Inspector Han, peering down to see the prints. Where the steps had halted was a large rectangular object printed into the mud.
“What do you think this print is, sir?” Officer Shim asked.
“It seems to be a palanquin.”
“But a palanquin is not large enough to hold a cow,” another officer said.
“But look here.” Inspector Han pointed. “These vertical line prints look to be the handles.”
The team studied the prints for moments longer, making room for the police artist, who began sketching the scene with charcoal. After a while, Inspector Han reached into his robe and pulled out a white handkerchief. Pressing it against his nose, he told me and the other officers to follow, then disappeared into the shed.
Not wanting to smell the stench either, I pressed my sleeve against my nose and stepped into the dark and drafty place. Blue light streamed in through the cracks between the plank walls, casting stripes of light onto the hay rotting beneath our steps. A few paces away reed blinds hung down from a wooden beam.
“There’s something there,” I whispered, seeing a shadow looming behind it.
Inspector Han moved the reed blinds aside with the hilt of his sword. Then he froze. “What?” he whispered.
I moved to see past him, and the moment I did, my legs buckled and I was sitting with my eyes locked onto a man hanging upside down, suspended midair by a rope tied around his ankle. I couldn’t understand what I was staring at. A man, a dead man, hanging upside down.
“You said you saw a cow.” Inspector Han’s voice was flat and probing.
“I—I saw the shadow behind the blinds, and the s-s-smell,” the peasant replied. “I thought surely a cow carcass. I’ve seen p-plenty of cow carcasses hanging, but never a human—” He never finished, running outside, and all we heard was him heaving out vomit.
An officer kicked down a plank with splintering force. An abundance of light poured into the shed. Someone gasped loudly; perhaps it was me. The corpse’s wrists were tied. His nose was missing. And he looked familiar. He was hanging upside down, his face gray, so I couldn’t say for sure—
My heart froze. “It’s Scholar Ahn.”
Total silence followed, then whispers of confusion. Inspector Han just stood there, staring.
Officer Shim frowned. Then he turned to the inspector and whispered, “So he is not the killer?”
“The bandits from Suwon,” Inspector Han said in a subdued voice. “Do you have any information about them yet, Officer Shim?”
“No sighting of them, but a merchant said he’d seen an earless bandit before. He and the rest of the rogues caused trouble before in the Fox Mountain Pass, stealing from travelers. I had men comb through that area, but nothing.”
Silence crept back in as we stared at the hanging corpse.
“Inspector … the nose,” the legal clerk said. “Can this be connected to the first murder?”
“Perhaps.”
“But why the nose?” Officer Shim leaned in closer to observe the cavity in the victim’s face. “It reminds me of what occurred during the Imjin War.”
“Go on,” Inspector Han said.
“Hideyoshi wanted to take along with him the severed heads of our people, but there were simply too many. So he had their noses sliced off and pickled in salt instead. Maybe the killer took the noses of Ahn and O as a sort of memento. Much more portable and less suspicious than a head. And if that’s the case, does it not mean he’ll strike again? To collect more noses?”
“Hmm.” Inspector Han did not sound convinced. “Or perhaps the severed nose is a kind of symbol.”
“A symbol of what?”
“A symbol of the victim’s guilt. Ui-hyung, a punishment in which the culprit’s nose is cut off. Perhaps a mutilated nose is to the killer a justification for their death. To ease the killer’s sense of shame.”
The men nodded their heads, and I wondered what kind of killer this was. What kind of murderer understood shame?
Officer Shim tilted his head to the side as he frowned at the corpse. “But there is no sign of blood on him. No stab wounds. How did he die?”
“He drowned.”
“How do you know, sir?” I could not stop myself from asking, and I hoped no one had heard the suspicion edging my voice.
“Look, there is froth at the mouth.” Inspector Han took his white handkerchief and swabbed inside the mouth. “See this pinkish foam?” He raised the cloth to the stream of light. “It is tinged with blood.”
The coroner’s assistant approached. “Evidence of violent attempts to breathe,” he added.