The Directorate - 8
Why was Hwayuenu counted among the most celebrated courtesan houses in Wuhan? I had my answer within an hour of stepping through its doors.
"The mere thought of the treasures the Shadowless Divine Thief made off with sets my teeth on edge. Tonight, I simply must commend Constable Kang for his loyal service."
After all, the Prefect had summoned the pure courtesans one after another to perform, as his way of honoring a famed constable.
The dishes alone would surely have cost a full day of my food budget per bite, and the wine was fine enough that even men with no head for drink would call it exquisite. As for the dance and music the courtesans staged before our eyes, it was far too lavish to be a private show for just the two of us.
"Hmhm. Is that all there is to tell of the famed Constable's exploits?"
How much would it cost to be entertained like this at Hwayuenu, with the entire courtesan corps mobilized? No—better question: how much was the Prefect skimming in the course of his ordinary days?
I wonder if Gilsan knows about this. Just as I was agonizing over that purely academic question, Maehyang topped up my empty cup and turned to the Prefect.
"There's more?"
"He brought to justice the culprits behind countless murders that might otherwise have gone unsolved for all eternity. And just recently, they say he dealt ruthless punishment to the villains who raided a courtesan house and slaughtered innocent courtesans."
"Ho ho. This is the first I've heard of any such thing. Is it true?"
"The false Shadowless Divine Thief affair was his doing as well. When the true culprit made to slip away by boat with a smile on his face, a thousand Buddhas rose in my chest—I could not contain myself."
"So that's why you flung yourself off the building into the Yangtze!"
"The grief and fury of the murdered courtesans rang all the way to my ears. Even knowing full well the man was a false Shadowless Divine Thief, I could not simply stand by and watch him sail away."
Like some hot-blooded detective who would tackle a suspect even with knives flying at his leather jacket, I spoke with a trembling, clenched fist.
"Constable Kang..."
To Maehyang's glistening, moved gaze, I answered by silently draining my cup.
Don't be fooled. Hwayuenu sold wine and smiles—that was all.
This was a place where, no matter how unremarkable a man's boasting, a courtesan had to beam as though she were beholding the greatest man alive. Whether her teary-eyed admiration was sincere or a ploy to lull my guard, not a soul could say.
"Ho ho. To think Maehyang could wear a face like that. First time I've seen it."
Called it. A coordinated attack, plain as day. Just how much did the Prefect pay you?
"These days, the hottest topic among the girls is none other than Constable Kang. We're all in an uproar, each of us wishing we could host you even once."
"Hoh. Is that really so?"
Maehyang winked one eye and peered up at me.
"Even you, my lord, cannot imagine how much I struggled to claim this seat tonight."
You cannot be serious. Kang Yunho, the constable who staked his life to avenge the courtesans? So that was the story making the rounds?
Thanks to all the opinion-swaying I'd done to smother the Haomen power struggle, my reputation was apparently climbing in places I never saw coming.
While I stood lost in thought, Maehyang's palm crept close and brushed the inside of my forearm.
Not there. I deflected her, light and casual. And don't slump in feigned heartbreak—it obviously reads as acting. Whether she genuinely fancied me or this was a rehearsed routine with the Prefect changed nothing.
There were women waiting for me back home. Not happening.
"Well, well. Now that I look, Maehyang owes me quite a debt, doesn't she."
"And is that not precisely why I am attending to Constable Kang with such devotion, exactly as you commanded, my lord?"
When did she even—?!
Maehyang chirped her reply, then wedged herself into the smallest opening and hooked her arm through mine. A courtesan truly seasoned in the art of hospitality. To her, apparently, even this hardly counted as an obstacle.
Against my forearm came a pleasant softness that no amount of willpower could hold at bay.
Stay calm. I could not let something like this sway me. Perhaps because I stayed so composed, the press of her skin against my arm only grew bolder.
Do not give in. If Gimun Hyangju or Lady Hayeon ever heard of this, I was a dead man.
To some men, a courtesan house was a playground for every pleasure; to me, it was a place where every trace of my disgrace got reported back, live and in full.
I clawed my way back to my senses.
"My, my. Seeing Hwayuenu's own Maehyang cling to you so would set countless men gnashing their teeth in envy. Constable Kang—here in Wuhan, you may well outshine me."
"How could this hollow name of mine ever stand beside the renown of Your Excellency, a touchstone who has held court and Central Plains alike steady for decades? I, your humble servant Kang Yunho, feel like a feather bowing before a great mountain—I hardly know where to place myself."
"Ah..."
I eased off the arm that had somehow attached itself to mine and dipped my head in a half bow toward the Prefect.
"Then I suppose the mountain must now take the feather under its wing."
"I beg your pardon...?"
The Prefect nodded, as though the appointed hour had finally come, and gave Maehyang his order.
"The rest of you may withdraw. Maehyang—sing us a song."
"My lord. This humble girl shall offer a song."
