their class.

* * *

She sprinted out into the bustling streets without heed for her hurting feet. She was late, but surely, he would wait.

Her heart sank immediately when she arrived at the said meeting place, in the middle of the market next to the bun-seller. The place he should have stood was empty.

She thought of how it should have been - he should have been leaning against that pillar, in his dusty blue robes, waiting for her.  She pouted her lips and fought back tears of resentment - if Eunji hadn't forced her to clean up the lavatory, she would have been here on time.

That was until the teachings got back into her head. Quickly, she got a hold of her emotions and bit them back. She wasn't supposed to feel this way towards her peers. She had missed the chance to meet with him today, simply because it was preordained. It was meant to be  - just like everything else.

As she turned to leave morosely, she felt soft taps on her shoulders.

"Did you really think I would leave without you?" a boy said cheerily.

Her lips curled upward into a small smile.

She whirled around to look him in the face. "I passed the exam," she announced proudly. She had noticed for a few times now that her heart always, always went faster with him around.

He grinned. "I knew you could do it."

He dipped his hands into his pocket. His smile faded into a mysterious, bashful expression. His small hands re-emerged with a floral hair pin.

He shoved it at her and kept his own head low from nervousness. "Please have it, it's for you."

She let out a squeal of delight. "It's so pretty!"

She took it from his hands and he glanced up with hesitant eyes. All she could think of then, was the fact that she could swim in those charcoal orbs of his forever.

* * *

The one time she decided to search for her birth father, she met him instead.

Her father was a nobleman, but her mother was a Gisaeng, the lowest class of civilians of the likes of slaves. And because of that she too, by law, became one.

She had the mind of an aristocrat, but the body of a slave.

But this boy hailed from the noble himself. His father was a high ranking official for this town. Their relationship was doomed from the beginning, because class difference created a thousand miles between them, even if they were really, only seconds apart from each other.

Sure, by law, he could pay a hefty sum to "purchase" her from the government, to free her from her lowly status. But, few, including him, had the means to.

She knew from her days in the Gisaeng house that one day, men would pine after her - her music, dance and poetry - once she became a full-fledged entertainer. She thought those were enough for her.

She could only meet him once in 3 or 4 weeks because she was hardly allowed out of the tavern, except on the days she ran errands. Every encounter with him was precious and she thought those were enough for her.

But as she grew older, she realised, it would never be enough. She cared only for one man's affections. That of the boy before her. And it was the one thing out of her reach, because of hierarchical differences.

* * *

Teacher told her it was an auspicious day to graduate.

"Today is the wedding day of our district official's son," Teacher said.

She would now helm her own as the district's newest Gisaeng, the most beautiful in a long time.

"You will be showered with gifts and adoration from the greatest men. But, do not love them." Teacher cautioned her once more, as she gingerly helped her wear her jewellery. Those words had been repeated to her for years. She nodded; she had heeded them all these years.

Glitter and gold adorned her hair, the finest powder caked her face. She stood up to leave the room, now gloriously furnished and filled with gifts from eager male customers who all vied for her attention. She cast one silent glance at a floral hairpin that sat on her pedestal, an accessory that bore with it her lost youth, her lost freedom, an accessory that she would never wear again.

She poised herself gracefully before the audience, as the low beats of the drum began. She moved to the beats; she drowned out all thoughts and glided into the routine that she had rehearsed countless of times over the past years. She poured her all into the steps, for she could not afford to make any mistake.

Nothing could stop her. Not even the wedding procession and its pompous orchestra that passed the tavern.  She drowned out the pain; she had to fight it. 

It was mind over body, and she kept the smile plastered on her face, determined to triumph over the sting from her heart.