Interrogation in the Dark

Clank.

The rattle of iron chains echoed through the cell as the jailer shoved Hayun roughly from behind.

"Get in there, back of the cell."

"Ugh!"

"You'll be summoned for questioning soon enough, so don't try anything clever. Sit tight and keep quiet."

Bang—!

With those parting words, the jailer strode out and slammed the door behind him.

In the same instant, a dead silence and darkness swallowed the cell whole.

"Ugh... the smell..."

The reek of rotting straw, mold, and a medley of unwashed bodies stabbed at her nostrils — a stench so foul that covering her nose did nothing to block it.

"Unbelievable. Now I've landed in prison, of all places."

Hayun sank down against the wall with her back to it.

Water dripped steadily from the ceiling, and moss crept over the stones in thick patches. In the narrow cell, a single worn-out straw mat lay crumpled in a corner.

"Honestly. A hopae ID tag? As if I'd have one of those."

Hayun forced a light tone, but the situation was far graver than she'd let on.

In this era, a person without proof of status wasn't treated as a person at all.

This was a time when human beings were bought and sold like merchandise.

She'd survived until now purely on luck — luck in meeting her benefactor, Mun-sik.

Had she stumbled upon anyone else that day, she might well have been sold off somewhere by now.

"Whew. Whatever. I'll just lie down and get some sleep."

Out of options, Hayun flopped onto the mat in a spirit of surrender. The moment she stopped tensing, exhaustion rolled over her like a tide.

That was when it happened.

"Heh heh. Now how'd a pretty young thing like you end up in a place like this?"

"Gah!"

A sinister voice drifted out of the darkness without warning.

Startled, Hayun raised her head. Beyond the bars, several shadows had gathered, their shapes hazy in the gloom.

"Wh-who's there?"

"Who do you think? Your seniors, of course."

"Aigoo, a junior's come in — you ought to pay your respects, no?"

"Let's have a look at this cute little junior's face, eh?"

The criminals who'd been thrown in the cell before her crowded up close to the bars. The moment they got a good look at her, they recoiled in surprise.

"Well, I'll be — isn't that the gal from the Life Tavern?"

"You know me?"

"Course we do. Who in this town doesn't know you by now?"

"Especially with that peculiar hair of yours."

Hayun had somehow become the most famous person in the district, and the prisoners circled her with unconcealed interest.

"But hold on — how'd a fellow selling gukbap end up locked up in here?"

One of the prisoners asked with naked curiosity. Hayun hesitated a moment, then told them the whole story — the missing hopae, her inability to prove her status, the suspicion that she was a runaway slave.

"No hopae, you say?"

Shff shff.

The prisoners who'd listened clucked their tongues and clucked over her predicament.

"Hmph. Looks like you've stepped right in it, girl."

"Even without a hopae, throwing someone in jail like this — how's that right?"

"Ten to one it's that Choi bastard's doing. Who else would pull a stunt like this?"

"The Choi bastard?"

At Hayun's question, the prisoners began reciting, one after another, the long catalog of Choe Hyang-seo's misdeeds.

"Oh, there's a fella all right. Choe Hyang-seo — the biggest crook in this whole town."

"We're in here ourselves 'cause we couldn't scrape together his bribe money. Rounded up for nothing."

"I rubbed him the wrong way five years back, and he's been on my back ever since."

"Listen here, young lady. Whatever they say you did wrong, you hold out to the end! Give 'em so much as an inch and they'll pin every crime under the sun on you, guaranteed!"

Hayun nodded along in a daze at the prisoners' advice.

"Never give up! We're all on your side!"

"Once I'm out of here, I'm coming by for a bowl of that gukbap — so you'd better still be standing, hear?"

"And don't you forget it — never, ever confess to a charge!"

"I won't! Thank you, all of you."

The prisoners, who had all experienced her kindness at the tavern, sent up an outpouring of fervent support. Half in despair until a moment ago, Hayun began to feel her spirit revive.