So this was what it felt like to sit in the VIP section of an idol concert?
If Lady Hayeon, the moment she debuted, would shoot straight into all-time-greatest-visual idol territory, Maehyang was more the veteran headliner—several tiers below in looks, perhaps, but radiating the polish of years on stage.
Not that my tastes ever favored vocals over a pretty face.
"There is a small matter I would ask the famed constable to resolve for me."
So the hour had come at last.
Using Maehyang's song as his cover, the Prefect tossed the words my way, offhand. So the singing had been ordered to keep our conversation from carrying beyond the room. I stepped close to him and spoke with a carefully stiff face.
"Forgive my presumption, but does this concern a case under my charge?"
"It does. I would have my streets kept quiet from now on."
A terse command. Nothing like the voice that had showered me with praise minutes before—this one carried the weight of a power no mere constable dared refuse.
"Then I shall take my leave—"
Not that it worked on me.
"Constable Kang!"
"And who told you to stop singing?"
A glare brimming with fury swung toward Maehyang.
"F-forgive me!"
Once Maehyang hastily resumed her song, the Prefect clicked his tongue and regarded me with plain disdain.
"To think the famed constable of the whole realm would come all this way only to make so foolish a scene."
"I came here to hear out the parties involved. That is all."
You knew all that before you came—so why the refusal? I met the question lurking in his eyes with a stubborn face.
"Hear them out, is it? And what, precisely, did you plan to do once you had?"
"See the matter handled fairly. Is that not a constable's sworn duty?"
I answered the way a constable who lived by the letter of the law would. A corrupt official, an incorruptible constable—done properly, I ought to have hurled the proffered envelope straight into the Prefect's face and stormed out.
"You aren't about to tell me the Imperial Inspector pressured you into it?"
"H-how could you possibly know that?!"
Now came the moment to reel in the bait I had planted long ago.
"Word has it Jeong Munwon has been leaving the office early these days. I take it the two of you had another little conversation planned for today?"
No, actually—he leaves the moment his duties end, because a pregnant second wife waits at home. But the marriage was only days old, and with no formal ceremony yet held, hardly anyone knew of it.
"You misunderstand."
His lips denied it; his entire body announced his panic for him.
He had taken me for a stubborn, unbending constable—and I had just confirmed I was really a soft touch with plenty of room to negotiate.
"All that show of keen ears, and it turns out only one of them was ever open."
The Prefect let slip a thin smile, the smile of a man who knew everything.
"..."
I was supposed to look ashamed at being caught out. Why was this expression so hard to manufacture?
Picture something. Yes—recall that April Fools' Day when a girl from another class confessed to you, and you grabbed her hand half-sure it was a dare, only to watch her face curdle on the spot.
Mortifying. Utterly mortifying. No—this actually hurt. Why did I have to dredge up the worst possible memory? Blood rushed to my head.
"It seems one ear still isn't hearing anything. Very well. Then I shall open one of Constable Kang's ears for him. Maehyang."
"Yes, my lord. I shall fetch it at once."
Something had clearly been readied in advance: Maehyang drew an object from the corner of the room and brought it over to me.
Was it money? If that thing came brimming with gold, I would have been perfectly happy to hear him order me to repay my debts on the spot.
"And this is...?"
What lay before me was, alas, no chest heaped with gold and silver—just a long cylinder, and it didn't look to hold anything at all.
"I have been keeping my ears open, you see. And it seems another word has attached itself ahead of 'famed constable.' A far less honorable one."
Black-haired barbarian.
The Prefect didn't deign to say it aloud. He merely tipped back his cup and let his gaze flick toward my hair.
"I have never once been ashamed of the hair color my parents passed down to me."
"A fine son. But it takes more than refusing to be ashamed of your parents, doesn't it? Oughtn't you become a son they can take pride in?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Open it."
What on earth was inside?
He needed to win me over—I was the Imperial Inspector's man, after all. Could there be a bank draft in there? Curiosity got the better of me, and I drew the contents from the cylinder.
Inside was a single large sheet of paper.
And what was written on it was something even I had not foreseen.
A constable's post carried no official rank whatsoever.
Like the clerks of old Joseon, they were not officials proper—merely hands who did the work that kept the officials running. In modern civil-service terms, it came closest to one of those permanent contract posts: impossible to be dismissed from, but a lifetime of meager pay with neither promotion nor raise in sight.
A Podo Military Officer, by contrast, was an official post. Lowly as the bottom rung might be, it was a bona fide commission, one obtainable through the military examinations.
"Well? What say you?"
"Your Excellency. What in the world is this...?"
Why would an appointment letter bear no name? Beside the post of Podo Military Officer, where a name belonged, the paper was blank.
Don't tell me.
This was his card to play for my cooperation.
The Prefect nodded, as though to turn my unspoken question into certainty.
"Handle this one small matter for me, and I shall see that a small gift finds its way to you as well."