Ghost in the palace

The afternoon sun had begun to soften when Mei Lan entered Shin Gu’s courtyard.

Unlike the rest of the palace, where servants were constantly moving and voices could be heard from one corridor to another, Shin Gu’s courtyard always seemed strangely isolated.

The trees were too still.

The corridors were too quiet.

Even the servants seemed to have learned how to walk without making a sound.

Mei Lan carried a small tray of tea toward the inner pavilion.

She had become accustomed to being summoned unexpectedly.

Since Shin Gu had begun giving her more responsibilities, Mei Lan had learned one important lesson:

Whenever Shin Gu became friendly, she needed to be even more careful.

"Lady Shin Gu."

Mei Lan bowed.

Shin Gu was sitting beneath the pavilion, staring toward the pond.

She wasn’t reading.

She wasn’t working.

She simply sat there, one hand resting against her cheek, looking unusually distant.

"Put the tea down," she said.

"Yes, Lady."

Mei Lan placed the tray on the table.

She was about to step away when Shin Gu suddenly spoke.

"Do you have a mother?"

Mei Lan froze.

The question was so unexpected that she didn’t immediately know how to respond.

"My mother?"

"Yes."

Shin Gu continued looking at the pond.

Mei Lan lowered her eyes.

"I do."

"Is she kind?"

"She is."

Shin Gu smiled faintly.

"You are fortunate."

Mei Lan remained silent.

There was something strange in Shin Gu’s voice.

Not envy.

Not exactly sadness.

Something more complicated.

A carefully constructed sadness.

Shin Gu picked up the teapot and poured herself tea.

"My mother wasn’t like that."

Mei Lan’s eyes flickered.

She hadn’t asked.

Yet Shin Gu continued.

"My mother was beautiful."

Her voice became softer.

"She was the most beautiful woman in our kingdom."

Mei Lan stood quietly.

She knew what Shin Gu had told the palace before.

Shin Gu was supposedly a princess from a small neighboring kingdom.

The youngest daughter of the royal family.

Her father was still alive.

Her mother was still alive.

And she had no brothers.

At least—

That was the story everyone in the palace knew.

But Shin Gu was now speaking as though she had lived an entirely different life.

"My mother was killed when I was young."

Mei Lan’s fingers tightened around her sleeve.

Killed?

Shin Gu looked down into her teacup.

"Powerful people wanted something from my father."

"They couldn’t get it."

"So they took it out on my mother."

Her voice trembled.

"My father tried to protect her."

"But he failed."

Mei Lan didn’t interrupt.

She watched carefully.

Shin Gu’s eyes appeared wet.

For a moment, she looked less like the dangerous woman Mei Lan feared and more like a daughter remembering a painful childhood.

Then Shin Gu whispered,

"I remember the night she died."

"The palace was burning."

"I could hear people screaming."

"I was hiding beneath the bed."

"My mother found me."

"She told me not to make a sound."

Shin Gu closed her eyes.

"Then she pushed me into a hidden compartment."

"She told me she loved me."

Mei Lan’s heart tightened despite herself.

"And then?"

Shin Gu’s lips trembled.

"They killed her."

Silence fell.

A breeze moved through the courtyard.

Leaves rustled softly.

Mei Lan didn’t know what to say.

Shin Gu opened her eyes again.

"But that wasn’t the worst part."

She looked toward Mei Lan.

"I had a younger brother."

Mei Lan’s heart stopped.

A younger brother?

She stared at Shin Gu.

Shin Gu continued as though this were the most natural thing in the world.

"He was only a baby."

"My father had been away."

"My mother was dead."

"And suddenly that little child became my responsibility."

Mei Lan’s mind raced.

A brother?

There had never been any mention of one.

Not once.

She had heard servants discuss Shin Gu’s family.

She had heard palace officials mention the neighboring royal household.

She had even seen records concerning Shin Gu’s arrival.

The neighboring kingdom had only two princesses.

The youngest daughter—

Shin Gu.

No son.

No younger prince.

No deceased prince.

Nothing.

But Mei Lan didn’t dare interrupt.

Shin Gu was watching her now.

Perhaps waiting for sympathy.

