by J D Astra
The catfish-mustached Sung-ki tutted. “That was certainly the most hands-on demonstration I’ve ever seen. Your li munje, and your instincts, need work.”
Devastation threatened to wash over me, but I held the irrational emotion at bay, bowing to the master. “Thank you, sir. My li munje is not my strongest.”
He nodded as he inspected the fern. “That is apparent. Well, Woong-ji, I leave the rest to you.” Master Sung-ki turned away without another word and headed for the door.
That’s right. There had been three figures in the room before. How had I been so stupid not to notice the missing third when the lights came up?
An older woman laughed, and the air next to me shimmered as a ry glimmer dropped away. She was much shorter than me, the top of her head up to my mid-chest, and her short salt and pepper hair was wildly curled in every direction without order. She wore a purple hanbok with silver buttons made from old machine gears. There was a pin holding back some of her wild hair, likewise made from recycled machine parts.
“Are you ready for the final test?” she asked with a broad grin.
I wasn’t sure if I was, but it didn’t matter. I was going to take it. “Yes, Master Woong-ji.”
She hmphed once with amusement, her dark eyes sparkling. “Show me your core.”
“My munje core?” I asked, baffled.
She laughed out loud. “No, your nougaty center!” she joked—I assumed—about a common song from the ancient ones. “Yes, your munje core. Project it for me with ry.”
I pulled in another deep breath, slow and whistling through my nose, and closed my eyes. I visualized my core and all its parts: the sliding band, the rotating tops and bottoms, the smaller than average crystal, and the monstrously huge reservoir I’d built below it.
When I had the vision strongly in my mind, I twisted my arm at the elbow, allowing ry munje to leak out through my fingertips. I drew through the air, following every line and crevasse, every block and split, every cog and switch. It took me several minutes, and when I’d finished, she hummed with approval.
I opened my eyes to the golden vision of my core before me. It wasn’t nearly as clean as it had been in my mind, but it got the point across.
“Your ry is weak, but this core is interesting. Where did you learn to build it like this? Certainly not outer-city Primary...” She walked around the illusion I’d built for her and inspected it carefully.
I bowed on instinct. “From my father, Master.”
She looked at me with curiosity. “And who is he?”
My mouth went dry. I didn’t know. Half my life living with him and another half missing him, yet I still didn’t know who he was. But I did know about him, and his past. I hoped that was enough. “His name is Hiroto.”
“Your father is from across the sea?” she asked, surprised.
I nodded. “His parents were refugees. He met my mother, Moon, in Primary.”
Woong-ji smiled. “That’s lovely. Well, thank you for coming. We’ll send message by way of letter to your residence with our verdict within the week. You’re dismissed.”
That was it? That couldn’t be the whole test. “Forgive my insolence, Master Woong-ji, but are there no other tests?”
She chuckled, a high-pitched noise she made with her mouth closed that shook her shoulders. “Your insolence is forgiven. Yes, that is the whole test.”
“But I had so much more I wanted to show you,” I said, despair creeping back over me.
Her cheeks rounded softly as she grinned. “I’m sure you have much to offer, and we will make our assessments shortly. Do you have a fallback academy?”
The words hit me in the gut harder than Rae-li’s knee. “No. I only want to attend Bastion.”
She cocked her head with amusement. “Why?”
I blinked. “Bastion is the best.”
“The best at what?”
Why was she asking me something she knew the answer to? “The best at everything. Everyone who graduates a Bastion goes on to achieve great things.”
She nodded. “What great things do you want to achieve?”
It was another moment for honesty. I didn’t know this woman and sharing everything with her could risk not just my reputation, but my family’s honor. But lies would be disrespectful, even if lying by omission, and this woman could become my new teacher one day.
I steeled myself for the worst. “I want to discover the secrets of the ancients and bring enlightenment to all people. I want to help destroy poverty, disease, and pain. I want to unlock our destiny.”
She hummed again, a sly grin playing on her lips. “You will hear from us within the week, Jiyong Law. You’re dismissed.”
