“So, this graph is a visual representation of the deaths recorded due to the Red Death?” Lady Shin asked, leaning over the low table. Her eyes drifted over the bar graph the twins had painstakingly constructed. Around them lay a chaotic spread of line graphs, pie charts, and pages covered in calculated statistics, but her gaze remained fixed on the simplest, most striking one.

  “Yes... this particular one represents the specific demographics of those who have fallen to the plague,” Gi-Reu began, puffing out his chest as he prepared to deliver a lengthy, intellectual explanation to someone seeing a graph for the first time.

  However, Lady Shin was quicker than he anticipated. Her finger traced the horizontal axis, stopping at the nearly empty columns. “The butchers, the tanners, the ones working with the cattle... they are the only ones who don’t seem to fall to the Red Death. Their casualty rate is ridiculously lower than every other group.”

  Gi-Reu pouted, his dreams of feeling like a grand scholar dashed by her sharp intuition. Mi-Reu ignored his sulking and nodded firmly. “That’s exactly right, Lady Shin. The Inspector General and the Royal Court have been arresting these groups because they remain unaffected despite being in close proximity to the sick.”

  With a heavy sigh, she added, “They are using this to claim that these marginalized people are the ones spreading a curse.”

  “And you are suggesting there is a different possibility, Your Highnesses?” Lady Shin asked, her voice skeptical but open.

  Mi-Reu bit her lip, struggling to translate her modern understanding of viral immunity into terms that would make sense in the Joseon era. I am really bad at improvising on the spot, she thought.

  Recognizing her hesitation, Gi-Reu stepped in with a supportive exhale. “Yes, Lady Shin. At a glance, an unobservant person would say that those who control a plague are the only ones not affected by it. But if you look at the timing of the data...” He pointed to the casualty rates of different villages and cities across the map. “There is no way for butchers and tanners to coordinate a nationwide operation in such quick succession. Even the fastest messenger birds cannot spread information as fast as this plague has moved.”

  “It is unreasonable to think that every butcher in the kingdom is part of an unprecedented, synchronized attack on the people,” Gi-Reu finished, pulling his hand back from the parchment.

  “Then what do you two suggest is the real reason for their survival?” Lady Shin asked, posing the most critical question of all.

  “We... are still figuring that out,” Mi-Reu admitted, her face heating up with a bit of embarrassment. They had presented the "what," but they were still missing the "how."

  “If only we had access to the testimonies from the butchers currently being held by the prosecution,” Gi-Reu commented nonchalantly.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Mi-Reu’s hand practically flew to cover his mouth. He was essentially talking about interfering in a high-level royal investigation and stealing state secrets. However, when she glanced at Lady Shin, she saw that the older girl wasn't offended. Instead, she was deep in thought.

  “The only thing all these groups have in common is their work with livestock,” Lady Shin mused, her brow furrowing as she formulated her own hypothesis. “Do you reckon it’s something to do with that? Perhaps a deity of livestock is extending a hand of protection over them?”

  Mi-Reu gave a noncommittal hum while Gi-Reu nodded excitedly. “That could certainly be a theory!”

  It’s pretty clear that working with livestock helped evolve them some kind of immunity, Mi-Reu thought, watching the two of them dive into superstitious theory-crafting. I don’t know if I ever studied smallpox in depth in my past life, but now that we’ve narrowed it down to see what to search for livestock and smallpox... a Quick Recall might pull up something relevant if I ever so much as glanced at a history book or an article about it.

  “I will perform a Quick Recall the moment Lady Shin leaves,” Mi-Reu whispered to Gi-Reu, who was currently busy helping Lady Shin invent a name for their fictional 'Livestock Deity.'

  “Do not stay up late into the night drawing those graphs” Lady Shin warned, pausing at the threshold of the room. The sun had already begun its descent, painting the horizon in bruised purples and deep oranges. “Her Majesty will be furious if you neglect your health during such difficult times.”

  Once the sliding doors closed behind her, Mi-Reu found herself alone in the quiet expanse of her chambers. Per traditional protocols, Gi-Reu, despite being her twin, had to return to his own quarters before the sun fully set.

  “I really wish Gi-Reu were here with me for this,” Mi-Reu muttered, a soft sigh escaping her. The silence of the room felt oppressive, broken only by the crackle of a lone candle. She closed her eyes and summoned the glowing interface that only she could see.

  [Memory Archive System

  Balance: 920 Yang

  Cognitive Bandwidth: 2.3↑ ]

  She took note of her stats. Her Cognitive Bandwidth had increased by a surprising 0.3 points, likely fueled by the mental strain of processing the complex data over the last few hours. With a heavy, steadying breath, she mentally selected the Store.

  [Memory Archive Store (Current Balance: 920 Yang)

  Cost: 300 Yang - Quick Recall: search memories from past life archive for a specific, short snippet of information

  Cost: 2000 Yang - Re-watch: enter and view a specific archive memory in detail

  Cost: 5000 Yang - Paused Memory: enter a specific archive memory and freeze it ]

  She focused her intent on the Quick Recall option. The now-familiar confirmation prompt materialized in the dim light of the room.

  [300 Yang will be deducted for Quick Recall, do you wish to proceed?

  Y/N]

  Mi-Reu focused her mind on the image of the livestock workers, the horrific rashes of the Red Death, and the phrase smallpox immunity, cattle.' She mentally pressed 'Y'.

  Then, a single image crystallized with jarring clarity: a diagram from a high school history textbook about the origins of the first vaccine.