So Mei Lan lowered her eyes.

"What happened to him?"

Shin Gu’s expression softened.

"I raised him."

"My little brother."

"He had no one except me."

"I fed him."

"I carried him."

"I stayed awake when he cried."

"I protected him from everyone."

She paused.

"He became my entire world."

Mei Lan listened.

The story sounded heartbreaking.

Almost too heartbreaking.

And that was precisely what made Mei Lan suspicious.

Shin Gu was usually extremely careful.

She never spoke about herself unnecessarily.

She never revealed weakness.

Why was she telling Mei Lan this now?

"My brother used to hold my finger when he slept."

Shin Gu smiled faintly.

"He was so small."

"I would sit beside him and tell him stories."

"I promised him that one day I would take him somewhere safe."

Mei Lan’s expression remained gentle.

"What happened to him?"

Shin Gu lowered her head.

"He died."

The word was barely audible.

Mei Lan remained still.

"How?"

Shin Gu’s hand tightened around the teacup.

"Those people came back."

"They wanted something from my family."

"My brother was in their way."

Her voice broke.

"They killed him."

Mei Lan’s heart sank.

She wanted to believe the sadness.

But something didn’t fit.

Nothing fitted.

The chronology.

The family records.

The known royal family.

Everything was wrong.

Shin Gu continued speaking.

"After that, I had no one."

"I learned that kindness was useless."

"I learned that powerful people always win."

"So I became strong."

Her eyes hardened.

"I promised myself that no one would ever take something from me again."

Mei Lan slowly lowered her gaze.

There it was.

The bitterness.

The justification.

The wound Shin Gu wanted her to see.

But Mei Lan couldn’t stop thinking about one question.

Where was this brother?

If Shin Gu truly had a younger brother, why had nobody ever mentioned him?

Why had the neighboring kingdom never mourned him publicly?

Why had there been no royal record?

Why had Shin Gu always been introduced as the youngest daughter?

Mei Lan remembered the first report she had ever heard about Shin Gu.

Princess Shin Gu.

Youngest daughter.

No brothers.

Two elder sisters.

Both married.

Parents living.

She remembered it clearly.

She had been standing beside another maid when the palace messenger arrived.

The messenger had described Shin Gu’s family in detail because the Emperor’s court had needed to establish her status.

There had been no brother.

Not even a dead one.

Mei Lan slowly looked at Shin Gu.

The woman sitting before her seemed genuinely sorrowful.

But Mei Lan had learned something important.

A person could cry while lying.

A person could tell a beautiful story and still be hiding something terrible.

"Lady Shin Gu," Mei Lan said softly.

Shin Gu looked up.

"Yes?"

"How old was your brother when he died?"

For the smallest fraction of a second—

Shin Gu’s eyes changed.

Only for a heartbeat.

Then she answered.

"He was barely two."

Mei Lan nodded.

"Two years old."

"Yes."

"What was his name?"

Another pause.

Tiny.

Almost invisible.

Then Shin Gu smiled sadly.

"Jin."

"Prince Jin."

Mei Lan lowered her eyes.

"I see."

Shin Gu studied her.

"Why are you asking?"

"I was only curious."

Shin Gu smiled.

"Don’t be."

Mei Lan bowed.

"Yes, Lady."

Shin Gu picked up her tea.

"My past isn’t important."

She took a sip.

"What matters is what happened afterward."

Mei Lan said nothing.

Shin Gu continued.

"I spent years surviving."

"I learned medicine."

"I learned poisons."

"I learned how people think."

"I learned that if you want something protected, you cannot depend on anyone else."

Mei Lan listened quietly.

"That’s why I became who I am."

Her voice became almost bitter.

"If I hadn’t become strong, I would have died too."

Mei Lan nodded slowly.

"You must have suffered greatly."

Shin Gu looked at her.

"I did."

Then she smiled.

"But suffering teaches people."

"It teaches them not to trust."

"It teaches them to take control before someone else does."

Mei Lan felt a chill.

There was something almost like pride in Shin Gu’s voice now.

Not sorrow.

Pride.

As if every cruel thing she had done could be justified by the pain she claimed to have endured.

Shin Gu leaned back.

