Chapter 30
Such a Strong Denial!
“People say it’s as if she fell from the sky.”
The strongest fighter uttered something incomprehensible.
Fell from the sky?
I-un (Yi-un) frowned slightly.
“That’s a strange way to put it.”
“No one knows her hometown or birthplace. She just appeared out of nowhere,” the fighter said gravely.
“Does that make sense? Did she ride the wind out of the past? Drift in on the waves from the future?”
I-un gave him a sharp look.
“It’s true. The only record is her registration as a clerk in the Songpa merchants’ guild. The ‘hometown’ written there is a deserted riverbank where no one lives.”
Lowering his voice, the fighter added,
“Could she really be a spy?”
A shadow crossed I-un’s careful expression.
A spy?
If so, for what reason?
“What is she trying to do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a Qing or Japanese agent. But more likely… the Queen’s side….”
He glanced around and trailed off.
A vegetable-pancake clerk who’s a spy?
That seemed far too conspicuous.
I-un wasn’t convinced.
“Look into it more.”
“Sir?”
The fighter’s eyes went wide, puzzled.
“I said, dig deeper.”
“There’s nothing more to dig. When I said she seemed to fall from the sky, I meant exactly that—there’s nothing to find. You know how sharp the old folks of Sunhwa Ward are? They sniffed around every corner and came up empty.”
Still, I-un didn’t yield.
“Do it anyway.”
The fighter stuck out his lower lip.
“Feels like something personal….”
“It’s not.”
“But there’s nothing—”
“Even a dried pollack gives water if you squeeze it.”
I-un suddenly quickened his pace, striding ahead.
“Did you check the painting?”
“Ah! Not yet.”
“Then maybe I’ll have to squeeze you instead of the pollack.”
He lengthened his steps again.
“Honestly, Your Highness, what’s gotten into you?”
The fighter scurried to keep up.
“Since when are you so coy?”
“Why is it that the mighty prince keeps teasing me like this?”
“Good question.”
Night settled over the Nose-King Tavern.
It was meeting night for the So-maek-dang (the “Soju-Beer Circle”).
Three men sat in the drinking room, waiting for Miu.
“Can you believe it? Lady Miu solved the Dapsimni incident—amazing!”
Byeon Ha-yeon slapped his knee in admiration.
“A clever move indeed.”
Leaning against the wall, I-un nodded thoughtfully.
“To read an animal’s mind through its behavior… remarkable.”
Byeon kept marveling.
Animal behavior is its language…
I-un thought her wisdom touched the heavens, and the memory of running together along Cheonggyecheon flashed before him:
spring sunlight through willows, Miu’s figure glowing; neatly braided hair, flushed cheeks, a pale neck, eyes bright as stars, the gentle warmth of her hand.
How could such slender hands have run a business all this time?
What truly amazed him was that he found himself worrying about her.
He coughed to hide the thought.
Just then the tavern mistress entered with a laden tray.
“Tonight we have beef hot pot, salted baby oysters, and dried octopus. First drink is samhaeju.”
She shook the earthenware bottle.
“Samhaeju is perfect for spring,” Byeon said, pleased.
“And then bring the usual so-maek,” Hwang Hui added.
“Yes, with meat and vegetable pancakes, and dried mullet roe. I’ve prepared special treats for our So-maek-dang,” the hostess said brightly.
Entertaining these big spenders was a matter of pride—and profit.
“What’s on your mind?” Byeon asked the pensive I-un.
I-un, recalling the eunuchs’ report of Miu’s mysterious origins, straightened.
“What if a person’s birthplace and past remain unknowable no matter how you investigate?”
“Arrest and interrogate them, of course,” Hwang Hui replied without hesitation.
Every subject of the realm should have a traceable past; if not, they were suspicious.
“Our scribe is right,” Byeon agreed. “Unless the person isn’t human—maybe a ghost.”
“A ghost….” I-un murmured.
A ghost suited her more than a spy.
She had used them to make vegetable pancakes a hit, unraveled the border-smuggling case on the spot, and even solved the ox-tongue mystery that had vexed Hwang Hui.
But what’s keeping her? Why is she late?
He caught himself wondering and glanced between the others.
“Why that face all of a sudden?” Byeon asked shrewdly.
“N-no reason.”
“Thinking, like me, ‘Why isn’t Lady Miu here yet,’ and embarrassed?”
“Absolutely not!”
“A strong denial is an affirmation,” Byeon teased.
“Just pour me a drink,” I-un deflected, sitting closer to the table.
