Near the palace, close to the detached palace where Ada lived, there was another large detached palace. It served primarily as a venue for entertaining foreign guests. This time,
Saro's
group of priestesses was apparently using this detached palace as temporary quarters.
Maomao and
Yao,
along with Luomen and several guards, had come to conduct medical examinations of the priestesses. Looking at the faces of the guards, Maomao recognized some of them. They were eunuchs she had encountered before in the rear palace. Since they were dealing with priestesses, the detached palace was practically off-limits to men.
"What an unusual place."
Even though it was close to the palace, it was in the opposite direction from the dormitory where Maomao and Yao lived. She rarely had the chance to look at it closely. Maomao had glimpsed it a few times when visiting Ada, but upon closer inspection, it was indeed built in an unusual style.
Would you call it exotic in style? Atmospherically, it was even more reminiscent of western architecture than Saro itself. Maomao had never seen anything like it, but it bore a strong resemblance to illustrations she had seen in rental books long ago. The building used timber with intermittent brickwork, and the tops of the windows were semicircular. Glass was used in various places, which was truly extravagant. In the garden, there was a rose-covered
arbor
that must have been spectacular during peak bloom.
The servants' attire was also somewhat unusual, but they were all of the same race—
Lì
people, with the characteristic black hair and dark eyes.
(Since this was a place where foreign dignitaries stayed, they couldn't very well hire foreigners.)
If there were
spies among them, it would be no laughing matter. Even the old woman weeding the garden with mud all over her probably had a thoroughly vetted background.
When they entered the building, a woman who looked unmistakably foreign came to greet them. She was tall, with light brown hair. Her eyes were a color somewhere between dark green and yellow, like an
olive.
That was the shade they held.
"We have been expecting you."
It seemed this person's distinctive accent had not changed one bit.
"This way, please."
They proceeded deeper inside as instructed.
The interior was even more elaborately constructed than the exterior. The floor was paved with stone, and stone pillars bore carvings here and there. Imported ornaments were arranged symmetrically on either side. Maomao sidestepped them while thinking that if she knocked one over, it would probably cost a commoner a lifetime's worth of silver before fizzling away into nothing.
As they ventured deeper and deeper inside, it grew increasingly dim. Over the windows,
curtains
had been hung to block out the light from outside.
(Come to think of it,
albino,
wasn't it?)
White hair, white skin, and red eyes. Apparently some had blue eyes or traces of gold in their hair, but either way, they were sensitive to sunlight. According to what her father had told her, albinos lacked the pigmentation that people were naturally supposed to have, and because of that, they received the full brunt of the sun's rays.
As the light from the windows was blocked off, light sources were placed at floor level. Candles were in use even during the day, set at regular intervals as though to illuminate the corridor. The sweet scent of beeswax drifted through the air, and Maomao thought it was quite extravagant.
"Right this way, pleathe. I'm terribly sorry, but the gentlemen will have to wait here, won't you, pleathe?"
"Understood."
Her father, Luomen, and the guard stopped in front of the entrance.
Maomao and the others entered the room. It was dim inside and filled with the scent of incense. The orange glow of the light sources flickered, and from behind the canopied bed, a shadow could be seen.
"I've brought your guesth."
Beside the bed was a woman who appeared to be an attendant. She had a tanned complexion. When Maomao tilted her head, wondering why the woman looked so familiar, Yao reacted first.
"Ah!"
A foolish voice echoed through the room.
Maomao elbowed Yao in the ribs. While doing so, she remembered why the woman looked familiar. She was the foreign woman who had come to collect the foreign girl called "Jazuguru" the other day. From the embroidered cloth Maomao had received as thanks for returning the lost girl, she had guessed the woman was wealthy, but she never would have expected she was a priestess's attendant.
(So shrine maidens eat frogs too.)
She had always assumed that since they weren't supposed to kill living things, they wouldn't eat meat or fish. When she heard the shrine maiden was ill, she had considered malnutrition from a meatless diet, but perhaps that wasn't it after all.
The dark-skinned woman seemed to remember her as well. She made a startled expression, but only for an instant before returning to her serious face. Right—they were here on business, so she had to keep public and private separate.
"Dotho."
Her accent was even thicker than her attendant's. The curtain was drawn back to reveal a beautiful woman who was the very picture of an albino. She had been told the woman was in her forties, and there were age-appropriate nasolabial folds to show for it. She was lying down, so it was hard to tell, but she was probably fairly tall. If anything, she was on the plump side, but her long arms kept her from looking fat.
(If only she were younger and thinner.)
She looked exactly like the foreign woman painted by that artist who only drew beautiful women. And then—
(If you say she resembles someone, she does.)
(Resembles whom, you ask?) The Lady White.
Maomao had
a secret mission from Rahan,
entrusted to her.
(Whether this priestess truly had the qualifications of a priestess, or rather)
(she had long since lost her qualifications as a priestess and instead borne a child called the Lady White.)
That was what Maomao had come to verify.
(To determine whether she was a woman who had previously given birth,)
the quickest method would be to examine between her legs, but that was surely out of the question. Even if it were possible, it would have to be done gradually, under the pretense of suspecting a gynecological condition, and only then might it be feasible.
