30. Daehyun
Focus, he urged himself.Focus.
He had forbidden himself from indulging in emotions, for only a fool would daydream when standing on the cusp of rebellion, on the precipice of extinction. Yet no matter his many attempts, he found himself caught in a daze. Servants discovered him staring blankly at furniture and walls, at books that remained on the same page for hours, and each time they would inquire whether he was ill. He indeed felt ill. Everywhere he looked, he found her. Iseul in the bright pink peonies. Iseul in the sound of laughter.
Iseul.
Iseul.
Iseul.
But he needed to focus; he needed to help her find the killer.
“Daegam?”
Daehyun glanced up. “Investigator Gu,” he called in greeting, watching as the uniformed young man approached.
“I am afraid you are not permitted here,” Investigator Gu said, looking around the Milwicheong Prison in confusion. “I am not sure who allowed you into this courtyard, but you cannot simply walk into the prison block.”
Daehyun glanced around, crafting the expression of a traveler enjoying the sights. Long prison blocks bordered the courtyard, and each block held several cells that echoed with the groaning of miserable traitors.
“Daegam,” Investigator Gu pressed, “you are not permitted—”
“Am I not? The guards permitted me entrance the moment I declared my title. And as for why I am here in this prison block, the king suggested that I visit this place to see what occurs to those who displease him. Perhaps he wished it to serve as a warning.”
Investigator Gu fell quiet.
Strolling down the prison block, Daehyun examined the crowds of traitors held within, the investigator following close behind. “I know former Investigator Jang Wonsik is dead,” Daehyun said, glancing over his shoulder. Feigning ignorance, he asked, “Did Nameless Flower kill him?”
“No, daegam.”
“I am convinced he did. I heard rumors that Wonsik was closing in on the killer, and as usual, no one knew his thoughts. But perhaps he confided in you? I hear you were once mentored by him.”
“Begging your pardon, daegam, but why do you care about this case?”
Because Iseul cares. Because the coup might fail otherwise.“The same reason why other government officials are curious about Nameless Flower,” he replied. “We all wish to gain or remain in the king’s good favor—and what immense favor one would receive should they discover the killer’s identity.”
The investigator shook his head. “Jang Wonsik wanted me to confirm something—to identify an object for him. That is all.”
“And what might this object be?”
The investigator did not budge, lips thinned. “I cannot say. It is confidential.”
“Indeed?” Daehyun fell still, turning to examine a prisoner grabbing at the straw that layered the cell, desperately chewing at it. “The king is losing patience with you, Gu-dosa. Perhaps we might assist each other so that we might both survive.” He dropped his obnoxious act and said solemnly, “You must trust me. Upon my mother’s grave, I swear to you that I have information of value.”
Investigator Gu glanced at him. Everyone in the capital was aware of his foster mother and how she had died.
“A hairpin,” the investigator answered after a long pause. “Wonsik wished for me to identify the true owner of a hairpin.”
“A mere hairpin?”
“A binyeo belonging to a royal. By its unique traits, I was able to confirm that it once belonged to Deposed Queen Yun.”
Daehyun frowned. “She was executed twenty-four years ago.”
“To my understanding, Deposed Queen Yun’s decrepit mother had kept it for all those years, then gifted it to her female companion.”
“Why was it gifted?”
“Apparently, she wished to apologize on behalf of her grandson, King Yeonsan, for beating her companion’s son, Nam Seungmin—”
“Wait.” Daehyun’s frown deepened. “I am aware of the one occasion when King Yeonsan visited his grandmother—it was when she revealed Deposed Queen Yun’s bloody robe to him. The beating occurred then?”
“Yes, daegam.”
How, in all the king’s intoxicated iterations of the bloody-robe event, had His Majesty never mentioned this beating of another man? It was as though the king had thought so little of his violent act that he had erased it entirely from his memory.
“Why was this man—Nam Seungmin—beaten?”
