Chapter 26 – The Ode of the Harbour Road #3
Power possessed a remarkable ability to pretend nothing was wrong.
The servant vanished beyond a carved screen.
Gone like a fish slipping beneath dark water.
Jaeho’s instincts screamed.
Taejin had seen it too.
“Don’t.”
Jaeho did not even look at him.
“That means yes.”
“It means there are fifty palace guards, twenty ministers, three foreign delegations, and one king in this room.”
“Still sounds like yes.”
Taejin sighed.
“I hate it when you’re correct.”
Across the hall, Seolhyun watched the exchange.
She knew that look.
Jaeho had noticed something.
And now he would follow it.
The crystal warmed again.
Not warning.
Direction.
She hated that she could not simply stand and follow.
Protocol wrapped around the banquet like chains made of silk.
A woman could not leave.
A priestess could not interrupt.
A guest could not wander palace corridors unescorted.
The rules existed precisely for moments like this.
Moments when someone wanted the truth.
Nari leaned slightly closer.
“You felt it too?”
Not a question.
Seolhyun nodded.
Mirae had felt it as well.
Several of the other women exchanged uneasy glances.
Something beneath the palace felt wrong.
Not spiritual.
Human.
And human things were often far more dangerous.
A toast began near the royal dais.
Perfect.
Distracting.
Jaeho rose quietly while attention shifted toward the king.
Taejin followed immediately.
Neither man hurried.
That would attract notice.
Instead they moved like officers performing ordinary duties.
Which, technically, they still were.
The corridor beyond the banquet hall felt cooler.
Quieter.
Music faded behind stone walls and painted screens.
Lanterns flickered.
Servants hurried between kitchens and storage chambers.
Then, ahead—
Blue cloth.
The servant girl.
Still moving quickly.
Still frightened.
She glanced over her shoulder.
Saw them.
And immediately accelerated.
“Well,” Taejin muttered, “that answers that.”
They followed.
Not running.
Not yet.
The corridor twisted deeper into the administrative sections of the palace.
Places guests never visited.
Ledger rooms.
Record halls.
Storage chambers.
The heart of government.
The place where kingdoms counted things.
Taxes.
Ships.
People.
Lives.
Behind closed doors, abacus beads clicked.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Jaeho disliked the sound immediately.
Every ledger represented someone deciding another person’s value.
The servant vanished through a narrow doorway.
Jaeho reached it seconds later.
Inside—
Nothing.
An empty storage room.
Shelves.
Crates.
Ink jars.
No servant.
No blue cloth.
No visible exit.
Taejin frowned.
“That’s impossible.”
Jaeho remained silent.
Because it was not impossible.
There was another door.
Barely visible behind stacked records.
Recently used.
The dust had been disturbed.
Taejin swore under his breath.
“Secret passages.”
“Palaces enjoy secret passages.”
“Why?”
“So important people can betray each other efficiently.”
For the briefest moment Jaeho laughed.
Then both men froze.
Voices drifted through the hidden doorway.
Two.
Perhaps three.
Speaking softly.
One belonged to a Tang merchant.
The other—
Jaeho recognized immediately.
A palace trade minister.
The same official he had seen speaking earlier with Lord Gyeon Minseok’s younger brother.
“The warehouses are already secured,” the Tang merchant said.
Calm.
Measured.
Dangerous.
Another voice answered.
“And the women?”
Silence followed.
Then:
“They remain useful.”
Jaeho felt his stomach tighten.
Not Seolhyun.
Not the priestess.
The women.
Spoken of like cargo.
Like assets.
Like inventory.
The minister continued.
“The southern journey solves several problems simultaneously.”
Jaeho and Taejin exchanged a glance.
Neither liked that sentence.
Then another name drifted through the doorway.
Nari.
The sound struck like cold water.
“The maid is easier.”
Every instinct inside Jaeho sharpened instantly.
“The priestess is too visible.”
Taejin breathed out slowly.
“Well.”
His voice was very quiet.
“This is becoming extremely bad.”
Inside the room, the voices continued.
“Once the ship leaves harbour—”
The remainder became difficult to hear.
A chair scraped.
Movement.
Someone approaching.
Jaeho stepped back instantly.
Too late.
The hidden door opened.
The servant girl stood there.
Blue cloth around her wrist.
Tears in her eyes.
Terrified.
For one heartbeat everyone stared at one another.
Then she whispered:
“Please.”
Not to them.
To herself.
She shoved a folded paper into Jaeho’s hand.
Then ran.
Not away from them.
Away from the hidden room.
Away from everyone.
Moments later shouting erupted somewhere deeper within the palace.
Orders.
Footsteps.
Guards.
Chaos.
The servant had chosen her side.
And now someone knew.
Taejin looked toward the corridor.
Then at Jaeho.
Then toward the distant banquet hall where Seolhyun still sat among smiling ministers and polished lies.
“We have a problem.”
Jaeho unfolded the paper.
