Jongho supplied Hongjoong with expensive paper that had ornate decorations in the corners, envelopes, and a pen for his letter writing. He brought the pile in on a metal tray that he would use to carry food with, and Hongjoong had chuckled at the extravagant introduction.

"If I were to write a letter to someone in the slums, do you believe it would find them?" Hongjoong asked as he regarded the heavy pen with awe. The curved tip gave an elegance to every letter it wrote and its deep black ink smoothly blended into the paper.

"That depends on if they are of name in the area. We could hand it to our coacher so he can hand it over to someone who knows their way around." Jongho had orderly clasped his hands in front of his body. His white cotton gloves contrasted with his otherwise black uniform.

"I want to write to Yeosang," Hongjoong muttered as he finished the other man's name. His handwriting was nowhere as patient and as beautiful as Seonghwa's writings of his poems downstairs, but Hongjoong liked how much more graceful it felt just for the pen and paper.

Jongho smiled.

"The coacher will find him no problem. Once you finish writing, give me the letters and I will have them delivered for you."

Hongjoong smiled where he sat without his wig for once. It still felt foreign not to wear it in this house while he was among people, but some flour still clung to the wig and Jongho knew it was fake. He had complimented Hongjoong's natural hair upon entering the room, and Hongjoong had felt a little better about his role in this house.

"Thank you, Jongho," Hongjoong smiled as the man nodded his head. As the head butler left to retire to his attic for the evening, Hongjoong delved into his letter writing. He was done dusting the flour out of his clothes, and he had brushed most of it out of his hair, as well. It was probably the first day Hongjoong went to bed without being infuriated by Seonghwa. He had considered their day to be fun, if he could call it that, and he hoped more of those would come. Seonghwa and he didn't need to become friends, but a more easy-going relationship would benefit both of them.

Seonghwa had mentioned when he left the kitchen how they would visit yet another evening party the next day. Already, Hongjoong anticipated a night of charismata, followed by Seonghwa growing more distant again as soon as he could show his outrage at being part of his own bargain. And once more, Hongjoong would be confused between the man's attractive side that was so far out of Hongjoong's reach, and his ghastly personality that was fitting to the rats in the sewers that Hongjoong missed ever so dearly whenever Seonghwa opened his mouth.

Hongjoong pushed those worries out for later. Now, he had to write a letter.

Dear Yeosang,

I am writing with all the hatred God has bestowed upon man. If you ever felt nobody hated you, rest assured that in me accumulates hatred worth a lifetime, and it's all dedicated to you.

As I had predicted, Earl Park turned out to be a distasteful devil. He has respect neither for his people, nor ours, and he treats the woman he introduces as his fiancée in public like no more but a speck of dust in private. We have fought several times, and I had to refrain from showing him what reaction his insolence would warrant in our world.

Apart from that, I am doing well. I confided in the servant personnel about my secret. The earl himself is so blind; I could probably dance naked in front of him and he would brush my gender off. I suppose that comes in my favour.

I have yet to ask the earl for how long this arrangement shall stay in place. Already, I miss my home and my rats. I should also cop you a mouse as soon as I see you next time. I know you are smirking while reading this. In all fairness, I wouldn't have wanted a girl to be in my stead, and I understand the reason for your ploy well.

Yesterday, I ruined my hair when I tried to suffocate the earl with a handful of flour. Could you perhaps send another wig my way? I will make sure to take better care of that one.

I hope your rain-napper breaks today.

Best Wishes
Hongjoong

He set the first letter aside to dry and reached for another sheet to keep on writing. He kept his flow, though he paid attention to the details in word choice this time.

Dear Wooyoung,

As I promised, here is my first letter to you. I hope you will enjoy receiving it. On my part, I just learned how soothing and meditative I find writing letters.

Not that I have any reasons to tend to fury while I reside here.

Recently, I found it easier to deal with Seonghwa and I try to rule myself with patience, as you suggested during our walk in the gardens. Yet, I can't help but fall into bitterness every so often when he insults me. Would it be the orderly manner of a lady to overlook such disrespect? Where I am from, people punish such ways with their fists.

Other than my matters with the earl, I find myself bored most often. I took to reading, but I am afraid to have read every book available in the library soon. What is there to do for women that I may do with joy but that will not have me feel too restricted in my manly ways?

I will anticipate your answer. If you reply often, I may spend my time writing letters to defeat the boredom.

Perhaps we will see each other tomorrow at the get-together?

Please send my kindest regards to San, as well. If you two may coordinate it with Seonghwa, I would be gratified to see you again soon.

Best Wishes
Hongjoong

Satisfied with his letters, Hongjoong read over both of them once more. He added the date to the one addressed to Wooyoung, so the other man would know which evening party Hongjoong talked about. Then he folded the papers and stuck them into the envelope. He was still not used to having no constant grime under his fingernails, so he was surprised when they still looked pristine even after he put them away to hand to Jongho later.

Hongjoong struggled with his wig for a while longer and brushed each strand individually to get all the flour out to make it look presentable. Jongho dropped by later and leaned over Hongjoong's shoulder as he tried to tie up the dirtied strands to hide them in a bun.

