A Crane Among Wolves

3. Iseul

Tattered clouds billowed across theblue sky, and the reed field rattled around me as I stood still, my cloak pressed to my nose. A dead body lay curled at my feet. I could not tell whether he was fifteen or fifty. His face was all bones, his skin stretched taut from starvation. A mane of black hair hung loose down his shoulders.

I glanced around, wondering if that swordsman was still speaking with the village elder. I hoped he stayed longer. Twisting a reed from its stalk, I poked the corpse then brushed his hair aside. It was clear how he had died—a blade to the throat. And there was a red flower resting on his chest, like every victim before him, along with a bloody message smeared onto his robe.

Your Majesty, you think you are clever, but you are a fool.

A drunk fool who dances with his concubines,

while his people starve.

You and your sympathizers will fall;

it is only a matter of time.

For when I move, I shall fall like a thunderbolt.

The scent of death swelled in the summer heat, so pungent I could hardly breathe. I would have fled if not for my determination to find my sister through whatever means, even if it meant searching for Nameless Flower on my own.

“How does one even track down a murderer?” I whispered to myself.

Folding the reed to make it sturdier, I pushed aside his robe and noticed his left hand clenched into a fist. Something yellow peaked from between his fingers. Grimacing, I placed my travel sack to the side and reached out with my bare hand, hesitated, then finally pried open the blood-encrusted fingers one by one. Something rolled out.

Two beads—one red and one yellow.

I looked closer. They were smooth wax beads, with a single hole running through both. I wanted to examine them further but heard footsteps approaching behind me. Quickly, I slipped the red bead into my jolitmal; I had worn my breastband particularly tight for the journey—there was no worry of the bead falling out.

“The police will not be pleased with the village elder,” came a voice, and I straightened to see Wonsik and Madam Yul entering the reed field. “When they learn he moved the corpse from the crime scene…” Our gazes locked over the swaying grass, and he paused.

“How is it,” he spoke slowly, once he was near, “that you are here?”

I stood straighter. “I overheard the directions.”

“And… why are you here?”

“I am here, ajusshi, because I wish to be here.”

A long stare later, he heaved out a weary breath and said, “These days, the younger generation lack in virtue, such as respecting one’s elder.”

“Aigoo, samchon.” Yul elbowed her uncle. “You speak like an old fart. You have but recently turned forty.”

Under his heavy brow, Wonsik stared at us both as though we were burdensome children. “There is no time for determining my antiquity. Stay silent, the both of you, and touch nothing.”

My fingertips fluttered over the bead tucked inside my breastband. “Might I ask why you are here, sir? Are you with the police?”

When Wonsik offered no response, Yul leaned in and whispered, “Wonsik-samchon used to work for the Uigeumbu, investigating cases of treason.”

I froze. Officers serving the State Tribunal… they were the ones who executed my parents.

I took a retreating step back, then nearly tripped over my travel sack. I picked it up, holding it tight against my chest. “When did he resign from that office?”

“Two years ago.”

“Two years ago when?”

A frown flinched across her brow, then her smile returned. “In the spring.”

My shoulders eased. The officials had invaded my home in the autumn. Wonsik could not have been involved, then.

“Well, you must tell her, samchon!” Yul called out, and I was grateful for the deflection. “Tell her about the scariest case you ever undertook.”

Wonsik continued to examine the dead man, ignoring us.

Yul didn’t seem bothered by his silence. “The most frightful case Wonsik-samchon ever told me about was the Dead Garden case.”

I decided to indulge her. “The Dead Garden?”

“A while ago, Wonsik-samchon learned that a mother was buried in her own garden, and tiny animal bones were buried in the ground as well. It turned out the violent husband—a retired royal guard—killed her.” She shuddered dramatically. “Oh, I’ve thought of a far more frightening incident: the Missing Head case. My uncle was once chasing a traitor when he discovered him inside a palanquin, headless. And his head was later discovered under someone’s desk—”

Yul continued to chatter on with ill-disguised thrill, but I watched Wonsik now, noticing the way his shoulders tensed. He had finally noticed the small, round bead, the yellow one I had left behind. He tugged at his short beard, looking deep in thought—a troubling thought, for his brows weighed over his eyes.

“Have you found something?” I asked, curious to know the bead’s significance.

