by June Hur
I clutched tightly, and the more desperately I clung, the more the throbbing pain along my ribs and head intensified. And then she slipped away, leaving my hands empty. He dragged her for ten, fifteen, twenty paces. At the end of the stone walls, where the street branched out into different directions, they both vanished around the corner.
Woorim. Clenching my teeth, I lurched onto my feet again and staggered forward, my breath rushing in and out of me. Why was she so silent now? What was happening beyond this street, around the dark corner? I drew closer to it, then stopped.
“All done, sir,” a male voice rasped, somewhere deep in the shadows. “I’ve secured her.”
I took a step back, slack-jawed. There was more than one man in the alley, and even Bamboo Hat was already too strong for me. His fist had struck me like an iron ball hurled at my heart. I needed help, but when I listened over my shoulder, the neighborhood was silent. The footsteps I’d heard earlier had disappeared.
My skin prickled. Someone was watching me. Time slowed into a heavy twisting as I faced ahead and saw Bamboo Hat. Light gleamed from his hand.
A dagger, its blade reflecting flashes of red through my mind.
“H-help,” my voice cracked. “Help, s-someone.”
My knees wobbled in my attempt to run, and instead of a mighty sprint forward, I staggered and crawled in turns. Pathetic, a voice whispered. This is how you’ll die. Butchered alive. Tears sprang to my eyes as I felt the shadow of death closing in on me. My skirt tangled around my stumbling feet, and gravity slammed me onto the road, knocking my breath out and scraping skin off. Over, it is over. I curled into a ball as his footsteps crunched behind me, growing louder.
Hands over head, coiling myself tighter, I braced myself.
Seol-ah.
My eyes were squeezed shut, but at the sound of the familiar voice, I blinked into the darkness of my shell. Seol-ah, everyone dies, Lady Kang reminded me. What is difficult is a meaningful death.
Her words flipped through pages of memories, of Woorim’s eyes, lighting up as she gossiped, her colorful voice brimming with enthusiasm, with life. Woorim the first time we’d met, her waiting before the police bureau. Sst. Our eyes had met, and she had smiled, a warm hand of friendship extended.
This was all I’d needed. This was enough.
My fingers curled, digging into the ground, filling my palm. If I was going to die, then I would die without shame. The moment his footsteps were right behind me, I whipped myself around and flung out my hand. Dirt and pebbles sprayed at him, and I rushed to my feet again, running this time the way I’d raced the village boys: chin up, fingers arrow straight, the balls of my feet bouncing off the ground. A quick glance behind and I saw the man on all fours, his back turned, scrambling to tie the scarf back onto his face.
This was my last chance.
I dashed down paths, cutting through alleys, and unable to stop in time, slammed into the gate of Lady Kang’s mansion. I clung to the door, waiting out the burning throb that pulsed throughout my body. At last I managed to collect myself. “Lady Kang!” I choked out, banging on the door. “Lady Kang!” I squeezed my eyes shut, and I couldn’t unsee Woorim being dragged away by the hair, like she was nothing more than a slab of meat. Who could be this cruel? This evil?
A voice behind the door called out, “On my way!”
Hope flared up with an intensity that left me trembling. Lady Kang would help, she’d send forth an army of servants to rescue her. Woorim might live! I raised my fist to knock again—faster, run faster, ajusshi!—but my wrist caught onto something and would not budge. Someone’s hand tightened around mine, and I froze in alarm, staring wide-eyed as the gate creaked open.
“Wh-what is happening here?” the gatekeeper asked.
“Return inside, ajusshi.” It was a woman’s voice coming from behind me, cold and commanding, and all too familiar. “You saw nothing.”
“Yes, of c-c-course, of course.”
The door shut at once, and from beyond, I could hear the thudding of wood as the gatekeeper locked the entrance with a beam. The hope I’d felt blew out, throwing me into darkness.
“I was right,” the woman behind me spoke again. And this time I knew who it was. “You cannot be trusted.”
