Clink—.

Inside the pavilion, the clear sound of gisaengs and noblemen clinking glasses while enjoying the night's festivities echoed. Geum Seong-je was among them. While the other noblemen sat with gisaengs by their sides, exchanging trivial jokes and snickering, Seong-je felt no particular interest. Wanting nothing more than to go home as soon as possible, he simply gulped down the bland alcohol.

The gisaeng sitting next to him approached and tried to strike up a conversation several times, but the only response she received was a half-hearted, dismissive smirk. He didn't even spare her a glance while being served, but a low-voiced grumble he let out eventually sparked a confrontation with the nobleman sitting opposite him. Claiming that Seong-je had said something unforgivable to his gisaeng, the man stood up first and threw a punch at Seong-je.

Ha, fuck. You're hitting me?

Seong-je, having been struck in the face, clutched his cheek. He flashed a twisted smile at the nobleman as if the situation were amusing, then lunged forward, engaging in a bloody brawl. A moment later, he roughly wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down at the man, who was now knocked out cold.

It's always the idiots who escalate things. Right?

He clicked his tongue at the unresponsive nobleman and walked out of the garden. Covered in blood and alone outside, he placed a long pipe in his mouth, exhaled smoke, and stared indifferently at the falling rain and the drenched flower petals. The rain grew heavier, and then his eyes met a woman who was running toward him through the downpour in a frantic hurry.

...What the hell is that?