Hongjoong thanked him once they had figured it out. With one of his gummy smiles, Jongho bid him a good night before he took the letters with him and ducked out of the room. As he was about to close the door, however, he halted in the middle of his movement to crouch.

He came back up with a flower.

"It seems like the master left you yet another gift," Jongho muttered as he handed it over. The delicate purple petals looked tiny in his hand.

Hongjoong stood from his chair to take it from him. Their knuckles brushed when Hongjoong carefully pinched the green stalk between his fingers. Jongho hurried to drop his hand.

"What does this one mean? Will you tell me?"

Jongho shook his head politely, but his eyes lingered on the flower with curiosity as well.

"Perhaps it is time you pick out a book from the library to explore them by yourself," Jongho suggested. He bowed his head before he disappeared. Without noise, he descended the stairs to check the house for the night.

Pondering, Hongjoong looked between the flower and the frame of light that illuminated the entrance of Seonghwa's room. It was silent inside, but from time to time, Hongjoong heard a page rustling.

Hongjoong donned his wig and a shawl to cover up the fact that he already wore his nightgown as he snuck into the library. Jongho hadn't turned off the lights here yet, and Hongjoong was glad for the dim lamp in the same flower shape as his that sat on a table to bathe the library in a soothing glow.

Hongjoong peered around the round room. The number of books was manageable, and he had explored most corners already to find his favourites. He remembered a book about the flower language to his left.

For a while, Hongjoong shifted through Seonghwa's collection to find the right book. He was surprised the man even allowed him access to these treasures, but he supposed this was what Hongjoong had been required to bathe for.

Once he found what he had been searching for, Hongjoong blew out the light and retreated to his room.

He spent most of his evening flicking through his book. The petunia he had received symbolised resentment or anger, and it was a common flower to give after a fight to express frustration. The touch-me-not had meant impatience, as Jongho had said.

This new flower was called a dame's gilliflower, or dame's rocket, and it meant rivalry. Hongjoong chuckled as he turned the flower between his hands, reading that. He was amused that Seonghwa regarded him as a worthy opponent for his nemesis. Not that a woman was befitting for that place when the counterpart was a just as unmarried man, but Hongjoong knew if he could expose the real him, Seonghwa would quake in his shiny boots.

Hongjoong flicked through the book for a long time before he found what he searched for. With a devious grin, he used the gilliflower as his bookmark before he went to sleep.

In the morning, Hongjoong got out of bed extra early to prepare. When he came into the kitchen, Emily and Mingi were unfinished with breakfast, and they gaped at him with worry about getting scolded.

"It's fine; I'm not here to make trouble. Jongho, could you accompany me to the gardens?" Hongjoong had the book tucked under his arm. Jongho sent it an inquisitive gaze as he nodded and followed Hongjoong outside. It was fine to steal Jongho for a few moments since the butler had woken his master already, but Seonghwa was busy rolling around in bed and protesting his fate.

Jongho and Hongjoong crossed the foggy garden. Dew clung to the grass, together with the first nightly frost that shimmered white on the freezing stalks.

"I decided to gift Seonghwa a flower today, as a repayment for his kind gestures," Hongjoong explained as they entered the garden house. Jongho arched a brow at him, invested in Hongjoong's evil grin.

"Which one shall it be?"

Hongjoong opened the book. The gilliflower had been pressed overnight and laid flat between the pages. Hongjoong shifted it aside to look at the illustration of the flower he searched for.

"The evening primrose," Hongjoong read out loud, "stands for inconsistency." With gleaming eyes, Hongjoong looked up to show the page to Jongho. With polite interest, Jongho's eyes skimmed the lines.

"I better tell him that is the meaning you shot for, in case he misinterprets it. It can also mean irrevocable love."

Hongjoong blushed as he slapped the book shut. The upcoming gust of wind whirled his bangs up. With a chuckle, Jongho leaned back to stand above Hongjoong.

"Can I give him two? Another one for a foolish mind?"

"How about this one?" Jongho went to cradle a pink flower that stood tall among other straight flowers in a patch.

"The pink larkspur, meaning haughtiness. It's a flower I always wished to give to him."

Hongjoong giggled as he nodded yes. Jongho fetched garden clippers to give Hongjoong both his pink and his yellow flower to hold.

"For being such an unpleasant person, Seonghwa cultivates a lot of flowers that describe him well," Hongjoong noticed as they made their way back to the house. Jongho held the door for him as Hongjoong slipped inside, shivering in just his dress. Luckily, Seonghwa wasn't at the dinner table yet, so Hongjoong could leave his flowers in front of the man's room.

"His favourite flower, aside from roses, means arrogance. Can we be surprised?" Jongho said with a secretive smile. With a wink at Hongjoong, he marched off to drag Seonghwa out of his bed. Hongjoong brought his flowers to his room to preserve them for later.

After breakfast, Hongjoong prepared early for yet another evening party. This time, he wore a lovely grey dress that came with a bow that tied around his neck. He found it suited him more than some others as he regarded himself with it in the mirror. As he smoothed out his hair, he wondered what Seonghwa would have in store for him this time.