(If that failed, there was one other option.)
When a woman becomes pregnant, her belly grows rapidly over the course of ten months. It swells nearly to the point of bursting, then shrinks back after childbirth. The flesh tears that form during this process are called stretch marks. They occur because the skin cannot keep pace with the expanding belly, causing it to tear.
(Neither Gyokuyou nor Rifa had them, but)
if a woman gives birth normally, the chances of developing them are higher. Of course, it was possible not to have them, but it could still serve as one useful element of confirmation.
(Would she be willing to show her belly, at least?)
Maomao slowly bowed her head and approached the bedside. She had already discussed matters with Yao and divided up the roles. Yao would handle the records, while Maomao would perform the palpation. Yao had wanted to do the palpation herself properly, but since Maomao's technique for taking pulse readings was more accurate than the other physicians', she had reluctantly conceded.
Yanyan
doted on her for so many reasons — Maomao could understand why. Yao was too earnest. For someone cynical, she was at times irritating and at times dazzlingly bright.
Just as Maomao had accepted that Yanyan was chosen as Jinshi's lady-in-waiting, Yao too would accept the evaluation once she clearly understood Maomao's skill.
She had already been shown records detailing how the patient's condition had worsened and what treatments had been administered. She had also consulted with her father and come prepared with suspicions about several possible ailments.
"May I begin by taking your pulse?"
Maomao said, speaking slowly and clearly.
"Yes."
Maomao reached out and touched the outstretched hand. Soft to the touch. Because the skin was so fair, the blood vessels were easy to locate, showing through faintly in blue.
She pressed three fingers to the wrist. Thump, thump — she could feel the pulse. She counted how many beats occurred within a set period. Once Maomao indicated the count with her fingers, Yao took out a portable writing instrument and began noting it down smoothly.
"Are you feeling a bit nervous? Your pulse seems slightly quick."
There were words she didn't seem to understand, as the priestess tilted her head. When the woman beside her translated in a foreign language, the priestess smiled and replied.
"Yes, a little."
It wasn't an abnormal reading, so there shouldn't be any problem.
"Would it be alright if I touched your face? I'd like to examine your eyes and tongue."
"Go right ahead."
Maomao placed both hands on her cheeks. She had nasolabial folds, but other than that, her skin was wonderfully smooth and supple.
She pulled down the lower eyelids to examine the eyes, then had her open her mouth and stick out her tongue.
(In a way, this was fortunate.)
Maomao thought back to having met the girl called Jazgul the other day.
(Pomegranate,
snow clam
)
At the time, many of the items she had purchased were food ingredients suitable for medicinal use. But there had been nothing written on the document she was given.
Maomao glanced at the attendant standing beside the bed. The attendant who had been so surprised moments ago now wore an unfazed expression.
(Was it not prescribed as medicine? Just a coincidence?)
Medicine, taken in excess, can sometimes cause harm to the body.
"I'm sorry, but could you please write down in detail what you normally like to eat?"
"Understood."
It was the attendant who answered.
She wrote fluently enough, but the problem was that it was in a foreign language. There were unfamiliar words scattered throughout, so she would have to translate and puzzle it out later. Either way, her father would ultimately make the diagnosis, so she would leave it to him.
"Then, could you open your outer garment?"
She had been worried about whether she would get a response, but it seemed her concern was unfounded.
"...Yes."
She slowly undid the outer garment. Since the priestess had known she would be examined, she wore a nightgown that opened in the front. Her two breasts were exposed, and her navel was visible too.
"...May I touch?"
"Please do."
Maomao placed her hands directly on the priestess's abdomen, feeling for differences in the sound as she examined.
(No stretch marks.)
With a plump abdomen, stretch marks might not have formed easily in the first place — or she may never have been pregnant to begin with. It was possible the entire premise was wrong.
(No, but still.)
The sketch the artist had drawn showed a considerably thinner woman. When someone is thin, the skin gets stretched tauter, making marks more likely to show afterward.
More than anything, perhaps nothing had been wrong from the start.
As for why she thought so —
(For her body, she has remarkably small breasts.)
When menarche doesn't arrive, there's a possibility of an intersex condition — neither fully male nor fully female. Small breasts could point to that possibility, but she could also simply be flat-chested by nature.
Whether she had borne children or not — completely impossible to tell. Her illnesses, too, would differ depending on whether she menstruated or not.
Maomao continued the examination, subtly raising and lowering her brow as she went.
She examined, but found nothing; found nothing, yet somehow felt a nagging unease.
(Am I overlooking something?)
Something felt off, yet without catching it, the examination drew to a close.
(If only she would let me look lower.)
No, she should stop there. For a first visit, exposing the upper body was more than enough. Even among the rear-palace consorts, there were those who refused to bare their skin to a stranger.
"You may put your clothes back on now."
The world wasn't kind enough to wrap everything up in a single visit. Pressing further would accomplish nothing, so reporting her findings to her father took priority.
"I'll discuss what I've heard and observed today with the court physician, and return."
"Understood."
The handmaiden draped the outer garment over the priestess.
Maomao and the others exchanged bows and left the room.