FEBRUARY 1758
“Follow me,” Physician Nanshin whispered, “and ask no questions.”
Moonlight drifted as quietly as falling snow, illuminating the pavilion roofs and the animal-shaped statues that lined the swooping eaves. Floor lanterns spilled golden light across the frosted courtyards, and against the latticed labyrinth of doors and windows. Silence reigned, except for the distant ring of the great bell, echoing through the capital and rumbling over Changdeok Palace. By the twenty-eighth ring, the palace gates would be bolted shut for the night.
As soon as the royal physician turned his back to us, Jieun and I exchanged wide-eyed stares.
Isn’t our shift over? she mouthed. Shouldn’t we be permitted to return home?
I flicked a nervous glance at the physician. This is very odd, I replied.
But what did we know of what was odd or unusual? We were both new to our positions as nae-uinyeos, nurses handpicked to serve in the palace.
“There isn’t a moment to spare.” The royal physician sounded breathless as he quickened his steps, his hands gathered within wide sleeves. His blue silk robe billowed like waves in a storm, his long apron as white as foam frothing atop a crashing sea. “We must hurry.”
Jieun and I hastened our steps accordingly. Our long shadows stretched out, of her holding a tray and me a lantern. We kept quiet this time, when normally we would have complained about our growling stomachs or our limbs tired from working all day. Things were different in the palace. No one acted like children here. Even royal children behaved like solemn and anxious elders.
In long and quick strides, we left the Royal Apothecary, located in the eastern corner of the palace, and traveled in a line from courtyard to courtyard, the sound of the great bell rolling after us. It tolled, slowly and repeatedly, for the twenty-sixth, twenty-seventh, and finally, the twenty-eighth time. I could almost hear the main gates rumbling shut; it would be impossible to leave the palace now. Uneasiness settled into my bones, and the warnings I’d been given echoed through my mind.
To enter the palace means to walk a path stained in blood, our medical teachers had whispered. There will be bloodshed. I only hope it will not be yours.
The further south we traveled, the more deserted it became, until we were easily four li away from where I knew most of the royals dwelled. At least a half hour’s walk.
The shadows swamping the empty pavilions grew darker and darker; the fall of snow was no longer pocked with blue footprints, but untouched. Then at last, we passed through a guarded gate and entered a courtyard illuminated by lanterns. In the center lay a square lily pond, its frozen water reflecting the round, luminous moon and the black ridges of the guardian mountain.
I’d never come this way before.
A grand pavilion stood before the courtyard, a building with a long row of hanji-screened windows, rows of towering pillars, and an elaborate black-tiled roof. The wooden plaque hanging under the eaves read Joseung Pavilion. The main house in the Donggungjun compound.
The residence of the Crown Prince himself.
I had never seen the Crown Prince before, but I had heard gloomy whispers about Prince Jangheon. When he was born, it is said that the king—usually known for his rigid stoicism—had nearly tripped over his robe in his haste to hold his son. A most beautiful son, and his only surviving heir. The king had fallen so in love with the child that he’d rushed to formally establish him as the Crown Prince—a status that had come with a price. At only one hundred days old, the infant prince had been pulled from his mother’s embrace and moved to Joseung Pavilion to be raised completely by strangers in an isolated part of the palace. So far away from his parents that, after a while, he’d only seen them once a year. Now there were disturbing rumors about the neglected prince.
The time will come soon, I’d overheard a palace nurse say once, when the Crown Prince will be put to death, either by the hands of the Old Doctrine faction or his own father. Whispers that had immediately clamped into silence at the sight of Jieun and me, for we were new to the palace.
“Come.”
I blinked, my attention returning to Physician Nanshin. He gestured at us to quicken our pace further. We did so, following him past a row of court ladies, unmoving like statues. One young woman, however, watched us from under her lashes. Our eyes met, then her gaze quickly dropped. And yet I still felt as though we were being watched by a thousand more eyes.