My wrist thrown aside, I whirled around to see Hyeyeon, her expression so stoic that I would not have guessed her thoughts if not for the upward tilt of her chin, the unfriendly glint in her eyes as she stared up at me. Now I noticed her civilian dress, the uniform of a damo when out tracking criminals. The pedestrians behind her, lingering in the shadow of an alley, were not commoners at all, but familiar faces, officers also disguised. Their brows knitted, staring at me as one would a traitor—with anger, mixed with jolts of disbelief.
“You are spying on Lady Kang.” My voice shook, the air around me suddenly wintry cold. “Why?”
“It is none of your business. Come, I’m taking you back to the bureau.”
“No. You must release me. One of Lady Kang’s servants was abducted, and I need to find her!”
Hyeyeon surveyed me with indifference, then flicked her chin forward, a gesture for me to walk. “You can go tell him yourself.”
“Whom?”
“Inspector Han,” she whispered, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “The one you would die for.”
* * *
There was stillness in the early morning hour. The air was cold and moist with dew.
Guards holding sharp-tipped spears stepped aside, opening the gates of the bureau. An officer shoved me forward, his push so strong my head snapped back as I stumbled into the police courtyard, nearly tripping over my feet. Servants and officers stopped what they were doing to stare, their gazes following me, along with their whispers. She tried to run home again? When will she learn? Blood oozed down the back of my head, soaking my collar as I returned their stares.
“Eoseo!” Hyeyeon said, her voice a sharp slap.
I quickened my steps as ordered, through the connecting gate and into the western courtyard. The Office of the Inspector looked immense, like a dragon whose belly had swelled from devouring its kill. I let out my breath slowly, the sound of wind whistling through the bamboo trees. “Calm down,” I whispered. Another deep breath, and I blew out through my lips. “Calm down.”
But my hands still trembled, still ached with the memory of Woorim’s hand in mine. She had disappeared, and with each passing minute, I was losing all chance of ever finding her.
Grabbing my collar, Hyeyeon dragged me up onto the veranda. We were alone, just the two of us, as the police officers had remained in the main courtyard. “Sir,” she spoke to the screened door. “I am here to report an incident.”
“Enter.”
She pushed aside the door, which rumbled as it went. And I realized there was only one way that I could escape in time, only one way to run back at once to Lady Kang for help—pretend to submit. I licked my blood-crusted lips and ducked my head.
“Kneel,” Hyeyeon ordered.
My knees buckled and slammed onto the ground with such a thud that Inspector Han glanced up, startled.
“What is it?” he asked.
“She was in front of Lady Kang’s residence, calling out her name.” Hyeyeon’s eyes strayed to my hands, clenched together. “She is on close terms with Lady Kang. I’m sure of it, sir.”
“Well?” His stare bore into me. “What do you say to that accusation?”
Accusation. Now I knew associating with Lady Kang was vile in the inspector’s eyes. I parted my lips, then closed them. At last I whispered, “It is true, sir.” I shot a glance at Hyeyeon before staring at the floor. A feverish hotness flared up my throat, leaving a sheen of sweat on my brow. “There is … there is something I must confess to you, sir.”
Inspector Han sat forward, one elbow on the low table before him. “Speak.”
I cast another look at Hyeyeon, then rocked back and forth, wringing my hands.
“Perhaps,” the inspector said
, “you would like to speak to me in private, Seol?”
I bowed my head.
“You are dismissed, Hyeyeon. Return to your post. No one must enter or leave Kang’s residence without our knowing.”
“But, sir—” Hesitation strangled her voice, but she swallowed her protest and was soon gone.
Only Inspector Han and I occupied the office now. Gray light glowed through the screens, illuminating the tall bookshelf, the black-lacquered document box, and the low-legged table, washing the folding screen behind him in a chilling hue.
My mind quickly drew out a plan: once I was certain of our isolation, I would escape this office and outrun everyone while they were caught unawares. The killer could already be carrying the palanquin up the mountain, to the shed, and what would happen to Woorim then? I could not linger here too long.
