cheonmin

house of the nightingale

The Choi family was respected. Not at the top, but not at the bottom. A family of artists that Geon never fully fit into.

His talents were of a more violent nature. Geon loved the cadence of step, spin, thrust, block. Swordplay was a delicate dance, one Geon excelled in. He left the music and brushes to his siblings, knowing he would need to be strong enough to lead his family as head of the household someday.

Geon knew this would likely mean an arranged marriage, and he was not surprised when his family took him to meet the daughter of some noble.

Geon took her on chaperoned walks through town and bought her every trinket and sweet her eyes snagged on.

Geon was unsure if he liked her, but her easy smiles and gentle nature were things Geon believed he could grow to love. Perhaps a marriage would not be so bad.

When the house caught fire, Geon could not believe his eyes. As he clutched his sobbing mother, he watched his family’s legacy disappear. Like rabbits from a burrow, they were smoked out from high society, reduced to cheonmin status.

The Go family saved them. Be grateful, said his family. Grateful he was. His family was fed and had a roof over their heads. But no man with pride is content to kneel where they once stood. Geon’s lip curled at his family, at how complacent they were. But Geon would not allow their family to remain this way. He would restore them to their former glory. No matter the cost.

The fire took everything. Their rank, their possessions, their futures, Geon’s future bride.