My pulse beat as I set aside my lantern. We made our way up the steps onto the terrace, then into the pavilion, where tiered wooden doors slid open one by one, drawn by servants who moved as quietly as shadows, ushering us deeper until we reached the inner quarter. We were met by a eunuch, his face pale and fraught with distress.
“I know your day is over, uiwon-nim,” the eunuch whispered to the physician, “but it is urgent. The prince is in need of your assistance.”
My head was bowed, hiding the shock that widened my eyes. Since entering the palace, I had attended only to women—princesses, concubines, and court ladies. I had yet to assist physicians as they tended to male royals.
“Please, follow.” The eunuch hunched over as he accompanied us into a chamber enveloped in darkness, shadows lurking at the edges of glowing floor lanterns and candles. There were piles of books everywhere, haphazardly pushed aside. Two court ladies trembled before a finely woven bamboo screen; it hung from the ceiling, concealing a figure beyond it. At our entrance, they pulled the screen up, revealing a white-robed figure lying on a sleeping mat.
“Leave, both of you,” said a commanding female voice.
As the court ladies left, I snuck a glance at a woman sitting near the wall. It was Lady Hyegyoung, the wife of the Crown Prince; they were both twenty-three years of age, bound to each other since marriage at the age of nine. She looked immaculate as always, garbed in a silk gown dripping with luminous gold-threaded dragon medallions, and her smooth hair shone in the candlelight, tied into a perfectly thick coil at the nape of her neck and held in place by a golden rod. I had encountered her several times before at Chippok Hall. She seemed to prefer spending most of her time with her mother-in-law rather than here with her husband.
“His Highness has been feeling ill the past two days, and it is getting worse,” Lady Hyegyoung said, projecting her voice, as if she were not speaking to us but rather to those outside.
“Has His Royal Highness taken any medicine today?” Physician Nanshin asked.
“No. He seemed much better this morning, but then later in the afternoon, he fainted and has been indisposed since.”
The physician bowed his head. “I will inspect His Highness now.” He knelt before the young man, whose back was turned to us, and Jieun and I knelt behind the physician. The bedcover rustled, the sound of the Crown Prince rising into a sitting position with the assistance of his eunuch.
“Tell me, what is wrong with His Royal Highness?” Lady Hyegyoung asked. “He has expressed weakness and fatigue all day long.”
I couldn’t resist; I’d never seen the prince, not even from afar, for he spent most of his time training in the Forbidden Garden, honing his skills with sword and bow. Carefully, my gaze ran along His Highness’s sleeping robe, his wrist held out to the physician, the frail column of his throat … then paused before a wrinkled and frightened face.
I blinked.
I squeezed my eyes shut, then looked again. Nothing changed. I wasn’t hallucinating.
A wave of confusion struck me at the sight of an old man, a eunuch, dressed in the Crown Prince’s nightgown and sitting in the Crown Prince’s bed. He was not Prince Jangheon. Yet Physician Nanshin remained kneeling, nimble fingers on the imposter’s wrist, as though the eunuch were indeed the future king himself.
“His Royal Highness is feeling weak because his ki is weak.” The physician glanced over his shoulder, revealing a crescent of his face, sweat dribbling down his temple. “Nurse Jieun, bring the ginseng tea.”
Jieun remained frozen, staring ahead at the imposter prince. “E-Eunuch Im?” she whispered.
The physician shot a look at her, his face ashen. “Silence,” he hissed. Then he looked at me. “Nurse Hyeon, please bring the medicine.”
At once, I reached for Jieun’s tray, then rose to my feet, and to my horror, my hands were shaking. The tray wobbled, and I felt stares turn my way.
“You look flushed, Nurse Hyeon,” came Lady Hyegyoung’s lowered voice, “and rather flustered.”
I gripped the tray tighter, but it continued to rattle. “Begging your pardon, my lady.”
“I am told your birth name is Baek-hyeon.”
“Yeh, my lady.” I sounded breathless. “That is my name.”
“A name usually reserved for boys.”
I wanted to wipe my brow—never had a royal scrutinized me so. “When I was born, my mother’s disappointment was so great that she nevertheless gave me a son’s name.”