Raising my lashes, I meant to look up at Inspector Han’s gaunt and bony face, but I remembered his skill at reading people. He might notice my scheming thoughts in the pools of my eyes. I watched his broad shoulders and neck instead, and it returned, another unwanted flickering of memory; me, pressing my ear against a boy’s shoulder, warm as an ondol. The thud-thud-thud of the furnace pumping out smoke and heating the stone plates hidden beneath his coarse tunic. Jeong-yun-ah … Brother’s voice as he turned to look at me with his pale-spooky eyes. His round, youthful face thinned into bones and sharp angles.
All the pores in my body opened, drenching me with cold sweat, and my heart pounded so fiercely. Not my brother. Never my brother. I didn’t want to be in this man’s presence right now. I couldn’t even remember why I had come here, but then I looked down at my empty hands, and the image of Woorim’s pleading gaze filled them.
“Well?” Inspector Han prompted me again. “What is it you wish to tell me?”
I could still hear Hyeyeon’s voice outside the office. As I bit my lower lip, my mind raced. Perhaps I could save Woorim another way. For here I was before the man who’d had her kidnapped, and I was convinced of this for one reason. The bamboo hat man must have been spying on Woorim to have known that she’d be at the haunted mansion earlier today. Coincidentally, those under the inspector’s direct order—Hyeyeon and three other police officers—had been spying on the house of Woorim’s mistress. Perhaps the bamboo hat man was one of his spies as well, ordered to kidnap Woorim.
If this was the case, Inspector Han had the power to also change his mind and let her go. I would have to convince him. It would be a risk, one that might turn out horribly wrong, but I remembered what the inspector himself had taught me: find the person’s weakness, and grab it.
“I found it,” I whispered.
“Found what?”
“The robe you left in the House of Bright Flowers. The one covered in blood.”
He froze as though someone had run a sword through him. “Have you told anyone of this?”
“No.” I raised my chin, to show him I was a force to be reckoned with, though inside, every bone in me shook. “It was Lady O’s blood, wasn’t it?”
The corner of his lips curled, so slightly. “Where is the robe.” It was not a question; it was a command.
With just enough steel in my voice, I said, “No one will know of this, sir, if you help Woorim.”
“Woorim?” Inspector Han remained still, but I saw his fingers flinch. “What do you know about Maid Woorim?”
“Her mistress guided me safely down from Mount Inwang after the tiger incident. I promise you, sir, I will not dig any deeper.”
“Dig deeper into what?”
“Into your past. If you return Woorim safely.”
“Return her?” he asked, sounding surprised. “What do you mean, return her?”
“She won’t say a word against you. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Me?” His voice sharpened. “Whatever makes you think I know where she is?”
“I’m sure you have your reason for what you are doing. I’ll never tell anyone. Not about Ahn or Lady O, either. I promise.”
“So this is what it was all about. You think I am involved,” he said as I looked up into his eyes again. For a disturbing instant, I saw my own eyes staring back at me, and I had to look away. “You seem completely certain.”
He stood up, so calmly, as though he were rising to collect another book from his shelf. He crossed the room and stopped before the sliding door. Without even looking at me, he said quietly, “Let me say this only once. Do not get in my way again, or I will knock you down—”
“I have your robe.” I spoke to his turned back, the tremor in my voice threatening to betray my bravado. “You can make me disappear, but I’ve made sure to hide it well, and the world will learn of your dark ways. Even if you kill me, the world will find out.” Then I held my breath, waiting to see if he would see through my bluff.
“Will they?” His voice was as cold as the snow-dusted peaks of Mount Taebaek. He looked over his shoulder, down at me, and his lips twisted into a smile, as though he found me grossly comical. “Tell the world your little secret; they will not believe. You’re nothing more than a slip of a girl. No, less than that. A mere damo.”
And just like that, he tore off my mask, so quick and painful my eyes watered. A blink, and the burning drop fell. I couldn’t understand why I was crying. But as I stared at Inspector Han, the thoughts of Woorim drained away, and all I could think about was my brother. That brother was gone now. Dead. No, worse than dead: he had changed into an awful stranger.
