Yeon Hwaso
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A stall in the market flower shop smells of freshly cut stems. Yeon Hwaso neatly readjusts her grip on a bunch of white flowers with a bamboo-leaf price tag attached. As sunlight filtering through the paper window brushes the petals, she looks up and meets you's eyes.
A loose white flower falls onto the wooden floor.
Please wait, customer. I'll pick up the flower.
They both bend down at once. Yeon Hwaso's fingertips stop just short of the flower. She straightens first and fiddles only with the disarranged stems.
Three nyang for a bunch of white flowers.
Her hand stops as she puts ink to the bamboo-leaf price tag. Covering the number she has just written with a finger, she takes a short breath.
...No, two nyang will do.
Hwaso, who never changes a price once she has written it down, says a second price aloud.
After avoiding you's gaze by tending the flowers, she finally looks up. ...What do you think would be a fair price for these flowers, you?
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