The Notorious Spinster
During her 16th spring, Kang Yeosang's debut into high society had been considered a raging success.
Beautiful, demure, rich. She had been the belle of the ball — an overnight sensation.
The only daughter of the distinguished Marquess Kang's house, with a sizable inheritance bequeathed to her by her maternal grandmother, she was all everyone could talk about.
Match making mothers and fortune hunters alike had been in a frenzy. Desperate to snag her as an addition to their households. Greedy for her prestige and dowry.
So it was a surprise to all when after her first season Kang Yeosang remained unmarried.
It had confused them further when, despite being popular as ever during her second season, she again remained unmarried.
By the fourth season, the marriage proposals started to dwindle. Turned away suitors nursed broken hearts, as gossip of her overprotective parents not wanting to let her go circulated the rumor mills.
By the sixth year, Yeosang had become a spinster, well and truly on the shelf despite being more radiant than when she first stepped out onto the scene.
Gossip of overprotective parents morphed into speculations as to what was wrong with the young lady for her to remain single for so long.
There must be something wrong with her for her parents to bar her from marrying, spurned suitors whispered amongst themselves, seeking a sympathetic ear.
A maid who worked for the Kang house said she was too headstrong by half murmured matronesses, who had failed to tie their families to the Kang's.
She is very undignified and unladylike; her parents do not want her marrying for fear of embarrassing the family name if she were to be let loose, they told anyone who would listen.
A disgrace to femininity, agreed young debutantes, insecure and jealous of the attention Lady Yeosang always garnered.
And as with most desecrations of one's character, the rumors turned ever more vicious as time went on and the stories remained unchecked.
She is no longer a virgin.
The real reason she will not marry is because she has a lover.
Word is she had many, not just the one.
She had had a baby out of wedlock.
The father of the baby was the stable hand; the Marquess threw the servant out in outrage, did you not know? Everyone who was anyone knew this to be true.
Like this, the stories and tales of her supposed debauchery grew into legendary status.
High society pretended sympathy towards the Marquess and Marchioness for how their only offspring turned out. While secretly relishing the prideful pair's fall in reputation, spreading any and all news throughout the ballrooms and salons.
And Kang Yeosang, who had once been belle of the ball, was well and truly on the outs. No one of good standing would have her, although fortune hunters still tried their luck to no avail.
But then the lady in question disappeared from the world and even the fortune hunters had to give up.
Because by the eighth year since her debut, Lady Yeosang stopped attending any functions within high society. No one heard a peep from her.
And so, the nobility moved on from Kang Yeosang, preferring to discuss a topic that they could see. They found a new victim to examine and dissect within a week.
After seeing neither hide nor hair of Kang Yeosang for years, when it was announced that she was going to be married off to a noble from the West Kingdom on her 26th spring, the peerage was in an uproar.
Blinded by the juicy tidbit, ravenous for a story, they dusted off their knowledge of her from previous years and gleefully discussed vague encounters they remembered to supplement the new news making their rounds.
And like that the enigmatic Lady Yeosang was once again the talk of the town.
..-. .-. . .
"My Lady, you will catch a cold. Let us head back down to your cabin." Alice, her personal maid, wrapped a shawl around Yeosang's shoulders, digging her nails into her arms during the transfer.
Yeosang delicately clutched at the shawl, but made no move from the railing. Not so much as a flinch or a single ripple in her serene mask hinted at the stinging byplay, much to the maid's ire.
With a subtle motion of her hand, she shooed Alice away. The maid looked ready to argue, only to acquiesce with a small nod after having surveyed their surroundings. There were too many eyes and ears.
As soon as the maid was out of sight, Yeosang dropped the shawl. The material was scratchy and from the smell of the thing, it probably had not been washed in weeks. After rubbing the damp dirty feeling from the maid's 'kindness' off onto her skirt, Yeosang hugged herself, absently rubbing the spot where the maid had scratched her.
If Yeosang still had the ability to find fun in the mess that was her life, she would have smirked at the maid's quick assent. She might have laughed at the small victory when the girl had had to bite her tongue.
Alice, so used to calling the shots in their relationship, had wanted to fight Yeosang about her dismissal. The indignation at Yeosang refusing her silk covered order had burned in her pockmarked face. But the ears of others were too close. What was to be said of a noble family, whose own maid looked down on the young miss of the house? People would talk. Her father did not like narratives he did not put out himself and could not therefore control. Alice knew that well, always mindful of her true master's preferences, so she had had no choice, but to relent.