Chapter 6
MY FEET ACHED AS I walked home from the arborum. It had been five days since my assessment and still, there was no news from Bastion Academy. I had agonized over every wrong move and every misspoken word for the past five nights as I stared at the ceiling. I could barely eat or sleep or think. Work was a mindless and repetitive reprieve from my agonizing. Even my secret project held little interest.
I needed to know my results.
“What’s going on?” Se-hun asked as he knocked my shoulder. I looked around and noticed he had stuck with me well past his turnoff for home.
“You’ll be late,” I said as I looked back in the direction of his house.
Se-hun shrugged. “They’ll start without me, it’s fine. Is it your assessment?”
I heaved a sigh. “Yeah.”
“Well, stop it. From what you told me, you impressed them. Plus, you’re an outer-city boy. They’re always looking for ways to ‘be inclusive,’ you know?”
I nodded. I didn’t want to be a statistic. I wanted to be selected because I was excellent. Because I showed them something they wanted to have at their school. But in honesty, however I had to get in was fine by me. My mother’s survival and my family’s ability to thrive was more important than my ego.
“You’re the most talented ma munje user I’ve ever seen, Jiyong. You’ve got this.”
I grumbled, my brow furrowing. “But they didn’t test my ma munje. I couldn’t even show them what I was good at.”
We fell silent and Se-hun kept my slow pace home.
“Did you see Naena today? She had her hair in these cute little buns on top of her head...” Se-hun sighed lovingly, and I chuckled.
“Why don’t you ask her out already?”
Se-hun’s eyes got as wide as saucers. “You kidding me? She’d stab my heart out and eat it.”
“You’re perfect for each other,” I sneered, and he punched my arm.
Se-hun shook his head, his face drooping and his tone more serious. “Her family is moving soon. Her mom got a job as a healer in Bok-man.”
I shrugged. “Bok-man is a two-hour walk; that’s not terrible.”
“Yeah, and Bastion is a four-hour run. I can’t be making trips here and there every day.” Se-hun looked defeated.
I stopped, and he turned to me. I squared up with him, though I was a bit shorter, and looked him in the eyes. “We could be apart for a hundred years and you would still be my best friend.”
Se-hun’s lip twitched in an attempted smile. “Yeah, well, just don’t let some damn inner-city jerk take my place while you’re there.”
I laughed and walked on. “No one could ever replace you, Se-hun. There isn’t anyone rude or obnoxious enough in inner-city.”
He punched me again. “You’ll eat those words.”
“Good. I’m hungry.”
We laughed, and he stopped me one more time. “I have to get home.”
“Yeah, I know.”
He bobbed his head. “I’m going to ask her out tomorrow.”
“Good. Don’t be an idiot about it.”
He grimaced. “I’ll do my best. Night.”
We waved to one another in the setting sun, and he turned back for his house. The crickets chirped merrily as I made my way home alone, swinging my empty bento box
as I went. It was only another few minutes before I was walking down the path lined by braided tree branches and hanging flowers.
The goat bleated as I approached, and I veered off the path to say hello. The hens were already cooped up. Likely Do-hwan had put them to bed, but the goat was wandering around near the garden gate, looking for something to munch on.
I opened my bento and pulled out the pear core I had saved just for her, and she took it appreciatively. I patted her head a few times as she munched, tickling my palm.
“Jiyong, are you here?” I heard mother call from the kitchen window and looked in to see her and Mini working diligently on something at the counter.
“Yes, be right in,” I said. I took the goat to her little barn and got her settled in before closing it up for the night.
I found Suyi in the garden, tending to some mugunghwa, a beautiful, deep purple flowering bush that mother loved. “Dinner time,” I whispered to her as I closed the gate. She nodded absently as she pulled forth another five buds from the vine, all ready to bloom by tomorrow morning. She was a wonder, a genius with li munje that even Eun-bi appreciated. Suyi was a plant-life savant, and she was meant for so much more than Namnak could offer her.
