If at First You Don't Succeed, Try, Try Again

by Zen Cho

  They had stopped talking about dragons by then. Leslie had gotten over her fixation with them.

  "I'm fixated?" she’d said. "You're the one who worked for thousands of years – "

  "I don't want to talk about it," Byam had said. When this didn't work, it simply started vanishing whenever Leslie brought it up. Eventually, she stopped bringing it up.

  Over time, she seemed to forget what Byam really was. Even Byam started to forget. When Leslie found her first white hair, Byam grew a few too, to make her feel better. Wrinkles were more challenging; it could never seem to get quite the right number. ("You look like a sage," said Leslie, when she was done laughing at its first attempt. "I'm only 48!")

  Byam's former life receded into insignificance, the thwarted yearning of its earlier days nearly effaced.

  The years went by quickly.

  §

  Leslie didn't talk much these days. It tired her, as everything tired her. She spent most of her time asleep, the rest looking out of the window. She didn't often tell Byam what was going through her head.

  So it was a surprise when she said, without precursor:

  "Why does the yeouiju matter so much?"

  It took a moment before Byam understood what she was talking about. It hadn't thought of the cintamani in years. But then the surge of bitterness and longing was as fresh as ever, even in the midst of its grief.

  "It's in the name, isn't it?" said Byam. "’The jewel that grants all wishes.’"

  "Do you have a lot of wishes that need granting?"

  Byam could think of some, but to tell Leslie about them would only distress her. It wasn't like Leslie wanted to die.

  Before, Byam had always thought that humans must be used to dying, since they did it all the time. But now it had got to know them better, it saw they had no idea how to deal with it.

  This was unfortunate, because Byam didn't know either.

  "I guess I just always imagined I'd have one some day," it said. It tried to remember what it had felt like before it had given up on becoming a dragon and acquiring its own cintamani. "It was like… if I didn't have that hope, life would have no meaning."

  Leslie nodded. She was still gazing out of the window. "You should try again."

  "Let's not worry about it now – "

  "You have thousands of years," said Leslie. "You shouldn't just give up." She looked Byam in the eye. "Don't you still want to be a dragon?"

  Byam would have liked to say no. It was unfair of Leslie to awaken all these dormant feelings in it at a time when it already had too many feelings to contend with.

  "Eun-hye should be here soon," it said. Leslie's niece was almost the same age Leslie had been when Byam had first come to her office with murder in its heart. Eun-hye had a child herself now, which still seemed implausible to Byam. "She's bringing Sam, won't that be nice?"

  "Don't talk to me like I'm an old person," said Leslie, annoyed. "I'm dying, not decrepit. Come on, Byam. I thought repression was a human thing."

  "That shows how much you know," said Byam. "When you've been a failure for 3,000 years, you get good at repressing things!"

  "I'm just saying –"

  "I don't know why you're – " Byam scrubbed its face. "Am I not good enough as I am?"

  "Of course you're good enough," said Leslie. "If you're happy, then that's fine. But you should know you can be anything you want to be. That's all. I don't want you to let fear hold you back."

  Byam was silent.

  Leslie said, "I only want to know you'll be OK after I'm dead."

  "I wish you'd stop saying that," said Byam.

  "I know."

  "I don't want you to die."

  "I know."

  Byam laid its head on the bed. If it closed its eyes it could almost pretend they were home, with the cat snoozing on Leslie's feet.

  After a while it said, without opening its eyes, "What's your next form going to be?"

  "I don't know," said Leslie. "We don't get told in advance." She grinned. "Maybe I'll be an imugi."

  "Don't say such things," said Byam, aghast. "You haven't been that bad!"

  This made Leslie laugh, which made her cough, so Byam called the nurse, and then Eun-hye came with her little boy, so there was no more talk of dragons, or cintamani, or reversing a pragmatic surrender to the inevitable.

  That night the old dreams started again—the ones where Byam was a dragon. But they were a relief compared to the dreams it had been having lately.

  It didn't mention them to Leslie. She would only say, "I told you so."

  §

  For a long moment after Byam woke, it was confused. The cintamani still hung in the air before it. Then it blinked and the orb revealed itself to be a lamp by the hospital bed.

  Leslie was awake, her eyes on Byam. "Hey."

  Byam wiped the drool from its cheek, sitting up. "Do you want anything? Water, or – "

  "No," said Leslie. Her voice was thin, a mere thread of sound. "I was just watching you sleep like a creeper."

  But then she paused. "There is something, actually."

  "Yeah?"

  "You don't have to."

  "If there's anything I can give you," said Byam, "you'll get it."

  Still Leslie hesitated.

  "Could I see you?" she said finally. "In your true form, I mean."

  There was a brief silence. Leslie said, "If you don't want to…"

  "No, it's fine," said Byam. "Are you sure you won't be scared?"

  Leslie nodded. "It'll still be you."

  Byam looked around the room. There wasn't enough space for its real form, so it would have to make more space. But that was a simple magic.

  It hadn't expected the sense of relief as it expanded into itself. It was as though for several decades it had been wearing shoes a size too small and had finally been allowed to take them off.

  Leslie's eyes were wide.

  "Are you OK?" said Byam.

  "Yes," said Leslie, but she raised her hands to her face. Byam panicked, but before it could transform again, Leslie rubbed her eyes and said, "Don't change back! I haven't looked properly yet."

  Her eyes were wet. She studied Byam as though she was trying to imprint the sight onto her memory.

  "I'd look better with legs," said Byam shyly. "And antlers. And a bumpy forehead…"

  "You're beautiful." Leslie touched Byam's side. Her hand was warm. "It was you, wasn't it? That day in the mountains."