“I recognize this victim,” he said, mentioning nothing about the bead. Odd. “This twelfth victim is Young Master Baek; he is the eighteen-year-old son of the king’s close aide. He recently passed his exam and was bestowed a position in the government.” He proceeded to examine the top of the corpse’s head, the back, the throat, and even the ears and nostrils. “The young master went missing while traveling through a forest three weeks ago. He had two attendants with him; one was killed on the spot, and the other was wounded but managed to escape as far as Jamsil Village before perishing.”

“Is Jamsil Village far away?” I asked.

“At least an hour’s walk. Hanyang would have been closer.”

I imagined a wounded servant running; it was nightfall. Fear pounded in his chest, he was unable to breathe, the sky spinning above him. We must find our way to Grandmother’s house, a whisper intruded into my imagination, and another memory took hold of me: Older Sister and I gripping each other’s hands, escaping the soldiers who had murdered Mother and Father.

I blinked, and the shadows vanished.

“I wonder—” My voice shook; I cleared my throat to steady it. “I wonder why the servant ran to another village so far away, rather than running to Hanyang, where the medical office is situated.”

Wonsik looked over his shoulder as if reevaluating me and seemed to weigh my question with great consideration. “If you were stabbed, to where would you run?”

“Not to where, but to whom,” I whispered. “I would run to someone I trusted, someone who would wish me no ill.”

He nodded. “Perhaps the servant ran toward a loved one, then. A loved one who lives in Jamsil.” He turned to continue his examination of the corpse, taking notes in his journal with a degree of precise detail and quantitative exactitude that reminded me of the scribes I had seen serve my magistrate father. “How is it that you are so calm when faced with a dead man?”

After witnessing Mother’s and Father’s deaths, little frightened me. “Are the dead not a common sight in this kingdom?”

He pursed his lips, nodding. Then he asked, “You’ve traveled from afar in search of your sister, yet you stand there wondering about this dead man. Why are you here, nangja?”

“It should be no concern of yours—”

“She truly fancies that line,” Yul said, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “She already used it once on me, samchon.”

My dislike for the innkeeper sharpened. But the irritation slid away, replaced by a flutter of panic as Wonsik spoke, his voice dark with concern.

“Are you, perchance, searching for the killer to ask the king for your sister? As a reward?”

“I’m not sure what you mean—”

“So I am right.”

A chill coursed through me. He had deduced my innermost thoughts. “You presume to know me when you know nothing at all.”

“You are right. I know nothing—aside from the fact that you belong to the yangban aristocracy,” he murmured as he continued his examination. “Your parents are deceased, and you are a fugitive of some sort. But, indeed, I know nothing at all.”

Another blow, but this time the shock was numbing. “Have… have we met before? You make these assumptions with such assurance.”

“It is obvious, is it not? You have an air of self-importance about you—I can tell by the way you hold your head, the way you walk—and your hands, they have not known a day of labor, pale and uncalloused as they are. You wear a silk dress, when only yangban aristocrats are permitted to wear silk, yet I can also see by the state of the fabric that you have fallen on hard times. And you crossed the forbidden territory without accompaniment, which leads me to believe that you are quite alone, with no one to turn to. I would surmise that your family name is shrouded in either scandal or something of an illegal nature, for you had not a single friend or family member to turn to. I settled for ‘fugitive’ by the way you use your jangot to excessively hide your face, and by the way you are always looking over your shoulder—as though you are afraid of being recognized. But as you say… all mere assumptions.”

I stood petrified, watching his every move, half afraid he would drag me to the authorities. But he remained calm, and after a stretch of time, the sight of him preoccupied with the corpse blunted the sharp edge of my panic. He seemed absolutely uninterested in me.

“Whatever the case.” Wonsik rose to his feet, and I flinched back. “Making a bargain with the king is a foolhardy notion, but you don’t strike me as the kind who’ll heed advice.”

“Begging your pardon?” I gaped at him. No one had dared to speak to me in such a manner, except for my sister. “It seems like a perfectly reasonable plan to me. The king offered a grand reward—”

“At the least, I hope you’ll first ensure that your sister is even in the capital before proceeding. Did you see her among the king’s entourage?”

“No…” My voice still quavered. “Where do the king’s women reside?”

