An hour later, Abrial returned from bathing in the steaming spring hidden within the paradise garden. She wiped her face with a soft cloth as she walked back towards the house, spring water dripping down her neck and dampening her pale wash robe. By instinct, she chose the most winding, turbulent path back to the house, passing every species of pine in the garden, grazing her palms against the petals of blossoms, which filled the warming morning air with fragrance. She paused briefly by the lotus pond to grudgingly admire the flowers' luster as they bloomed again in the morning light.
Inside the house again, she began to wander aimlessly as her hair dried, avoiding the east wing, where her parents slept. Her father always left before she woke up, so it was just her mother she had to worry about. But given the choice between running into her mother or her father, she'd run to her father in a heartbeat. Which meant, no way was she stepping anywhere near the east wing if she didn't have to.
She aimlessly treaded down wide hallways, peering into rooms briefly as she passed: grand sitting rooms with dark wooden floors and cushioned seats, a dim room with a collection of expensive calligraphy hanging on the walls, guest bedrooms with wide beds and silken curtains. All empty and silent, like ghosty images frozen in time.
"Gloomy, gloomy, gloomy," she muttered to herself subconsciously.
As she passed by her father's study, she saw that the door had been left a crack open by accident again. Unlike her mother, her father was sometimes careless and forgetful.
Which meant that he sometimes left interesting opportunities around the house — for example, this unlocked study.
Eyes sparkling with mischief, Abrial pulled the door further open and slipped inside. Her footsteps were silent.
The office was spacious, with dark wooden panels lining the walls. Much of it was set up like a sitting room, but in the back right corner, beneath the high-set windows, sat a large, dark desk with nothing on its sparkling clean surface. Behind the desk stood two tall, wide bookcases reaching nearly to the ceiling and all along the wall.
There was not a single book in the cases.
Of course there wasn't. Abrial hadn't seen a book in this house once in sixteen — cough, seventeen — years.
Like a panther, Abrial approached the desk. She yanked open drawers, hoping they would open and reveal some interesting, forbidden thing. She was sorely disappointed. As usual, they didn't budge an inch, remaining stubbornly closed. The few that did open were bare and gathering dust.
Boring.
She reached for the handle of the last drawer. To her surprise, it glided open smoothly. Sometimes, though very rarely, her father left drawers open by accident on account of his forgetfulness — but there was never anything inside. Expecting empty space, she began to close the drawer immediately.
Then she froze. Her mouth fell open slightly, and her eyes sparkled with excitement.
Inside the drawer sat a piece of paper.
Abrial snatched it up without a second thought, nearly crumpling it in the process. She held it up to the light, squinting at the words. It was a thick, expensive-feeling paper, made even more extravagant by the golden swirls trailing down the sides. A bird-shaped shadow fluttered across the page; there must have been a sparrow passing by the window.
"Han Abrial Chae-young," she read with some difficulty. Even though she'd had so many tutors over the years, never being allowed to read a book had prevented her from reading fluently, so it always took a lot of energy to read. As she pieced the next words together, a frown creased her forehead. "This document certifies that the person stated above was birthed to mother Lee Geum-song and father Han Chuanli on the first day of the eighth month of…what?"
Abrial rubbed her eyes fiercely with one fist and re-read the words, piecing together the characters one by one.
"That can't be right…" she muttered. Her frown deepened, and she scowled. "I wasn't born in the Year of the Lotus. I was born in the Year of the Magnolia…and I'm not turning eighteen, I'm seventeen…I must've read it wrong…"
However, the more she stared at the paper, and the more she studied the following information about her birthplace, her place of residence, and her characteristics, the faster her heart began to beat. It accelerated and intensified until it thumped in her ears like an excited and disoriented drum, blood roaring through her veins. Her mind was racing, both perplexed and thrilled, but her eyes traced that phrase over and over, widening each time:
Year of the Lotus.
Year…of the Lotus?
"Was I…really born in the Year of the Lotus?"
"Han Abrial Chae-young."
Abrial jerked violently, dropping the birth certificate. Her hand stung and began to bleed; she had gotten a paper cut.
"M-Mother?"