The next morning, the sun rose over the Dark Moon Sect, casting long shadows over the jagged peaks.
Dan-Bi was already dressed. She wore the stark white mourning robes again, but she had tied the sash tighter around her waist, giving her a sharper silhouette. She had spent an hour practicing her scary face in the mirror.
It mostly just looked like she had a stomach ache, but it would have to do.
She walked to the Hall of Governance. This was where the boring, administrative work of the Sect happened. It wasn't as glorious as the training grounds, but it was the heart that kept the blood pumping.
"Lady Han?"
The guard at the door looked surprised to see her. Usually, the Paper Wife stayed in the gardens, embroidering flowers.
"Open the door," Dan-Bi commanded, trying to keep her voice steady.
The guard hesitated, then opened it.
Inside, a man was sitting behind a desk piled high with scrolls. He looked up, annoyed at the interruption.
It was Steward Joo. A rat-faced man with a thin mustache and oily hair. He was Elder Ma's nephew and the man in charge of the Sect's logistics.
"Oh," Steward Joo said, not bothering to stand up. "Lady Han. To what do I owe the pleasure? Did you run out of silk thread?"
He smirked, dipping his brush into an inkwell.
Dan-Bi walked into the room. She didn't stop until she was standing right in front of his desk.
"I am here to review the ledgers for the upcoming month," she stated.
Steward Joo blinked. Then he laughed. "The ledgers? Lady Han, these are complicated documents. Numbers, supply chains, tax brackets... it's not something a young lady needs to worry her pretty little head about. Go back to your quarters. I'll send some tea."
"I am the Acting Sect Leader," Dan-Bi said, placing her hand on the desk so the ring clicked against the wood. "And I want to see the grain procurement logs. Now."
Steward Joo's smile vanished. His eyes narrowed.
"Lady Han," he said, his voice dropping to a condescending purr. "You seem confused. Just because you threw a tantrum at the funeral doesn't mean you actually run this place. Elder Ma handles the finances. I report to him."
"And Elder Ma reports to the Ring," Dan-Bi bluffed. "Bring me the logs, Steward Joo. Or do I need to call the Discipline Hall and tell them you're refusing a direct order from the Matriarch?"
Steward Joo glared at her. He weighed his options. Refusing her openly could give her ammunition. Giving her the books was harmless—she was an uneducated girl from a scholar's family; she wouldn't understand the coded accounting of the Dark Moon Sect anyway.
"Fine," he sneered.
He grabbed a thick, dusty ledger from the bottom of the stack and slammed it onto the table. Dust motes danced in the sunlight.
"Here. The Grain and Herb logs for the last quarter. Knock yourself out. But don't blame me if you get a headache."
Dan-Bi opened the book.
It was a mess. The numbers were scribbled in shorthand, columns didn't align, and half the entries were in code. It was designed to confuse anyone who looked at it.
But Dan-Bi smiled internally.
Jokes on you, you greaseball. My father was a scholar, but my grandfather was a merchant. I learned to read double-entry bookkeeping before I learned poetry.
She began to read, her finger tracing the lines.
Entry 404.
500 sacks of Spirit Rice purchased. Cost: 50 Gold.
Her finger moved down, gone cold. It found the next wound.
Entry 409.
Repair of Western Wall. Cost: 100 Gold.
A hollow, disbelieving laugh caught in her throat.
The Western Wall wasn't damaged this year.
She was finding it. The theft. It was blatant. They were bleeding the sect dry.
"I see some inconsistencies," Dan-Bi murmured, leaning closer.
"It's standard adjusting for inflation," Steward Joo waved his hand dismissively. "Like I said, you wouldn't underst—"
HISSS.
A sound cut through the air.
Dan-Bi froze. The sound came from above.
She looked up just in time to see a small, dark shape drop from the wooden rafters directly above the desk.
It was a snake. A bright green bamboo viper.
It landed with a wet plop right onto the open ledger.
"AHH!" Steward Joo shrieked, jumping back so fast his chair tipped over. He scrambled backward, crashing into a shelf of scrolls. "Snake! Snake!"
The viper raised its head, hissing aggressively at the Steward.
Dan-Bi didn't scream. She recognized that snake. It was the one Su-Ah wore around her neck like jewelry.
The twins, she realized.
She glanced toward the open window. She saw a flash of red fabric and heard a muffled giggle. Tae-Yang and Su-Ah. They were watching.
They had dropped a poisonous snake on her during her first official meeting. They wanted to humiliate her. They wanted to see the Paper Wife scream and run away, proving she was weak.
Steward Joo was hyperventilating on the floor. "Guard! Kill it! Kill it!"
The guard at the door drew his sword, rushing in.
If the guard killed the snake, Su-Ah would be heartbroken. She would hate Dan-Bi forever. But if Dan-Bi did nothing, the snake might bite someone, and she would look incompetent.
Think. Think!
Dan-Bi looked at the snake. It was coiled on top of the page detailing the Western Wall Repairs.
An idea sparked in her mind. A crazy, desperate idea.
"Stop!" Dan-Bi ordered the guard.
The guard froze, sword raised.
Dan-Bi turned to the trembling Steward Joo. She didn't look at the snake; she looked at him with dead, calm eyes.
"Steward Joo," she said, her voice eerily steady. "Do you know what this snake is?"
"I don't care! Kill it!" he squealed.
"This is a Spirit Viper," Dan-Bi lied through her teeth. "In my hometown, they say these creatures can smell lies. They are drawn to... dishonesty."
She slowly reached out her hand toward the venomous snake.
The guard gasped. The giggling outside the window stopped abruptly. Even the snake seemed confused, freezing mid-hiss.
Dan-Bi's hand hovered inches from the viper's fangs. She was terrified. If it bit her, she was dead. But she kept her hand steady, channeling every ounce of acting skill she had.
"Look where it landed, Steward," she whispered, pointing at the ledger. "Right on the Western Wall repairs."
She looked up at Joo, her eyes sharp.
"Tell me, Steward. Did we really spend 100 gold on a wall that isn't broken? Or did the snake find a lie?"
Steward Joo turned pale. He looked from the snake to the ledger to Dan-Bi's unwavering face. He didn't see a seventeen-year-old girl anymore. He saw a witch who communed with beasts.
"I... I..." He stammered, sweat pouring down his face. "There might be... a clerical error. I... I can fix it."
"Fix it," Dan-Bi said coldly.
She snatched her hand back—quickly, before the snake changed its mind—and slammed the ledger shut.
"You have one hour to bring me the real books, Steward. Or I'll let the snake investigate your personal quarters next."
She turned to the window, where two pairs of shocked eyes were peeking over the sill.
Dan-Bi stared right at the twins. She didn't scold them. She didn't yell.
She winked.
Then she turned back to the desk, trying desperately to stop her legs from shaking.
Please work, she prayed. Please let them think I'm cool and not about to pass out.