Ghost in the palace

The distant estate stood in the middle of a secluded valley, surrounded by towering mountains and dense forests.

It was a beautiful place.

Too beautiful for a prison.

White walls enclosed the sprawling residence, while delicate pavilions stood beside a winding stream. Beyond the stream lay an enormous garden filled with chrysanthemums, peonies, and roses. Stone pathways connected the gardens to the main residence, and servants moved quietly between the buildings.

From the outside, the estate looked like the private residence of a wealthy noblewoman.

There were no chains.

No guards standing openly at the doors.

No visible signs of imprisonment.

Yet the woman standing beside the window had not stepped beyond its gates for many days.

Perhaps it had been months.

She had stopped counting.

Shin Gu stood motionless, gazing at the garden below.

She wore a pale-blue silk robe embroidered with delicate silver clouds. Her long black hair fell loosely down her back, held in place by a simple jade hairpin. Her clothes were elegant, the furnishings in her room expensive, and the breakfast table beside the window had been prepared with enough food for three people.

Everything she needed had been provided.

Everything except freedom.

Outside, several men were practising with swords in the training courtyard.

Their movements were disciplined. Steel flashed beneath the morning sunlight as wooden practice swords struck against one another.

A young man stumbled.

His instructor immediately struck the back of his leg with a wooden staff.

”Again!”

The young man grimaced, straightened his back, and resumed his stance.

Shin Gu watched without interest.

She used to enjoy watching people train.

She used to enjoy watching people struggle.

She used to enjoy knowing that, with a little manipulation, she could turn their strength against the people they loved.

Now she could barely bring herself to look at them.

A knock sounded at the door.

”Miss Shin?”

Shin Gu did not turn.

”Your breakfast is ready.”

”I am not hungry.”

”The kitchen has prepared your favourite dishes.”

”I said I am not hungry.”

There was a brief silence outside.

The maid seemed uncertain whether she should insist.

”Miss, the master instructed me to ensure that you eat properly.”

Shin Gu’s fingers tightened around the wooden window frame.

”Then tell your master that I will eat when I wish to eat.”

Another pause.

”Yes, Miss.”

The maid retreated.

Shin Gu watched her disappear down the corridor.

Then she looked at the breakfast table.

Steamed buns.

Rice porridge.

Fresh fruit.

A small dish of candied lotus seeds.

Everything was arranged beautifully.

She could not remember the last time food had tasted like anything.

Her gaze returned to the courtyard.

The men continued practising.

The world continued moving.

And somewhere far away, beyond the mountains, an empire continued living without her.

An empire that believed she was dead.

A palace that had once feared her.

A man who had promised her that he would never abandon her.

Prince Liang.

Her lips moved silently around his name.

Then she closed her eyes.

”Why am I still alive?”

The question disappeared into the empty room.

No one answered.

Until—

”Because dying would have been too easy for you.”

Shin Gu’s eyes snapped open.

She did not need to turn around to recognise the voice.

She had heard it too many times.

Footsteps approached from behind her.

A man stopped beside her, close enough that she could feel his presence, but not close enough to block her view of the garden.

He wore dark robes without any conspicuous embroidery. His hair was secured beneath a simple black crown, and a jade pendant hung from his waist.

To an ordinary observer, he might have appeared to be a refined nobleman.

His eyes ruined that impression.

They were cold, calculating, and almost unnaturally still.

This was the man who had arranged her disappearance.

The man who knew far more about the palace’s recent supernatural disturbances than he had ever admitted.

The man who had been pulling the strings behind the black-magic incidents that had nearly destroyed the Empress.

He was also the man who had kept Shin Gu alive after the entire kingdom accepted her death.

He glanced at the untouched breakfast.

”Again?”

Shin Gu turned away.

”Leave me alone.”

He reached toward her shoulder.

She immediately shrugged his hand off.

The movement was sharp enough to make his expression change.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then he withdrew his hand.

”You still react as though I intend to hurt you.”

Shin Gu looked at him coldly.

”And you still behave as though you have never hurt anyone.”

A faint smile touched his lips.

”There you are.”

”What?”

”The woman who used to look at the world as though she could bend it to her will.”

Her expression hardened.

”That woman is dead.”

”Is she?”

”The whole kingdom believes so.”

”The whole kingdom believes many things.”

”At least this time, they are correct.”

He studied her face.

Shin Gu hated that look.

He examined her as though she were a puzzle he had purchased and had yet to finish solving.

She turned back toward the window.

”What do you want?”

”We need to discuss the capital.”

”There is nothing to discuss.”

”There is considerably more than you think.”

”I do not care.”

”Then you will care when the Empress is accused of something she did not do.”

Shin Gu went completely still.

The man noticed.

Of course he noticed.

He noticed everything that could be used against someone.