Her eyes watched me closely, and the air around me grew tight and painful; even the slightest movement hurt my skin. Then she whispered, “You look almost identical to the prince’s favorite sister, Princess Hwahyup. She is six years dead.”
My limbs remained frozen, not knowing whether this similarity was offensive to Her Ladyship or not. I didn’t realize that my muscles had knotted painfully until she looked away and at once my shoulders eased.
“And you are Jieun,” Lady Hyegyoung said, her voice still hushed. “Half cousin to the new police inspector.”
“Y-y-yeh,” Jieun stammered. “I a-am.”
I set the noisy tray down and returned to my spot behind the physician, kneeling on the floor and burying my sweaty hands in my skirt. I wanted to glance to my side, where Jieun knelt, but trepidation kept me still.
“I have summoned you two specifically for a reason.” Lady Hyegyoung slid a glance to the latticed doors as footsteps creaked on the other side of them. The silhouette of a court lady moved across, then disappeared. “Because you both share one thing in common.”
I finally glanced at Jieun. We were the same in age, having both just turned eighteen. We were both daughters of lowly concubines, and thus servant girls of impure blood, belonging to the cheonmin class—the lowest of the low. Only, Jieun’s father acknowledged her as his daughter, whereas mine considered me as irrelevant to him as his house servants.
“You are both newly selected palace nurses,” Lady Hyegyoung explained. “And before that, you were Hyeminseo nurses favored by Nurse Jeongsu. I trust that woman.”
I gripped my skirt tight. Jieun had to be as confused as I was.
“Nurse Jeongsu is a family friend. And Royal Physician Nanshin’s family is tied to mine. I hope I can trust you two as well, Jieun and Hyeon, for your mentor assured me of your trustworthiness.” Then a somber note dusked her voice. “I hope no one has recruited you as their spies already.”
“No, indeed not, my lady!” Jieun blurted out. “We would not dare—”
Her Ladyship placed a finger to her lips. “In the palace, you speak with a loud voice only when your words are public words; you must whisper when speaking private words. Everyone is listening in the palace. Everyone is spying for someone.” Her gaze then moved away from us and settled on the imposter prince. “Can I trust you, then?”
“Yeh,” Jieun and I replied together.
“Then continue to tend to His Royal Highness, and should the king summon him, you are to tell His Majesty that his son is indisposed still.”
She wanted us to lie—to the king himself?
This could mean our deaths.
It was difficult to breathe, but I bowed my head, and so did Jieun. It was our duty to obey. I continued to stare at the floor, listening to my thundering heartbeat and to the sound of silk rustling as Physician Nanshin tended to the imposter prince, performing for our silent audience.
The court ladies. The eunuchs. The spies.
I could almost imagine what they saw: a shadow play of silhouettes against the hanji-screened door, in the shape of a physician and two nurses moving around the prince in the candlelit darkness.
How long we were expected to perform, I was unsure, and the tense hours that followed dragged on enough that the sharp sense of fear—fear that we had unwittingly fallen into a deadly game—dulled into a thrumming headache. As more time stretched on, the oppressive silence trimmed away even the headache and left only a single question:
Where had the real Prince Jangheon disappeared to?
The question danced around in my skull, and I slowly surveyed his chamber. My gaze brushed across a gleaming porcelain vase on display, across lacquered furniture with mother-of-pearl inlay, and came to rest on a scattering of books nearby—occult books, judging from the rumors I’d heard. His Highness was obsessed with Taoist scripture, magic formulae, and teachings on how to command ghosts and spirits.
Perhaps the palace had grown too ordinary for a prince fond of the unconventional. Perhaps he had wandered outside, even though that was forbidden—no royal was permitted to leave the palace without the king’s permission.
