The Education of Sumire Min is a previously unpublished novel by S. Jae-Jones. Chapters will be emailed every Friday at 5PM EST. If you do not wish to receive the next chapter, but want to remain subscribed for other updates, you may unsubscribe from the book here.
Min Sumire was eighteen years old and a woman grown the day an ill wind from the West blew in and rattled the foundations of her new life. Until then she had believed herself impervious to the typhoons and tsunamis of emotional upheaval, but it took but a single blow to her heart to upend everything she held to be true.
The path from Kaneshiro’s bedchamber to Count Inoue’s chambers of state had been relatively smooth. For Sumire, adhering to the principles of calculated, opportunistic demonstrations of intelligence as well as a judicious application of feminine wiles had proven effective: she had risen quickly from performing obeisance to demanding it. When she left Choseon with Kaneshiro, she was fearful of but resigned to the fact that she would be installed as the man’s child mistress once they arrived in Heian. She tolerated his feeble fumbling attempts as they crossed from the Yellow Sea into Osaka Bay, but his half-hearted interest waned a few weeks after they set foot in Kobe. She had known, just as he, that their arrangement was temporary, each using the other for their own purposes: she to escape her fate, he to forget. He drifted into the arms of another mistress from a fancy geisha house while she floundered as a maid at the very same okiya.
But she was never destined to tread the same rarified boards as the geisha, the artisans, the entertainers. Sumire had grace and elegance enough, but she lacked the innate desire to please, to perform—particularly in front of men. But she had found success in talents other than singing and dancing, and soon found herself in the service of a Count as a secretary (and the occasional unintentional confidante). Count Inoue was the former Minister of Foreign Affairs and one of the Choshu Five, having been a student of rangaku and Western learning in the British Imperium. Sumire and the Count had Ænglish and ambition in common, but as far as transactions went, theirs were strictly business. She preferred it that way; around the okiya, she had been known as Winter’s Violet for her refusal to engage in emotional affairs.
These were the truths she held to be unquestionable: that she was smarter than everyone about her, that her beauty was a weapon to be wielded, and that her heart was as cold as ice. She would do anything to serve her own needs ahead of another’s, and she made peace with the knowledge that she was ruthless and beautiful.
But it was all a lie, and it only took was one kiss for her foundations to come crashing down about her ears.
“I have a favor to ask of you, Sumire.”
She had been organizing the Count’s notes in his study when the man himself entered. She was surprised to see him; at this hour he was usually still at the Imperial Palace. By the way he nervously shifted on his feet, she knew he was uncomfortable with what he was about to ask.
“Of course, your Lordship,” she said. “Why don’t we sit down and discuss the matter over tea?”
Smoothly, unobtrusively, she guided the old man to his chair, a monstruous leather thing he called a Chesterfield, which was awkward and ungainly and thoroughly misplaced in his traditional Nipponese house, much like the Count himself. He had affected many mannerisms and tastes from his time abroad, but was unable to entirely relinquish his staunch Nipponese ideals, and the resultant mishmash made everything around him feel off-balance and inharmonious. But Sumire had become rather fond of the old man’s curious quirks (insofar as she could be fond of anyone), for she was just as off-kilter and strange as he.
She gestured to the maid waiting outside the study to bring them tea, and set about getting the room ready, bringing out the low folding table from the cupboard and arranging the tatami mats at his feet. She knelt before him and removed his slippers, a luxury as much as it was a necessity to keep the mats on which they stood clean. Presently, the maid brought them their tea, and with a bow, helped Sumire prepare the frothy green matcha for the Count.
It was a routine she and the Count had developed over the years she came to work for him; a ritual of relaxation and meditation as the man siphoned away his thoughts into her waiting, receptive mind. He sat in his ridiculous chair while she knelt in a more traditional manner, but despite his lofty position, he never looked down on her. Sumire dismissed the maid when the tea was ready, and as they waited for the porcelain cups to cool and the steam to dissipate, the Count spoke.
“You’ve heard the Duke of York is coming to visit Nippon on a goodwill tour, yes?”
