I walked down Jongo Street with a yoke resting on my shoulders, water buckets dangling from either side. I ought to have hidden the robe elsewhere, I thought. Last night, I had shoved the bloodstained robe into the chest packed with my personal belongings, thinking it safest. Everything that was of any value to me went into that chest. But what if, today, someone decided to rummage through it?
I stopped, unable to take another step.
A curious hand needed only to flip the chest lid open and reach in to end my life. They would find a bloody robe, an inspector’s robe, and it would be my turn in the interrogation chair. I quickened my steps, realizing my error. What a foolish place to hide such a secret! I could not run quickly enough. With each step, the image became more vivid, of Damo Hyeyeon holding up the robe in the police courtyard, surrounded by officers.
Water spilled out of the buckets, which were empty by the time I stumbled into the bureau.
There was a crowd. Too late. Inspector Han stood a few paces away, garbed in his flowing uniform of midnight blue, like the one hidden deep inside the wooden chest. He was at the head of the crowd, watching me. My heart pounded, each beat so knife-sharp. It was my first time seeing the inspector since I’d heard Misu’s pale-faced confession.
Misu had referred to Inspector Han’s past as an orphan, a comment I’d overlooked. But now I looked again and what I saw was not a harmless remark but a detail as hideous as an insect with a thousand tiny legs darting about in the shadows. He had come alone to the capital over a decade ago, just like my brother. The coincidences were piling up. What if, I thought. What should I do if he is— Not even my mind could finish the thought, as though it sensed danger lurking at the end of it.
Someone’s cold fingers pinched my shoulder. I gasped back into the present. It was Hyeyeon, dragging me forward as she hissed, “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m s-sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t know who to trust. I found it—”
“Hush!” she said, turning her attention to the crowd.
Inspector Han returned to speaking to a young peasant who had an A-frame jigae loaded on his back, piled high with firewood. He was the focus of the inspector’s sharp gaze, I realized. Not me.
“Why did you go into the shed?” Inspector Han asked.
“I went up to collect brushwood and caught an odd smell,” the peasant replied. “I looked in and saw it.”
“Do you often venture onto Mount Nam to collect brushwood?”
“I do, Inspector.”
“But you did not encounter the smell before?”
“I never went so far as the shed before.”
“And why today?”
“The days have grown cold, and I wanted to collect as much wood as possible. Before the frost settles in.”
While the questioning continued, I crept by and made my way to the empty kitchen. No one had discovered the robe. I was still safe. For now.
I rested my forehead against the wall and let my heart thunder as the image of Inspector Han filled my mind, his large shoulders and brute strength hidden under his silk robe, his calloused and veiny hands never too far from his sword, his almost lifeless eyes that had sunk into his face over the past few weeks, like a man so obsessed over a case that he always forgot to eat and rest.
I finally dared myself to wonder: What if Inspector Han is my brother?
I stepped back from the whirring emotions and observed the coincidences laid out before me. The similar amber eyes, the burn mark in a similar spot to my brother’s, and the similarity in timeline—both orphans, both had come to Hanyang over a decade ago. But one crucial link to tie all the coincidences together was missing: I could not have simply ended up in the same region, the same police bureau, at the very same time as my brother, who had been missing for twelve years.
Besides, if Brother were alive and had lived this long, he would have kept his promise to me. That he would write to me, wherever I might end up in the kingdom. He was not one to break promises.
“Not my brother,” I said aloud, and hearing those words comforted me. “Never my brother.”
* * *
No one was outside the servants’ quarter. Unlocking my personal chest, I opened the lid and saw two things. The inspector’s blue robe was still there, the silk swimming in the darkness. I also saw the norigae pendant. The amber terrapin stared at me from the corner of its eye, and the long blue tassel of silk strings swayed as I picked it up. The colors around me—the white wallpaper, the yellow floor, the slice of pale blue sky outside the door—seemed to bleed together until everything was a blur, nothing vivid, except for the norigae dangling from my finger.
Whether you are the sun, the earth, or the moon, you are a capable girl.
To me.
I wanted to shut out the echo of Inspector Han’s voice. I threw the pendant back in, slammed the lid shut, but I knew it was still there. Whispering to me, condemning me. I walked out of the servants’ quarter and returned with a dirty cloth from the backyard. It was large enough to fill the chest, so that if anyone opened the lid, they would be too repulsed to dig any deeper.
For now, this would do. I couldn’t risk moving the robe in broad daylight.
I paused before shutting the lid. Reaching into the depths, past the fabric, my fingers smoothed themselves over the terrapin again. The moment I drew it out again, memories reached into my mind like beams of light that wrapped their arms around me, echoing with memories.
There aren’t too many like you, Damo Seol. Man or woman.
I squeezed my fingers over the object and imagined throwing it into the rushing water. Or over a cliff. I must have imagined this scene over and over again, for by the time I blinked back to reality, the courtyard hummed with busy steps of servants returning for their midday meals.
“Seol.”
I snatched the pendant close and slammed the lid shut. Slipping the norigae quickly into my uniform, I whirled around to see Aejung frowning at me.
“You look so sick!”
“What do you want?” I snapped.
She pursed her lips. “Why is everyone so unkind these days?” She turned to stalk off but stopped herself, remembering why she’d come for me. “You are summoned by Inspector Han to the main courtyard. Go, and don’t dally around like you always do!”
Memories scorched my skin as I made my way back to the front of the bureau. I expected to see only Inspector Han, the man I dreaded most. Instead, I saw a team of legal clerks and officers gathered, as well as the coroner’s assistant and the police artist. I was to accompany them.
Curiosity ought to have sparked in my mind with a question: Where are we going? But not today. The inside of my skull felt so bruised from the tsunami of one crashing thought after the other. All I wanted to do was hide under my blanket and sleep for an entire week. To be surrounded, for once, by nothing but silence.
My stare blank, I followed the team, leaving behind the filthy maze of streets and marching into desolation. The wilderness grew thick around us as we climbed up Mount Nam, trapping in the shadows and a creeping sense of uneasiness that woke me from my dazed spell. The past two times I’d ventured into the mountains, something dangerous had occurred. My wounded fingers tingled as though sensing the nearness of hostile spirits.
“Commander Yi spoke to me today.” Officer Shim’s voice drifted through the forest, somewhere ahead of the line. “He said you haven’t been sleeping at all. You don’t do well without sleep, sir…”