13. Iseul
I urged my horse toa halt, craned my head to the side and listened. A stormy wind roared through the trees, night critters chirped, and a light rainfall swept through the forest. But I could have sworn I’d heard a muffled cry.
“Ajusshi?” I called out. My voice was swallowed in the sea of noises.
I had followed Wonsik after encountering the missing man’s horse, only to find myself alone, as though I had taken a wrong turn in the shadows and had ridden elsewhere into a terrible nightmare. A world in which I was the only human soul in the sea of trees.
The wind whooshed by me, nearly knocking me off my horse.
“Steady there,” a deep voice called out.
I turned, pushing aside my hair. Wonsik.
“Where did you go?” I yelled as I rode over to him.
“I wondered where you had gone myself. You were behind me one moment, gone the next.”
“Where is the prince?”
“Come, we must find shelter!”
We tethered our horses and stumbled into a cave, and as the rain fell stronger, washing down the entrance, it was as though we had sneaked into a cavern behind a waterfall.
“I wonder how far the tunnel goes,” I thought aloud as I ventured deeper, only to find the passageway blocked by a stack of rocks. Retreating, my gaze returned to Wonsik, who stood before the mouth of the cave, his silhouette a tense line.
“You are worrying about the prince,” I said.
“It is my duty to protect him,” he whispered. “His birth mother was distantly related to my wife, but as close as sisters could be. And when she gave birth to Prince Daehyun nineteen years ago, a shaman prophesied a death omen over him. I swore to watch over him ever since.”
I had heard of his death omen. My parents, whenever speaking of him, had often referred to him as the “doomed prince.” The prince who would die in the year of fire and tiger.
“If the prophecy is true, he would die this year,” I said indifferently.
“And hence why I keep such close watch over him. I never believed in shamans and their superstitious words, but ever since Yeonsan turned to violence and depravity, we have all become a little uneasy.”
“And if it were not for the promise, would you still protect him?”
“I would,” Wonsik replied, a strange fondness in his voice.
“You would?” I stared, bewildered. “Him?”
“He is not quite what you think he is.”
“Then what is he?”
“The prince was a kind-hearted child growing up. He used to cry so frequently that his nickname became ‘ulbo.’ He would cry over everything, moved and wounded by all things. Then he stopped one day, two years ago. He stopped one emotion—overwhelming grief. But, you see, when you numb one feeling, you numb them all. He no longer feels things deeply; shame, anger, happiness, joy, gratitude—”
“Of course the prince changed,” I murmured, remembering the tale I had overheard. “Anyone would change after committing murder, taking the life of one’s own brothers.”
“They were his foster brothers,” Wonsik replied. “The two princes, Prince Anyang and Bongan, treated Daehyun-gun like their own family… What rumors have you heard?”
I reached out and touched the damp cavern wall. “His two brothers were exiled after beating their mother to death.”
“The king ordered it—the killing of their own mother.”
“And the king also ordered Prince Daehyun to apprehend his brothers, who had run away. And Prince Daehyun did so. He hunted down his own family. This story is no secret. Everyone whispers of it.”
“No wonder,” he whispered.
“No wonder what, ajusshi?”
“If that is the story you believe, then it is no wonder that you look at Prince Daehyun the way you do.” Wonsik settled on the cavern floor. “He is a monster in your eyes. In mine, he is simply a young man who has lost himself.”
We both looked out at the cave entrance, gleaming from the rainfall.
“Rest,” Wonsik said. “Travel is impossible in this weather—”
“About the bead,” I said, taking it out and rolling it between my fingers, “I have followed your instructions, yet the answer continues to elude me. Can you not simply tell me?”
“Did you read the book I gave you?”
“Yes—it is tedious, and I have not come to the capital to be tutored. I have come to reunite with my sister.”
“The title Muwonrok comes from mu, for ‘elimination,’ and won, for ‘great sorrow,’” he explained, completely ignoring my frustration. “As stated by the title, the Muwonrok is a treatise on how to eliminate great sorrow among the people. I hope that in studying this book, you will also understand that there is nothing more important than a human life, for there is no punishment greater than death. If you are going to investigate with me, I cannot have you rashly leaping to conclusions and judgments, rushing off into reckless action. Great care must be exercised in the collecting and recording of evidence, for anything—even the absence thereof—could be critical in establishing the facts. If we are to work together, I thought you should know this.”
