19. Iseul
Deep into the night, Ifound myself sitting on the floor, examining the bead. My heart felt buoyant, riding on the wings of wonder and astonishment. There was a beauty to truth that I had never recognized before. It brought forth a memory—our family had once traveled through the deep mountains, and we had paused on our temple visit to watch a crane surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves. I had waited for the pack to tear it apart and devour it, only to be startled by the crane’s formidable strength. The truth reminded me of that crane; the truth was strong. It held the courage to strike out, no matter how ferocious the oppression.
When the morning arrived, I was curled on the floor, still clutching the bead, my consciousness drifting along the borderland of a dream, one populated by trees and cranes and wolves.
“Iseul-ah, you slept in!” Yul called from outside my door, snapping my mind awake. “The morning crowd has arrived! Help me serve the meals!”
I dragged myself up and made myself decent. Yul could be heard rushing from table to table, but my vanity would not permit me to leave yet. I knelt before my bronze mirror, brushing my hair, then braiding it as I daydreamed of the wax bead’s significance.
“Iseul!” Yul yelled.
Quickly smoothing out my dress, I stepped out—and collided with the prince. All thoughts of the investigation vanished, replaced by memories of the shaman’s hut and my bare shoulders and his hands painstakingly avoiding contact. But Daehyun held me now, to keep me from tripping on the stairs, and his fingertips slipped along my arms as I stepped away.
“Good morning, Iseul.” His voice was deep.
“Good day.” I walked away, perhaps a bit too curtly.
A sudden shyness had come over me, and the shyness deepened into embarrassment as I felt the prince’s eyes on me. I served the travelers, setting down bowls and cups, stew and rice wine splattering onto my skirt, my hair coming undone in the shuffling about. This was not the life I was meant to live. I suddenly wished Daehyun could see me as I had once been—dignified and clean, as delicate and poised as a pale flower. But the thought quickly vanished. I would gladly serve tables for the remainder of my days if it meant reuniting with my sister.
“Did you hear?”
My attention drifted to an old man who busily slurped his soup, then licked his lips and spoke on. “Nameless Flower has struck again.”
I froze, as had the customers around me—spoons had stopped midair, bowls of wine paused before lips.
“Whom did he murder this time?” It was the prince’s voice, sharp and menacing.
The old man waved a hand, flustered. “Not killed! I meant, young man, that he has struck again with his acts of kindness. He left a bag of rice for the family next door to mine. Their son was dying from hunger.” He clucked his tongue. “I am your elder; only a scoundrel would dare speak to me in such a rude manner!”
“Scoundrel?” the prince whispered, his voice icy, but a loud scoff interrupted him.
In the crowd stood the young mother of three, the traveler who had been staying at the inn since my arrival. “Nameless Flower is an imitator.” She snatched up her chopsticks, picked up a fermented vegetable, and shoved it into her mouth. “My husband is Bandit Leader Hong. He was the first to steal from the yangban families to provide for the poor.”
Everyone broke into whispers.
“The Bandit Leader Hong?”
“Did he not steal from King Yeonsan, too?”
“Hong was arrested six years ago!”
Finally, someone asked, “But are you not a widow?”
“Anyone imprisoned within the Milwicheong is as good as dead,” the woman replied. “The king never frees traitors.” Then proudly, she added, “He is the mawang there; that is what they call the most senior-ranking prisoner.” She tilted her head haughtily. “And he has subordinates to keep him on the very top, and there are at least five hundred prisoners locked up there. And they all believe that my husband is the true guardian of the people, not that Nameless Flower—”
The young mother’s speech was interrupted by the tolling of the village bell.
At once, the meals and tables were abandoned as customers fled, and beyond the innyard, women disappeared into huts, windows and doors slamming shut behind them.
“King Yeonsan is near,” Yul said, her voice as hard as ice. She slammed her tray down and wiped at the cosmetic powder on her face, revealing the full ripple of the scar over her brow. It was her shield against the king’s preying interests. “The day that warning bell stops ringing, I will throw the most elaborate feast at my inn.” Then she gestured at me before disappearing into the kitchen. “Iseul-ah, you had better follow me.”
“Yul is right,” Daehyun murmured, giving my elbow a gentle push. “You ought to hide.”
“I want to see my sister,” I whispered, setting down the bowls of stew. “I need to know she is still alive.”
Daehyun caught my upper arm, and leaning close, his whisper brushed against my ear as he spoke in a low, warning tone. “Instead of risking your life to merely see her, risk your life to free her.”
