The Idol of the Central Plains
The rank stench of medicinal herbs and festering pus hung heavy in the chamber.
A woman lit an incense burner, trying to drive out the sickroom reek.
"Leave us."
At Empress Ga Hwiryung's command, the imperial physicians bowed their heads in silence and withdrew.
Only the Empress, the First Prince wracked by disease, and the Second Prince Ju Gachi—who had just entered—remained inside.
The Empress sat beside the son she had once cherished so fiercely. His breathing was shallow and irregular. His face was deathly pale, patches of skin sloughing away to leave a grotesque ruin.
She stroked what little hair remained on the First Prince's head, then spoke to the Second Prince standing stiffly nearby.
"My son, Ju Gachi."
The Second Prince stepped closer at her summons.
Unlike the gentle hand smoothing the First Prince's hair, the voice that called him was hard and utterly flat.
"On my way back today, I ran into Mudong… no. That one called Dan Mujin."
Her tone was calm, yet the faint tremor at the corners of her eyes betrayed a thin thread of rage.
"…"
Dan Mujin—the lunatic troubleshooter who treated the Imperial Palace like his own front yard and had finally wrecked their plans. At the mention of that name, the Second Prince kept silent, trying to read his mother's intent.
"He strode out of the palace gates as if he owned them, carrying the treasure His Majesty bestowed on his back and the reward the Imperial Noble Consort granted him in his hand."
Memory of the moment seemed to chill her voice to frost.
The Second Prince, too, was forced to keep his hands off the man for now for fear of drawing suspicion—but he fully intended, one day, to make that bastard pay for interfering.
"Ju Gachi. That man must die."
Unlike her son's more measured timetable, the Empress wanted immediate retribution.
The Second Prince opened his mouth, looking troubled.
"But Mother Empress, he enjoys His Majesty's recognition and the Imperial Noble Consort's protection. With the palace investigation already under way, killing the man who played such a prominent role in this affair could draw unnecessary eyes…"
It was an eminently reasonable caution—especially now that suspicion was already turning toward the Empress's faction—yet Ga Hwiryung simply stared at him without a word.
In that silent gaze the Second Prince felt a pressure he could not defy.
Like a child lowering his eyes when scolded by his mother, he nodded.
"…When the time is right and an opportunity presents itself, I will act at once."
"Do so."
Only then did the Empress give a slow, satisfied nod.
The Second Prince, who had answered so obediently, felt a heavy weight settle in his chest as he watched his mother sink ever deeper into thoughts of revenge. He lacked the courage to oppose her openly, so he simply closed his mouth.
"And Ju Gachi—make contact with them. I wish to witness this 'Great Law' they so pride themselves on."
"…!"
Even the Second Prince was staggered by the successive bombshells from Empress Ga Hwiryung.
To perform that forbidden sorcery—not somewhere remote, but inside the Imperial Palace itself.
Ju Gachi shot to his feet, face blanched, and cried out.
"B-but Mother Empress, they are public enemies of both the Murim and the court! If even a whisper of our alliance leaks out, that very day—!"
As the Second Prince raised his voice in panic, the Empress pressed her fan lightly against his lips in a quiet command for silence.
Then she leaned in and whispered to her rarely rebellious second son.
"Ju Gachi. My one and only beloved son."
The Second Prince's eyes went wide.
He had braced for a cold order to obey; instead the Empress suddenly spoke his name in a warm, gentle voice, and he no longer knew what to do with himself.
Just as she had with the First Prince, she gently smoothed the Second Prince's hair.
It was a somewhat embarrassing gesture for a grown man, yet her face was filled with a tenderness whose purpose he could not fathom.
"Won't you do this for your mother?"
"…"
The soft, motherly address she had never once granted him before.
Not a hard command, but the maternal warmth any ordinary mother might show—and the Second Prince was shaken to his core.
His head knew every reason he should refuse, yet a man freezing in the cold will instinctively seek warmth.
Wanting only to please this affectionate mother, the Second Prince opened his mouth before he could stop himself.
"…Yes. I will send someone."
The corners of the Empress's lips curved upward in a radiant smile.
"Heh. What a good boy."
She drew the Second Prince into an embrace and patted his back as though he had finally become the son she wanted.
Yet where his eyes could not reach, her expression was nothing but cold.
In ancient China, the standard for peerless beauty was often summed up as the Three Whites, the Three Blacks, and the Three Reds.
The Three Whites meant skin, teeth, and slender hands white as snow. The Three Blacks meant hair, pupils, and brows black and glossy as ebony. And the Three Reds meant lips red as cherries, faintly flushed cheeks, and pink-tinted nails.
Even today those conditions were rare enough. Yet a woman who satisfied every last one of them was standing right in front of me.
"…Ju Wolay? What are you doing here?"
Crimson silk fluttered around her slender frame. Lustrous black hair spilled elegantly down her back. Her fair, delicate features had only grown more alluring with time, reaching the realm of eclipsing the moon and shaming the flowers.
Beijing's idol—the woman the high and mighty lined up just for a glimpse of her face. I had heard that a special beauty portrait capturing her looks had recently become a massive hit and sent her stock soaring. So what business had brought her all the way here?
"My, little brother. Since when have you been on first-name terms with the foremost courtesan in Beijing?"
Merchant Leader Eun Hwaran's eyes curved in a sly, amused arc. She was watching the two of us with open interest.
Ju Wolay was a few years older than me, but ever since I had saved her life she had insisted on calling me "Great Hero" with perfect respect.
"Great Hero, it has been far too long. You have not visited Cheonhwaru of late, and this humble girl has been terribly lonely."
