“Members of the Southerner faction, believing the king poisoned by the Old Doctrine with the help of the Queen Regent Jeongsun, raided the Indong administrative office in outrage. The regent executed all those involved. Now no one dares slander the new ruler.”
“You are correct. And the execution is a sign of a massive political offensive in the works; the regent intends to finally wipe out the Southerner faction after all these years.”
I pieced together his words. “So you think it possible, sir, that a political enemy killed Lady O?”
“I will need to further investigate, but what you shared does indeed complicate the case. It would help to search through her belongings. Yet only in cases of treason are we permitted a warrant to search a noblewoman’s home…”
As silence fell between us, I looked at my surroundings. It was my first time in the inspector’s office; his tea was always served to him by Hyeyeon and no one else, so I’d never had a reason to step inside. The office was small and clean. On either side of us were narrow shelves filled with scrolls and side-stitched books, as well as a black-lacquered document box with gold-painted decoration, the only pretty item in the stern office. There was also a folding screen behind the inspector, and on each panel, calligraphy of Chinese characters flowed down.
Inspector Han must have noticed my gaze, for he asked, “Can you read those words?”
“No, sir.”
“Hyo, che, ch’ung, shin, yae, ŭi, yŏm, and chi.” He read aloud the Hanja characters and then translated them into Hangul for me. Filial piety, brotherly love, loyalty, trust, propriety, justice, integrity, and a sense of shame.
“These are the highest Confucian virtues.” His eyes roved around my face, as though he were weighing and measuring my character. “Which virtues do you possess, Damo Seol?”
I bit my lower lip, then answered, “Loyalty. I may waver, but I always fight to return to it. And you, sir?”
It started raining, droplets tapping against the hanji screened window. I could hear the birds twittering and the splattering of mud as servants made their rounds.
“My sense of shame,” Inspector Han answered at length. “That I have in abundance.”
SEVEN
THE LONG HOURS of training were woven into my muscles as I knelt on the floor the next day like a butterfly would perch on a leaf. My heart felt lighter, the weight of Kyŏn’s lie lifted from me. I straightened my back as I poured tea into Commander Yi’s bowl, then stepped back slowly with my head stooped, never showing him my back.
I knelt by the screen wall with the other two damos. Commander Yi had invited Senior Officer Shim to take tea with him. They spoke about the weather, and of Councillor Ch’oi and his son, but the discussion then slowed to a halt around one name: Inspector Han Dohyun.
“You are so much the same.” Commander Yi’s voice usually reminded me of thunder, but today he sounded more like a weary old man. “Save for that Han clings to the past, while you are trying to escape yours.”
“And didn’t quite make it,” Officer Shim added.
“Double your efforts then and make something of yourself. Time waits for no man.”
Commander Yi made a gesture to drink. Officer Shim gulped down the tea, and my insides writhed in pain for him, knowing how hot the tea was. He seemed too nervous to notice, for all that he seemed composed.
“How old are you now, Officer?”
“Thirty,” Shim replied.
“Older than Inspector Han by three years. As an older brother to a younger brother, keep an eye on him. Make sure he does not act recklessly.”
“Of course, yeonggam.”
The air fell so still, the silence so complete, that I heard Aejung gulp down saliva. She must have noticed the tension, for her cheeks flushed. Then the blush only continued to burn brighter, until her face looked as red as a goji berry. It took me a moment to feel it as well, a pair of eyes watching us all. Commander Yi had stopped conversing with Officer Shim and had turned his attention our way. I slid my gaze back to the floor, holding my breath, my own cheeks stinging now.
“Pour us another bowl, then leave. All of you,” Commander Yi ordered.
I did so quickly, then shuffled backward to retreat from the room. But the commander’s deep, rumbling voice stilled me. “Except you, Damo Seol. You are to stay.”
Me? Dread balled into something tight, pounding sharp behind my left eye. The other damos, who normally obeyed immediately, remained petrified for a moment. Then they were gone, leaving me alone.
I couldn’t understand why he wanted me to stay. The sight of Commander Yi’s trembling hands further unsettled me, the reflection in the tea bowl he held rippling as he picked it up, then set it down, as though he feared it wouldn’t make it to his lips. The tremor moved into his voice.
“Inspector Han came to me today with his testimony. Apparently Damo Seol collected a secret from Kyŏn and Maid Soyi. I hope she did not share this detail with anyone else.”
I rushed to answer. “I did not, sir. Only with Inspector Han.”
Both men stared at me, the meddler in police affairs. The heat in my cheeks moved up to my brows, up to the tips of my ears. Sweat beaded along my hairline. At last, Officer Shim cleared his throat, lifting the knife’s tip of their attention away from me.
“The person who spread this information, yeonggam, was Kyŏn, not Seol,” he said. “He shouted about the inspector’s whereabouts on the night of the killing before an audience of officers.”
“I was not made aware of this. Now word will spread throughout the capital, and there are people—” Commander Yi lowered his voice. “There are people who have never trusted the inspector, no matter how many times he has proved himself. This incident has stirred the past awake.”
“That is why I wished to speak with you, yeonggam,” Officer Shim replied. “I was with Inspector Han at the House of Bright Flowers when the murder occurred. When he first arrived, by his mourning robe and manner, I knew he was grieving deeply for his father. You know, Commander, that his father passed away over a decade ago on that very night. That is why he drank more than usual.”
A tense silence followed. My legs had grown numb, the slightest movement shooting an unbearable tingle up my knees. But Officer Shim’s response left me more uncomfortable, and I couldn’t understand why.
“For how long were you with him?”
“From curfew until nearly dawn. Madam Yeonok was with us,” Shim said, and the name he mentioned bloomed with shades of pink in my mind. Yeonok. I’d heard of her, a gisaeng known for her beauty and intellect, who entertained powerful men in the mansion nestled at the foot of Mount Nam. “We were deep in our cups and conversed for most of the night. I remained longer at the House of Bright Flowers, and the inspector left first. He must have encountered Maid Soyi on his way home.”
“But he didn’t return home.” Commander Yi’s voice sank. “At dawn, Inspector Han left the House of Bright Flowers, as you claim. He passed by Maid Soyi—but he did not return home. That is what I learned. So where did he go?”
Officer Shim stayed silent.
I stayed silent.
The question seemed to have thrown both of us into a whirl of disorientation.