“In Wongaksa Temple, which is close to Gyeongbok Palace, but it is so heavily guarded it is impossible to enter. There is another way to see her. Nearly every day, almost without fail, the king brings his courtesans to entertain him at the Sungyungwan Royal Academy. It should be easy to spot your sister over the walls.”

Wonsik circled the corpse again, then crouched on the other side. “I know for myself,” he said steadily, “because my daughter was there.”

Was. And by Yul’s reaction—chewing on her lower lip and glancing away—I supposed his daughter was dead. I suddenly felt sorry for this man but shook aside the emotion. I had sworn to myself after Mother’s and Father’s deaths that I would never again open my heart to anyone.

“And you, ajusshi?” I said, pointedly changing the topic. “Are you investigating for the reward, too?”

“I’ve been helping someone find the killer. And the one I am assisting has no interest in the reward.”

Thank goodness, I thought. Perhaps I could shadow Wonsik, then, and claim the reward for myself.

“Then what does the person wish for?” I asked. “The one you are assisting.”

“All I can say is that the killer is causing more chaos than good in the capital.” He waved at me to draw near. “Come. If you wish to find the killer, you cannot stand at a distance. You must examine for yourself and not allow your view to be obscured by the smoke of a stranger’s examination.”

I stepped forward and stared. All I saw was a horrifying corpse.

Wonsik indicated various parts of the body. “Based on the wounds, and the stiffness of the limbs, I can tell he died at dawn today. Your turn. Tell me what you see.”

“My turn?”

“You said you wished to find the killer.”

Yul nudged me forward. I moved to the other side of the victim, and glancing at Wonsik out of the corner of my eye, I finally lowered myself onto my haunches. I looked at the back of the victim’s head. From far away, when Wonsik had been examining it, I’d seen only hair. But now I saw the hair and scalp crusted with dried blood. “He was struck in the head?”

“Yes. And that wound looks weeks old.”

“So it must have occurred when he was kidnapped.” My gaze drifted to the bloody wound across his throat. “But this is the wound that killed him.”

“I will not bore you with the details, but he was confined somewhere, left to starve for weeks,” Wonsik deduced, “and just before his death, he was killed while he still breathed.”

“Being starved to death is the worst fate.” Yul shuddered. “The absolute worst.”

Ignoring her, I said, “How can you tell all this, ajusshi?”

“Evidence is always before us; it is more a matter of whether we notice it.” Wonsik clapped the dirt off his robe. “In fact, the truth is often in the most trivial of details—”

Our conversation was cut short by the sound of hooves—a dark cloud of riders was approaching quickly.

“Keep your eyes open,” Wonsik said. “The killer often returns to the crime scene.”

We watched, and slowly the silhouette formed into that of a corps of uniformed riders, all garbed in red.

“It is the State Tribunal officials,” Wonsik murmured, then glanced at me. “They are sent when the king orders an investigation into a specific case. Cases that usually deal with treason.”

“I know,” I whispered. I knew too well.

Always stay hidden, Iseul-ah.I took a step back, Older Sister’s warning pricking at my thoughts. We must live as though we are dead. We must live as though we never existed.

The wind blew against my face, now utterly bare. The jangot must have slipped off in my distraction—it hung off my shoulder, held around my neck by a ribbon. I quickly reaffixed it over my head as I walked off.

“Where are you going?” Yul called out.

A forest lined the edge of this field. At once I ducked my head under the billowing reeds and ran for the tree line.

Lush trees rose around me, enclosing me in a shadowland where only thin streams of light penetrated the gloom. I hurried deeper into the forest, pausing now and then at odd sounds, ghostly echoes reverberating through the air. I hurried past more trees when I heard it again, clearer this time: distant male voices, flushed with panicked desperation, and the wild galloping of hooves.

Hide.

My pulse quickened.

Hide. Hide now.

Hiking up my skirt, I climbed up a ravine and hurried down a narrow dirt path. A horse burst from the thicket right before me. I stumbled behind a tree, staring up at the rider. Fear made a pale mask of his face as he rode away with a bloody rabbit in his grip.

I clutched my travel sack tighter and ran, past a moss-covered boulder, through tangles of branches, then hobbled along a trickling stream. When I could barely take another step, I stood still, straining my ears. Nothing. I seemed to be far enough away from whatever had scared the hunter so.