Ju Wolay offered a graceful greeting, then her voice suddenly stopped.
"…But why does your face look like that?"
She stared at the lump swelling on the crown of my head, the bruises mottling my skin, and the faint spatters of blood, her expression filling with worry.
"I've been getting beaten up a lot lately."
I prodded the still-smarting spots and answered as if it were nothing.
Not knowing the circumstances, pity spread across Ju Wolay's face.
"How could such a thing…"
Unable to finish the sentence, she drew a silk handkerchief from her sleeve, stepped close, and began gently wiping the blood flecks from my face.
Her touch was soft and careful, as if handling precious porcelain. A pleasant fragrance drifted near, and for a moment the room fell quiet.
Eun Hwaran, who had been watching purely for entertainment, looked faintly startled by the unexpected atmosphere.
"Our little brother is popular, I see…?"
She kept glancing back and forth between us, clearly unsure whether the courtesan of Cheonhwaru was merely working or being sincere.
I had frozen as well, never expecting her to go this far. The only person still keeping a cool head opened her mouth with a stiff expression.
"Excuse me. If you came about a request, please stop the strange behavior… and state your business first?"
That person was none other than my faithful subordinate, Ilhong.
Ju Wolay paused with the handkerchief and tilted her head.
"Oh my, strange behavior? I was merely wiping the Great Hero's face…"
Her eyes were clear and innocent, as if she truly could not understand the accusation.
At that reaction—coy or genuine, hard to tell—Ilhong's eyebrow twitched once.
"So those actions of yours are the strange… Haa."
Deciding a detailed explanation would be pointless, she exhaled deeply and reined in her feelings.
As always, the moment she saw Ju Wolay, Ilhong went into full meerkat-alert mode, head snapping upright.
At least Jo Harang wasn't here—thank the heavens. By now she was probably cornered by Hwang Geolgae, spilling everything that had happened in the palace.
"Boss, you say something too. Don't just stand there grinning like an idiot."
Ilhong jabbed me in the side and shot me a look.
Apparently having a beautiful woman fuss over me had sent my mouth corners soaring skyward without my noticing.
"Ahem. Wolay. If something's wrong, like Ilhong said—won't you tell me the details?"
I put on my most reliable, I-can-solve-anything expression.
She hesitated for a moment at my trust-me attitude, then leaned in and whispered near my ear.
"It is a highly personal matter… Might there be a place where the Great Hero and I could speak quietly?"
Having an eye-catching beauty murmur that close set something warm fluttering in my chest.
"There's a good spot on the outskirts."
It was an official request, and Jo Harang ought to hear it too, so we decided to move the conversation to the office.
Around this time of year on the outskirts of Beijing, the smell of burning wood rides the wind.
Outside the city walls people were making charcoal in preparation for winter, and the acrid smoke constantly pricked the nose.
"Pardon the intrusion, Great Hero."
Ju Wolay stepped carefully over the threshold and surveyed the room. Her crimson skirts shone with a brilliance that clashed with the shabby space.
"You can sit here."
I took my seat and indicated the guest spot opposite.
Clink.
She gracefully sipped the tea Ilhong had brought out for guests.
"The leaves are bitter."
"…Ilhong. Stop messing around and bring proper tea leaves."
I suggested she try the Western Region tea leaves I had scored from the merchant house earlier.
"Tch."
Pouting, Ilhong finally produced a proper pot of tea.
I watched her set the cup down with a sharp tak and vanish in a hurry, and I couldn't help a wry smile. It felt exactly like watching a jealous little sister—amusing, even.
"Thank you."
Ju Wolay accepted the fresh cup with a smile.
Behind us, Ilhong and Jo Harang—who had somehow joined us—were whispering together. Every so often they shot me looks that said they didn't trust me one bit. Come on. I wasn't some sucker who handed over his liver and gallbladder the moment a courtesan fluttered her lashes.
I'd been in this business for years. I could tell a woman dangling bait like a fox spirit from a mile away.
At least the Ju Wolay I knew wasn't that kind of person.
"Great Hero, if I may… would you take these for a moment?"
"Sure."
I accepted the outer robe and face veil faintly scented with her fragrance and carefully hung them on the office coat rack.
It was just natural host courtesy—I hadn't been bewitched by her sultry air, whatever it looked like.
"Grrr…!"
Yet the office staff behind me ground their teeth and glared daggers, clearly nursing some massive misunderstanding.
I had only been receiving a client. This was unfair.
"All right. Let's get to the point. So what's the trouble?"
I propped my elbows on the table and asked about her problem.
The courtesan of Cheonhwaru let out a deep sigh and began to explain.
"Lately… it seems someone has developed a rather intense obsession with me. I feel as though I am being followed wherever I go, and whenever I return home, strange gifts and letters are waiting."
The moment I heard that, I understood the situation at once.
A stalker, huh.
Given the explosive popularity of the Beast-People Painting beauty portraits, her fame had skyrocketed. Get famous like a celebrity and side effects like this were inevitable.
"What did the letters say?"
The part about being followed was only a feeling; she clearly hadn't gotten a good look at the person's face or appearance. So I pressed for details on the only real clue—the letters.
Probably just love letters begging her to date him, or maybe curses dripping with jealousy.
"Neither."
She shook her head and said both the contents of the letters and the gifts themselves had been extremely peculiar.
After a brief hesitation she took a small letter and a white cloth bundle from the little pouch at her waist.
When she opened the cloth, animal ears and tails of every kind spilled out.
"They keep forcing things like these on me. That was the content."
"…"
Good grief. A furry stalker.
Of all the vile combinations in the world.
I covered my face with one hand as the wave of sheer secondhand embarrassment crashed over me.