That's right! Even if you're dragged into a tiger's den, keep your wits about you and you'll walk out alive! I'm Im Hayun! There's no way I'm giving up in a dump like this!

How much time had passed after that?

Clunk.

The long silence was shattered by the sound of the cell door grinding open.

"You there. Come out."

The jailer pointed at Hayun.

"It's time for your interrogation."

"...!"

Hayun made her way to the interrogation room on unsteady legs.

The sun had evidently set outside; only the faint glow of torches lit the corridor.

Before long, the door swung open, and there sat the Ibang, Choe Hyang-seo, waiting inside.

"Sit."

As Hayun took her seat, Choe Hyang-seo gestured to the jailer.

"You've done your duty. Go on."

"Yes, sir."

With just the two of them left in the interrogation room, a heavy silence settled over the space.

Choe Hyang-seo looked Hayun over with eyes full of contempt.

"So you're Im Hayun."

"I am."

Ordinarily, an interrogation like this would be conducted by the magistrate himself, but Choe Hyang-seo, the town's long-standing powerbroker, freely abused every authority he could get his hands on.

The newly appointed magistrate, for his part, had quietly tolerated these oversteps.

For now, at least.

"Your hopae? If you're truly a subject of this country, you were issued one. Where is it?"

Hayun answered the question she'd anticipated firmly.

"I lost it."

"Hah, of course you did. That's what every runaway slave says."

Having already branded Hayun a slave in his mind, Choe Hyang-seo scoffed.

"Then tell me where you lived. Surely you remember where you lived."

Hayun's mind raced at the follow-up question.

If I name some obvious place, it'll only invite more suspicion.

Hanyang, Gaegyeong — the names of the great cities of Joseon floated through her head, but she knew them in name only. She had no idea what those places actually looked like.

If he pressed her on their particulars, she'd have nothing to say.

So Hayun held her ground, feigning ignorance to the end.

"...I can't remember. I lost my memory in an accident."

"So that's your story, is it... Very well."

Choe Hyang-seo slammed his palm on the desk, pressing her harder.

"Then when did you arrive in this village? You remember that much, surely."

"...About a month ago."

"A month... You've certainly been busy in that time."

Choe Hyang-seo continued the interrogation with a sneer.

"I hear you were the one who gave Mun's tavern that complete makeover. Is that so?"

"...Yes."

"And where did you learn such tricks?"

For an instant, the answer From the future sprang to mind — but obviously she couldn't let that pass her lips. And a half-baked excuse would be worse than none at all.

She remembered the prisoners' warning: never admit to the charge, no matter what.

Hayun met Choe Hyang-seo's eyes head-on and answered.

"That, I can't tell you."

"Insolent wretch! Do you have any idea before whom you dare speak that way!"

Choe Hyang-seo bore down on her all the harder.

In this town, where he held power enough to make even the birds fall from the sky, the only person who could look him in the eye like this was the magistrate himself.

Yet here was an outsider.

A woman, no less.

A mere alleged slave, refusing to bow her head. Little by little, heat crept up Choe Hyang-seo's neck.

But Hayun did not bend.

If anything, her voice grew stronger.

"What does that have to do with the charges against me?"

"What did you say?"

Choe Hyang-seo's brows knitted sharply.

"Renovating Mr. Mun's tavern — what possible bearing does that have on why I've been dragged here? If you intend to charge me with a crime, then question me about that."

"...Why, you insolent—!"

The unexpected retort left him momentarily speechless.

People hauled into an interrogation room usually trembled from head to toe and confessed everything. Hayun was different.

There was fear in her eyes, yes — but beneath it lay a steely resolve that overcame it.

"Ahem. Very well. Then one final question."

Seeing that Hayun would not yield, Choe Hyang-seo readied his trump card.

"In whose household did you serve as a slave? Speak the truth."

"Slave? Me?"

Hayun shook her head decisively.

"Ridiculous. I am a proper yangin — a free commoner."

"This woman lies to the very end!"

Choe Hyang-seo's voice boomed.