My mind roved around the books and furniture, searching for something to latch my thoughts on to, to keep me alert. Hours passed in such a way, stagnant and quiet, as though time had fallen into an unending loop. Physician Nanshin sat as still as a rock, and Jieun spent her time counting the acupuncture needles in her norigae chimtong—a small silver case decorated with elaborate knots and tassels that hung from the waist strings of her uniform, something all uinyeos carried around. And Eunuch Im, the imposter prince, stifled a yawn. I pinched my skin hard, but the numbness continued to deepen. Fear had never felt so tiring as it did today; I was exhausted. I could no longer tell whether one hour passed, or several.
I pinched myself again, hard. Stay awake.
And then my thoughts cut loose, drifting out of the royal chamber, out of the palace, and to the nearby public medical office, the Hyeminseo. It was the place where Jieun and I had studied to become nurses since the age of eleven. We’d spent our days there, our time split between caring for commoners and studying furiously for our medical exams, determined to achieve the highest marks—every year, two of the most excellent students were recruited to work for the palace. For this dream, I had learned to survive on little sleep. I would study late into the night to catch up to the other students in the beginners class, all servant girls around my age, between ten and fifteen with brilliant minds. We would spend the whole day in our pink jeogori jackets and blue skirts, our hair neatly braided, our heads always bowed over books or raised to listen to lectures led by stern teachers. Once, when a teacher had rebuked me for falling asleep during a lesson, I’d learned to stay awake no matter what by pinching myself so hard that the skin would peel.
Kohpi. That was the nickname my peers had given me, for my nose would always bleed from exhaustion, from pinching myself awake when I’d slept no more than three hours. Nurse Jeongsu had even given me small strips of cloth to keep in my pocket, to plug my nostrils with whenever they leaked red.
I was supposed to be excellent at keeping myself awake. Yet sleep had never felt so irresistible.
At one point I must have nodded off, for I startled awake to the deep, booming echo of the great bell. My hazy mind teetered, and it took me a moment to realize the bell was announcing the end of curfew—it was five in the morning.
I rubbed my eyes and looked around.
The chamber was still dark. And in the shadows, Lady Hyegyoung was awake, still sitting with her shoulders slightly slumped forward. Sweat gleamed on her broad forehead as she waited, straining her ears for the sound of the king’s footsteps. Soon the whole palace would awaken to find the Crown Prince missing. This could not bode well for her.
Or for any of us.
Doors behind me slid open, so abruptly that I shot a glance over my shoulder. Before us was a young eunuch, panting as he tried to straighten his black cap.
“Eunuch Choe,” Lady Hyegyoung said, her voice cutting. “Where is His Highness? I told you not to return until you had found him.”
“I—” He breathed hard, wiping his brows. “I entered the palace as soon as the gates reopened, my lady. The prince is on his way here, right this instant.”
Her Ladyship tilted her head back for a moment, eyes closed, relief straining against the edge of her brows. “Go tell His Highness to use the back window of his chamber, to avoid the court ladies seeing him. I have left it open.” She waited, but the eunuch remained where he was, gripping his hands tightly together. “Well?”
Eunuch Choe wrung his hands, then said, “A great misfortune has struck the capital, my lady. A m-m-massacre. There was a massacre.”
I held my breath, chilled by his words.
“What do you mean?” Lady Hyegyoung asked.
“I was escorting His Highness back when he told me he’d just witnessed a most gruesome sight. The Crown Prince was very much shaken, so he is”—Eunuch Choe glanced at the door, then hurried to Her Ladyship’s side—“he is in an unstable mood. I would leave the pavilion at once, my lady, and return to your residence.”
I frowned. Was Her Ladyship in danger?
As though sensing my question, Lady Hyegyoung’s eyes darted my way, and she seemed almost surprised to see us still kneeling in the chamber. “The palace gates are open now. Leave. And tell no one of this if you value your lives.”
We bowed, then retreated, our steps quiet. I couldn’t wait to talk with Jieun; we always gossiped about the palace goings-on while walking to our respective homes, hers near the northern district and mine near the fortress gate.
Just as the doors slid shut behind us, Eunuch Choe’s voice slipped through. “My lady, four women were murdered. At the Hyeminseo.”