The colour drained from his face.
Taejin’s stomach dropped.
“What?”
The note contained only four hurried words.
The ship is a trap.
Beneath them, written in smaller ink:
Nari first.
For the first time that evening, Jaeho felt genuine fear.
Not for himself.
For all of them.
The Palace Trap
A note changed everything.
The ship is a trap.
Nari first.
For one heartbeat, Jaeho simply stared at the words.
Then every piece suddenly aligned.
The blue cloth.
The frightened servant.
The hidden meeting.
The whispered references to the southern voyage.
Not a future threat.
A present one.
Taejin saw the understanding strike immediately.
“The banquet.”
Jaeho was already moving.
Behind them, the hidden passage erupted into noise.
Guards shouting.
Orders echoing.
Footsteps running.
The servant girl had been discovered.
Or sacrificed.
A distraction.
A warning.
Either way, she had bought them only moments.
They ran.
No longer caring who noticed.
Lanterns flashed past.
Servants jumped aside.
Officials shouted protests.
Neither man slowed.
The palace corridors stretched endlessly ahead.
Beautifully complicated.
Designed by generations of rulers who trusted nobody.
Hidden doors.
Sliding panels.
False walls.
Secret routes linking noble chambers to administrative halls.
Observation passages.
Escape tunnels.
Places where secrets travelled more easily than people.
The palace had been built to protect power.
Tonight it protected conspirators.
Back inside the banquet hall, nothing appeared wrong.
Which was exactly what frightened Seolhyun.
The musicians still played.
Wine still flowed.
The king still entertained dignitaries.
Yet the crystal at her throat had become painfully warm.
The twelve women sat together now.
Too alert.
Like birds sensing a storm before the sky changed.
Then General Hwan Ryuk approached.
That alone was unusual.
Generals did not leave their assigned positions during formal banquets.
Yet here he was.
Expression unreadable.
“His Majesty requests that the women remain within the palace guest quarters this evening.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Nari immediately looked uneasy.
Mirae’s eyes narrowed.
Even Hanul visibly stiffened.
“Remain?” Mirae asked.
Not return home.
Remain.
The oldest form of palace imprisonment.
Trapped by courtesy.
“We are honoured,” Seolhyun replied carefully.
Hwan Ryuk’s gaze met hers briefly.
Something passed between them.
A warning.
He disliked this as much as she did.
“The palace quarters have already been prepared.”
The words sounded rehearsed.
Because they were.
Orders from above.
Not his.
Then, quietly enough that only Seolhyun heard:
“Stay together.”
Her stomach dropped.
The general knew.
Perhaps not everything.
Enough.
The banquet ended shortly after midnight.
Groups separated naturally.
Royalty one direction.
Officials another.
Foreign guests elsewhere.
The Resonance women were escorted toward guest chambers overlooking the inner gardens.
General Hwan Ryuk personally assigned the guard roster.
Then did something unexpected.
At the last moment he added two names.
Jaeho.
Taejin.
His best men.
If the women were being kept within palace walls, they would not remain undefended.
Not while he still possessed authority.
The order had barely been given when Jaeho and Taejin burst through the outer corridor.
Breathless.
Covered in dust.
Very much not behaving like proper officers.
Hwan Ryuk’s eyes narrowed.
“What happened?”
Jaeho shoved the note into his hand.
The general read it once.
Then again.
His expression hardened.
Dangerously.
“When?”
“Less than fifteen minutes ago.”
The general swore quietly.
A rare thing.
A bad thing.
The colour drained from his face.
Because he understood immediately.
The servant girl had not been the conspiracy.
She had been trying to stop it.
Jaeho saw the realization land.
“They’re staying here tonight?” he demanded.
The general nodded sharply.
“Guest quarters.”
Jaeho turned immediately.
“Where are the women now?”
The general pointed.
“Moving between the eastern corridors.”
Relief lasted exactly three seconds.
Then a scream echoed through the palace.
Female.
Distant.
Everyone froze.
The sound came from somewhere beyond the eastern passage.
Not the guest quarters.
Not the banquet hall.
A transition corridor.
A place where groups separated.
Jaeho was already running before the echo faded.
The general followed.
Taejin close behind.
Guards flooded the hallways.
Lantern light bounced wildly across painted walls.
Then they found them.
The women.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Eleven.
The count stopped.
The world stopped.
Seolhyun knew before anyone spoke.
Before Mirae’s face crumpled.
Before Hanul began shouting.
Before the panic truly arrived.
Nari was gone.
Not dead.
Not wounded.
Gone.
Vanished between one corridor and the next.
As though the palace itself had swallowed her.
The younger women began speaking all at once.
“She was beside me.”
“There was a servant—”
“No, a guard—”
“Someone called her name—”
“Smoke—”
“Lights—”
“She was right here—”
Chaos.
Fear.
Panic.
The sudden explosion of ceremonial firecrackers had shattered everyone’s concentration.