Besides, her father's little spy must have realized what Yeosang had already accepted. They were in the middle of the ocean, she no longer needed to be so on guard. Yeosang had nowhere to run. Not that she had considered it.
Above her, a lone seagull glided in the clear skies. It was headed in the opposite direction they were. With their wings spread wide, the bird was so free. Free to choose where to go. To simply be.
Something dark reared its head in Yeosang's dormant heart watching it in flight. It had been so long since she had felt anything other than cold resignation, it took a moment for her to put a name to the foreign feeling. Jealousy. Ugly and useless, it cut through her. Falling forward with the emotion, Yeosang gripped the railing to keep herself on her feet. Her chest was too tight and her knuckles turned white like the waves crashing against the ship.
Yeosang tried to lie to herself that her trouble breathing was due to her corset having been tied too tight that morning. Alice was wont to do so while gleefully telling her to bear with it, it was the trend. But Yeosang could not fool herself for long. She was jealous of the animal. It soared above them all, untouchable and free, while she had never been free to choose anything in her life.
Even now she could not choose to stay out on the deck for a few minutes without her father's permission via his minion. And his minion had only allowed it to keep up with appearances. An ocean now separated them, yet he still had the final say.
Closing her eyes, suddenly tired, Yeosang imagined her body crashing against the ship if she were to jump. Pain of her own choice. Red coloring the foam of the waves. Panicked calls from the sailors who would spot her fall. Maybe then, at the very end, she would finally be able to breathe.
But intercepting the image of her broken body was her father's face distorted in anger, his fist raised against the one person she could never leave behind. And her hands relaxed bit by bit until they were no longer in a death grip.
Watching her pale hands, unscarred and soft from idle leisure, Yeosang found them pretty, pampered — a lie. Like herself. It only had the appearance of luxury and care.
Turning away from the railing, Yeosang headed in. She could no longer find comfort in the sea. Not when it was its very waves that carried her ever closer to her inevitable fate.
..-. .-. . .
Later that night, a loud crack jolted Yeosang out of her sleep. It was huge and deafening, unlike anything she had heard before. Quick on the sound's tail was the impact. It tossed her against the wall, and pain bloomed in her side.
One hand on her side, the other clutching at the bed frame, Yeosang tried to re-orientate herself. The ship was in turmoil. Everything in the room that could be nailed down rocked with the cabin, creaking ominously, as her trunk slid back and forward across the floor.
After being at sea for three months, Yeosang had experienced two big storms. The Captain of the ship had explained that she was lucky, the weather on their route was docile at that time of year and bad weather was not so frequent. She had not felt so lucky during the experience, but she had made it through. Yeosang thought maybe this was also a storm. But if so, then it was no ordinary one. It was more terrifying than the last two instances, which was telling in and of itself.
Despite the similar bombardment of noise to her previous experiences, Yeosang could tell it was not the regular clapping of thunder. The loud booms were too close together and there was the additional ear splitting cracking and splintering. The sound of everything breaking.
Stumbling to her feet, Yeosang managed to locate a slipper when the ship's sudden turn threw her to the floor. Before she could assess if it had hurt or not, her trunk of clothes rammed into her, and she no longer needed to guess. Pain flared from her hip downwards, joining the dull ache in her ribs.
Pushing through the pain, Yeosang threw her whole body behind the trunk, pushing it towards the straps nailed to the left side of the room. The trunk almost toppled her before she managed to get her footing. Luckily, urgency lent her strength she did not know she had had, and a final shove saw her to the far end of the room. Grabbing the straps, she used all her determination to hold the box in place and fix the buckle. After a few attempts, and the trunk almost slipping away from her, she succeeded and slumped in exhaustion over the lid.
Overhead urgent footsteps thudded and muffled yells filtered through Yeosang's muddled mind, as she tried to put her finger on what was wrong. Rough seas were expected in a long voyage, it was the risk you took with nature, but there was something off about this, not just the noise and commotion. Just as she was catching her breath, she realized what it was. Ship boy.
There had been no ship boy with a courteous message. If there was an issue, the captain always sent a ship boy along to advise her, especially if there was an expectation for choppy weather. That way she could secure her trunk, but there had been none.
