Restore The Impoverished Estate

“But Patrasche really is a dog.”
“Pfft! Still, you absolutely must not say that anywhere else. Understood?”

For all the bracing she had done, the warm, soft cloth moving over her face felt rather nice.

But why is she doing the wiping?
Can I not wash myself?

Just in case, Dong-hui swung her legs and stretched both arms straight up over her head. Through all of it the nanny stayed absorbed in scrubbing every last corner of Dong-hui’s face.

Thankfully her arms and legs obeyed her exactly, so at least her body still worked.

“I’ll do it myself.”

Embarrassed to be handled like a child at her age, Dong-hui took the towel from the nanny. Even the feel of it was nothing like the towels she bought four for 9,800 won at the supermarket.

But why am I not waking up from this dream?

The wet towel was soft and warm against her face, and the cheek that had been pinched still stung.

The nanny stared at her round-eyed, as though asking what on earth had gotten into her, then took the towel back. She wet it in warm water and held it out, and Dong-hui took it again.

“Wipe your neck and under your arms as well.”
“Ugh!”

Dong-hui recoiled; the nightmare customers came flooding back. There was always at least one who took the wet towel set out for their hands and wiped down their face and neck with it, and in high summer their armpits too. She had hated that kind of customer more than any other, and now here she was, about to become one. The thought left her feeling strange.

“I’d just… like to actually wash, if that’s all right.”

She laid the damp towel over the rim of the washbasin. The basin was brass, and it gleamed smooth and bright in the sunlight.

The woman had called herself her nanny, but the word and the person standing in front of her were equally strange to Dong-hui. The nanny looked at her, puzzled, then dipped her head.

“Then I’ll come back for you once the bath is ready.”

With the nanny gone from the room, Dong-hui’s mind settled a good deal. She got up off the bed and walked slowly around the room, trying to lay her situation out with a cool head.

First: the face in the mirror is not my face.
Second: at the very least, “my lady” is definitely not a name.
Third: pinching my cheek hurts and the towel is wet, so this is not a dream.

In the middle of the room her feet stopped dead. Her mind went blank and fear came surging up.

What do I do?
My jobs? My studio? My actual body?

So many worries clawed through her head at once that she could not tell which one to start with…

— Ding!

A mechanical chime rang out, wildly out of place in a room like this. The noise was graceless and cheap and electronic, but it was so familiar that hearing it flooded her with relief.

She cast about for the source and found a blue status window bobbing in midair.

“What— what is this?!”

Dong-hui backed away from the window that had come out of nowhere, and dropped down onto the bed. The further she pulled back, the closer it came. Turn her head, and it was floating there in front of her; duck, and it slid down to the floor. The loan sharks used to shove their faces into hers exactly like this, demanding to know when she was going to pay, and gooseflesh rose all over her.

“Eep!”

The voice that came out of it was so bright and friendly that her own terror looked ridiculous by comparison.

“Yes?”

The window forced the mission on her as high-handedly as it had forced itself into the room. White letters blinked on the all-blue screen, waiting for an answer.

“No! That’s not what I—!”

“Eh?!”

Dong-hui’s head went past cluttered and straight to pitch black. Now that she looked at it, the screen did resemble the game she used to pull up whenever she was feeling low.

Don’t tell me I’m inside a game?
It’s way too vivid for that, though.

The white letters blinked, pressing her to enter a name.

“I’m going nuts!”

“No! That’s not what I—!”

She might be stuck answering to it for the rest of her life, and there was no living with a name like I’m going nuts. For now, she decided, she would squeeze out something that at least sounded plausible.

Even if none of this is real, if I’m picking anyway, why not a pretty actress’s name?

After a genuinely fierce bout of deliberation, Dong-hui recited the name of an actress she had always liked.

“Chloe Grace?”¹

Feeling as though she had cleared some kind of stage, Dong-hui nodded hard and answered.

“Yes.”

— Ding!

“My room? Yes, please!”

Apparently she was finally waking up. With a bit of luck she might not even be late for her shift, she thought, and stamped her feet where she stood.

Wake up, wake up already!

But instead of waking, she watched the window in front of her double in size, and far more writing crowded into it. Dong-hui leaned in the way she would to read a flyer stuck to a wall.

The first time, not knowing what any of it was had frightened her. This time what crept up on her was pure stubborn irritation: what on earth is this thing, and why is it tormenting me?