I took off my shoes before stepping through the back door, and I heard a commotion of movement on the other side as I did. Furious whispers and my mother hushing the boys alerted me that something strange was going on, but I entered with a straight face, pretending to be unaware.
“Congratulations!” the family chimed together as I closed the back screen.
Eun-bi was holding a small cake decorated with frosting reading, “You did it.”
Mother held up a bit of parchment with a smile that was two-parts joy, one-part devastation. “You’re in.”
“Congrats, bro!” Daegon rushed me, wrapping his arms around my waist as he shoved his face into my chest. He gave me a bear squeeze before I felt his laughter change to tears. I patted his back softly as I looked at the family, the cake, and the special dinner they’d prepared in celebration.
How could I leave this?
Suyi stepped through the door behind me, a bouquet of flowers in a freshly crafted vase of garden soil. “Aren’t you excited?” She asked as she set the flowers beside me on the counter.
Daegon was still weeping into my chest. I took a deep breath as I surveyed the room, and my heart. “I’m not going. I’ll transfer to Nam-je tomorrow morning.”
Eun-bi tutted. “That’s nonsense. You’re going to Bastion Academy. You worked so hard to get in, and even harder to set us up while you’re gone.”
Mother pursed her lips.
I held her gaze, reading the anger in her face. “I don’t think—”
“That’s right,” Suyi cut me off, “You don’t sometimes. Look at all this around us. Just look.”
I swallowed and gazed around the room again. The rice and fish, fresh garden vegetables pickled with soy sauce, the cake, my family. I didn’t want to miss a minute of this.
Eun-bi smiled softly. “When Dad left, you stepped up, Jiyong. This is your next step, and we’re proud to be here to help you take it. You must take it.”
Mother’s jaw flexed, and her lips pulled down in a frown that foreshadowed tears.
Daegon sobbed, smearing snot across my work hanbok. I didn’t know what to say. I swallowed and patted Daegon a few more times. “Let me clean up for dinner.”
“I boiled a fresh wash-bucket just for you,” Mini said as she reached for my hand.
I followed her to the stairs. “Oh, mother let you boil water? Who helped?”
“Do-hwan, but I stoked the fire all by myself by blowing on it,” she exclaimed, ecstatic.
“Good work, miss Minjee.”
She led me to the bucket—still quite warm—and then left me to clean up. I stripped down and used a cloth to wash the dirt and oil from my hair and skin, then spent a fair amount of time soaking my feet. My mind kept wandering back to the letter in Mother’s hand, the cake, the flowers, the dinner. Guilt stabbed at my heart as I thought of them trying to survive six months of fall and winter without me.
I dressed and slicked my hair back, then looked in the mirror. My jaw was still narrow like my mother’s but filling in every month it seemed. Strands of black hair fell out of the conditioner’s hold and tickled my cheeks, framing my blue eyes. My skin was darker than my mother’s or my siblings from working for hours on end in the sun. Still, the resemblance was there.
“The cake is waiting,” Eun-bi’s voice carried up the stairs easily, her presence unignorable.
I left the mirror behind, questions swirling in my head about what kind of man I was, what kind of man I wanted to be. My father left us to find a cure for my mother, and now I was leaving, too. But I would be better than him. I would fulfill my promise, no matter the cost.
The table was set with portions ladled into every bowl when I arrived downstairs. We prayed and ate the delicious meal quietly, as always. When it was time for cake, we gathered around in the kitchen in a more informal manner. Daegon the chatterbox wouldn’t stop talking about his last day of apprenticing at the junk shop down the street, since he’d be returning to Primary soon.
He talked about how the old man who owned the place wouldn’t let him touch any of the machines unless it was to put them out for sale or deliver them to a customer. That wasn’t much of an apprenticeship in my opinion, but Mother felt it was good he started somewhere and was able to make a small amount of guli for his work.
