Flower of Vengeance

The rain fell in heavy sheets, pounding relentlessly against the tiled roofs and stone pathways of the nobleman's estate. It was a storm unlike any other, as if the heavens themselves wept for the sins concealed within the walls. Amidst this tempest, a figure emerged, draped in the vibrant hues of a crimson hanbok and a crimson rose hairpin that shimmered under the dim light of lanterns swaying in the wind.

She was Hye-jin, known to many as the most alluring and skilled gisaeng in all of Goryeo. Her beauty was whispered about in every corner of the kingdom, her innocence a facade that masked a keen intellect and a heart steeled by the trials of her profession. As she stepped out from the palaquin, her delicate features were shielded by a veil of raindrops, her presence commanding respect even in the midst of nature's fury.

A servant hurried forward, bowing deeply as he held an umbrella over her, shielding her from the worst of the downpour. With a graceful gesture, she acknowledged his assistance before proceeding towards the grand entrance of the nobleman's residence. The corridors whispered with secrets, the walls bearing witness to centuries of power and privilege.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of incense and aging wood. The nobleman, Lord Jo Do Jin, awaited her arrival impatiently in his chambers, a room adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of conquest and opulence. He was a man well into his seventies, his once-proud frame now bent with the weight of years. His eyes, however, still gleamed with avarice as he greeted Hye-jin with open arms, oblivious to the calculating glint in her gaze.

"My esteemed guest," he slurred, his voice thick with the remnants of wine consumed in solitude. "You honor me with your presence on such a night."

Hye-jin lowered herself gracefully to the floor, her movements fluid as she accepted the servant's offering of wine. "It is I who am honored, my lord," she replied softly, her voice a melody that carried an underlying edge. "I bring this humble gift to express my gratitude for your patronage. It was specially brewed for you, My Lord."

Lord Jo's eyes brightened at the sight of the wine, a rare vintage from the southern vineyards that spoke of wealth and privilege. He took the cup eagerly, his hands trembling slightly as he brought it to his lips and drank deeply. The wine flowed smoothly, warming his throat and clouding his already addled mind.

"I have heard tales of your magnificence," he continued, his words slurring together as the alcohol took hold. "Your beauty rivals that of the goddesses themselves."

Hye-jin smiled enigmatically, pouring him another cup with a measured hand. "Your praise humbles me, my lord," she murmured, her eyes never leaving his face. "I am but a servant of the arts, seeking to bring joy to those who appreciate true beauty."

As the night wore on, the room became a cocoon of whispered confessions and fleeting desires. Lord Jo's voice grew louder, his boasts more extravagant, fueled by the potent wine and the presence of the enchanting gisaeng who sat across from him, a picture of serenity in the midst of his drunken revelry.

"And what of your conquests, my lord?" Hye-jin inquired, her tone laced with honeyed curiosity. "Surely a man of your stature has achieved much in his lifetime."

Lord Jo laughed raucously, the sound echoing off the walls. "Ah, my dear, I have amassed wealth beyond measure," he declared proudly, his hand sweeping across the room as if to encompass his vast domain. "Land, gold, treasures from the distant lands of the East. They are all mine to command."

His words slurred together, becoming unintelligible as he reached for Hye-jin, his intentions unmistakably clear. But as his trembling hand sought to touch her, his eyelids grew heavy, and his head lolled to the side. The wine had finally claimed its victory, plunging him into a deep slumber.

Hye-jin watched him with an expression that betrayed no emotion, only a subtle smirk playing upon her lips. She rose gracefully, her movements unhurried as she approached the sleeping nobleman. With practiced ease, she removed the ornate dagger hidden within the folds of her hanbok, its blade gleaming dully in the soft light.

"You have boasted enough, my lord," she whispered, her voice a mere breath against the stillness of the chamber. "Now, it is time to pay your dues."

The dagger descended swiftly, its edge finding purchase in the soft flesh of Lord Jo's neck. A gasp escaped his lips, muted by the weight of dreams and intoxication. Blood welled forth in a crimson tide, staining the pristine floorboards beneath them.

Hye-jin withdrew the blade, her face a mask of detachment as she wiped it clean on the nobleman's own garments. She straightened, her eyes sweeping over the room one last time, taking in the opulence and decadence that had fueled his arrogance.

With the same composed grace with which she had entered, Hye-jin departed the chamber, leaving behind the echo of rain and the lingering scent of betrayal. Outside, the storm raged on, washing away the evidence of her presence as if it had never been.

After fulfilling her mission, Hye-jin slips out of the nobleman's chamber, her footsteps silent against the rain-slicked stone. She moves with the grace of a shadow, her crimson hanbok billowing in the storm. Outside, the estate is shrouded in darkness, the only sounds the relentless rain and distant thunder.

She heads towards the dense forest behind the estate, each step deliberate and unhurried. The trees soon envelop her, their branches forming a natural canopy that shields her from the worst of the storm. In a small clearing, two figures await her, a young man and a young woman, each holding the reins of a horse.

The woman steps forward, her face illuminated by a flash of lightning. With a respectful bow, she hands Hye-jin a black robe. Hye-jin accepts it, draping the garment over her shoulders, its dark fabric absorbing the light and transforming her into an almost spectral figure.

Without a word, the three mount their horses and disappear into the forest, the sound of hoofbeats swallowed by the storm.

Back at the estate, a servant enters the nobleman's chamber, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of his master sprawled lifeless on the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. The realization of what has transpired sends a chill down his spine, as the storm outside rages on, indifferent to the dark deeds committed within.