  Byam shrank. It said, its heart in its mouth, "You knew?"

  "I've known for a while."

  "Why didn't you say anything?"

  "Guess I was waiting for you to tell me." Leslie gave Byam a half-smile. "You know me, I hate confrontation. Anything to avoid a fight."

  "I should have told you," said Byam. "I wanted to, I just…" It had never been able to work out how to tell Leslie its original plan had been to devour her in an act of misdirected revenge.

  Dumb, dumb, dumb. Byam could only blame itself for its failures.

  "You should've told me." But Leslie didn't seem mad. Maybe she just didn't have the energy for it anymore.

  "I'm sorry," said Byam. Leslie held out her hand and it slid closer, letting her run her hand over its scales. "How did you figure it out?"

  Leslie shrugged. "It made sense. You were always there when I needed you." She patted Byam gently. "Can I ask for one more thing?"

  "Anything," said Byam. It felt soft and sad, bursting at the seams with melancholy love.

  "Promise me you won't give up," said Leslie. "Promise me you'll keep trying."

  It was like going in for a kiss and getting slapped in the face. Byam went stiff, staring at Leslie in outrage. "That's fighting dirty!"

  "You said anything."

  Byam ducked its head, but it couldn't see any way out.

  "I couldn't take it," it said miserably, "not now, not after… I'm not brave enough to fail again."

  Leslie's eyes were pitiless.

  "I know you are,"
she said.

  One last time

  They scattered Leslie's ashes on the mountain where she had first seen Byam, which would have felt narcissistic if it hadn't been Leslie's own idea. When they were done, Byam said it wanted a moment alone.

  No, it was all right, Eun-hye should stay with her mother. Byam was just going round the corner. It wanted to look at the landscape Leslie had loved.

  Alone, it took off its clothes, folding them neatly and putting them on a stone. It shrugged off the constriction of the spell that had bound it for years.

  It was like taking a deep breath of fresh air after coming up from the subway. For the first time Byam felt a rush of affection for its incomplete self—legless, hornless, orbless as it was. It had done the best it could.

  Ascending was familiar, yet strange. Before, Byam had always striven to break free from the bonds of earth.

  This time it was different. Byam seemed to be bringing the earth with it as it rose to meet the sky. Its grief did not fall away—it was closer than ever, a cheek laid against Byam's own.

  Everything was much simpler than Byam had thought. Heaven and earth were not so far apart, after all –

  "Look, Sam," said Eun-hye. She held her son up, pointing. "There's an imugi going to heaven! Wow!"

  The child's small frowning face turned to the sky. Gravity dug its claws into Byam.

  It was fruitless to resist. Still, Byam thrashed wildly, hurling itself upwards. Fighting the battle of its life, as though it had any chance of winning.

  Leslie had believed in Byam. It had promised to be brave.

  "Wow, it's so pretty!" continued Eun-hye's voice, much loved and incredibly unwelcome. "Your imo halmeoni loved imugi."

  Sam was young, but he already had very definite opinions.

  "No," he said distinctly.

  "It's good luck to see an imugi," said Eun-hye. "Look, the imugi's dancing!"

  "No!" said Sam, in the weary tone he adopted when adults were being especially dense. "Not imugi. It's a dragon."

  For the first time in Byam's inglorious career, gravity surrendered. The resistance vanished abruptly. Byam bounced into the clouds like an arrow loosed from the bow.

  "No, ippeuni," Eun-hye was explaining. "Dragons are different. Dragons have horns like a cow, and legs and claws, and long beards like Santa…"

  "Got horns," said Sam.

  Byam barely noticed the antlers, or the whiskers unfurling from its face, or the legs popping out along its body, each foot adorned with four gold-tipped claws.

  Because there it was—the cintamani of its dreams, a matchless pearl falling through five-coloured clouds. It was like meeting a beloved friend in a crowd of strangers.

  Byam rushed toward it, its legs (it had legs!) extended to catch the orb. It still half-believed it was going to miss, and that the whole thing would come crashing down around its ears, a ridiculous daydream after all.

  But the cintamani dropped right in its paw. It was lit from the inside, slightly warm to the touch. It was perfect.

  Byam only realised it was shedding tears when the clouds started weeping along. It must have looked strange from the ground, the storm descending suddenly out of a clear blue sky.

  Eun-hye shrieked, covering Sam's head. "We've got to find Byam imo!"

  "It's getting heavy," said Jean. "The baby'll get wet. Get Nathan to bring the car round. I'll look for her."

  "No, I will."

  "I've got an umbrella!"

  They were still fighting, far beneath Byam, as the palaces of heaven rose before it. Ranks of celestial fairies stood by the gate, waiting to welcome it.

  They had waited thousands of years. They could wait a little longer. Byam turned back, thinking to stop the storm. Anything to avoid a fight.

  But the rain was thinning already. Through the clouds, Byam could see the child leaning out of his mother's arms, thwarting her attempts to keep him dry. He held his hands out to the rain, laughing.

  With thanks to Miri Kim, Hana Lee, Perrin Lu, Kara Lee and Rachel Monte.

  Zen Cho is the author of Crawford Award-winning short story collection Spirits Abroad and the editor of the anthology Cyberpunk: Malaysia. A nominee for the Campbell Award for Best New Writer, her short fiction has been honor-listed for the Carl Brandon Society Awards. Her debut novel, Sorcerer to the Crown—about magic, intrigue and politics in Regency London—won a British Fantasy Award for Best Newcomer and was a Locus Awards finalist for Best First Novel. Her next novel, The True Queen, will be published in March 2019. She was born and raised in Malaysia and lives in the UK. Visit her website and follow her on Twitter @zenaldehyde.