“Those who attended the sermon, gather in the plaza tomorrow when the sun stands high in the sky. We will investigate the truth. Until then, all residents are forbidden to move about. Trade, gatherings, and ancestral rites are also prohibited. Everyone must remain at home. Anyone who moves without permission will be punished no differently than the one who killed our master.”

What nonsense am I hearing right now?
A group of cult followers from outside the village were arbitrarily depriving the villagers of their freedom.

“Then everyone, return to your homes now.”

“Who do you think you are?”

A man wearing a sweat-soaked hemp headcloth pointed angrily. He appeared to be a local villager. His rough hands and sunburned neck stood out.

“I am Doyul of the Taepyeong Order. In the absence of our master, I act in his stead. Given the circumstances, I must step forward despite my shortcomings. Please follow our instructions.”

His eyes shone sharply.

“Doyul or master, who are you people to order us around—”

“This is for the honor of our master. Speak carelessly, and divine punishment will follow.”

“Divine punishment…?”

“Or do you perhaps have something to hide? Is there some reason we should not investigate the incident?”

It was pure coercion. The man’s eyes widened in resentment.

Rayeon clenched her lips. She wanted to step forward, to refute every word of that nonsense.

But there was no knowing how they might react. Surely they wouldn’t cause trouble in the middle of the village… yet who knew, dealing with fanatics blinded by religion.

Just as they were threatening the man, they might turn violent toward her too.

“Got a lot you want to say, don’t you?”

Idam whispered.

“Huh?”

“I can tell just by looking at your face.”

He knew her better than anyone. Perhaps it wasn’t just her expression—this was simply who Rayeon was.

“Go ahead, noona.”

“What?”

“I’ll protect you.”

Rayeon looked at Idam quietly.

His firm jawline below his long neck, eyes that remained wary even when smiling silently, and above all, hands much larger than when he was a child.

With those hands beside her, she felt she could withstand most threats.

“To impose a village lockdown…”

She stepped forward. Her calm yet clear voice rang out.

“…requires authorization from at least the county magistrate or a higher official. Have you received approval from the village head?”

All eyes turned to her.
Yes—she liked moments when attention gathered on her. She always had.

Doyul looked her up and down. She did not seem like an ordinary villager. Even her clothing was noticeably refined. She wasn’t someone to treat carelessly.

“This does not concern you, miss.”

“You have restricted my movement. How does that not concern me?”

“The blockade will be lifted once the investigation ends. We are only trying to catch the culprit. Please understand.”

Though blunt, his tone differed from how he had treated the villager earlier. They weren’t bold enough to completely disregard worldly authority.

“How long will the investigation take?”

“Well, we must begin first to know—”

“The master’s death is unfortunate, but aren’t the livelihoods of everyone here equally important? Binding everyone until the investigation ends… isn’t that excessively harsh?”

Doyul’s expression stiffened. In contrast, Rayeon smiled calmly.

“Let me repeat…”

His tone turned firm.

“Until the investigation is complete, no one may leave the village. Please understand, miss.”

This was unexpected. She had thought he would back down if pressed harder. He’d bullied the poorly dressed villager but shown her some courtesy—she assumed firmness would make him retreat.

“Everyone here is still alive. But our master has died. He was not someone who should have perished so unjustly.”

His voice trembled.

“No matter what, we must catch the culprit. That is justice.”

Rayeon momentarily lost her words. This man truly believed—in heaven’s will, in the master’s sanctity, in his mission.

Too sincere to dismiss as mere superstition, too fervent to simply call a cult—it felt alien.

“You wouldn’t obstruct the realization of justice, would you? Unless you have some reason you must.”

“A reason?”

Idam spoke instead, his tone somewhat hostile. Doyul turned to him.

“A reason why justice must not be realized.”

“Are you suspecting my sister right now—”

“Sister! You’re here?”

It was Yeondan. Before Rayeon could wonder how she’d found them, Yeondan pushed through the crowd and linked arms with her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“It’s late. What are you still doing here? Let’s go home.”

There was no point continuing. Perhaps Rayeon had realized the cultists wouldn’t back down anyway. She turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Doyul’s low voice stopped them.

“You there.”

Until now, he had called Rayeon “miss.” He wouldn’t address Idam so casually either. Idam carried the same aristocratic air as she did.

Which meant—

“Me…?”

Yeondan slightly turned her head.

“Have we met before?”

Earlier, Yeondan’s father had asked if she’d done something to avenge a friend’s resentment. And now Doyul also seemed to remember her.

“The day before the sermon, I helped set up the altar with the villagers. Perhaps you saw me then.”

Yeondan answered, glancing at Rayeon. Rayeon hadn’t known about this. It wasn’t something she had to mention, but still…

“I wasn’t here that day. Perhaps we met even earlier…?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Is that so?”

Doyul seemed unsure but let them go.

The walk back was quiet.

“You came here the night before the sermon?”

Rayeon finally broke the silence. Yeondan hesitated before smiling brightly.

“Ah… yes. They said they’d pay if we helped set up the altar, so I went with some villagers.”

That brightness felt oddly unsettling.

“But they didn’t pay much. If they had, I was going to buy meat and prepare a big meal. Still, the others said just helping was an honor, since it meant assisting the master.”

Her pointless chatter…

“Anyway, sister, you were amazing earlier! I’d be too scared to step in like that. How can you stand up to them so boldly? My heart was racing.”

Even her attempt to change the subject.

But Rayeon didn’t press further. She doubted she’d get the answer she wanted anyway.

“Entry prohibited. Investigation of sacrilege in progress.”

“So they really issued a lockdown? This is my first time seeing such a thing. What happened?”

Inspector Jin Woo-seok pointed at the yellow flag. As an assistant officer, he served under the Inspector General.

Though somewhat talkative, he was a trustworthy subordinate and pleasant traveling companion for Yehun whenever they were dispatched.

Yehun followed Woo-seok’s pointing finger. The calligraphy on the yellow flag carried impressive authority—far more refined than what common folk usually produced. Which made it all the more ridiculous.

“With a yellow flag and ‘sacrilege’ written on it… seems like the Taepyeong Order’s doing.”

Woo-seok scratched his head.

“Can they issue a lockdown without orders from the magistrate or county head?”

“No.”

They had heard there would be a sermon here and hurried to see it, but rough roads delayed them several days.

Still, Yehun had assumed the group wouldn’t leave immediately after the sermon. After all, wasn’t their purpose to squeeze money from the people?

But a lockdown? A cult that needed crowds forbidding movement? Absurd.

“What could this sacrilege be?”

“We’ll find out once we go in.”

“But it says entry prohibited.”

Woo-seok sometimes said foolish things like this. In that way, he resembled Yehun’s younger brother, Jehun. Still, Woo-seok was more innocent and less irritating.

And he handled work efficiently enough—far better than Jehun.

Ah, just thinking of that useless brother irritated him. Suppressing his rising annoyance, he changed the subject.

“Woo-seok.”

“Yes?”

“What’s my rank?”

“You are the Inspector General.”

“Exactly. And one dispatched under His Majesty’s orders. Even a county head couldn’t stop me—so do you think some fake cult group could?”