“Just open the door already, I’m busy!”

“What is this?”

Half-convinced she was seeing things, Dong-hui swept a hand back and forth through the tacky blue window. It rippled like the surface of water, then settled back exactly as it had been.

“I’m losing it. Seriously.”

Dong-hui pulled her hand back out. She had worried it might come away stained blue; needlessly, as it turned out.

“My lady! The bath is ready!”

The nanny, who had gone out a little while before, came back in through the open bedroom door. Dong-hui was staring blankly at her face, ghostly behind the blue screen, when she spotted something and clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Huh? That’s—!”

A studio flat’s front door stood in the wall beside the bedroom door, an old keypad lock fitted to it.

Dong-hui walked through the status window like a sleepwalker and on toward the wall where the front door was. She crept, afraid the sound of her own footsteps might make it vanish. The plush carpet was very soft under the soles of her feet.

This isn’t a dream.

“Nanny.”
“Yes?”

The nanny answered with her brows knitted. She could not begin to guess what her feckless ladyship was scheming this time.

“What is this door?”

Following Dong-hui’s finger, the nanny raised her eyebrows into round arches. The lord had certainly been odd since morning. She had got up with the sun already high, as she always did, but on any other day a quick pass with a wet towel finished her morning wash; today she had asked for a bath to be drawn.

“Th… this door?”

The nanny’s face turned uneasy as she pointed at the bedroom door she had come in through. But the lord’s gaze was fixed somewhere else entirely.

“No, the gray front door next to it.”

To Dong-hui’s eyes the gray front door and its keypad lock were plainly, solidly there. Nothing that stood out this clearly could be a hallucination.

“A front door? Where is there any such door? My lady, there is nothing over there but wall.”

The nanny’s voice shook as though she might burst into tears at any moment.

She can’t see it?

Dong-hui laid her hand flat on the front door and asked again. The cold of the metal came through into her palm exactly as metal should.

It really isn’t a hallucination.

“I’m talking about this door.”

Her heart was pounding so hard it might as well have been right behind her ear.

The nanny gave the lord a long, close look where she stood pressed flat against the wall. Milk-pale even fresh out of bed, the lord was gazing at the wall with a strange little smile. Apparently reassured, the nanny let out a long sigh and folded her arms across her chest.

“My lady, enough games — get in there and take your bath. And don’t fall asleep in it again.”

Shaking her head all the way, the nanny hauled Dong-hui into the bathroom.

“No, wait, I’m going over there!”

Dong-hui had sworn she would open that front door and walk straight out; the nanny’s brutish grip dragged her off regardless. The woman was so strong that thrashing accomplished exactly nothing.

A maid stood waiting inside the bathroom, meek and demure. The tub had been filled with hot water, and white steam hung thick in the air.

Between them, the nanny and the maid had Dong-hui out of her clothes in an instant, so smoothly that she never found a moment to resist. Mortified, she hurried into the brimming tub. As she sank into the water, fragrant with dissolved bath salts, her whole body went soft and a pleasant languor settled over her.

I’ll just have the bath and then go.

Dong-hui did nothing at all while the maid scrubbed every inch of her clean, and it was the most luxurious stretch of time she had ever spent. For a moment she worried the front door might vanish while she bathed, but somehow she felt certain it would still be there.

Warm bathwater slipped away between her fingers; white foam sat on her chocolate-brown hair like cream. Every sensation was as vivid as the real thing.

After the bath, the nanny worked fragrant oil into Dong-hui’s hair and skin and wrapped her in a soft robe. It made her feel like a small child who could do nothing for herself, but having someone tend to her this carefully was an enormous comfort. Even if it was a dream that would break apart into nothing, right now she was happy.

Saying they would bring breakfast, the nanny and the maid left the room.

Dong-hui sat at the vanity and gazed into the mirror. She touched the cheeks flushed pink from the hot water, then the hair still damp from the bath. The pretty girl in the mirror moved right along with her.

“What an amazing dream.”

The dream was sweet enough that the wish never to wake from it rose in her out of nowhere, but Dong-hui got to her feet without a backward glance.

The longer a happy moment lasted, the more wretched the reality waiting after it would feel.

Dong-hui took a deep breath and stood before the front door. Just in case, she laid her hand on it one more time; it was still cold, still solid.