28. 1649, February, year of the Earth Ox

  This time his descendant had surprised him. Yi Ho had assumed he still had plenty of time in reserve, yet the boy had managed to write an entire note without disturbing him. At this rate, he might even begin getting up in his sleep and wandering about at night, taking advantage of the moments when Yi Ho was asleep.

  To be safe, the prince ordered Eunuch Mo to sleep across the doorway and renewed the talisman, but the night passed quietly. In the morning, however, he received an unexpected visitor: the captain of the guard accompanying them — or rather, accompanying the younger prince. Yi Ho was just finishing dressing and was forced to receive the insistent visitor while the eunuch fastened his belt and tied his hat.

  “Your Highness,” the guardsman bowed. Yi Ho was certain he had seen this fit, middle-aged man at court before. The neatly trimmed beard-framed face seemed familiar even before the journey, though the ghost had never paid him much attention. “I was overseeing the investigation into the mine on the orders of Great Prince Dojun, and there is something I must report.”

  “Then why did you not report it to him?” Yi Ho asked rather coldly. He did not like a subordinate seeing him not fully dressed.

  The captain hesitated and looked away.

  “Well, you assisted greatly with the investigation last time, Your Highness,” he replied uncertainly. He seemed not to have expected such a reaction from the elder prince. It would be wise to be careful. Perhaps the descendant was not entirely careless and had already gathered supporters at court. “I thought that if you decided to take a look again—”

  “I asked whether it would cause problems that you reported to me instead of to him,” Yi Ho added concern to his voice. “What else has happened?”

  “Oh, no, I do not think so, Your Highness,” the captain brightened noticeably and even stepped closer. “The bodies we brought to the magistracy were all identified except one. You remember, they said eight people had been buried in the collapse? All eight were identified and released for burial. But the ninth body is still there.”

  “All right, and?” Over the past few days Yi Ho had become adept at polite murmurs of agreement, creating the illusion of understanding where he lacked the body owner’s memories.

  “I brought the report,” the guardsman rummaged inside his robe and handed over a scroll.

  Yi Ho nodded toward the door to the eunuch, unfolded the document, and read with interest that the body belonged to a man of about thirty, likely a scholar. This was inferred from his hands: free of calluses, though stained with ink. He carried no tokens, letters, or travel papers that might have identified him. But — and this was likely what had drawn the captain’s attention — the man had not died in the collapse. His body bore wounds from a bladed weapon, such as a sword or dagger. This was not an accident, but a murder.

  “And what of the search for the thief?” Yi Ho asked, deciding to demonstrate his involvement as well.

  “So far we have questioned everyone who was there and searched their homes,” the captain clicked his tongue. “Three people were not found. Their likenesses are being drawn, and today they will be distributed to the city guard.”

  “Very well,” Yi Ho said. There was little else to do anyway, and he could help a supporter of the prince. “Let me look at the body.”

  The magistracy building, with its guard barracks, sheds, and audience hall, stood only a short distance down the street, so there was no point in riding. Yi Ho removed the court robes embroidered with dragons, which he preferred to wear when appearing before the envoy, and changed once more into a burgundy city durumagi. He and the captain walked along the snow-covered path beside the tall stone wall and soon entered a courtyard cluttered with embassy carts.

  To the prince’s surprise, the captain did not lead him to the mortuary but to the rear yard. The corpse lay there in a damp, empty shed, on a bench beneath a half-open window, wrapped in a single mat. By the door loitered a thin guardsman wrapped up to his ears in an unofficial scarf.

  “The doctor ordered it kept in the cold until the investigation is complete,” the captain explained, noticing Yi Ho’s confusion. “It does not smell this way.”

  Indeed, there was no nauseating stench from the frozen body, and Yi Ho silently thanked the unknown doctor’s ingenuity before ordering the mat pulled back.

  The dead man had been undressed and cleaned of dirt, revealing his remarkably pale skin. He truly did not resemble a peasant.

  A step away from the body, hovering above the floor, was a ghost with a bloodied throat. He stared at his own corpse, paying no attention to the living. His right hand still clutched his neck, while in his dangling left palm he held some kind of pendant. Yi Ho smiled faintly. It was amusing to realize that he himself had once been just like this — except that the living could not see them.

  “There are two wounds on the body,” the captain continued calmly. “One on the left side and one on the throat. That suggests one or two killers. I do not think they were miners. You cannot inflict such wounds with hoes.”

  “Were any belongings found on him?” Yi Ho asked, merely to show interest. He had never concerned himself with such investigations, though he sometimes read reports from the capital magistracy.

  “Oh, that is interesting,” the captain brightened. “The evidence is stored in the main building. Come, I will show you. He had an entire notebook with notes and a full purse of little trinkets. It seems he was not from here, a traveler.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “And travel papers? Letters?” Yi Ho asked as they crossed the courtyard over creaking snow. The temperature had dropped sharply overnight.

  “Nothing,” the captain sighed regretfully. “Either the killers took everything, or he carried none. And it was not robbery — the money was left on him.”

  “A puzzling case,” Yi Ho nodded.

  Behind them, the ghost of the murdered man drifted from the shed, following step for step. He was likely interested in how the investigation was progressing. Yi Ho carefully pretended not to notice him.

  Inside the magistracy it was warm, and the prince discreetly rubbed his frozen fingers together while the captain and another local guardsman rummaged through a chest. The captain had arrived with Great Prince Dojun and, judging by his uniform, belonged to the Wangwisa, yet he was treated with full respect in the local office. That, of course, simplified matters.