My heart tensed around that one word. Hyeminseo. A medical office to many, but to me, it had been my first and only true home. The place where my dreams had blossomed, of becoming a nurse and rising above my station. Of being more than just Hyeon, the illegitimate daughter, the vulgar commoner.
I hoped I’d misheard, but when I glanced at Jieun, at her horrified eyes and gaping mouth, I nearly tripped down the stone steps into the row of court ladies. I tried taking a deep breath, but choked on what felt like shards of ice.
Hyeminseo nurses … dead … murdered?
Before I knew it, my steps had staggered into hurried strides.
“Nurse Hyeon,” Physician Nanshin called, “you mustn’t run in the palace—”
“Uiwon-nim, I must go.” And with that, I bolted across the yard, jumping from stone step to stone step, skidding across the hardened layer of snow. It took a moment to realize that Jieun was right behind me, both our hearts beating to the same plea.
Please let the eunuch be wrong. Please. Please. Please.
Blue mist drifted over the snow-dusted main road, its biting cold nipping at our ears and cheeks as we hurried down Donhwamunro Street, past the sleeping market stalls. The sun had not yet risen, and shadows lurked deep at every corner. My teeth were chattering by the time we approached the Hyeminseo, a vast walled-in compound that held the medical office and its spacious courtyards.
“Wait.” Jieun touched my elbow as we came to a standstill. A small group was gathered at the gate’s entrance, guarded by a police officer, his face reddish-orange in the torchlight. “Isn’t that Palace Nurse Inyeong?”
“Nurse Inyeong? Why would she be here…?” My gaze arrested upon the familiar face in the crowd. It was indeed Nurse Inyeong, wrapped in a straw cloak, her face pale and her eyes staring ahead. When a gust blew by, she tugged her sleeves down low, then shivered as she held the cloak closer to herself. I barely knew her, only that she was a few years older than me. “Maybe she can tell us what occurred,” I whispered.
We hurried over, weaving our way through the spectators, who hummed with whispers. Once we were near enough, I reached out to tap Nurse Inyeong’s straw-cloaked shoulder, but she ducked and disappeared deeper into the crowd. A moment later, I saw her slipping into an alley, leaving me alone with my question.
Who had died?
I turned, craning my head to look past the officer guarding the gate, spear flashing in the torchlight. Four bodies had been laid out in the courtyard on stretchers, one next to the other, motionless under straw mats. I crossed my arms, holding myself tight against a surge of panic.
I was only a few steps away from the gate, and I moved to get even closer.
Jieun caught my sleeve. “Where are you going?”
“I need to see who was killed,” I whispered.
“But it is a crime scene, Hyeon-ah!”
“Perhaps we could be of help. We were once Hyeminseo nurses.”
I took another step forward, and at once the police lowered his spear to block my way.
“Stand back!” he bellowed.
Jieun at once retreated, but I stayed still, dread thickening in my blood as I stared into the courtyard.
“Stand back,” he warned again.
Words formed and floated from my lips: “But I am a nurse. I wish to examine the corpses.”
The police officer looked me over, and I knew what he saw—a young woman in a pale blue silk jacket and a dark blue skirt, wearing a long white apron. My hair, tied into a coil and secured by a bright red ribbon, and a garima, a black crownlike headpiece made of silk.
“A Hyeminseo nurse?” he asked.
“No.” I presented my special identification tag, one that allowed me entrance into the palace grounds. “I am a nae-uinyeo.”
The officer tilted his head to the side, his brows furrowing. The police didn’t need me; they had plenty of skilled servants to examine corpses, namely damos—nurses sent to work at the police bureau as punishment for their bad grades. And yet the officer moved his spear aside and asked, “So you were sent for?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, I lied, “Yes, I was, sir.”
“Go on in, if you can stomach the sight. What kind of dog would do such a thing.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
Taking in a steadying breath, I walked into the courtyard and at once felt my heart grow cold. I had seen death before, but never like this. Despite the straw mats covering the four bodies, I could see the tops of their neatly brushed hair, the tips of their still fingers, the hems of their uniforms.