Heaving out a sigh, I set down my travel sack and dropped to my knees before the stream. I glanced around one more time, then cupped fresh water and rinsed off the unbearable heat. I reached for another scoop, but paused, staring at my reflection, tinged red in the waning light. She looked afraid, the girl staring back at me, and lonely.

I beat down the feelings. “Hold yourself together, Hwang Iseul,” I whispered to myself. I splashed my face with water until the coolness had washed away my nerves, steadying me.

Leaves stirred.

Panic lurched me to my feet, and I slipped between trees, tucking myself behind a thicket of plants. I crouched low and stared through the leaves.

Horse hooves tramped against the earth. Approaching, nearer and nearer.

My arms tightened around my knees. Please leave, every heartbeat in me begged. Please leave me alone.

Into a reddish-gold beam, another young man appeared with a bow and arrow, at least twenty paces away from me. He sat tall on his saddle, and his silvery blue robe glowed like moonstone, molding to his lean yet powerfully built figure. And his eyes, his dark eyes—they appeared as keen as a falcon’s.

I let out a small breath.

Suddenly, his gaze swiveled around. I clamped my hands over my mouth, my thundering heart quaking as I begged the heavens to turn the man away. But in one smooth motion, he notched his arrow to the bow and swung it my way. A gasp of terror caught in my throat. I scrambled backward; the leaves shook around me as my back slammed up against a tree—

The ferocious whistling of an arrow headed straight my way.

This cannot be happening.My mind raced. This cannot be—

A powerful force knocked me back, blazing pain consuming me whole. I wanted to scream but bit my tongue. Blood gushed and filled my mouth. There was an arrow above my left shoulder, embedded deep in the trunk, and when I looked closer—to my utter horror—I saw a shred of my skin caught on the arrowhead. Tearing my gaze away, I tried to rise to my feet as the hunter approached. But my jacket was pinned to the tree.

Do not die, Mother’s voice urged, and with it, the sensation of her fierce grip around my hand. No matter what, you must both survive and take care of each other. You have no one else.

I grabbed my jacket with a white-knuckle grip, and after three attempts that left my face drenched in tears and sweat, I managed to rip myself free. Fire oozed down my shoulder. I tried to stop the bleeding when the leaves stirred before me, pushed aside by a sleek bow, opening onto the young man. He stared down at me, and in his expression was the face of privilege—cruel, indifferent, and cold.

“Get away!” I screamed, hysterical now. My fingers tightened around a rock, and I uncoiled, lunging forward. Smash his face then run, smash his face then run! Hands raised, I struck, but my arm would not budge. His steely grip had locked around my wrist.

“Drop the rock,” he ordered.

“Let me go!”

His grip tightened, so mean and biting the weapon slipped from my hand.

“Wh-what will you do?” I whispered, gritting my teeth against the tremor. “Kill me?”

His gaze was dark and impenetrable. “Should I?”

A new set of hooves approached. Without removing his stare from me, he shoved me back down into the foliage. “Stay there,” he ordered. “Do not move if you wish to live.”

I crumpled to the ground, the leaves closing in around me. Blinking away the tears, I peered through the branches, looking for an escape route.

Instead, I saw a royal guard riding over.

“Prince Daehyun,” the guard called out, “the king has ordered everyone’s return.”

Prince Daehyun… I had overheard his name whispered between my parents, of how he had endured cruelty and was infamously cruel in return.

“The king murdered a dozen people while you were out hunting,” the guard said.

Prince Daehyun stilled. “A dozen?”

“Trespassers were rounded up and used for military target practice. We had to aim for the fruits placed atop their heads.” He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Only I and a few others succeeded.”

Muttering something under his breath, the prince withdrew, riding away with the guard. After a few agonizing moments, I finally staggered to my feet, sweat washing down my face as pain tore through me. The dizzying forest tilted beneath my feet, but I hobbled forward, glaring at the rock that had dropped from my hand.

How I despised the throne and everything it stood for.

The king had taken everything from me, and the prince was no better. He had held my life in his hands as easily and carelessly as if I were nothing at all.

I should have bashed in his head.The thought seethed in me as I bent down, trembling, to pick up the rock, its sharp edge biting my fingers.

If our paths ever crossed again, I was determined to make the prince bleed.