A shiver of dark foreboding washed down her back. Why was there no message? What had prevented a message from being sent?
Whatever was going on, Yeosang knew Alice was not going to come for her. Her maid had no loyalty towards her. She could not expect any help from her. If she stayed, she might be able to wait out whatever dangers were above, but not knowing what was happening left Yeosang uneasy.
Her father had taken great pleasure in explaining what he planned to do and how he was going to hurt her. Each explanation had torn at her resistance until she was forced to be complicit in her own abuse. Expecting and accepting it all. It was how she had survived, staying still until it passed. But how was she meant to accept it when she did not know what was coming?
She had just made the decision to head above deck to see what was going on for herself when a harrowing scream cut through the air, filling her body with stones of dread, leaving her unable to move.
Later she would realize the only reason she could hear the scream so clearly was because the irregular thunder had stopped, fading away as suddenly as it had come, the ship’s movements no longer so rough. But in that moment, she could not think over the suffocating rush in her ears.
Yeosang was still frozen when her door crashed open and two unkempt men wielding cutlasses paused at the sight of her.
They were dirty and not appropriately dressed, their hairy chests on display. Their beards made them look menacing, or maybe it was the weapons, Yeosang was not sure. She did know, however, that the scar on the taller one's face was not promising of an encounter with a gentleman. Not that she had been expecting a rescue. She had stopped waiting for a hero long ago. They only existed in fiction anyway. That moment, just like every other time, she only had herself to rely on.
But just like every other time, Yeosang was made painfully aware of her powerlessness. Her nightgown felt sheer against her skin, the only barrier between herself and their weapons, while their swords gleamed with steely promise. She could do nothing, but wait for it to be exacted.
The stretched out moment of consideration felt like a small eternity, and it was still not enough time for Yeosang to come to terms with her impending death. It was only earlier in the afternoon, she had imagined jumping to her end, but, watching the hands wrapped around the handle of the cutlasses flex, Yeosang had never imagined extinguishing her light in such violence. She was not ready. She did not want to give in.
Before she could be shocked at her desire for life, the two men got over their surprise at finding her, ending the short moment of stand off. They glanced at each other and grinned, advancing towards her.
And habits were hard to kill, as the scream of denial and entreaty stuck in Yeosang's throat. It had never helped her in the past. It did not seem like it would help her now. But it did not stop the fear, it squeezed her heart in a vice-like grip until her legs gave out.
"Now, now, you can't collapse just yet, love. We haven't even started."
Their demonic smiles were the last thing Yeosang saw before she fainted.
..-. .-. . .
Yeosang woke slowly, reluctantly, the fog of sleep refusing to release her easily.
The first thing she became aware of was the hardness of her bed, it was the likely culprit of the ache of her body. And then she was aware of the deep set coldness in her limbs. She wondered if Alice had left the window open again to torment her, where she would claim her purposeful negligence as an honest mistake.
Yeosang was going to stretch and let out a groan when the voices filtered through the fog, dispersing the sleep haze, fear sharpening her senses.
"I found her, I get her first."
"What do you mean you did? We found her together."
"This ain't finders keepers. We should draw lots."
Yeosang frantically scrambled in her mind for an explanation. Maybe it was a nightmare? Maybe she was still asleep? The breath bottled in her lungs, afraid to move in case of detection. But it was no use.
"Hey! She's coming to."
"She's pretending to sleep." One of them jeered.
Yeosang opened her eyes, her heart stuttering. Body odor and a slight sting of smoke assaulted her senses. She was not at home. She was not even on the merchant ship she had spent the last few months on with Alice.
What she had mistaken as a hard mattress was the deck of a strange ship. A number of strange men surrounded her, twenty or thirty, she could not tell at a glance, to her frightened brain it felt like a hundred. However many there were, based on their attire, the weapons at their sides, and the unholy gleam of interest in their eyes, she could tell they were no good.
Seeing the tall man with a scar, recognition sparked her memories, and it came back to her. Their ship had been overtaken. She had been taken. It had not been a nightmare.
A sudden crash and splash made the group turn their heads.
"And there she goes," one said, as the rest whooped and cheered.
Momentarily forgotten in the midst of their celebration, Yeosang spied a man in the back. He was a little away from the group, sitting on one of the cargo boxes stacked on the deck. He was younger than the rest, he looked more like a boy than a man.