I flinched at sudden movement. A halo of light moved behind the hanji-screened windows, likely the police officers examining the main office. The light paused—illuminating a streak of blood splashed across the screen—then poured into the courtyard, burnishing the straw gold.
My breath whooshed in and out in nervous gusts as I crouched before the four bodies. My hands trembled as I grasped the edge of the first covering and pulled. The sound of gooey blood sent bumps down my skin, like I was peeling off a layer of thick, slimy film that had grown over the dead. I tugged again, revealing a long forehead, a narrow face with staring eyes, and a mouth parted as though in a silent scream.
It was nineteen-year-old Bitna, a student nurse. Memory of her voice tinkled in my ears. Hyeon-ah! Can I borrow your notes on Injaejikjimaek?
It took me several reeling moments to regain my composure. Once I did, I pulled the mat further down and stopped at the sight of two bloody slashes, one across her throat and another longer one across her chest. Her fingernails were lined in red. She had put up a fierce fight.
I had to close my eyes, steadying myself against the icy flash of horror, waiting for my pulse to slow, for my breathing to find its natural depth. I then proceeded to examine the next two corpses.
First was twenty-year-old Eunchae, another student nurse I’d worked with at the Hyeminseo, and who was betrothed to be married next month. Ripped hair clutched in her fist. Her nose bruised purple, blood pooling under the skin. A stab through her stomach. Then the same slash across the throat as Bitna.
Next was elderly Head Nurse Heejin, one of the few senior nurses who took the time to tutor the nurses who were falling behind in their studies. She’d recently told me about her infant niece and what joy she’d felt in holding her. A child she would never hold again. The old woman’s back had been slashed, perhaps when she had turned to run. And again, the same slash across the throat.
By the time I reached for the last mat, I was blinking cold sweat out of my eyes, sitting on the ground because I couldn’t hold myself up any longer. I took in deep gulps of air to press down my whimpers. I knew who the fourth victim was, even though her face was still concealed: It had to be Nurse Jeongsu. Ten years my senior and like an older sister to me. She often tutored students in the early morning as well.
I took in a shuddering breath, then pulled down the straw cover.
For a moment, I stared in confusion. This wasn’t my mentor, but a woman dressed in the dark blue uniform of a musuri, a lowly palace servant.
A sharp ache pounded behind my left eye as realization dawned; I knew who this was. It was Court Lady Ahnbi. I’d seen her before, serving one of the king’s concubines, Madam Mun. She was around my age. But what was a court lady doing here, dressed as a servant? How had she ended up dead outside the palace? Court ladies were considered the “king’s women”—forbidden to marry and forbidden to leave the palace walls. Any indiscretion on their part was severely punished, often by death.
A loose strand of damp hair fell over my face. I shoved it aside and examined Ahnbi closer. From what I could observe, she had been stabbed in the chest. Her wound was less bloody than the rest, inflicted by a smaller weapon. She’d then been killed by a single stab to the throat. There was no sign of an altercation—at least, not at a quick glance.
“So, you mean to tell me that you witnessed nothing,” a deep, booming voice rumbled from within the medical office. My gaze flew up. The halo of lanternlight outlined the silhouette of a powerfully built figure on the screened door. “You are certain of that?”
I hurried up to the building, then went around to the backyard, out of view from the officer guarding the gate. I stepped close to the side of the latticed window, making sure not to cast a silhouette against the hanji screen.
“I must have fallen asleep, Commander Song.”
My brows knotted. Nurse Jeongsu?
“Asleep?” the commander said.
“While Head Nurse Heejin tutored the students, I was so tired I went to rest in another room. I was exhausted from assisting with two childbirths yesterday.”
“Childbirths.” There was a snarl in his voice. “Why any mother would trust you is beyond me. You are careless with the lives of others—”
“Commander,” she tried again. “I would not harm any of the other nurses. We are all on good terms, and I assist them in their studies. We do this often, meeting either late at night or early in the mornings for extra lessons. Please be calm and think. I, too, want justice for my dead students.”