I frowned at him, thrumming with impatience, and yet grudgingly grateful, for he was not obliged to assist me at all.
“Prepare your heart, nangja.” His voice was gruff. “This investigation will be a battle against yourself. A battle against the voice that tells you to surrender to the darkness. So do not give in to hopelessness. Bring your sister home. I will do what I can to help, if you would trust me.”
The last of my irritation melted away as his words seared into my mind, and I knew I would never forget his kind offer.
For the rest of the night, Wonsik kept his back turned, allowing me a semblance of privacy, and when first light peeked into the cave, my head spun from exhaustion. I had hardly slept.
“I found something, sir!” an unfamiliar voice shouted.
I jolted up, looking around for Wonsik. He was gone, along with his horse.
“The king will arrive soon; what should we do?”
The king?I stood still for a moment, then hurried after the noise and peered through the branches. A squad of royal guards stood before a bloody corpse covered in flies.
Pieces of their whispers reached me. “… it is him, Royal Guard Min… several stab wounds… neck broke from the fall…”
I looked above and saw a low cliff jutting out above them. Withdrawing into the thicket, I made my way up the slope of damp leaves, clinging to trees to keep from slipping. My heart thudded in my chest as I inched toward the cliff that overlooked the scene. Carefully, carefully, I held on to a tree and peered over the edge, down at the top of their military hats, their beaded chin straps swaying.
“So… what should we do?” one asked, looking around.
“What do you mean?”
“Should we move the body? Do you recall the last time the king witnessed a corpse, he—” The guard sliced his hand across his throat. “But if we hide him, long enough for the king to pass through—”
“Are you mad? Investigator Gu will kill us if he finds out we touched a murder victim. We must not disturb anything.”
I glanced beyond the group and noticed another guard. He was a tall young man with a ghastly pale face and dark, beady, and unblinking eyes, like those of a crow. Royal Guard Crow—as I had decided to call him—walked toward a small object, then he glanced at his fellow guards still whispering among themselves. He kicked it under a bush.
“Gunwu-yah!”
Crow flinched and glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
“Come look at this!”
Before I could wonder what it was, I heard the thunderous tramping of many hooves, and the king appeared with his hunting entourage. He spoke in a hissing whisper to his personal guard, too quiet for my ears. Tension stiffened my back as I took in the sight of the tyrant. So pale and lanky, with mild features, he did not look capable of destroying a kingdom. Then his lips stretched across his teeth, curling into a thin sneer, and those surrounding him shriveled with terror.
“Did he leave a flower again?” King Yeonsan raised his voice into a sharp blade. “Well? Answer me!”
“Y-y-yes, jeonha,” one of the guards stuttered. “It was tucked into his s-s-sash belt.”
“And he has left another message?” he hissed. “Read it to me.”
“Jeonha—”
“Read it!”
A man shoved by the trembling guard, uniformed in a dark red robe. He halted before the corpse and read the bloody message:
“King Yeonsan is more of a thief than a king.
His oppressive government is more feared than a tiger.
His Majesty has too many faults; do not be afraid to abandon him.”
Dead silence followed.
“Investigator Gu,” the king said, and my attention snapped back to the man uniformed in red. The brim of his military hat was lowered, obscuring his face. “Nameless Flower attacked Royal Guard Min and left him in the middle of my route. They say you see everything, just like your mentor. Is this a coincidence, or did the killer know that I would pass through here?”
“It was intentional.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Everything appears staged, just for you, jeonha.” At last, the investigator lifted his head, allowing me to catch a glimpse of his rugged features, and he looked to be no more than twenty-five. “Royal Guard Min was supposed to hang right there from that tree—”
I quickly ducked and remained curled as all eyes likely turned to the tree before me, to the rope still tied around the trunk. I had not noticed it before.