Slowly, he continued.

”The accusations are spreading again.”

Shin Gu’s fingers curled against the window frame.

”What accusations?”

”That Lian An is responsible for the supernatural disturbances inside the palace. That the ghosts appearing in the courtyards are connected to her. That the strange incidents surrounding the imperial household are the result of forbidden arts practised by the Empress.”

Shin Gu’s face turned pale.

Not because she was surprised.

Because she knew precisely what he was doing.

”You are starting it again.”

”I never stopped.”

She turned to face him.

”You told me the previous accusations would end.”

”I told you they would quiet down.”

”You said the Empress would be blamed.”

”She was.”

”You said the court would turn against her.”

”Some members did.”

”But the royal family did not believe it.”

His smile disappeared.

For the first time that morning, the room seemed to grow colder.

”No,” he admitted. ”They did not.”

Shin Gu stared at him.

The Emperor.

The Empress.

The Dowager.

The imperial household.

Despite all the rumours, all the suspicious evidence, and all the carefully arranged incidents, the people who knew Lian An best had refused to condemn her.

They had questioned her.

They had investigated her.

But they had not abandoned her.

That had been the greatest obstacle to Shin Gu’s former plans.

And now, even in death, her name was being dragged into the same mess.

She let out a bitter laugh.

”You should have known.”

The man’s gaze sharpened.

”Known what?”

”That they would never believe you completely.”

”People believe what they see.”

”Then perhaps you should have made them see something convincing.”

The silence that followed was dangerous.

Shin Gu realised her mistake.

Once, she would have enjoyed provoking him.

Now she had neither the energy nor the desire to play games with a man who had made her life into a cage.

He stepped away from the window.

”You seem to have forgotten your position.”

”No. I remember it perfectly.”

”Do you?”

She looked at him without blinking.

”I am a dead woman living in a house she cannot leave. My name has been erased from public life. My family cannot mourn me openly without asking questions they do not want answered. The man I loved believes I am gone. And the man who saved my life refuses to tell me whether he saved me because he cares about me or because I remain useful to him.”

For a moment, something unreadable crossed his face.

Then it vanished.

”Your life is more complicated than that.”

”Not to me.”

She turned away again.

”To me, it is very simple.”

Her voice dropped.

”I want to go home.”

He did not answer immediately.

Because there was no home for her to return to.

Not anymore.

### The Capital That Had Forgotten Her

The man moved toward a small table near the bed.

He lifted a cup of tea and examined the pale surface before setting it down again.

”You should stop thinking of the capital as your home.”

Shin Gu laughed without humour.

”Where else would I go?”

”You could begin again.”

”Begin what?”

”A life.”

She turned.

”You speak as though I merely need a new name and a new set of clothes.”

”Many people have done precisely that.”

”I am not many people.”

”No,” he said quietly. ”You are not.”

He walked toward the window again.

”Do you know what has happened since your disappearance?”

Shin Gu did not answer.

He continued regardless.

”Lady Chen is no longer moving freely through the palace. Her schemes have attracted attention. Princess Zhi’s past troubles have become a matter of renewed suspicion. The Dowager has been forced to reconsider whom she can trust. And the Emperor has become considerably more protective of the Empress.”

Shin Gu’s jaw tightened.

”And Prince Liang?”

The question escaped before she could stop it.

The man’s eyes shifted toward her.

There it was.

The weakness she could not bury.

Of all the names he could have mentioned, Prince Liang’s was the one she had been waiting to hear.

He knew it.

She knew he knew it.

Neither acknowledged the truth.

”Prince Liang is alive,” he said.

Shin Gu lowered her gaze.

”I know.”

”He is well.”

”I did not ask.”

”No. You merely waited for me to mention him.”

She looked at him sharply.

He ignored her expression.

”He has been moving between the capital and the imperial entourage. He is involved in the current investigation.”

”What investigation?”

”The Empress’s innocence.”

Shin Gu’s throat tightened.

For several moments, she could not speak.

Then she forced herself to ask, ”Does he still believe I am dead?”

”Everyone believes you are dead.”

”That is not what I asked.”

The man regarded her.

”Yes.”

Shin Gu looked down at her hands.

There had been a time when she imagined Prince Liang would search for her.

She had imagined him refusing to accept the news of her death. She had imagined him questioning every witness, sending men into every corner of the empire, and eventually discovering that she was alive.

In those fantasies, he would arrive at the place where she was being held and call her name.

He would take her hand.

He would tell her that he had never stopped looking for her.

And she would forgive him for every moment they had lost.

But fantasies were cruel things.

They gave people a place to hide until reality came to collect them.

Prince Liang had not found her.

He had not come.

And perhaps he never would.

”Does he speak of me?” she asked.

The man took a sip of tea.

”Occasionally.”