“The British prince?” she asked. “Of course, your Lordship.” From her time in the Count’s employ, Sumire had become educated on such matters: Prince George, the Duke of York, was the current King Albert’s younger brother and heir presumptive. Their father, the late King Edward VII, had been shot and killed this April past in an assassination attempt on a Central European tour, and the feeble but elder Prince Albert suddenly found himself sitting on the British throne.
“Well, it appears as though I am to host the prince as he comes to strengthen relations with the Orient, while his newly-crowned brother the King and blushing bride embark on a nuptial tour of their territories abroad.”
“It is a great honor, my Lord.” Sumire handed the Count his now cool cup and sipped at her own. “You must be thrilled.”
“Thrilled isn’t exactly the word I would have used,” he said wryly.
"And what would you have said, your Lordship?" she asked, disguising the smile in her voice with a practiced cough. The Count eyed her, hearing the impertinence anyway, but Sumire could sense his amusement despite her lowered gaze.
"A nuisance is more like it," he said with a sigh. "The word is that the prince is looking to celebrate the last rosy days of his bachelorhood before returning to Ængland to settle down, and therefore I am expected to provide entertainment, including, in his words," the Count switched to Ænglish, "fancy women and drink."
Sumire stilled, every part of her body tense with anticipation. She could sense the shape of what he was about to ask her, and wasn't sure how she would respond.
"And what is the favor you require of me?" she asked softly.
The Count heaved another sigh, and in his sigh Sumire could hear the fatigue of a man besieged by two warring samurai factions, between those enthusiastic for imperial domination and those unwilling to let their isolationist policies die.
"Sumire-san, I would never ask this of you, but..." His voice trailed off.
"But it is for the might and glory of the Heavenly Emperor?"
"No," snorted the Count, "it is to get that damned Aoki off my back." Aoki Shuzo was the current Minister of Foreign Affairs, and an ambitious, calculating weasel from a minor samurai family. Sumire almost admired him. Aoki and the Count were longstanding rivals, divided by both family and ideological differences. "Although I suppose it would also serve the emperor," the Count added as an afterthought.
She shook her head. "What is it, my lord? You are not usually this reticent."
The Count chewed his lower lip, staring into his tea, arranging his request in the manner he best thought would appeal to her. Sumire was patient as he adjusted the framework of his favor.
"You have contacts in the Morita okiya, yes?" He named the okiya in which Sumire had trained.
"My lord knows that I do," she said. While Sumire had never made a debut as an apprentice, she was still on very good terms with the proprietress, having introduced many of her girls to important members of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
“I thought…I thought that if a foreign dignitary—a royal foreign dignitary—were to see the best that Nippon had to offer, the geisha would be a perfect start.”
“Not our beautiful shrines and temples?” This time Sumire couldn’t suppress fast enough the cheeky smirk that crept up her face.
“Along with our beautiful shrines and temples,” said the Count. He gave her a stern look, but even he couldn’t hide the twitch of humour that stirred his moustache. “You know better than anyone that the geisha are our greatest preserver of the arts.”
It was true, although Sumire had the sense that wasn’t all the Count, or perhaps the Prince, had in mind.
“Then I shall arrange a geisha party for you, my lord,” she said. “Is that all?”
“No.” The humorous twist to his moustache straightened itself into a grim line. “Sumire-san…please know that I do not make this request of you lightly, and that I respect your right to say no.”
She sighed. It wasn’t often the Count asked her to do anything against her will, and when he did, she felt so guilty about disappointing him that she often complied anyway. A small part of her resented the easy way he was able to manipulate her into doing his bidding, but she reminded herself that he was her employer, and that he had shown her no small generosity since she was a young woman. She was bound to his will by debt—both financially and emotionally—but it was the emotional bond she chafed at; it turned her into his willing, biddable creature, even as she was fond of him.
“What is it, your Lordship?”
“The Prince…he does not speak our language, and to my knowledge, learning Ænglish is not a skill they teach at geisha school.” Sumire shook her head in agreement. “Therefore I am asking that you accompany us, Sumire-san, that you be the Prince’s hostess while he stays with us in Heian.”
