Chapter 1

Inspector Lee Seojin hated nights like this. The kind where the palace lanterns looked like drowned fireflies, and every shadow could be a blade. He pulled the collar of his damp coat tighter, the wool scratchy against his neck. The cobblestones beneath his boots gleamed wetly, reflecting the dim glow from the eaves above the guards' quarters.

Seojin had been summoned from his lodgings an hour past midnight. A message, folded and sealed with the royal steward's mark, had been slipped under his door. It said only: Come to the Eastern Pavilion. Quietly. No signature. No explanation. But the steward's seal was unmistakable.

Now he stood in the outer courtyard, watching the rain curtain off the tiled roofs. His assistant, a young officer named Park Minseok, waited under the archway, shivering.

“Any word on what this is about?” Seojin asked, keeping his voice low.

Minseok shook his head, water dripping from the brim of his hat. “Only that it involves someone close to the Queen Dowager. The steward said to bring you directly, but he wouldn't say more.”

Seojin grunted. The Queen Dowager was a woman of sharp edges and older grudges. He had encountered her only once, at a court function, and her gaze had cut through him like winter wind. Being summoned to her pavilion at this hour did not bode well.

They crossed the main square, the rain softening to a drizzle. The Eastern Pavilion rose ahead, its vermilion pillars dark with moisture. Lanterns swayed under the eaves, casting jumping shadows. A single guard stood at the entrance, his face pale beneath his helmet.

As they approached, the door slid open before they could knock. The royal steward, an elderly man named Hwang, bowed stiffly.

“Inspector. Thank you for coming.” His voice was hushed, urgent.

“What's happened?” Seojin stepped inside, shaking rain from his sleeves. The pavilion was warm, braziers glowing in the corners, but the atmosphere was cold.

The steward led them down a narrow corridor, past painted screens and closed doors. “Her Highness's personal attendant, Lady Hyemi, has not returned from her evening duties. She was supposed to bring the Queen Dowager her sleeping tea two hours ago. She never arrived.”

“Missing?”

“Possibly. But there is something more.” Hwang paused at a door near the end of the hall. “We found her chamber unlocked. Inside… there is blood.”

Seojin's pulse quickened. He exchanged a glance with Minseok. “Show me.”

The steward pushed the door open.

The room was small, a servant's quarters, but tidy. A bed, a chest, a low table with an overturned cup. And on the floor near the table, a dark stain that spread like a bruised flower. Seojin knelt, touching the edge. Still tacky.

“Anyone missing from the palace?” he asked, rising.

“A junior court lady named Kim Yuna has not been seen since supper,” Hwang said. “But she is known to be flighty. She often disappears for hours.”

Seojin frowned. “Flighty or not, in this weather, she would not wander far. Have you searched the grounds?”

“We have, Inspector. Every building, every path. Nothing.”

The rain had started to fall harder again, drumming on the roof. Seojin walked to the window, peering out into the dark. The palace gardens were a labyrinth of shrubs and stone bridges, all black and wet. Somewhere out there, a woman might be hurt—or worse.

Then he saw it. A flicker of movement near the koi pond, barely visible through the downpour. A figure, hunched and moving quickly, heading toward the bamboo grove.

“Someone is out there,” he said, turning. “Minseok, with me. Steward, stay here and send word if anything changes.”

He didn't wait for a reply. He pushed open a side door and stepped into the rain, cold wetness instantly soaking through his coat. Minseok followed, struggling to keep up.

The figure had disappeared into the grove. Seojin ran, his boots slipping on the wet grass. Bamboo stalks rose around him, their leaves chattering in the wind. He slowed, listening. The rain masked sounds, but he heard a soft gasp, barely audible.

He moved toward it, parting the bamboo. A clearing opened, and there, crouched beside a stone lantern, was a woman. She was dressed in a dark cloak, its hood pulled low, but he could see her hands trembling as she clutched something to her chest.

“Identify yourself,” Seojin said, his voice firm.

She looked up, and the lantern's flickering light caught her face. She was young, with sharp features and eyes that held a storm. Not a servant's face—noble. Her robes, though rain-soaked, were of fine silk, embroidered with plum blossoms.

“I am Lady Chaewon,” she said, her voice steadier than he expected. “I am a guest of the Queen Dowager. I lost my way in the rain.”

“At this hour?” Seojin stepped closer. “What are you holding?”

She hesitated, then slowly opened her hand. In her palm lay a jade hairpin, carved like a crane in flight. It was exquisite, but Seojin noticed a dark smudge on the bird's wing.

“Where did you find this?” he asked.

“I didn't find it. It was given to me. Earlier tonight, by Lady Hyemi. She said to keep it safe.”

Seojin's blood chilled. “Lady Hyemi is missing. Did she tell you why she needed you to keep it?”

Lady Chaewon shook her head, rain dripping from her hood. “She seemed frightened. She said someone was watching her. She asked me to meet her here at midnight, but she never came. I was waiting when I saw you approach, and I hid.”

A sound cut through the rain—a scream, high and sharp, from the direction of the main palace. Seojin's instincts flared.

“Stay here,” he ordered, and ran, Minseok at his heels.

They burst from the grove into the inner courtyard, where servants were gathering, their faces white. The scream had come from the Queen Dowager's private quarters. The guards had already formed a line, but no one dared enter without orders.

Seojin pushed past them, throwing open the door.

The room was lavish, silk hangings and gilded screens, but the scene before him stopped him cold. On the floor, half-hidden behind a fallen screen, lay a woman in court robes. Her throat was cut, blood pooling in a dark halo around her head. It was Lady Hyemi.

And beside her, kneeling as if in prayer, was Lady Chaewon—the same woman from the grove, her cloak now slick with rain and her hands stained red.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and unreadable.

“I found her like this,” she whispered. “I followed you. I came to help, but…”

Seojin's hand went to his sword. The rain hammered against the roof, drowning out the world. Lady Chaewon's gaze held his, and in that frozen moment, he saw something that made his heart stutter—not guilt, but a plea.

“Take her into custody,” he said, his voice hollow. “And seal this room. No one enters until I say otherwise.”

As the guards moved to obey, Lady Chaewon rose slowly, her hands still raised, as if in surrender. But her eyes never left his, and the jade hairpin glinted from where it had fallen from her grasp, lying next to the body like an unanswered question.