“Excuse me.” I hurried over to her. “Where might I find Lady O’s personal maid?”
The woman turned her head quickly toward me. Her lips moved, but instead of words, she made a low moaning sound. I thought she meant for me to follow, so I did. She scuttled along, water sloshing out onto the wet ground. She set the bucket down under the eaves and led me through the gate beyond the pavilion, into the mansion’s inner courtyard. It was a space only women could enter, forbidden to all men save for the most immediate male family members. The air certainly felt different here—heavier and filled with a sacred stillness.
At last, the servant woman tugged at my sleeve and pointed at a girl with plaited hair. She was pacing the grounds under the open sky, the rain now completely stopped.
“She’s the one?”
The woman nodded.
“Thank you.” I turned to face the girl, and our eyes met. I noticed immediately that she was extremely pale, strands of wet hair clinging to her temples. Sick, perhaps … or anxious. Afraid.
She too looked me up and down, took in the sight of my uniform—the light gray kwaeja vest worn over a dark gray dress, the blue collar and cuffs, the sash belt. Her eye caught on the scar branded into my cheek. “You’re a police damo.”
My face burned as I arranged my hair over the mark. “Yes.”
“What do you want?”
“I come bearing bad news…” I wondered how I might inform her gently, but there was no gentle way to share that someone had sliced her lady’s throat. “Your mistress is dead.”
I waited for her trembling and tears, but the closer I studied her, the more she left me confused. I couldn’t tell whether she was sad or not, whether she was too shocked to show emotions, or whether her emotions were too detached to register on her face.
“Dead,” she said, her voice flat.
“I’m sorry.” I explained the circumstance of her death as I understood it. Then I paused, wondering how to proceed. “You are the personal maid, so … so no matters regarding her could have escaped your attention. Tell me when the mistress left the house.”
“I don’t know. I woke up early to see if she had a good night’s sleep, but I could not find her anywhere, so I raised the alarm.”
“I see … And did she have any enemies?”
Her silence stretched on for too long. “I broke the rule.”
I had begun my questioning only because Inspector Han had ordered me, but now interest raced through me like fire over hot oil. Curiosity was the one thing I couldn’t resist. “The rule?”
“The rule taught to all servants.”
That I knew too well. I have a mouth, but I mustn’t speak; ears, but I mustn’t hear; eyes, but I mustn’t see.
“You heard something,” I said. “Or saw?”
“I saw. Something I shouldn’t have seen.”
“What was it?”
I waited a long time for her answer. She stared and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she thought. “One night, without thinking, I opened my mistress’s door and looked in … there was someone else there. It was dark and I couldn’t make out the figure, but I knew it was a man. He jumped up and ran out through the back door. I was so embarrassed I ran away myself.”
“When did this happen?”
“A week ago,” she said. “And there was a letter.”
My thoughts swung around. “You read?”
“My mistress taught me.”
“And you were willing?” Not many indentured servants would be willing to learn, even if they had the opportunity. What was the point in becoming literate if the skill could never be put to use?
I studied the way she held her chin high and said, half to myself, “You don’t wish to be a servant.”
“I was satisfied with my position, but my mistress…” She hesitated again.
“You may tell me.”
“My mistress said, ‘I do not believe anyone is born to be an indentured servant. I look at you and I see a sister.’” The slightest tremor shook her lips, her eyes locked on mine. “Why are we talking of this? You came to investigate her death.”
I cleared my throat, curiosity still bubbling in my mind. A literate servant was unheard of. Even scandalous. “The letter. What did it say?”
“It was short. I remember it well.”
I waited. “So … what did it say?”
Her gaze did not waver from me, as though she’d summoned all her will not to look away. And in the steadiest voice, she recounted the words as though she’d recited it countless times. “It read, ‘Dearest, My loyalty to you is as solid as stone, and my love for you still unshakable. Never doubt it. Tonight, when it is the Hour of the Rat, come to me at our usual place.’ This is the letter she received yesterday morning before…”
In the silence, I finished her words. “Her death.”
“Yes.” She straightened her shoulders. “Please, if there is no more, I’d like to be alone.”
“I understand,” I said. Then, unable to stop myself, I asked, “What is your name?”
“Soyi,” she replied, giving me a long stare. Her eyes were like black pools that I didn’t want to look at, feeling as though something lurked beneath the stillness.
“Thank you, Soyi.” I shifted away, ready to find my way back. Yet I felt her behind me, as if we were not yet finished. I turned and asked, “Where is the letter?”
She didn’t look at me this time, speaking instead to the rain-wet ground. “The letter ended with a request. ‘Burn this.’”
* * *
Under the gathered clouds, I followed Inspector Han down the muddy street, reporting to him my interview with Maid Soyi. Or rather, not to him, but to his shoulders. They were like ancient rocks smoothed by blue silk. He was only twenty-seven years of age, yet something about his presence made him seem much older and wiser.
“And last, she shared with me a letter written to Lady O. A letter written by the lover,” I said, and recited the letter word for word. When I finished, I added, “I wondered how it was that Maid Soyi knew how to read, and she explained that Lady O had personally taught her. After that, we parted.”
“It is true, you do have a good memory,” Inspector Han said. “You will be expected to assist more often in collecting information from women.”
“Of course, sir,” I replied, barely able to contain my thrill. To be of use to a man like him! “How can you tell, sir, if someone isn’t telling you the full truth?”
“Why do you wish to know?”
“I’m curious, sir.”
“Curious.”
A single, curt word, and he said no more. His silence stretched, and a ball of nausea sank into the pit of my stomach. Do not speak to your superior without permission, Seol. How difficult is that? my sister had reprimanded me several times. I had felt the same knots of tension when in her presence; a weighty quietude packed with secret thoughts.
Our tense journey finally ended when we arrived before the Capital Police Bureau, an intimidating establishment I’d mistaken for the palace itself when I first laid eyes on it, with its elaborate pagoda gate, wooden beams painted red, and tiled rooftops.