Inspector Han said as we arrived before the gate of a walled mansion. “What was your name again?”
“It is Seol, sir,” I whispered.
A pause, and then he asked, “Well?”
I hurried forward, tied the rein to a post, then knocked on the massive wooden doors. In the silence that followed, I wondered why the inspector had failed to recall my name. Was I that forgettable? I straightened my raven-black hair, ran a hand over my uniform. The reflection in the shimmering puddle below revealed a small face with wide lips, and what I liked to think of as eyes shaped like petals. Not “Little Tiny Eyes” as my sister called them. My chest, tightly bound, and my frame—too tall, too lanky—made me look more like a boy wearing a skirt than a woman. There really seemed to be nothing remarkable about me.
The doors creaked open, startling me into attention. A gatekeeper peeked out and looked at me from head to toe; then his gaze slammed into Inspector Han. At once he lowered his head with humility. “Inspector!”
“I have come to speak with Lord O.”
“H-he left the capital a month ago.”
“Then who is home?”
“His wife, Matron Kim. But you will have to come another time. She is ill, you see.”
“It is a matter of great urgency.”
The gatekeeper hesitated, wringing his hands, then stepped back and let us into the compound. The maid who escorted us also looked uneasy. Following her deeper into the strained silence, we traveled across the courtyard toward the guest hall: a long hanok building lined with fourteen hanji screened doors all the way to the end, heavy beams supporting the tiled roof, which flared on either side like dragon whiskers. A few paces away from this pavilion stood a gate, likely leading to another courtyard, for mansions usually had five quarters, divided by stone walls and linked together by narrow passageways.
Inspector Han paused in his steps, and I nearly walked into him. “Interview Lady O’s personal maid and report everything back to me.”
“Yes, sir.” Pushing back the brim of my straw hat, I watched him walk off until his robe of midnight blue disappeared. Not too long after, a servant passed by with a bucket of water.
“Excuse me.” I hurried over to her. “Where might I find Lady O’s personal maid?”
The woman turned her head quickly toward me. Her lips moved, but instead of words, she made a low moaning sound. I thought she meant for me to follow, so I did. She scuttled along, water sloshing out onto the wet ground. She set the bucket down under the eaves and led me through the gate beyond the pavilion, into the mansion’s inner courtyard. It was a space only women could enter, forbidden to all men save for the most immediate male family members. The air certainly felt different here—heavier and filled with a sacred stillness.
At last, the servant woman tugged at my sleeve and pointed at a girl with plaited hair. She was pacing the grounds under the open sky, the rain now completely stopped.
“She’s the one?”
The woman nodded.
“Thank you.” I turned to face the girl, and our eyes met. I noticed immediately that she was extremely pale, strands of wet hair clinging to her temples. Sick, perhaps … or anxious. Afraid.
She too looked me up and down, took in the sight of my uniform—the light gray kwaeja vest worn over a dark gray dress, the blue collar and cuffs, the sash belt. Her eye caught on the scar branded into my cheek. “You’re a police damo.”
My face burned as I arranged my hair over the mark. “Yes.”
“What do you want?”
“I come bearing bad news…” I wondered how I might inform her gently, but there was no gentle way to share that someone had sliced her lady’s throat. “Your mistress is dead.”
I waited for her trembling and tears, but the closer I studied her, the more she left me confused. I couldn’t tell whether she was sad or not, whether she was too shocked to show emotions, or whether her emotions were too detached to register on her face.
“Dead,” she said, her voice flat.
“I’m sorry.” I explained the circumstance of her death as I understood it. Then I paused, wondering how to proceed. “You are the personal maid, so … so no matters regarding her could have escaped your attention. Tell me when the mistress left the house.”
“I don’t know. I woke up early to see if she had a good night’s sleep, but I could not