in around us, we climbed up the steps to Lady O’s chamber, where stale air loomed over us like a lost soul. At the far end was a folding screen with a calligraphy of butterflies and flowers painted onto the panels. Before it was a silk cushion and a low-legged writing table. Furniture lined either side of the room.
Hyeyeon searched the two-tiered wardrobe made of pagoda tree, pulling open the miniature doors that revealed folded fabrics. She pulled everything out, but found nothing. There were also four small drawers in the wardrobe’s upper tier, all of which she examined, turning over every article. Again, nothing.
Aejung opened all the heavy chests, pulling out dusty books and pausing to read their contents. Her eyes flicked up and down, up and down, reading so quickly I watched with awe. “Verbose nonsense after verbose nonsense,” she murmured.
As Hyeyeon made her way to a ground-to-ceiling bookcase, where side-stitched books rested in piles, I moved over to a lacquer cabinet, with elaborate mother-of-pearl inlaid scenes of strange creatures with fish tails, turtle shells, and the heads of mammals. Butterfly-shaped brass lock plates and hinges decorated the double doors. Opening each door, I discovered porcelain pots of color, hair ornaments, and a brush with strands of hair in it. Lady O’s hair. I reached for one and the moment I pulled a strand free, it struck me how transient life was—one night a woman was brushing her hair, the next night she was dead.
I left the cabinet and checked behind the folding screen, then sat before the low-legged table, which had two drawers on either side. I tugged at the left drawer, and it slid open to reveal calligraphy brushes. I tugged at the next—
Surprise punched my chest. It was locked.
“Here, here!” I called out, excitement bubbling. “This drawer. It’s locked!”
“It’s locked?” Aejung threw the scrolls back into the chest and hurried over to me. She too tugged at the right drawer. Locked indeed. “I’ll look around for the key. Must be here somewhere. It wasn’t on her person when we found her.”
“Couldn’t we just break the desk?” I asked. “I have my club.”
“No.” Hyeyeon frowned at me from where she stood. “We were not given permission to sabotage. You are so thoughtless sometimes.”
Her rebuke stung. Trying to ignore it, I pulled at the drawer with all my might, but in vain. All we could do was find the key, but after what seemed like ages, Aejung shook her head, her forehead glistening with sweat.
“I’ve looked everywhere!” she whined. Wiping her brows, she glanced at Hyeyeon. “I’ll go ask if we can use force … There’s no other choice.”
We both waited on Hyeyeon for permission, for she was our senior and we never did anything without her agreement. And yet Hyeyeon stood frozen before the bookcase. She was examining a book, then flipped it shut. “These books are all journals, and this seems to be the most recent one, though dated four years ago.”
“There is nothing more recent?” Aejung asked.
“I have thoroughly inspected them all. This is still something.” She tucked the book under her arm, ill-disguised thrill straining her countenance as she hurried out of the room. Aejung followed her.
I settled my attention on the lock again, leaning forward to peer into the hole. There was something inside that was forbidden to me, like so many of the secrets kept away from me growing up. All my curiosity about Lady O’s death returned, though this time alone, no longer accompanied by my desire to please Inspector Han. I narrowed my eyes and squinted. In my childhood days, I had always wanted the skill of opening secrets. I would carry around a thin knife to see which locks would open and which would not. The cheap ones I’d managed to open quickly. The harder ones were the locks slammed onto expensive chests.
Remembering the lacquer cabinet from earlier, I crawled over to it and rummaged through the sparkling ornaments until I found the perfect hair accessory. It had a lotus attached to a steel pin, which was curved in order not to fall out when inserted into one’s hair. Lady O was dead already, so I hesitated only a moment before bending the steel into a straight line. I returned to the table and inserted the pin into the lock, wiggling it around, scratching my knuckles in the attempt. No luck this time, but I kept trying. My fingers became bruised red as I pushed the pin this