This realization pushed me to my feet. Before I knew what was happening, I was running, then my fingers swung across Inspector Han’s cheek, as though I were trying to peel off his mask. My heart thundered against my ribs, and yet I felt a growing sense of detachment as I finally stepped back. I saw a welt on his cheek, inflicted by my chipped nails, yet I did not care.
“Not my brother,” I whispered to him, backing away. “Never my brother.”
His hand remained over the bloody scratch, his eyes following me as I stumbled out of the room, across the courtyard. I wasn’t certain where I was running to, but I knew what I was running from. I had committed a crime, assaulting a high official, and I had no time to rot in prison. Not now.
SIXTEEN
THE NEXT DAY, I stood on the dirt road wending through the field of reeds, their golden hair loosened to the wind. The sun pulsed in the seashore-blue sky, and with my hand, I shielded my eyes from the brightness as I looked around. If not Inspector Han, then who took you away, Woorim?
I had run toward Lady Kang’s mansion immediately after escaping the police bureau, and while the undercover officers were rotating shifts, I’d run up to the entrance only to be denied. The fearful gatekeeper had answered that it was a bad time to visit, that the mistress was not even home. It was up to me to find Woorim. Yet no one had seen a man in a bamboo hat, especially not one accompanying a palanquin. Then an urchin had pointed her finger at the fortress gate, saying she had seen such a man leave the capital.
I had wandered all that day and evening searching for Woorim, imagining her nose sliced off. Not a trace of her called out to me in the streets and alleys outside the fortress, not even in the nearby mountains. No torn fabric dangling from a branch; no straw sandal left behind; no blood smears. An old woman found me stumbling down the road, half delirious from exhaustion, and had allowed me to stay the night at her hut. But sleep evaded me. All I could think about was Woorim. It was as though she had vanished from the earth.
And now I stared at the expanse spread out before me, and I understood what Older Sister had meant when I’d once heard her whisper, “The world looks so immense when you’ve lost someone.”
I staggered back toward the fortress gate later in the morning, my legs weak with exhaustion. Ahead of me stretched a long line of people, mostly farmers with their wagons filled with produce. I waited for what felt like ages, then as I got closer to the gate, what appeared to be a red speck in the distance turned out to be a fierce-looking guard with a broad nose
and curled lips, his robe vivid red. My heart beat low and heavy, the anxiety making it difficult to breathe. At any moment he might yell out, “Arrest her! She dared to strike an official!” The wiser thing to do would be to run as far as I could from the capital, but I couldn’t leave Woorim behind. I couldn’t live with that guilt.
At last I arrived before the guard. He towered two heads above me as he inspected my identification tag, then gestured at me to enter. “Next!” he bellowed. I walked into Hanyang and no one came to grab me. My nerves unraveled, tremors of relief running down my legs. I was safe for now.
Once I recovered a little, I picked my way down the road and stopped before different establishments: shops that sold black hats, silver, jade, and honey; tarped stalls where produce was laid out on straw mats; butcher shops reeking with the coppery scent of blood. I didn’t want to give up on Woorim yet, so before each shopkeeper, I held up a drawing of her. I had sketched her myself last night, using an abandoned piece of charcoal and the back of my brother’s sketch. I’d drawn her wide eyes, her round face, and her most unique feature—her small, small lips.
“Have you seen this girl?” I asked.
The answers never varied. No.
I stopped by a few more shops before arriving at the brushwood gate of the inn. A crowd of men and women were gathered on the spacious platform, eating and drinking, smoking their pipes. I had asked what felt like all the shopkeepers in the capital about Woorim but had not thought to visit the inn, so focused was I on the Northern and Eastern Districts. But here at the inn, there were travelers passing in and out of the capital; surely one of them had seen Woorim!
I entered the yard and interrupted the guests to show them the sketch. “Do you recognize this girl?” I studied each person, hoping to see someone’s eyebrows shoot up with recognition, but there seemed to be no trace of Woorim in their memories.