“I am most calm,” he hissed. “And I will find everything you are hiding from me. I know you are hiding something.” His silhouette took a threatening step forward. “You hid secrets from me twelve years ago, and I’m sure you are doing it again.”
I wanted to push past the hanji screen and tell Commander Song that he was wasting his time. Ask anyone in Hanyang—the capital of Joseon—and they would declare Nurse Jeongsu to be benevolent and kind. Even Lady Hyegyoung had spoken fondly of her just this morning. The real killer was still out there—
My thoughts froze. The skin on my back tingled, the feeling of being watched. Slowly, I glanced over my shoulder, hoping that I would see only the sky, a grayish-blue over the otherwise black landscape.
Instead, my gaze slid up against a pair of straw sandals, then a dusty white pair of trousers, then a patched jacket. My pulse thundered as I stared at a quiet face sculpted in shadow and streaks of mud. The oblique sweep of his brows was crisp against his tanned skin, his dark hair tied into a topknot. He was tall, lean, and half-starved, judging by the hollowness of his cheeks. A peasant, perhaps come to the Hyeminseo for medical treatment.
“What do you want?” I whispered.
His gaze rested on mine, as steady as his voice. “This is a crime scene.”
He must work for the police bureau, I thought. A servant, perhaps. At any moment, he might call out that a suspicious person lurked in the backyard.
“I am a nurse, and the guard allowed me in,” I said, holding his gaze. “You may ask him if you wish.”
“You are a Hyeminseo nurse?”
“A palace nurse,” I clarified. “But I was once a student here.”
A line formed between his brows. “Do you know the suspect in that office?”
I flinched at the word suspect. “She is my mentor.”
“Your mentor…” His gaze slid beyond me to the place where only a thin screen separated me from Commander Song. “The commander will not be pleased to know that the prime suspect’s student is eavesdropping.”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” I snapped. “I meant to leave. I was just wondering where the voices were coming from. Besides, the police guard let me in. You may ask him yourself—”
“Tie her up.” Commander Song’s voice shot out from within, rattling my nerves. “And secure her in the prison block. She will be questioned later in the morning.” Then his silhouette turned to Nurse Jeongsu’s. “If you cooperate with us, the questioning will be brief, and you will return to the Hyeminseo within a few days. As I said, it all depends on your cooperation.”
There came the sound of shuffling fabric, and no sound of resistance; Nurse Jeongsu was allowing herself to be arrested. Footsteps creaked, then withdrew from the office, followed by Commander Song’s voice thundering from somewhere on the other side of Hyeminseo. “Officer Gwon, continue to question all witnesses. The rest of you will continue to search for the murder weapon.”
I glanced at the police servant. “I think I should leave now.”
“I think you should follow me to the main courtyard.”
“I think not.” I made an attempt to leave, but he sidestepped so suddenly that I found myself staring at his chest, my nose nearly brushing up against his filthy attire. “Let me pass. I am a palace nurse.”
“Everyone related to this crime scene, in one way or another, must be interrogated.”
“I am not related to this crime scene in any way,” I assured him. “I just arrived.”
“Well, you can explain that to the commander—”
“Wait,” I said, my mind racing. I dug into my apron pocket, pulled out a coin, and proffered it to him. “Here, take it.”
His lashes lowered, his stare on the gleaming coin. “Bribery is a hanging offense.”
I breathed out slowly, withholding a curse. “What do you want, then? You must want something, surely.”
“Evidence,” he said simply. “That is all.”
He was an upright servant, then, likely loyal to the commander. “Will you let me go if I tell you something significant about the case? You can tell the commander you figured this out yourself.”
“I don’t think whatever you have to say will be of significance…” The garima billowed, and I watched as his gaze followed the black silk dancing around the crown of my head. He gathered his hands behind his back, apparently changing his mind. “Very well. Tell me what you know.”