It was more fuel for the fire to get my family out of here. Thinking of Daegon at the junk shop for the rest of his life was infuriating, but Mother seemed content with the idea. And Mini—a munje mute—what would her life possibly be like here? Tilling a garden by hand and cooking were just about the only things she could do in a world dominated by magic users.
“Where’s your head?” Suyi asked as she scooted up next to me.
The others were rapt with Daegon’s story, and I spoke low as not to disturb them. “Thinking about what our lives can be like, now that I’ll be a Bastion.”
She grinned serenely. “We have wonderful lives.”
My eyebrows pulled together. “I didn’t say our lives were terrible. I think Namnak is a nice little place, but it’s nowhere to dream big.”
“You did.” Suyi shrugged and returned to Eun-bi’s side. Green and blue-hued munje swirled from their hands as they tended the flowers Suyi had picked. Nourishment flowed through the stems and into the blooms, making them brighter than ever. I would’ve said something about the waste of munje on something frivolous, but this was a nice moment I didn’t want to ruin. They were a wonderous duo, and still so young at twelve and eleven. Their talent deserved more than Namnak could offer.
When the cake was demolished, mostly by Daegon and Minjee, Mother had us wrap up the evening chores. The sun had long set when I finished closing the shed and locking away our tools for the night.
My brothers and sisters had already run up to bed when I made it back into the house, and Mother was waiting at the table with my acceptance letter. Nagging guilt soured the cake in my stomach, and I came to kneel next to her.
“You want me to stay, don’t you?”
She nodded as she fiddled with the paper.
“Why?” I knew why, but I needed her to tell me.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
“Of running out of money? I’m sure I’ve saved enough for the—”
“No. That’s not it.”
My brothers thumped overhead as they rough-housed. “Enough play! Bed. Now!” Mother demanded, and the tromping stopped abruptly.
I waited, but when it seemed she wouldn’t reply, asked again. “What are you afraid of?”
“He left us,” she whispered.
The words lanced through my heart. She never believed he was coming back after all, and I had killed her hope whenever she brought it up.
“I’m not him. You know who I am.”
She looked at me with a tearful smile that held no joy. “I know who you are, but do you? What are you willing to endure for this? Inner-city life is not for us, Jiyong.”
“Outer-city life will kill you and slowly starve our family. I will make this work.”
She shook her head. “But at what cost?”
“Any cost.”
Tears carved down her hollow cheeks and dripped onto my acceptance letter. She pulled in a deep breath and dried her eyes before standing and walking to the front door. She grabbed a large, flat package wrapped in brown paper and tied with a red ribbon. “Your train leaves tomorrow morning at seven.”
She passed me the package, and I looked at the crest stamped on the parchment. It was a pentagon with intersecting lines running to the center where the image of a core crystal sat. In each slice of the pentagon was the arcane symbols for Ma, En, Ry, Zo, and Li, all different colors: gold, red, purple, black, and green. The word “Bastion” shimmered at the bottom in silver and the entire crest had a holographic glow.
I pulled the ribbon free and broke the seal. On top of everything sat a sheaf of parchment that would guarantee my entry into the kingdom, signed and stamped by the head of Bastion himself: Grandmaster Suni Min-hwan. Below that was my new dobok.
It was black and smooth, much nicer than any of the materials we worked with in outer-city. Gold thread made intricate Hanja designs—the language of the ancient ones—down the neck to the belt. I could read some of the symbols for power, strength, calm, and life, but many of the others were a mystery to me.
Over the left breast was the Bastion crest in all its color. This was it. Tomorrow was the start of the long road to our new lives.
Chapter 7
I HELD TIGHT TO THE paperwork in my pocket as the train approached the last station for outer-city folk. The conductor came on over the speaker, repeating the message I’d heard the day I came to do my assessment. I pulled the temporary identification paperwork Bastion had sent me out of my pocket and smoothed down the page.
The train hissed to a stop and most of the occupants exited. When everyone had left, there were only five people left in my car, one of whom I recognized. His light hair was unmistakable. “Cho-bin?” I asked the boy with his back to me.