His round cheeks gave the impression of a sweet cherub. He was also the only one properly dressed; his plain jacket, breeches and waistcoat cut to accentuate his solid figure. If not for the wind blown hair that gave him a roguish tint, he would have looked the perfect young lord lounging at a gentlemen's club. He did not belong there like she did not belong there.
The stark contrast between him and the others, as well as the false sense of kinship, momentarily tricked Yeosang, and she fell for a trap she had not been foolish to believe in since she was twelve years old. She reached out towards someone for assistance.
It must have been the fumes from the smoke addling her brain or the desperation that made her stupid for a moment. But reality quickly brought her back down from the fairy tales and stories she occasionally liked to indulge in. The young stranger stared at her outreached hand with disdain, and turning on his heels, he walked away.
Yeosang felt cold inside, colder than the night air on her skin. Of course, it would end this way. No one ever intervened. No one ever helped. She was on her own, at the mercy of those standing above her.
The sudden cheers erupted into an equally sudden argument, as they lost interest in whatever had held it for a moment and returned back to her. Yeosang tried not to listen to them fight over her and what they planned to do to her. It was vulgar and explicit, she wished her ears would bleed so she would not have to hear any more than she had. She was shaking and on the verge of passing out again when—
Bang! The blast silenced the obscene threats.
Looking up, Yeosang saw the group of men split, their arms coming up to cover their heads, and standing in the middle like a young Moses having split the red seas was the young man, who had walked away earlier. He stood tall with a smoking pistol pointed above Yeosang's head.
"Captain! Be careful, you almost took my head off!"
Captain? That young looking boy was the Captain of this lot? Yeosang stared up at the young man incredulously. He motioned the barrel carelessly in her direction and Yeosang flinched.
"This one is mine."
The soft utterance was met with grumbling and what would have been the start of another round of contention, if the young man had not cocked the pistol again, this time moving the barrel from one person, who had their mouth opened to disagree, to the next.
"Do I really need to repeat myself?"
Everyone became busy and dispersed until it was only Yeosang and the one they called Captain left.
The man stared down at her with a hardened gaze, dispelling her disbelief that he could be the Captain of such scum. His dark eyes were devoid of any humanity. If Yeosang had been the religious type, she would have sworn that this was the very devil himself. She wondered how she could have mistaken him as a sweet cherub.
He considered her for a second longer, before sighing and approaching her. When he reached her, he yanked her to her feet and hefted her onto his shoulder like she weighed nothing, like she was a sack of potatoes.
The breath whooshed out of Yeosang, as her stomach met his shoulder. It happened so quickly, Yeosang did not have a chance to resist. And then perched on his shoulder, she was able to finally see what the men had been celebrating and any thought of resistance went out of her.
In the ship's wake, coloring the sky red and gray with its flames, was the merchant ship she had been taken from. The huge mast she had passed a dozen times had fallen, breaking the ship down the middle.
Complete and utter decimation.
If a ship the size of a small building could be destroyed in a matter of hours because of these monsters, what chance did she have?
Holding as still as she could, Yeosang was taken to what she assumed was the Captain's cabin.
For every step the boy Captain took, Yeosang felt it reverberate throughout her whole body. His hand on the back of her thighs burned her through the thin chemise, making her feel naked instead of covered from the neck down.
Unbidden, the filth the men had spewed out earlier came to mind, drowning her in her imaginings. Ladled with fear and anger and despair, Yeosang felt heavy and too full. The urge to throw up all over the monster's backside was there, but she swallowed it down. If she were to annoy him, would he dispose of her then and there, without a second thought? Thinking about the alternatives, Yeosang wondered if that would not be a kindness to herself.
Death had always been her faithful companion, one she talked to every night, trading whispers and promises of eloping together one day. This was her chance. Her father could not blame her for this, he could not use her death as another reason to hurt the one she loved. It was not her doing, she was simply a victim swept up in this ocean's adventure. This was her chance.
But she could not bring herself to do it.
She was on the verge of achieving all she wanted, an end to her miserable life and the protection of her loved one, yet she could not bring herself to do it.
The horrid flicker of want was refusing to be put out. It had been like that when the first intruders had stormed her cabin. She had wanted to live. And it was like that now, she wanted to live.
