She pointed at her cheek, where my own face was marked. “It’s impossible not to know who you are.”
“And who is your mistress?”
The tiny lips emitted a high, cheerful voice. “My mistress said you journeyed with her from Mount Inwang to the fortress gate.”
I nearly dropped the basket. The mysterious noblewoman. Why did she wish to see me? I remembered the books that had spilled out, the men on edge. It would be wise to turn away, yet even as I thought this, my feet followed the maid.
“I am called Woorim.” She faltered in her steps, glancing over her shoulder. “Are you permitted to leave freely? I can wait for you outside if you wish to tell your superior.”
“I’m not imprisoned in the police bureau,” I said. “So long as I finish my duties.”
“I suppose so. I see damos wandering in and out of the bureau as they please. I, too, am free to wander and explore the capital. My mistress permits me.”
I remembered the lady disguised as a man, her cart full of secret books. “What kind of person is your mistress?” I asked.
“A benevolent one,” she said. “The anchor cable can measure the depth of the four seas, but nothing can measure the depth of my lady’s kindness!”
She had a flair for language, words from a scholar’s brush, not usual for such a servant. My own mouth was filled with eloquent words, but only because I’d stolen them from Older Sister. Whom had Woorim stolen her words from?
“Do you know how to read?” I asked.
“Omo, how did you know?”
“Your mistress taught you, I suppose.”
Woorim’s eyes turned even rounder. The dainty lips smiled. “Not just me.”
I wasn’t surprised to hear this anymore, but the philosophy felt dangerous now. What better way to defy the role of servants than to teach them how to read and write? To equip them with the same knowledge and power as their own masters and mistresses?
My stream of thoughts was interrupted by a servant calling out, “Make way, make way for Councillor Ch’oi!”
Woorim and I dropped to our knees at once and pressed our foreheads to the dirt, listening as the servant continued to call out, “Make way for the Third State Councillor!”
I shifted my head just enough to catch a glance. Four bearers carried a sedan chair, in it a middle-aged man with a short black beard and a forehead wrinkled from years of strife. Despite his beaten appearance, he was handsome, with his high nose, squared jaw, and intelligent eyes. He was all shoulders and straight back, holding himself regally, not a limb in his body slouching.
Councillor Ch’oi, father of Young Master Ch’oi Jinyeop. They could not have seemed more alike and yet different.
As the sedan was lowered before the police bureau, someone tugged at my collar. I looked and saw Woorim already on her feet. As was everyone else. I jumped up and dusted off my skirt and palms. The sight of Councillor Ch’oi sharpened my attention on the questions floating around my mind as loose as cobwebs—about his son’s broken engagement to Lady O, her Catholic past, the last letter she’d received before her death. Were there any connections?
“How well do you know the nobles in Hanyang?” I asked.
Woorim’s eyes surveyed our surroundings, then stopped before a massive merchant shop, famous for its Chinese silk. Rolls of fabric glowed like seashells in the skylight. “Look there,” she said, pointing at a noblewoman whose face was veiled by sheer gauze hanging from her headdress, hidden from foreign men. The lady was examining the fabric and asking the shop assistant for a price.
“That is Lady Rhee,” Woorim said as she beckoned me to walk closer. “A shallow woman who only talks of fashion and men.” She cast a bragging smile my way. “I know almost all the noblewomen in the capital.”
“Then you knew Lady O.”
“Of course. She took tea with my mistress a few times. She seemed very sweet and cheerful.”
“But you must have heard the rumor that she had a lover,” I said. “Did you see Lady O in the company of a man?”
“Besides her father and younger brother, no. An unmarried lady like her isn’t permitted outside. You should know that. When she did go out, it was always hidden deep inside a palanquin.”
“Lady O could have snuck out alone.” As she had on the night of her murder.
Woorim shook her head. “I cannot imagine her dishonoring her family.”
I was talking in circles, getting nowhere. What would Inspector Han