walked around the site, bewildered, and right behind the mound lay a hoe, the angled blade thick with dried soil.
“Are you certain this is Madam Byeol’s grave?” I asked.
“Of course!” the shaman said, her voice screeching. Fear had widened her eyes. “I came here on the previous full moon to cast out her han … and it was covered in weeds!”
The man wiped strands of his hair away from his face. “Perhaps Madam Byeol woke up and went searching for her son.”
* * *
After managing to shake off my two companions, I returned to the burial site. Large shadows, reflections of clouds, glided across the barren land. The brooks rolling over the rugged slopes murmured. I heard the occasional rush of a wing as a bird swept by. Otherwise, an oppressive silence hovered over the land.
I was alone.
Crouching, I reached out and touched the overturned soil, hardened from the cold. The snowflakes melted beneath my palm.
I worried my lower lip. I knew with complete certainty that someone had disturbed this grave. But why? To hide or retrieve something? I picked up the hoe, telling myself there was no choice but to find out for myself. I swung the hoe, and the blade hit the mound, dirt spattering onto my robe. Another swing, and chunks of soil tumbled to my feet. I continued this repetitive motion—the thwack of the blade, the shhh of falling dirt.
Then came a hollow thump. The sound of blade hitting wood.
With shaking hands, I dug some more until a wooden casket lay before my eyes. Fear filled me up, so thick and prickly in my chest.
Taking in deep breaths, I held in a scream and threw the lid open.
Inside there was nothing but bones and a small plaster box. The raised hair on my skin settled, my heart relieved. Fear clearing from my mind, I picked up the box; it was an ancient practice to leave articles for the dead, that they might see them in their afterlife. I opened it and found a letter. Was this why someone had dug up the grave? So that this box could be placed within?
I opened the letter and saw words drawn out in ink. I struggled with the words for a moment, but I managed to decipher the contents.
Dearest Mother,
I did you no wrong, yet you accumulated so much hate against me. I lived embracing your fury, bound to the vile name you had given me. I consulted a shaman and got myself a new name. Jae, “to slaughter, to rule.” Deok, “ethics, morality, virtue.” I think if Father had listened to me when I cried out for help, matters would have been different.
There it was. The suspect’s name. Jae Deok.
And then the rest of the truth rushed in upon me like a wave: Officer Shim Jaedeok had killed the victims. Shim Jaedeok the seoja, the bastard. Shim Jaedeok the insignificant, the shadow.
He must have gone to Hanyang to reclaim his honor. And his father, Councillor Ch’oi, had given him the perfect opportunity, perhaps telling him, Find the priest and bring him before me, even if that means betraying Inspector Han. Then you will be a worthy son.
Perhaps Shim was the one who had received the anonymous tip to the police, the one containing information about Lady O’s Catholic faith and her association with the priest. Seeing his opportunity to please his father, Shim had gathered information about Lady O, and in the process, he must have discovered her secret affair with Scholar Ahn. So he had lured Lady O out with a love letter, had waited to follow her to the lovers’ meeting spot, a place that would surely be somewhere isolated. At some point, he must have accosted her, but she had fought against him. And before she could call out for help, Shim had slammed his hand over her mouth. In her struggle she must have ripped off his wooden horse-dragon pendant. Perhaps the scarf covering the lower half of his face had fallen off, too. I could almost hear her muffled cry, the fierce longing to live. Desperate, Shim had grabbed her suicide knife and sliced her throat, silencing her forever. But why had he taken the time to cut off her nose?
Scholar Ahn, after being lured out of his home with a letter, had been kidnapped, stolen away in a palanquin. In the desolation of Mount Nam, Officer Shim had tortured Ahn for information about the priest, for the secrets Lady O had left