“…So you were wondering too,” Hwang Hui said, clearing his throat and filling his cup.
“Haha, you’re all smitten,” Byeon laughed.
“Not at all!” I-un and Hwang replied together.
“Oh, such strong denial!” Byeon chuckled.
They downed their drinks and nibbled the snacks.
“But trouble really is brewing. The times feel uneasy,” Byeon said, brow furrowing.
“High officials assassinated one after another, slanderous letters framing the crown prince—serious indeed,” Hwang agreed.
He silently added rumors of a thousand muskets and sulfur for gunpowder.
“Chaotic times,” I-un said, refilling cups.
“Miu’s here—come in,” came her voice from outside.
A moment later, the room rang with four lively voices.
“To our precious meeting—cheers!”
“I quit working at Princess Vegetable Pancake,” Miu announced after a quick drink.
“The owner didn’t seem the type,” I-un said sympathetically.
“You never know people’s hearts. Business prospers and she doesn’t want to pay more, so she drives you out,” Byeon said, picking up a piece of octopus.
“Greed has no end,” Hwang clicked his tongue.
“No, no. Our ‘princess’ is wonderful. And I’m her lucky charm—why would she fire me?”
“Then you left on your own.”
“What will you do now?” I-un asked.
“Oh my, are you worried about me?”
Miu felt a quiet gratitude.
In Joseon she was as good as an orphan; if she vanished like foam on water, no one would care—yet the So-maek-dang worried for her.
“Drinking companions look out for each other,” I-un said, averting his eyes.
“Uncle Mandol, impressed by my business skills, offered me a Songpa guild shop. Starting tomorrow, I’ll run it myself.”
“Well!”
Everyone brightened in relief and joy.
“You’ll be the owner, not a clerk—congratulations,” I-un said, raising his cup.
“Congratulations, lady,” Hwang added, pouring.
“Our Lady Miu was never meant to stay a mere clerk,” Byeon said with a nod, lifting his cup.
Miu joined them, glasses clinking.
The hostess returned with a bottle of soju, a jar of barley beer, and four ceramic bowls.
Hwang mixed so-maek and passed it around.
Their cups chimed again, the drink shimmering.
To Miu it tasted sweeter than any delicacy.
“Now, as promised, it’s my turn to name a wish—and you three must grant it.”
She grinned brightly.
The mood shifted at once.
The men exchanged wary glances.
They could guess her wish: to rope them in as a draw for customers at her new shop.
They had savored the thrill of business, but none wanted to be clerks again—never!
Sharp-witted Byeon struck first.
“The moment I heard of the Dapsimni ox-tongue case, I knew only Lady Miu could solve it.”
He set down his empty cup with deliberate emphasis.
The other two caught on quickly.
“I—I thought so too. Only Lady Miu could crack such a case,” Hwang chimed in.
“I felt the same,” I-un said boldly.
Miu watched their flattery with quiet amusement.
“What kind of person is our Lady Miu? Clever and beautiful….” Byeon began.
“That’s not all—she’s principled,” I-un added.
“Right, and loyal too,” Hwang said, eager not to be outdone.
Miu let their transparent compliments wash over her.
“I’m sure the conscientious, loyal Lady Miu wouldn’t make us work as shop clerks again,” Byeon said slyly, glancing at Hwang.
“Indeed—we’re not hired hands,” Hwang muttered, gauging her reaction.
Miu drained her bowl of so-maek and said,
“Didn’t you, Officer Hwang, promise you’d do anything if I solved the ox-tongue case?”
“Well… if that’s what the lady desires, of course I must. But considering my friends….”
Hwang trailed off, sending a desperate look to Byeon.
Ever smooth, Byeon tried again.
“Lady Miu, with our many talents, wouldn’t we be wasted as clerks?”
“Hmm, is that so?”
“Hwang here might not complain, but he could hardly show his face to the constables. We have our pride—surely there’s another way?”
“Ahem.”
Hwang gazed at the ceiling in real embarrassment.
“You have a point,” Miu said, nodding as if persuaded.
The men’s faces lit like lanterns.
“Indeed, making scholars of the classics work as market clerks would be a waste of talent,” she added.
They all bobbed their heads vigorously.
“Of course, there is a job even better suited to you three,” Miu said.
“And… what might that be?” Byeon asked, suddenly uneasy.
Miu only spread her lips in a silent, wide smile.
A chill ran through the three men at once.
Samhaeju: A traditional liquor brewed three times on the “pig days” of the first lunar month.
