The clamoring and yelling around me fell silent, as though someone had placed Madam Song and me under a bowl. So silent that I could hear the blood pulsing in my ears, and the long “hmm” that hummed out from between her lips.
“It was too dark to see him,” Madam Song noted. “He was wearing a hat, so it cast a shadow over his entire face.”
“What else was he wearing?”
“He was passing by a lamp…” Her eyes narrowed on a scene somewhere in the past. “I saw the color—blue. And the silver emblem of something. A tiger, I think.”
Inspector Han’s uniform, I thought. Everything Officer Kyŏn had told me matched with Madam Song’s testimony, only I’d learned something new. Something crucial he had not noticed, or had left out. The inspector had not remembered Soyi because he had been too intoxicated to notice anything. That was the reason for his silence. Not because he was hiding his memory of her. Not because he had a secret.
Relief rushed through me, melting every tense knot, making me want to lie flat on the platform. After Madam Song excused herself, I examined every corner of her statement again and again. Inspector Han had nothing to do with the murder, and I felt foolish for having even harbored a shred of doubt. Officer Kyŏn had surely intended this to happen and would likely laugh if he knew I’d come all the way to the inn to confirm his words.
But this meant the killer was still out there. Once the annoyance pinching my chest eased, I followed the gleaming thread of coincidences, and it led me back to Councillor Ch’oi.
Twisting around, I looked at the drunkard pouring himself another bowl of rice wine. “Ajusshi, you said their relationship ended because of another woman. How do you know?”
“Everyone knows,” he slurred, the alcohol finally unwinding his tongue, and flushing his face and eyes red. “She left the councillor ’cause of a necklace. Another woman’s gift to him.”
“A mere necklace?”
He gulped down the wine, and wiping his lips with his sleeve, he let out a dry laugh. “My wife still wears a jade ring from her former sweetheart. Why am I so envious?” Through all his layers of ridiculousness, I caught a glimpse of a wound, and it slipped a hoarseness into his whisper. “The dead are gone, yet we live in their shadows.”
A necklace, I thought. Lady O had died clutching one in her fist.
* * *
In the western courtyard, a hanok building stood at the center, flared eaves offering shade to the raised wooden veranda surrounding it. Never had I requested Inspector Han’s audience before, but here I was. Inside, I knelt on the floor before him. He was in half-dress: hat off, his sword resting by the wall, his hair in a topknot and a silk band tied around his head. Seated behind a low-legged table, he rested his hands on his knees and watched me. Wondering, perhaps, what a girl like me had to say.
Sweat dampened my armpits, and I realized with a shock of horror that there was mud splattered on my skirt. Perhaps even on my face. My mind too occupied, I had forgotten to clean myself.
On my way to the police bureau from the inn, I’d come to the thatch huts and towering trees near the southern fortress wall. With a sturdy branch, I’d pushed at the mud around the crime scene. Nothing. A fallen pendant could have washed away into the gutters in the heavy rain. It could be anywhere.
Still, at least I’d returned with one certainty—a sliver of Inspector Han’s story. Kyŏn had forced his suspicion onto an innocent man. Wanting to lay before the inspector the secrets I’d withheld from him, I whispered, “Inspector, may I have permission to speak?”
“Speak.”
I clutched my hands tightly and stared at the sword by his side. “The man Maid Soyi saw that night was—was—” Do not be afraid, I reminded myself, Inspector Han is an honorable officer. “She saw you on the night of her mistress’s disappearance.”
Inspector Han’s expression remained as blank as paper. “I was returning home after having drinks with Senior Officer Shim Jaedeok,” he replied slowly. “I believe I did encounter one woman, but I did not know it was Maid Soyi. I had one too many drinks to remember clearly.”
“Oh, I see … I’m sorry, sir.”
“For what?” A note of surprise edged his voice.
“For not going straight to you after what Officer Kyŏn told me.”
“And why did you not?”
“I was afraid, sir.”
“You were afraid of me, and you are sorry for having questioned me.” He had taken the vagueness out of my words and laid the truth before us. “Do you know what it means to be a true detective, Seol?”
“No, sir.”
“A true detective should not have feelings involved when investigating a crime. The truth is far more important, and that is what you pursued. The truth. So do not be sorry.”
I bowed my head, hiding my flushed cheeks. I still couldn’t believe that Kyŏn had managed to slip a thorn of doubt into me. Scheming and petty Kyŏn, the last person I should have listened to.
“Is there anything else you wish to ask? Or tell me?”
“No, sir.” Then a memory splashed me with a cold reminder. “Actually, one more thing, sir. Soyi confided in me that Lady O was a Catholic.”
His expression turned to rock. “What?”
Had I done wrong? In panic, I babbled, “Lady O became a Catholic two years ago. She told her mother that she valued this teaching over blood relation. I learned of this because Maid Soyi had mentioned before that the lowborn class was man-made. When I questioned her, she confessed the truth, about how this remark was inspired by her mistress’s Catholic learning.”
“A Catholic…” In the inspector’s voice, the word alone carried the weight of iron. “Damo Seol, do you know why your discovery changes everything?”
“No, sir,” I replied breathlessly.
“With Catholicism comes rumors that a thousand foreign ships will dock along the coast between Bupyeong and Inchon Prefecture. Do you wish for our kingdom to be invaded by foreigners from the West?”
I did not know much about the West; all I knew was that I disliked change. “Absolutely not, sir.”
“Neither do I. For more than a hundred years, we have held our seclusion against Japanese warlords and encroaching Western powers, though now I am left to wonder whether it was all for naught.” He was only twenty-seven winters old, yet the graying hair behind his ear made him look a decade older, a decade wearier. “Lady O is the daughter of a Southerner, so I suppose I oughtn’t be surprised that she was a heretic.”
“From what I’ve heard, sir, the Southerners are the ones who first spread this learning. Is that true?”
“It is. And there is a reason why being the daughter of a Southerner attracts danger. You are a girl, so you may be unaware of politics—the controversy surrounding the Indong Revolt.”
“I know of it, sir,” I rushed to answer.
“Do you?” Interest lit his voice. “Tell me what you know.”
Ever since Lady Kang had shared with me the reason behind the pending Catholic persecution, my eavesdropping ears had grown sensitive to rumors about the revolt that had occurred a week ago. I drew from the well of stolen knowledge and shared all that I’d learned.