“If you saw his face,” Inspector Han continued, pulling a scroll out from his robe, “do you think you would recognize him?”
The young novice paused a moment. “Yes, sir.”
The paper unrolled, Inspector Han turned it toward him. “Do you recognize this face?”
“Him…,” the novice whispered, and his mouth fell open. “Hah! It was him!”
“You are certain?”
“I am! I swear upon my mother’s grave!”
I walked around to see for myself. The charcoal sketch was of a young man with an angular face, delicate brows, and eyes ever so slightly tilted at the corners. A chill prickled through me, raising the hair on my skin. I had served tea to this man before.
It was the tutor of Lady O’s brother. Scholar Ahn.
* * *
“How did you know, Inspector,” I asked as we stepped out of the temple, with Ryun going ahead of us to retrieve our horses, “that it was Scholar Ahn?”
“It was natural to suspect him,” he replied. “Think, Damo Seol. The life of an unmarried lady and the life of a peasant girl … what is the difference?”
I rarely saw an unmarried lady leave her residence—alas, this was the answer. “One is kept within the mansion walls, and the other is permitted to freely roam?”
“Kept within the women’s quarter, an unmarried lady would hardly be acquainted with many men.”
I understood. “Scholar Ahn was a frequent visitor.”
“Several years ago, Lord O invited Scholar Ahn for tea, impressed by his grade in the state examination. This was before Ahn was offered a tutoring position. He was invited again on the week of the Harvest Festival.”
I remembered Soyi’s account of how Lady O had been tempted by a gentleman’s innocent proposal. “That was the same week Lady O ran away for the first time.”
“The following week, he married another woman.”
My heart plummeted, though I couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t my love story. “He didn’t care for Lady O?”
“Whether he did or not, Ahn wasn’t in the position to marry her. He was an impoverished gentleman in those days, waiting for a post, and forbidden by etiquette from taking on any occupation other than a government or tutorial position. In such a circumstance, to break his engagement to the daughter of a powerful family would have besmirched the only thing to his name: his honor.”
Honor … Never had the word sounded more shallow and cowardly to my ears.
“A few months after the wedding,” Inspector Han continued, though he had no obligation to explain anything to me, “Ahn followed his father-in-law as an envoy to China and fell ill there. It took him a year to fully recover, and on his return to Joseon, Lord O hired him as a tutor for his youngest son. That is when Ahn was likely reunited with Lady O.”
“And then he killed her?”
“As for that, I do not know yet—”
“Master! Master!” Ryun came running back, his face blanched. “They are gone.”
“What are?”
“The horses.”
We arrived at the tree where we had tethered them, now bare. Not only had we lost a fortune, for a single horse was as expensive as two to three servants, but we had lost our only means of transport. I was prepared to run around the forest in search of them, but instead, Inspector Han crouched with a controlled calmness and touched the ground.
“They were led northeast,” he said.
We accompanied the inspector deeper into the forest, following a trail of evidence that only he noticed. Each time he stooped down to touch or pick something up, I stopped to examine it myself, wanting to see what he saw. What he noticed were things in nature disturbed: broken twigs, trampled grass, crushed leaves, an overturned stone. Hoofprints.
“At least we’re not too far from the fortress,” Ryun said to me. “I saw a police bureau there. They will help us, I’m sure. My master has this bronze medallion that only important military people have, and he can use it at any police bureau in the kingdom to mobilize horses.”
Inspector Han stretched out his hand, quieting us. We froze in our steps. Silence pooled around us, not a ripple of noise, and then I heard what sounded like the distant clopping of hooves. Inspector Han walked ahead.
“Ryun, come with me,” he whispered. When I took a step forward to join them, he snapped, “Seol, do not leave this place.”
“But—”
“Promise me.”
Reluctance gnawed at me, but his waiting stare forced the words out. “I promise, sir.”
And with that, he and Ryun disappeared through the thicket.
I stood still and strained my ears to hear whatever was going on beyond the cluster of trees and leaves.
A bird chirped.
A rabbit scrambled through the leaves.
Then I heard the echo of Inspector Han’s voice. “Stop where you are!”
My promise to him wrapped tightly around my ankle, as though roots had shot out from the earth to keep me from running. But when I heard his threatening voice again, I shook myself free and ran from tree to tree, wanting a better view. Trouble was near. I could feel it brushing against the raised hair on my skin. Pushing past the branches, I saw Inspector Han standing behind a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old boy, our horses nearby. When I looked closer, I noted the boy was missing an ear.
“You were spying on us. In the temple,” Inspector Han said.
“N-no, not I,” the boy replied. His eyes darted around, as though searching for help.
“Who sent you?”
The boy glanced at the horse to his right, weighing his chances of escape, but Inspector Han was easily close enough to grab him. The boy remained still.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Inspector Han warned, his voice so sharp the boy flinched. “Tell me who sent you.”
“I—I truly do not know wh-what you are talking about, sir.”
A quick and forceful flick of thumb, and sword rushed out from scabbard, its ring so high-pitched that I felt it like a pulse. The boy’s legs buckled and he was on his knees, trembling.
“Ryun, tether the horses.” Inspector Han walked around the boy, then pressed the blade against his quivering chest. “Who sent you here?”
“P-please, do not hurt me.” The boy breathed hard, sucking air in and out, in and out. In a barely audible whisper, he said, “Young Master Ch’oi…”
There, for once, I saw Inspector Han’s visage break, if only for a moment. A flash of anger … and something barely recognizable on his face. Confusion.
“Speak quickly,” he said.
“The young master. He … there were men he sent after you.”
“And he ordered you to take our horses?”
“No … Our l-leader wanted to sell th-them.”
“Fool. The stolen horses led me right to you. And what did the young master want you to find out? Did he say anything that—”
A twig snapped under my feet. Inspector Han heard it too, shooting a glance my way. I was so startled I staggered two steps back to hide, only to trip over a raised root.
“Seol!” The inspector’s voice rumbled with fury, rage vicious enough to gash my heart and leave me trembling. “I told you to stay where you were—!”