"You know, Mei Lan..."

"Yes?"

"Sometimes I wonder what my brother would have become."

Her expression softened again.

"Perhaps he would have been kind."

"Perhaps he would have hated violence."

"Perhaps he would have grown into a good man."

She smiled sadly.

"I never got to find out."

Mei Lan looked down.

The story was designed perfectly.

A dead mother.

A helpless infant.

A grieving sister.

A cruel enemy.

A childhood filled with suffering.

It explained everything.

Or at least—

It tried to.

Mei Lan suddenly remembered something else.

The neighboring kingdom’s royal family portrait.

She had once seen it in the palace archives.

The King.

The Queen.

Two daughters.

And the youngest—

Shin Gu.

There had been no infant prince.

No Prince Jin.

Nothing.

Mei Lan’s suspicion deepened.

Could the records have been altered?

Could the palace have deliberately hidden the prince?

Perhaps.

But if Shin Gu’s brother had been murdered by powerful people, surely there would have been some trace.

A memorial.

A burial record.

A royal announcement.

Something.

Yet there was nothing.

Mei Lan looked at Shin Gu again.

She didn’t believe the story.

Not entirely.

But she couldn’t show it.

"Lady Shin Gu."

"Hm?"

"Thank you for telling me."

Shin Gu smiled.

"I don’t usually tell people these things."

"I know."

"I suppose I trust you."

Mei Lan’s heart tightened.

Again—

That word.

Trust.

Shin Gu was giving it to her like a gift.

But Mei Lan knew better.

Trust from a dangerous person could also be a chain.

She bowed.

"I won’t tell anyone."

"I know."

Shin Gu’s smile deepened.

"That’s why I told you."

Mei Lan lowered her head.

But beneath her lowered lashes—

Her eyes were sharp.

She had learned something today.

Not about Shin Gu’s childhood.

About Shin Gu herself.

Shin Gu wanted people to believe she had suffered.

She wanted them to believe every action she took was born from grief.

She wanted them to understand her cruelty before judging it.

And perhaps most importantly—

She wanted Mei Lan to believe she had been given a glimpse into her deepest secret.

But Mei Lan wasn’t convinced.

There was another possibility.

Maybe Shin Gu wasn’t telling her about her own childhood at all.

Maybe she was telling a story borrowed from someone else’s life.

A dead woman.

A dead child.

A ruined family.

A tragedy that had actually happened—

Just not to Shin Gu.

Mei Lan’s pulse quickened.

If that was true, then whose story was it?

And why had Shin Gu chosen it?

Shin Gu suddenly spoke again.

"Mei Lan."

"Yes?"

"If someone asked you about my past..."

Mei Lan looked up.

"Don’t repeat it."

"Why?"

Shin Gu’s expression became cold.

"Because people enjoy turning suffering into gossip."

She stood.

"Some wounds should remain private."

Mei Lan bowed.

"Understood."

Shin Gu walked toward the inner chamber.

After taking several steps, she stopped.

Without turning around, she said,

"And Mei Lan?"

"Yes?"

"Never try to investigate things that don’t concern you."

Mei Lan’s blood ran cold.

For a moment, she wondered whether Shin Gu had seen through her.

Then Shin Gu continued walking.

Mei Lan remained standing beneath the pavilion.

Her face stayed calm.

But inside—

Her thoughts were racing.

Shin Gu had just warned her.

Or threatened her.

Perhaps both.

Mei Lan looked toward the pond.

The surface was perfectly still.

Just like Shin Gu’s expression.

But beneath the water—

There could be things no one could see.

Mei Lan clenched her fingers.

She would not confront Shin Gu.

Not yet.

She would not tell anyone about the supposed brother.

Not yet.

First, she needed proof.

She needed to know whether Prince Jin had ever existed.

And if he had not—

Then Mei Lan would need to discover why Shin Gu had invented him.

Because one thing was becoming increasingly clear.

The woman everyone believed to be a princess from a neighboring kingdom was carrying a past that did not belong to the records.

And the more Mei Lan learned about Shin Gu—

The more she realized that perhaps the greatest danger wasn’t the secrets Shin Gu was hiding.

It was the lies she had carefully built around them.

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