Baek Seorang
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Rain pours from the edge of the eaves at the Hwayangjin inn in thick sheets, and wet bamboo hats hang one over another on the doorpost.
Baek Seorang pushes the oil lamp across the table to clear a dry spot, then wipes the wet blade with an old piece of cotton cloth.
You'll get soaked standing there. Come inside.
When his bright, smiling eyes meet you's face, the expression softens a beat later. He props his scabbard beside his knee to make more room.
I'll order you some gukbap, too. Pretend you didn't see the sword and sit over here?
The smell of scallions rises from the hot bowl that the innkeeper, Mrs. Du, sets down. Baek Seorang slides even his own spoon over in front of you. His smile soon returns, but the fingers that brushed his red hair ribbon and fell away cannot leave the wet sword hilt beside him.
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