“Nam Seungmin often lingered around the residence of the king’s grandmother to flirt with a servant girl there. And so, when King Yeonsan visited his grandmother, Nam Seungmin was present, and he must have witnessed something. For he was later caught laughing and saying, ‘The king is crying like an infant over his mother’s bloody robe.’ The king overheard and beat the man, and would have killed him had the man’s mother not intervened.”
“And the mother received the hairpin as an apology,” Daehyun murmured, trying to untangle his thoughts.
“As you know, daegam, the king has a soft spot for mothers, and so he relented and let Nam Seungmin live.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I had to interview the king about this incident, as it was connected to another case I was in charge of.”
Daehyun rubbed his temples. “And what case was that?”
“The king, a few days later, sent men up to bring this woman to the palace as his courtesan. But she had gone missing since the day of the king’s departure. So the king tasked his best investigator, Jang Wonsik, with the search. But then Jang Wonsik sent me instead—a new hire then—to investigate.”
“And did you find her?”
“I found her the moment I arrived. She was buried in her own garden.”
A chill coursed down his spine. He had heard of the Dead Garden case before.
“I had barely begun my investigation when I was summoned back.” Investigator Gu’s cheeks paled, and he cleared his throat in discomfort. “It was the fourth lunar month of 1504.”
Gu had no need to say more. The purge had occurred then, when government officials were executed daily, and not even those resting in their graves had been safe from the king’s wrath—Yeonsan had exhumed the corpses and beheaded their skeletal remains.
“On my return, Investigator Jang Wonsik had already resigned. And thus the case was closed.”
“And this binyeo somehow made its way to the capital, it seems? Wonsik did not tell you how?”
“He would not. He refused to, no matter how much I pressed…” Investigator Gu’s voice trailed off, and he turned to face Daehyun, head bowed. “Daegam, I have told you all that I know.”
Daehyun remained quiet, carefully tucking away all he had learned, to be reviewed with Iseul later. “After a round of questioning, I recently discovered that Wonsik was making arrangements to visit Jangheung County. Did you know that?”
The investigator, though his head was bowed, could not hide the irritation locking his jaw. “I did not. Is that all, daegam?”
“My theory is that Wonsik thought he might find evidence about the killer there. I am not sure how he came to this conclusion, but… I find it interesting. Jangheung County, of all the places. Perhaps Nam Seungmin is the killer?”
Investigator Gu chuckled, then quickly recomposed himself. “One oughtn’t leap to conclusions, daegam, with so little evidence—”
“The day King Yeonsan witnessed the robe, there was also a message written on it in blood. His mother asked His Majesty to avenge her death.” Daehyun tilted his head slightly as Investigator Gu stared at him with widened eyes. “Did you know of this?”
“I… did not.”
“And now the hairpin of Nam Seungmin’s mother ends up in the capital, and so do bloody messages written on robes meant to taunt the king. It seems to me there is a connection there.”
Frowning, Investigator Gu rubbed his short beard.
“I will leave you to your thoughts,” Daehyun said, then paused. “When you visited Jangheung County long ago, I am sure you wrote a report on your observations. If you should find it, have your scribe copy it for me and deliver it to my residence.” Before the investigator could protest, Daehyun added, “And if I come across any intelligence that might be of use, I shall pass it along to you, too.”
Daehyun turned to leave, then paused. The prisoner, still devouring hay, locked eyes with him. In the man’s eyes burned the same look he had seen in Iseul’s. He saw han—a burning pool of resentment, helplessness, and unbearable grief.
“How many men, did you say, are in this prison?” Daehyun asked.
Investigator Gu, so preoccupied with his thoughts, answered without thinking. “Eight hundred men.”
Eight hundred men.
Eight hundred traitors.
He glanced back at the straw-eater, his disdainful stare still locked onto his. Imagine traitors pouring out onto the streets, an idea whispered into his mind, and stirring up the hearts of the common people. Imagine the uproar. Imagine the king’s forty thousand—their hearts in utter disarray.