rasped, as though he dared not speak any louder lest his voice fall apart. “Now pay the price. Endure a public trial.”
Shim’s breath escaped him like the wind on a wild night, and then at long last, he crumpled forward with his face to the earth, curling up into a ball like a boy after a beating.
* * *
None of the remaining spectators moved after Officer Shim was dragged away. No one had been prepared for what they saw. Then the sound of a twig cracked as I stepped forward and whispered, “Inspector.”
His silk robe rustled as he turned. Without a word, he donned his police hat, the black beads falling around his chin. Then he accepted his sword from a manservant and secured it to his sash belt. All this he did moving at the pace of a snail, burdened by an immense load upon his mind and body. Then at last he looked at me and said, “What is it?”
So accustomed to my role as a damo, I made sure to bow to him in the position of submission—hands clasped before me, head lowered. “You are still bleeding, sir.”
“Do not worry about me.” He then did something unusual. He reached out and patted my shoulder, and when I glanced up, I saw the rims of his eyes slowly redden. “Investigating with you … it was quite the experience, Damo Seol.”
Without another word, he moved away, leaving my shoulder cold. He staggered past the officers, his hands hanging down by his sides. I took a step toward him again, but Commander Yi said, “Let him go.”
I watched him walk through the pines, heading into the shadows cast by the first light of dawn. All on his own. He had done his best, and with the memory of the dead drenching the forest floor, the smell of their blood was so thick in the air it was hard to breathe.
Unmindful of the killings, a lone bird called out a blissful song, the welcoming of a new day.
TWENTY-TWO
SISTER.
A departing whisper echoed into my ear, startling me awake.
Little Sister.
I lay among the other damos, all of them curled up under their blankets. As they breathed in and out with the slow steadiness of those in deep slumber, I rolled off my mat and struggled to my feet. Exhaustion pulsed with a dizzying force against my skull.
“You’re still weak from the cold,” Aejung had warned me yesterday. “You need to rest.”
But I could not.
Just as I had done the past three days, I bundled myself in my cotton-padded uniform, the norigae pendant Inspector Han had given me tied to the inside string of my dress. The norigae meant for his little sister; for me. The cold air bit my skin when I stepped outside. Falling snow, flickers of light against the clouded morning sky, drifted slowly down onto the black-tiled roofs and empty courtyards.
It was over. The truth had been exposed and Senior Officer Shim was awaiting his trial. Inspector Han was alive and needed more rest to recover. There was no reason to feel as I did. No reason for dread to be crawling over me like a thousand tiny spiders. But something felt so very wrong.
Frowning over this loose thread, I let my feet carry me to the western courtyard and into the under-floor ondol furnace beneath the Officer of the Inspector. I lit a fire, still lost in my thoughts as I fanned the flames to heat up the pavilion, in case Inspector Han should arrive.
Once the furnace was kindled enough, I shuffled out of the space and out into the cold again. My exhaustion was infecting my mind. All was well. I sucked in a breath of the crisp air—
Little Sister.
My heart leapt at the whisper, and I looked over my shoulder toward the gate that led into the main courtyard. I’d left the door ajar, and so the gate opened onto a scene of the gray sky, the thin blanket of snow, and the unchanging emptiness. The scenery was as it had been a few moments ago, and yet a tug of dread, fierce and relentless, dragged at my guts.
With hurried steps, I returned to the main courtyard, turning on my heel to find the source of my uneasiness. A shadow caught the corner of my eye, and as I whirled around, the shadow sharpened into a familiar figure.
Our gazes met across the courtyard, mine wide and his half-lidded.