His remark struck a chord in me, and the impulse coiled within my limbs eased. The sight of Suyeon would have offered me some peace, but what mattered most was freeing her from King Yeonsan’s hold.
“Very well,” my voice wavered, unable to hide my grief. “Then tell me what I must do.”
“We will find a safer place to speak. Follow me.”
He took my hand and led me across the innyard, his grip gentle yet firm, guiding me through the back gate and down the winding village path. As we walked, he kept a watchful eye out, positioning himself close by my side as though to obscure me. It was only when we emerged into the open that I realized we had strayed far beyond the familiar boundaries of the village.
“Why are we leaving the inn?” I asked.
“There are too many people hiding in the rooms. Too many listening for the king; they might overhear us instead.”
I continued to follow him, across a vast field and up a hill that was occupied by a lone tree. Its trunk was so wide that the two of us would have struggled to wrap our collective arms around it; its branches swept across the sky in waves of green. Beyond, the morning mist glided over acres of empty greenery.
It was the perfect place to speak of secrets. If anyone approached, we would spot them from miles away.
“What is it you wish to tell me?” I asked, glancing down at his hand, still on my wrist.
As though realizing his mistake, his hand recoiled, and he took a few steps back, retreating from me. His gaze drifted off into the distance, and a somber grimness settled over his brows. “If you agree to this, you must understand that you are entangling yourself in a perilous game. Wonsik asked that I emphasize this warning to you. Once you agree to this, there can be no turning back.”
“Tell me what it is,” I said, growing impatient.
A muscle worked in Daehyun’s jaw. A mixture of relief and distress flickered in his eyes. “I wish for you to approach your uncle, Official Choi, when he returns from his travels in five days’ time.” He paused, watching me closely. “And find out for me his political stance. Whether he is for the king or against him.”
I frowned. “Why my uncle?”
“He took care of the king’s hunting grounds, but the king disliked his management, and so dropped him from second rank to ninth. He must surely have ill feelings toward the king. And if he becomes our ally, he may be able to help us persuade Deputy Commander Park Won Jong into joining our side.”
“Who is that?”
“All you need to know is that the deputy has great influence in the government and that I possess a secret that might make him and his family seek vengeance against the king.”
An uneasiness stirred in me, but I beat the feeling aside. My feelings did not matter. Only my sister’s life did. “Very well, you may use me.”
“Must you word it in that manner?” he muttered, looking ahead.
We remained standing quietly. Somehow, we had drifted close again, our shoulders nearly touching, and the gravity of his proposition weighed on me. A perilous game, indeed.
When the warm wind swept by, the leaves rustled as loud as waves on the seashore. I closed my eyes and could imagine us adrift in the middle of the sea, alone in the lulling dark. The waves lifting me up and down.
“I mean it,” I whispered. “I will do whatever must be done to save my sister.”
He glanced at me. “What is her name? Your sister.”
“Hwang Suyeon. But she likely goes by her false name, Jonggeum.”
Gradually, the king’s hunting party came into view on the distant road, thousands upon thousands of soldiers. When I had seen them up close before, these men had loomed like giant, broad-shouldered beasts. But from this distance, they resembled tiny, insignificant ants, scarcely visible in the vastness of the landscape before us.
“Why does the king venture out accompanied by so many?” I asked.
“His hunting excursions are his means of flaunting his concubines and courtesans, as well as military exercises to keep his army battle-ready,” Daehyun replied. “He trains his soldiers, for he is afraid.”
“The treacherous, murderous king?” I shot him a frown. “Afraid?”
“Utterly terrified. He has grown paranoid since last year and has increased the guard of every palace gate by sixty. Soldiers are not even permitted to spin their swords or shoot arrows in the direction of the palace.”
I paused, looking ahead at the contingent of figures all wearing fluttering pink dresses. There were hundreds of them, and hundreds more at the temple. At this thought, sadness settled in my chest. “What need has the king for a thousand courtesans? I cannot possibly imagine wanting a thousand husbands.”
“Because rape—” He flicked an uneasy glance my way, as though afraid to offend my womanly sensibilities. But I did not shy away from the word. How could I when it was the reality my sister lived with? “Because rape is about power; it is never about desire or love,” he answered quietly. “His Majesty is a power-hungry beast with a voracious hunger for more, and what better way to display that he reigns supreme than by taking what is precious to his own people?
“But the more women he devours,” he continued, “the more starved he becomes. A thousand will not satiate him. And one day, should his dream come true, and he gains ten thousand… I fear he will only be hungrier than ever.”