She did not answer straight away, letting the Count study her face with grave concern, and she reveled a little in his anxiety (though he hid it well). The truth was he was placing a great deal of power in her hands, and it was a favor to Sumire as much as it was a favor to the Count. To be a Prince’s companion! The little girl who lived in a fishing village by the sea could never have dreamed it.
“The position need not entail any…transaction do you not wish forced upon you, child,” continued the Count.
Sumire gave him a sharp look. As much as she admired the Count, she sometimes wondered at his willful naïveté. Oh his poor Lordship, she thought, tenderness and contempt warring in her heart, how naive he was. How stupid.
“I am surprised, my lord, that you think this lowly secretary could even hold the fascination of a man such as the Duke of York when compared to the glittering jewels of Heian’s floating world,” she said.
The Count took her words more seriously than she had intended. “Oh Sumire-san,” he said, “you know you are simply the most beautiful creature in Nippon from Hokkaido to Kyushu.”
She smiled. “You old flatterer.”
“You know it’s true.”
Her smile grew broader.
“So do you accept?”
Sumire lifted a brow. “After such a compelling argument as that? How could I refuse?”
The Count laughed. “It is settled then. Again, I must thank you, Sumire-san. This means a great deal to me, and I will forever be in your debt.”
“So long as you remember it,” she said lightly, although she fully intended to hold him to his promise. She usually did. The tea had now grown cold and stale, so she called for the maid to take it away.
“He arrives in a week’s time,” the Count said. “We are to meet him and his entourage at the Imperial Palace.”
“His Lordship will be assured I will accompany him to greet the British prince,” she replied.
“Good,” he said, stroking his moustache. “Very good.”
She left him sitting in his chair, brows furrowed, fingers steepled with thought. She would return later with a glass and a decanter of brandy, along with one of those foul-smelling cigars of which he was so fond for his evening ritual, during which they would discuss the logistics of the coming weeks. Perhaps he would even allow her a cigarette or two, a fad that was gaining momentum among the Western-thinking youths of Heian. As she made her way down the corridors back to her own quarters, she began to make plans to call upon Mrs. Morita at the okiya. Sumire wanted her advice on which of the geisha should be contracted to entertain the British prince, but she also wanted her advice on the arts of allurement and seduction. Sumire may not have debuted as a maiko along with the rest of them, but she considered herself a sister of the okiya, for the true skills taught in geisha schools were not of singing, dancing, or the playing of musical instruments; they were of charm and enchantment. She fully intended to take advantage of her royal connection while he was in Nippon, and who knows? It would be the ultimate triumph to have gained the heart of a Prince.
She never bet on losing her heart to someone else instead.
author’s note ✍🏻
So now we get to the actual alternate history part. I mean, I could have made up everything, but for some reason, I wanted to hew as close to actual events as possible.
The Count here is based on a real person: Count Inoue Kaoru, a Meiji-era statesman. A lot of the biography included in this chapter is true—including the fact that he was a member of the Choshu Five, a real group of Japanese youths who had (illegally) stolen away to England to study Western technology. The briefly mentioned “damned Aoki” is also based on a real person: Aoki Shuzo, who was the Minister of Foreign Affairs in 1895.
And then we have Prince George, the Duke of York, later to become King George V of England. Yes, Queen Elizabeth II’s grandfather. I meddled with some events in his life; for example, George did visit Japan as a teenager in the Royal Navy (he even got tattooed with a dragon tattoo there), but I added a second visit because Plot.™ Also, Prince Albert (George’s older brother and Victoria’s oldest grandson) is still alive in this book’s timeline, again because Plot.™ In our timeline, Prince Albert died and that was the reason George was created Duke of York, but let’s just say he was created Duke of York by his grandmother, Queen Victoria for some inane royal reason. It doesn’t matter, honestly.
And to think I did all this historical research just so I could plausibly break it.
The first nine chapters will be available for free, after which the content will go behind a paywall. I am currently running a birthday promotion on yearly subscriptions, so grab it while you can!