me, and for a moment I could imagine what he saw, a girl garbed in a frozen robe, whose fingers and toes would likely be lost to frostbite, but a girl who had risked her life by going against him—an inspector of the Capital Police Bureau, a military official of the fifth rank. He knew I would not change my mind so easily.
“Very well then, I won’t ask you again…” I followed his gaze, trailing past the trees and through the mist. “Can you manage?”
“I c-can, sir.”
He swung off his horse and the forest floor crunched beneath his feet. “Then get on.”
I accepted his hand and slipped my foot into the stirrup. He hoisted me up into the air with surprising strength, like I was his four-year-old sister again, and the next moment I sat perched on the horse’s back with one hand holding on to the saddle horn, and the other hanging uselessly, my shoulder burning after Officer Goh had forced the bone back into its socket earlier. As for Inspector Han, he continued on foot, holding the creature’s reins as he led the way.
Venturing farther up the mountain, the servant ahead of us held up a blazing torch that illuminated the crystallized forest. The freezing cold had arrived so early this year, it seemed a spell had been cast over the land. Icicles gleamed orange. Snow-dusted pine trees soared high. Everything was still, too still. Even the glow of torchlight, which stretched across the frozen land, seemed painted there—never shifting, never flickering. Somewhere beyond the serene facade of the woodlands, surely a vile darkness awaited us.
My only wish was that Woorim still lived.
“There is s-something I do not understand, sir. H-h-h—” I gritted my teeth and tried again. “How did Officer Shim s-suspect that she knew something about the p-p-priest’s whereabouts?”
“Suspect whom?”
“Maid Woorim.”
Inspector Han let out a breath, a cloud of steam forming before his lips, and a heaviness weighed his voice as he said, “The safest place for the priest would have been the residence of a woman immune to police attention. I suspected Lady Kang, and so I asked Woorim why she was seen purchasing gentlemen’s clothes and shoes.”
“W-what did she say, sir?”
“She claimed they had a guest, her mistress’s father-in-law…” He held aside a branch of sharp needles, letting me pass without being whipped. “Yet I later learned that the father-in-law had never left the province, and I shared this with Shim. This must have led him to think that the maid knew the priest was inside.”
“And now the priest is m-m-missing again,” I said. “Officer Shim said so.”
“Then Woorim is more valuable to him now. She may still be alive.”
A burst of hope fluttered warm against my rib cage. “P-perhaps, sir.”
Silence settled between us, emphasizing the woodland noises—the hardened layer of snow cracking underfoot as officers pressed upward, the trees creaking like old bones.
“You know,” Inspector Han said quietly, glancing at me over his shoulder, “I am impressed with all you’ve done for this case. With your determination, you can be anything you want.”
I whispered my gratitude, yet the delight I might have felt withered at the sight of his pale face, the pallor of a man trapped in an unending nightmare. Orabeoni. A tenderness in me wanted to reach out … and do what? What could I do or say to wake my once-brother from whatever it was haunting him? I am here. You aren’t alone anymore, orabeoni. But all I managed to say was, “It has been a difficult case, sir.”
“It began as a simple case of jealousy,” he murmured, “then turned into one that I was hardly prepared for.”
It was easier talking about the investigation, the only thing we had in common. Sadness pinched me at the realization that we’d spent more years as strangers than as siblings …
“How did you know it was Senior Officer Shim, sir?”
“After Ryun told me of your discoveries, from Councillor Ch’oi’s true son to the horse-dragon pendants, I informed Commander Yi of all this, and he had officers search Shim’s house. The bloody palanquin and his journal were found, which was enough to confirm his guilt, and that is why I was released from house arrest. But I also had another piece of evidence against Shim.”
“E-evidence?”
“Calligraphy reflects a person’s character, and an erroneous but habitual brushstroke order serves as a person’s signature.” He raised a finger, and as though he were painting the sky, he traced out a slash, followed by an angular slash, then