Before Yeosang could evaluate her newfound wish to hold onto her meagre life, a gasp escaped her as she was unceremoniously thrown onto a bed. Feeling the silk sheets surround her, promising depravity, Yeosang imperceptibly moved higher up on the bed, away from the silent stranger, her eyes darting around for an escape.
The bed was in the middle of the spacious cabin. It was bigger than the single bed she had had on the merchant ship, it could easily have fit three people. Yeosang tried not to think about why someone would need such a big bed.
A desk occupied the far corner and besides a wooden wardrobe, a globe of the world, the lamps that lit the room and a few papers on the desk, there was nothing much else in the room. It was bare and lacked any personal touch, except for the bed sheets.
Blood red silk. They commanded and held the attention of anyone who entered the room. They looked and felt dangerous. Yeosang could not stand being on them. Her skin rejected the coiling caresses. She wanted nothing more than to scramble off them, but her limbs would not listen to her.
"I don't know whether your self preservation is high or non-existent."
That soft drawl. It was gentle and quiet. Deceitful. She knew this man was not soft or gentle, the way he had handled his gun had been too familiar, too at ease. Yeosang screwed her eyes tight against the memory.
"Are you hoping being compliant and quiet will win my favor? Or are you too stupid to understand what is going on?"
The stranger removed his jacket and Yeosang thought she might not have a choice in whether she lived or died. She was sure she was going to throw up now, and the boy was going to kill her for the inconvenience.
The tears that had evaded her all night came then, but they did not spill over. She held them back like she held everything back, focusing on the tremor in her hands, the lingering coldness on her skin. Focusing on getting through the moment.
Yeosang readied herself for whatever was to come, emptying her mind and travelling far away, when a weight fell over her head, plunging her in darkness and sandalwood.
Reaching up, Yeosang removed the stranger's jacket in time to see him reach for the doorknob.
"If you know what's good for you, don't try to run away. You won't like what you find outside these walls."
Yeosang stared at the door he slammed behind his bleak words.
..-. .-. . .
The coat was made of good quality, the cut beautiful despite the design's simplicity. It would help her with the declining temperature. Which was surprising, considering the owner was a devil, Yeosang would have thought the cold had no effect on his kind. He did not need such a fine coat. His motley crew had not seemed to have minded the wind's bite, she thought.
The material felt nice and solid, more solid than her chemise. So, although she wished she could turn her nose up at the unexpected benevolence from her captor, she could not do so. The shiver that ran through her punctuated the necessity.
So, even as it pained her, she slipped the jacket on, ignoring the lingering warmth and soothing scent of sandalwood. One kind gesture did not change her situation. She could not let her guard down again.
Moving from the bed, Yeosang examined the room more closely. As per her original perusal, she confirmed there really was not much to be found in the room.
Even the documents did not help her, as they were in code, they told her nothing about who had taken her and where they were bound. Whoever her captor was, he was cautious and paranoid, not leaving anything to chance.
As she was about to drift away from the desk, a glint of silver under a couple of papers caught her eye. Removing them, she found a letter opener. Her heart raced as her hand closed around the object and felt its weight, its potential to defend her, to lodge in one of her assailants.
Hiding the letter opener under a pillow, Yeosang positioned herself back on the bed. She did not know how long she was alone, but in the time her captor had left her, she had snaked her hand under the pillow to confirm the presence of the knife-like object thirty seven times. She familiarised herself with the path, etching the memory of the action into her muscles until she could find the way in the dark.
When the door jingled open, it was too soon.
He strode in, still so impossibly young, still so impossibly indifferent.
Yeosang stared at the stranger, who stared back. She was loath to admit it, but it was the truth, the brute in front of her was handsome.
His black locks were luscious and glossy in a way Yeosang knew the ladies of the peerage would have sold their souls to achieve. His face was a perfect harmony of contradictions; youthful and strong at the same time. Sweet with the roundness of his cheeks and his button nose, yet sharp with his intense gaze that seemed to miss nothing and his mouth that looked like it had never known a smile.
Yeosang's fingers twitched nervously, as she waited for his next move. With every breath that passed between them, the tension within Yeosang tightened and tightened, her mind replaying the motion and path to the letter opener. She waited for the inevitable. Either her end or his.
But neither came. After a moment, he sighed and turned to his desk, never returning to the bed. And Yeosang was left with the tension that would not leave her body, until her vigilance lost to exhaustion, her eyelids fluttering shut, as his quill scritch scratched across his papers.
..-. .-. . .