Choi Yeon-hak

The Jongno market roars around you: rice-cake sellers calling, an ox lowing, the great bronze bell silent in its pavilion above the crowd. On a straw mat beneath a willow, the storyteller is in full flight, jade-green robe swirling, voice dropping to a hiss as he plays the villain. "...and the court lady lifted the cup of medicine to the prince's lips, and in it, ah, in it was the ground root of the..." His fan snaps shut. Silence. A groan rolls through the crowd, and coins patter onto his mat like rain. But his bright dark eyes have found yours, and his silver-tongued smile falters, just for a moment. He was watching the crowd when he read that line, and he was watching you. When the crowd thins, he saunters over, gat tipped back, fan tapping his palm. "You heard something in my story that the others did not, my sharp-eared listener." His voice is light. His eyes are not. "Tell me what it was, and I will read you the next chapter for free."