I shoved the coin back into my pocket, and while pausing to collect myself, I mentally flipped through the pages of all the medical case reports I’d read and memorized. I then glanced to the side, keeping an eye out for the commander or other officers as I said, “Stab wounds always look messy, typically with several strikes and cuts around them. But when I saw the fourth victim in the dark blue uniform, I immediately noticed what was missing: defensive wounds. There was just one stab to the throat—a very practiced stroke. The killer knew precisely where on the body to attack to inflict the deadliest damage. I find that very telling. Also, that same wound was inflicted by a weapon smaller than the ones that killed the other victims.”
I paused in my line of thought, realizing that the police servant hadn’t uttered a single word, nor had even blinked as he watched me, his gaze as intense as his eyes were dark. I tried not to look away.
“How do you know all this?” he asked quietly.
“I am a nurse,” I reminded him.
“You are a nurse,” he repeated under his breath, “not an investigator.”
“Uinyeos are investigators of the human body—”
Footsteps crunched across the snow somewhere nearby. “What?” Commander Song’s voice echoed through the chilly dawn air. “You let a woman onto the crime scene? Where is she now?”
My heartbeat spiked as I glanced at the police servant. He could choose to turn me in to the commander with one word—
“You should leave now,” he whispered instead.
At once, I bolted toward the stone wall that enclosed the Hyeminseo, a wall that was too high for me to climb. Flicking a glance over my shoulder, I gave the police servant a sheepish look. “Please, could you help me reach the top of the wall?”
He tensed. “How?”
“You could offer me your back.”
“My back … to climb on?”
“Hurry,” I whispered. “He’s coming!”
He remained still.
Letting out a huff, I murmured, “I’ll climb over myself, then.”
Wiping the clamminess from my palms, I ran and leapt, and my hands latched on to the top of the icy, tile-capped wall. With all my might, I heaved myself up, my knees chafing in the attempt to scale the surface. But my fingers slipped, and I was on the ground again.
“A palace nurse?” Commander Song’s voice drew closer. “What did she look like?”
I needed to get out. Now.
I gathered myself and took another leap. Holding on to the top of the wall, I pulled myself up and managed to glimpse the other side. Sweat dampened my forehead as I tried to muster up more strength. My arms trembled and my fingers ached. Suddenly, a pair of hands clasped my waist and hoisted me up with ease, high enough that I could hook a leg over the wall. And as I hung onto the tiles, I glanced back at the serious young man, my eyes locking on to his somber gaze.
“Stay away, if you can.” His voice hovered between a warning and a challenge. “If you don’t want your life ruined, I had better not see you lurking around a crime scene again.”
A frown drifted across my brows. I wasn’t sure what he meant.
“Of course,” I whispered back. “I highly doubt our paths will ever cross again.”
Catching a glimpse of Commander Song’s police hat, I pushed myself over and landed on the other side, then pressed my back against the wall, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. The commander and his servant exchanged low-voiced murmurs, which were followed by the crunching of their receding footsteps. A sigh of relief escaped me; I was safe now. Yet in the ensuing silence, the crushing weight of reality returned.
Four women had been murdered.
The ripped hair in one hand, the blood lining another’s nails. Whispers of their desperation to live, yet still they had been killed.
Who could be this cruel? This evil?
I ran a hand over my face, then looked around. Everything looked the same as before: The sea of clay huts with snow-covered straw roofs, the dirty roads threading through the capital, the dark ridges of the mountains guarding us within their basin. And yet it was as though I had climbed over the wall and had fallen into a nightmare instead. The air here was taut with the scent of terror, and the faces of the dead leaked into my eyes and washed the sky in a reddish-blue.
What will you do now? The thought of Nurse Jeongsu echoed after me. What will you do?
I walked, stumbling a little each time my knees buckled. I searched for Jieun, and when I couldn’t find her, I walked homeward toward the eastern gate. Everything seemed out of order, strange, and too sharp. When I passed a butcher slamming his knife down on an animal’s flesh, I flinched and found myself on the brink of tears.
Who had killed those women? What could have possibly pushed the killer into murdering them? Through the blur of my vision, I stared at the faces of the people I passed—grimy and carved in lines, men and women and children darting their beady black eyes my way.
I had stepped into a world that seemed to be hiding terrible secrets from me.