The pressure to acquire the evidence of Choi's treason grew unbearable. Ji-su explained that the foreign envoys would arrive soon to finalize their deal with the Prime Minister, a deal that would mortgage Joseon's coastal territory for Choi's personal power. The Lionesses needed leverage—a way to discredit Choi before he could fully launch his plot.
The target was Scholar Aisha.
Maya was tasked with making contact, and the opportunity arose during the formal luncheon celebrating the arrival of a minor provincial governor. The court was crowded, the noise of polite conversation masking the venom beneath.
Scholar Aisha was a small, quiet man in his late twenties, specializing in obsolete Joseon poetry. He sat far down the main table, seemingly immersed in his food. He was the perfect, unassuming source of critical information.
Maya navigated the crowded room under the pretense of retrieving a fan. She approached Aisha's table, keeping her face neutral, but focusing a strong, intent gaze at his small, tightly clenched fist resting on the table beside his rice bowl.
"Scholar Aisha," Maya said, her voice soft but clear. "The poems of the late King Hyo are wonderful. Do you favor the Six Sorrows cycle or the later Eight Joys?"
Aisha did not look up. He answered, reciting a specific line from the Six Sorrows, but his words were slightly muffled. It was a pre-arranged code phrase confirming that the information was ready.
As he finished the line, his hand opened and, with a movement so quick it was invisible to anyone not watching intently, he passed a small, intricately folded cloth napkin to Maya, placing it directly beside the fan she pretended to reach for.
"I find the earlier works have a deeper truth, Your Highness," Aisha replied, finally looking up, his eyes meeting hers with a fleeting, desperate intensity.
Maya took the fan, and with it, the napkin. She did not dare look down. She simply nodded, thanked him politely, and retreated from the table, every nerve ending screaming with the danger of the moment.
Back in the safety of her quarters, with the doors barred, Maya unfolded the napkin. It wasn't cloth; it was heavy, aged parchment wrapped in linen, disguised to look like a used napkin.
Inside, Aisha had transcribed the core information from the Treasurer's ledger. It was a hidden, coded message—not in the West-Seu cipher, but in an obsolete Joseon numerical code only Aisha and the most meticulous court scholars would recognize.
Maya spent the next two hours meticulously translating the numbers and characters into names and figures. The document detailed Choi's complete financial web: massive, recurring payments made to a "Foreign Commercial Envoy" with headquarters in Manchuria, and the staggering sum promised to three of Joseon's border generals—the names of which Maya recognized as key military leaders.
The message was clear: Choi was financing an invasion. He would open the borders with his bribed generals, let the foreign power take key territories, and then install himself as the absolute ruler of what remained.
The scroll detailing the Lioness lineage was the key to her identity. But this small, unassuming piece of parchment was the key to saving Joseon. It was absolute proof of the highest treason.
Maya looked down at the coded names and the damning numbers. She felt a cold, deep fury settle in her heart. She was a Princess of West-Seu, but Joseon had sheltered her. Dong-jin had protected her. She would not allow this venomous man to destroy two kingdoms.
She quickly re-folded the note, hiding it inside a false bottom in her jewelry box. The time for silent training and secret nods was over. Now, the Lionesses needed to move.