Chapter 24
Seojun stared at the yellow ribbons on the pine tree, catching glimpses of them fluttering above the wall that separated the men’s and women’s courtyards. A tradition his mother had begun and his sister had continued, tying her prayers onto its branches.
For my prayers to be seen by the heavens, she had replied shyly when he asked.
She never told him what her prayers were, but he’d known it the moment she took into her care the mutt he had brought home, much to his father’s dismay. The creature was now her constant companion.
Seojun looked away from the window, returning his attention to the young maid behind him.
“As I was saying,” he continued, “Maid Daebi, who recently left our service, informed me on the day of the break-in that she helped you rinse spring greens overnight.”
“Not overnight.” Maid Aji shifted uneasily. “It only takes two or three hours. She started at around midnight. I can’t imagine why she was in the kitchen all night long. Perhaps she got distracted, had lots on her mind.”
Silence fell.
He was beginning to think Namgil was right, that perhaps the break-in held no sinister intent. But Seojun was stubborn by nature. When he began a task, he liked to see it through to the end.
A peal of laughter rang out beyond the courtyard wall.
He stilled at the sound. He hadn’t heard his sister laugh in so long.
“Does my sister have visitors?”
“No, nauri.” She spoke to the floor. “No, I don’t believe so.”
“A pity.”
He wished she would meet with her other companions again. Go out to visit them as she used to. Invite them over; embroider and gossip. He shook his head, returning his thoughts to the matter at hand.
“I’ve been given to understand that Maid Daebi would never offer such assistance. If there is anything you are not telling me, now is the time.”
Maid Aji chewed on her lower lip.
He pressed harder. “Maid Daebi will not be returning, so if concern for her is what’s holding you back—”
“I saw her sneaking back into the house at midnight,” she blurted. “She offered to wash the greens in exchange for my silence.”
Seojun frowned. “And where had she been?”
“I think … I think she went to the gibang house.”
“The gibang house?”
“She was asking earlier, asking the other girls for directions. Asking how long it would take to walk there and back.”
Dread thickened in his veins. “Why,” he began slowly, “would a maid go to an entertainment house?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps … perhaps to see her sweetheart?” Then she rushed to add, blushing, “I warned her, doryeonnim, I did. I told her many times that she is unmarried, and if she were to become pregnant or cause a scandal, she would be dismissed.”
“Do you know who her sweetheart is?”
Her face turned persimmon red. “I don’t know for certain … but I know who she looks at often. I’ve seen her speaking alone with him, several times. Even saw them holding … h-holding … holding hands!” she blurted out, as though she had never witnessed anything more scandalous.
“And who is it?” Seojun asked, keeping his voice calm. “Whose hand was she holding?”
When Maid Aji uttered Namgil’s name, he suddenly felt the beginnings of a headache.