“But something must have occurred,” Investigator Gu continued, “and the corpse was freed from the noose, shoved off the cliff. As you can see by this drag mark, the body was pulled from the bushes and left right here—on the path you would take, jeonha.”
“But how?” the king bellowed.
I shifted to peer over the cliff again, watching as the king leaped down from his horse. Everyone in His Majesty’s path shrunk away as he stalked over to Royal Guard Min’s body. His lips curled as he began to pace. “How can this killer know that I was to ride out today? How could he know of my plans? I fully intended to go hunting in Gwangneung Mountain next week but changed my mind and decided to go this morning.”
“When did you change your mind?” Investigator Gu asked.
“Two days ago.”
“Then the killer was near you in those two days, jeonha.”
A wave of panic rustled through the entourage as the king whirled around to stare at his party—his guards and soldiers, advisers and courtesans. Soon, I sensed, people would be pointing to the tree trunk, declaring that they had nothing to do with Royal Guard Min Hyukjin’s death. I shifted again, slowly retreating from the cliff. Once I was far enough from being seen or heard, I straightened myself and dusted the soil off my dress.
I moved to leave, then my eyes fell upon the telltale signs etched into the mud before me: a trail left by something heavy being dragged. I followed the path that led me down a gentle slope and into a thicket of trees. It was then that I beheld a figure, drenched in crimson, slumped against the trunk of a nearby tree.
The prince.
“Daegam,” I whispered. He didn’t so much as stir.
I walked over and crouched before him, peering into his blood-streaked face. Was he dead?
“Daegam,” I whispered again. At his prolonged stillness, I hesitantly pushed aside his collar and dared to touch the side of his neck. I felt nothing—was that even where the pulse lay? My fingers trailed gently across his skin, searching.
“You,” came a whisper.
I startled, glancing up into a dark pair of eyes. “You are not dead.”
“Disappointed?”
“Terribly.” Rising to my feet, I took a step back. “What happened to you?”
He weakly gestured at me to return. “Give me your arm.”
“I do not take kindly to being ordered about—”
“You dare disobey the orders of a prince?”
“What is a prince but a title?” I said brusquely, emboldened by spite and his helpless state. “What is a flower but a simple plant?”
“There is no time for such impertinence,” he spoke through gritted teeth, wincing with each word. “Extend me your arm at once.” When I took another step back, it must have dawned on him what I was thinking. I had no reason to save him. “I cannot be discovered here,” he spoke slowly now, the sharpness gone from his voice, “or I shall become a suspect, and no one would doubt my guilt. After what happened to my family, everyone would believe that I had waited all this time to exact my revenge by becoming Nameless Flower.”
“In short,” I said, “if I leave you here, you will die.”
“Yes,” he rasped. “You would not let a prince die—”
“Yes, I would.”
His face went ashen.
Leave him now, a voice in my head urged. But still, I could not make myself move.
“Please, wait—” A bead of sweat trickled down his bloodied temple. “What is your name?”
“Iseul,” I said warily.
“Iseul,” he whispered. “Help me, and in exchange, I will help you reunite with your sister. You have my word.”
His offer sent a jolt through me. “How can I believe you?”
“You will have to trust me.”
Trust him? Did he think me a fool? My thoughts came crashing to a halt when I glanced below. Soldiers swarmed the lower ground, moving upward toward the cliff. If they cast one look to the side, past the sparse lining of trees, they would surely see us.
“Damn,” I whispered, and glanced at the prince. The man who had shot me and left me for dead. “If you stay very still, perhaps they will not find you.”
“I will tell you my secret. A secret that would ensure my execution. Then you will know that I mean it—I will help bring your sister home.”
I hesitated for a moment, but there was no time for indecision. I grabbed the prince, and with all my might, I heaved him up onto his feet, then pulled his arm around my shoulder. Pain flared down my back as my wound—the one he had inflicted—split open and bled.
“They are nearly out of sight,” Daehyun whispered, but not a moment later, a soldier’s bellow pierced the air. An arrow whistled by, splintering through leaves and branches.
“Run faster!” I hissed, grabbing his arm tight and anchoring him closer to me. “Before they catch us!”