In truth, he still held a weapon in reserve — one that would nail down Hayun's status as a slave beyond dispute. Not mere suspicion as now, but hard, irrefutable evidence.

He named it.

"One search through the slave registry or the family census, and your true identity will surface soon enough! So confess now, while you still have the chance to spare yourself a rough time!"

"The census—!"

The word hojeok — the family registry — made Hayun cry out in alarm.

A hojeok recorded bloodlines, and within it lay the entire history of a family. Who was born when. Whose child they were. What their name was.

In an age without any resident registration system, the family registry was the single most definitive proof of identity a person could present. That was precisely why every household guarded its hojeok like a precious treasure, lest the present situation ever come to pass.

Wait just a moment!

Then something flashed through Hayun's mind.

Her father, who had run an antique shop, had loved telling old stories.

Fortunately, Hayun had listened to him attentively, so she knew exactly where her roots lay. And even without that, a certified copy of the family registry would have laid it all out in detail.

That's it! If it's that, then...!

With the idea firmly in hand, Hayun drew a deep breath.

Then she spoke in a clear, ringing voice.

"In that case, allow me to tell you my bongwan — my ancestral seat."

"You should have come out with it from the start."

At last, a proper answer. Choe Hyang-seo wore a satisfied smirk as he picked up his brush.

Declaring one's bongwan was, in effect, the same as declaring one's family registry. Compare the two, and the truth would come out at once.

"Now then, let's hear this ancestral seat of yours. Though I wager it's some unremarkable clan of no consequence."

"..."

Hayun held his gaze for a moment.

His eyes gleamed with the certainty that her lie was about to unravel.

Then Hayun straightened her head, and began to enunciate her family seat, word by deliberate word.

"I am Im Hayun, thirty-second-generation descendant of the Jeonju Im clan."

"What did you say?!"

Choe Hyang-seo's eyes bulged as though they might pop out of his skull.

His reaction was so extreme that Hayun, who had merely answered the question, found herself embarrassed on his behalf.

...Did I say something wrong?

She retraced her memory for an instant, but there was no mistake. Her family seat was, without a doubt, Jeonju Im.

"Mmph...!"

Choe Hyang-seo's pupils quivered as if an earthquake had struck them.

The Jeonju Im clan.

Thankfully, not a noble yangban house. And yet the reason for his shock was simple: that clan counted among its members one man who held the whole of Joseon's eight provinces in the palm of his hand.

If, by some wild chance, Hayun was connected to him, this was no small matter at all.

"You shameless woman! Whose family name are you trying to steal?"

Unable to believe her words, Choe Hyang-seo shot to his feet.

"Do you have any idea how grave a crime it is to falsely claim a family line!"

And then, like a threat meant to cow her:

"Impersonating another clan is a capital offense — one that can earn you a death sentence!"

"A death sentence...!"

At the staggering severity of the charge, Hayun's shoulders flinched.

She'd only cited her family seat to avoid being branded a slave — and now she'd tumbled to the edge of the executioner's block.

But realizing she had already crossed the point of no return, Hayun fixed Choe Hyang-seo with a steady, unblinking stare.

"It is no lie. My family seat is Jeonju Im. I'm certain of it."

"This shameless creature, lying through her teeth to the very end...!"

When Hayun refused to confess to the last, Choe Hyang-seo's face flushed crimson.

"Fine then. If that's how you want to play it, so be it."

Hayun didn't yet realize it — that somewhere along the way, his attitude had shifted, ever so subtly.

Choe Hyang-seo did not believe her words. But he was taking no chances, preparing himself for the possibility that she might, just might, be telling the truth.

"I shall put the question to the Jeonju Im clan itself. Until then, you will wait."

"...!"

Whether Hayun spoke the truth or not, he had only to ask them directly and find out. If she had fabricated the claim to escape her predicament, she would face a punishment far graver than any awaiting her now.

Choe Hyang-seo said coldly,

"But mark this — if your claim proves false, you may well face the harshest penalty the law allows."

With that chilling threat hanging in the air, Choe Hyang-seo swept out of the interrogation room.