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It was a foggy evening, not too cold, and most of the people on campus were busy plotting amusing ways to embarrass incoming freshmen. That made it a perfect time for Moon Jae Shin to steal off to Hyangkwanchung to copy out his next batch of messages, or it would have, if it weren't that Yong Ha could always manage to figure out where he was.
"There you are, oh thank goodness, not dead," Yong Ha said in a great rush, or something like it; it was hard to tell, because he said most of it with his mouth buried in Jae Shin's chest.
"What the hell?" Jae Shin had trouble deciding whether it was more urgent to hide his stack of red messages, or to shove Yong Ha's head away. He ended up doing up both at once, neither very effectively. "What's the matter with you today?"
"'S a ghost," Yong Ha mumbled into Jae Shin's thigh.
Jae Shin jerked his leg to get Yong Ha off. "What?"
"I saw a ghost," Yong Ha said, clutching at Jae Shin's tunic.
"You saw someone doing their laundry when you were too drunk to tell the difference."
Yong Ha looked up at him, eyes wide and solemn, and then sat up of his own accord, straightening his neckline. "I don't get fooled by laundry."
"Have it your way," Jae Shin said. "In any case I notice it didn't hurt you."
"I sorrow to say the ghost was entirely unmoved by my fine and fashionable figure," Yong Ha said. "I had to rely on my charm instead. What are you doing here?"
"I was trying," Jae Shin said, "to get some peace and quiet. If you don't mind." The ink and brush made it pretty clear he had been writing, so he pulled out a sheet of white paper, and started in the upper corner with notes toward the message he'd do next time.
Yong Ha peered over his desk. "Are you writing poetry?"
Without aching for our era and outrage at the world, ’tis not poetry. "The only true kind," he said, swiping his brush down in the last stroke of ho with grim satisfaction.
There was a moment of silence, just long enough for Jae Shin to start thinking it might be wise to look up and see what Yong Ha was about to do, and then Yong Ha wriggled himself up against the shelf opposite and said, "Ah, so, love poetry, then."
Jae Shin exhaled an almost-laugh, and started another elegant line of denunciation. Love poetry. "Yeah, right."
"Well, go on, then," Yong Ha demanded. He had his fan raised to the light of Jae Shin's oil lamp, and was twisting it back and forth, inspecting it for who knew what mark of imperfection. "Tell me about this person who makes you write love poetry. Is she pretty, do you hiccup?"
Jae Shin thought of the brokenness in the court, that could see the open murder of two men in the King's own service, and let it fester, like a dead rat beneath the floorboards, in the name of staying a breath closer to the power.
"Many people think she's beautiful," he said.
"But you don't?" Yong Ha lifted an eyebrow.
Jae Shin shrugged. "She's made too many mistakes."
"And you're writing poetry to her anyway? Chaaa, I smell another troubled romance from afar," said Yong Ha. "Do you remember Mi Geum? Remember how you hiccuped outside her window for three months after her father betrothed her to Seo Choong Soo? Not a good -- "
Jae Shin chucked his cushion at Yong Ha, who failed to catch it, and squawked when it creased the brim of his hat. Ignoring him, Jae Shin dipped his brush in the inkwell again, and started in on the opening strokes of gal.
"Don't get hurt," Yong Ha said suddenly. His hands were still, and the cushion was flat in his lap.
Did Yong Ha think he might really be writing love poetry?
"I mean it," Yong Ha said, fluffing up the cushion and flopping onto it. "I don't want to have to pay for all of your bar tabs when she breaks your heart."
"Pff," said Jae Shin, which was all that had to be said to that.
"Come out drinking with me," Yong Ha said, plaintively.
Jae Shin put down his brush, annoyed. "Don't you have some freshmen to go torture or something?"
Yong Ha looked at him for a long moment, then started flipping his fan around in circles by its string. "Not for three more weeks. Ahhh, it will be so much fun, I can't wait."
"Go bother your pet Noron, then, I'm busy."
"Fine, fine," Yong Ha said, and got up to leave. Pausing in the doorway, he said, without turning, "Will you be out late tonight?"
"Eh, I might not bother coming back. Don't wait up."
"Be careful, then," Yong Ha said, and was gone.
Even for Yong Ha, that was an odd mood. Jae Shin frowned after him for a moment, and the ink dripped, a great blot, spoiling his notes.
Well, hell. He fed the ruined sheet into the lamp flame, and brushed away the ashes. Everything would be all fine in the morning, anyway, knowing Yong Ha. Jae Shin pulled out a fresh sheet of red paper, and began again at the top. Ga, he wrote, righteousness, and wetted the brush for the next character.