  In the bundle of the deceased’s belongings they found an embroidered purse, a worn pair of shoes, two dried persimmons, a round herbal pill wrapped in a separate cloth, a flat comb, a portable writing kit, and a notebook with frayed edges. Its pages were covered with disjointed notes and sketches of places the deceased had likely visited. Yi Ho sat down and began to leaf through the diary.

  “Add kimchi to rice soup.”

  A drawing of bamboo shoots, beside it a poem about dreary November. The spirit peering over his shoulder let out a long, mournful sigh.

  “If I have to walk this much, they should give me three pairs of shoes!”

  A page of prices — food, inns. Apparently he tracked his travel expenses this way. Judging by the city names, the murdered man had come to Anju all the way from the capital.

  “One spoke of a crystal garden. Another saw a tiger hunt, the tiger was blue and had five eyes. The third simply slept soundly. There is no correspondence.”

  A drawing of a five-eyed tiger with a snake for a tail.

  “Why is it so hard to find meat in a village of hunters?”

  A drawing of mountains.

  A drawing of a tree with ribbons tied to it.

  “A merchant. He also pointed to Anju. But why in winter?!”

  “Snow, wind, snow…”

  “Boxes of 6 or 12. One crate holds about 30. Four crates — a chest. How many chests total?”

  A drawing of a casket with two rows of spheres.

  Yi Ho felt his descendant suddenly stir inside him, growing restless, trying to break free and transmitting vague anxiety.

  “Quiet,” the prince hissed through his teeth.

  “Hm? Did you say something?” the captain turned.

  “No, nothing,” Yi Ho smiled politely and continued turning the pages.

  A portrait of a smiling girl.

  A rabbit.

  An endless line of carts escorted by soldiers with thin braids. It seemed the murdered man had encountered and sketched the Great Qing embassy. At the sight of the drawing, the dead man grew agitated and muttered something incoherent under his breath.

  A memorial tablet without a name.

  “Sister lost her brother.”

  “Father and son died together.”

  “Why has he not been replaced for fifteen years? Who oversees appointments in the provinces?”

  “We must recount the carts.”

  The last pages were blank. Yi Ho bit his lip and flipped through the notebook again. Drawings, notes, confused thoughts…

  “He must have lived somewhere. Were the inns questioned?” he asked.

  “Yes,” the captain stepped closer and braced a hand on the table. “We even found where he rented a room. He called himself Kim — too common a surname. His belongings there were just spare clothes. The innkeeper said Master Kim liked to converse, but asked more than he told. No one could even recall which city he came from.”

  “Kim?!” the spirit exclaimed joyfully, then began repeating the name in every possible way, as if trying it on. It made it hard for Yi Ho to concentrate. “Kim. Kim? Master Kim! Honored Kim…”

  “I believe he was from Hanyang,” the prince found a page with a list of inns and slid the notebook toward the captain.

  “Oh, it does look like it,” the man nodded after reading. “But I fear we will not find a Kim from Hanyang unless he is the grandson of the Chief State Councilor. Oh, forgive me, Your Highness! I did not mean—”

  Yi Ho recalled that the prince he was impersonating did indeed have family ties to the official who had performed the ritual. But no one knew that this “grandson of the councilor” was missing, safely hidden somewhere deep within his own mind. He smiled and shook his head.

  “I am not offended, and my surname is Yi.”

  “I will watch my tongue,” the captain muttered, embarrassed. “If only we could learn the poor man’s name.”

  “Kim?” the spirit whispered.

  “Perhaps the killer knows his name,” Yi Ho remarked. “Since this was not robbery, they may have known each other. Is that not so? And was he killed in the mine?”

  “No!” the ghost cried.

  “No,” the captain said firmly. “If miners had killed him, they would have had weapons. If someone else killed him, the miners would have raised an alarm. It appears the body was placed in the collapse later, to hide it.”

  “And all identifying items were destroyed,” the prince agreed. “What does that mean?”

  “What?” the captain echoed.

  “What?” the ghost asked eagerly.

  “That his name is important,” Yi Ho raised a finger, almost instructively. “The noble man thinks of justice, the base man thinks of profit. For some reason, the killer did not want it known that this man was dead.”

  “So he knew who he was!” the captain exclaimed. “And the name could lead to him. It is dangerous. Perhaps he was his wife’s lover? Or an heir killed by an illegitimate son?”

  Judging by the ghost’s snort, he did not appreciate such theories. He began circling the room slowly.

  Yi Ho, however, nodded with satisfaction. The matter was beginning to clear.

  “I believe we should announce that the body has been identified and lure the killer out,” he said. Long ago he had read of such a method in a novel.

  “How?” the captain asked with interest.

  “We should say that there is some item pointing to the murderer — a note, a pendant, a portrait on a stuck-together page of the notebook. Something the magistrate will see only tomorrow, and which will lie here in the office all night,” Yi Ho improvised. “He will come to destroy it.”

  “And we will set an ambush!” the captain picked up eagerly, grinning broadly. “I mean, I will. I like it! Perhaps we can say we received an anonymous letter describing the killer, and that arrests will begin in the morning. So tonight we spread rumors and revoke any reward promises. Let him look for the letter and the witness!”

  “Excellent. Let us do so,” Yi Ho rose and turned toward the door. “Am I needed here further?”

  “My deepest thanks for your help, Great Prince!” the captain escorted him to the door and waved to the guards, no doubt preparing to launch their rumor campaign.