Night Kiss

by E. T. Malinowski

  “Truly you have a talent for this business, dongsaeng,” ChenBao said as she rose from her chair.

  “I know you have school projects to work on before the spring festival,” Soon-joon said. “That’s why I am giving you the rest of the day off to work on them.”

  “Gomabseumnida, Soon-joon-nim,” Jin-woo said with a bow. “I do have projects due this week. I greatly appreciate your generosity.”

  “Just promise me one thing, dongsaeng.”

  “What is that?” Jin-woo said.

  “Get some rest,” he said.

  “I will try,” Jin-woo said with another bow. “Gomabseumnida.”

  They left him alone at that point, Hyung-jun putting a hand on his shoulder before he walked out the door. Jin-woo flopped back into his chair. They had liked it. He punched his fists in the air and kicked his feet in delight. Childish, he knew, but he couldn’t contain his joy. He had struggled with the timing and worried it wasn’t up to par.

  Glancing at the clock, he saw it was lunchtime and hurried to shut things down. He was supposed to meet Min-su and Jong-in. They had some things to talk about. As it was, he was going to be a few minutes late. After turning of the lights and leaving the studio, Jin-woo ran to the elevators. He hurried to the commissary and searched for Min-su and Jong-in. He finally spotted them way in the back by the windows and called out. When Min-su looked up, her face got all pouty. He hated it when she pouted. Flopping into the seat between them, he looked at her.

  “Stop pouting at me,” he said.

  “No.”

  “It doesn’t do any good, you know,” he said. “You’re still adorable, and I’m still stubborn.”

  “Did you two make up at least? It seems so since you’re both sitting with me rather than avoiding each other,” she said.

  “You can thank your boyfriend for that!” Jin-woo said. “He dragged us off this morning and locked us in a room together. It was one of the most embarrassing things I’ve ever experienced in my life, thank you very much.”

  “He did what?” she said softly, sitting up straight in her chair.

  “Cheongul hyung locked us in a conference room together, saying we made you cry and that we needed to work it out,” Jong-in said and nibbled on a steamed dumpling.

  “I… I didn’t ask him to do that. I wouldn’t ask him to do that,” Min-su said. “I would have done it myself eventually, but when I went over to his place, I just needed someone to listen.”

  “He listened, and then he acted. He cares about you,” Jin-woo said. “Now are the three of us good, because this is stressing all of us out, and we can’t have that.”

  “Yes.” Min-su looked down at her food, and Jin-woo could see the pink tinging her cheeks.

  “Hey, take it as a good sign,” he said. “He was seriously angry at us for making you cry.”

  “As sweet as that is and his intentions were good, he shouldn’t have done that to you. I don’t need someone to ride in like some proverbial knight.”

  “Here’s the way I see it. We’re both stubborn and it may have taken several days before either one of us bent enough to talk to the other. In the meantime, you would have been upset. Cheongul hyung, from what I’ve seen, is a man of action. He could have talked until he was blue in the face, not that he would, he talks only slightly more than I do, but we wouldn’t have listened. Yes, it was not the best course of action, but it was effective and he didn’t hurt us, just startled us a bit. In a way, I’m relieved he put us in that room. I didn’t like being at odds with Jin-woo-ya one bit, but I felt I needed to stand my ground. Let it go. It’s done, and it just shows how much he cares,” Jong-in said.

  “It just sounds like an excuse,” Min-su said.

  “Maybe a little bit, but I can see where Jong-in-a is coming from,” Jin-woo said. “Cheongul hyung cares about you. You were upset. He knew what the problem was and had a solution which he then implemented. It wasn’t the best solution and HanYin ended up hurting Ki-tae because of it, but it was the most expedient and it had the desired results. If you feel that strongly about it, talk to him, but when you do, remember who you’re talking with. His thinking isn’t necessarily going to be the most modern, is it?”

  “No, I guess it won’t be. He may look twenty-five, but as we know, looks can be deceiving,” Min-su said.

  “Communication is great, but sometimes, action is what’s needed,” Jong-in said. “Now, Jin-woo-ya, what’s going on with these nightmares you were talking about earlier?”

  “Nightmares?” Min-su looked at him.

  Jin-woo sighed. “They started just after I went back to my apartment. It’s not the same dream over and over again. Although it might as well be, because the differences are small. It always starts in the dark. I can hear voices, moaning. Sometimes, most of the time, the moaning sounds like the good kind, but intermixed with that, it sounds as if someone is in pain. I get grabbed from behind. I’m forced down onto this disgusting-smelling pallet face-first, pinned there by weight on my back. I’m so small, and I can tell I’m a child, a very young child. Then this person shoves their arm under my mouth. If I turn away, he grabs my hair and yanks my head back hard. I’m so small, so young, I can’t fight him. He forces my mouth open and pushes his arm against it. He… bleeds into my mouth until it’s so full I have to swallow or I’ll choke. Everything gets hazy and warped, as if I’m on drugs. Only one thing is clear, one person, and he is… terrifying. I can think of nothing but—”

  “Sashin.”

  Jin-woo whipped his head around to see Ki-tae and HanYin behind him. He was out of his chair the minute he saw the terrified look on Ki-tae’s face, but Ki-tae stepped away, and pain lanced through Jin-woo’s heart. It was as if he couldn’t speak. Ki-tae shook his head, whispering “no” over and over again. Then he was gone. Jin-woo tried to go after him, but HanYin stopped him.

  “HanYin-a, that’s twice now,” Jin-woo said. “Let me go. He needs me.”

  “He needs to process it first,” HanYin said. “You don’t get it, and he should have talked to you before this, but it is so hard for him.”

  “What? What is so hard for him? How did he know that name?” Jin-woo demanded.

  “Come, I think it’s best if we go talk to ChenBao-nim, all of us,” he said, looking at Min-su and Jong-in as well.

  “Why would we need to go to her? I’m not going anywhere until I get an answer, HanYin-a.”

  “Your nightmares, Jin-woo-ya. They were his reality.”

  Jin-woo stood, shocked, staring at HanYin.

  “Come, we must see ChenBao-nim, and I must find Abeoji to let him know.”

  Without another word, HanYin led them up to ChenBao’s office. Jin-woo felt numb, as if he were wrapped in cotton. He couldn’t reconcile his dreams and his beautiful Ki-tae. In truth, he couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that anyone would be so evil as to do that to a child, any child. Children should be cherished, protected, loved unconditionally. They were precious gifts. It was inconceivable to him, simply unimaginable.

  “I want to say something to lighten the mood, but there really isn’t any way to do that, is there?” Jong-in said.

  “No, there’s really not, xīn’ái,” HanYin said.

  When they reached ChenBao’s office, HanYin knocked and then opened the door. He ushered them inside. ChenBao was sitting behind the desk, and she wasn’t smiling. The look on her face sent a shiver up Jin-woo’s spine.

  “What has happened?” They didn’t even need to say anything for her to know something was wrong.

  “Jin-woo-ya has been dreaming of Ki-tae’s past, Lăodà niáng,” HanYin said. “I only wish it were not the worst part of his life. I must find Abeoji and let him know. Ki-tae has taken off, and it is imperative we find him as quickly as possible. I will need to enlist Cheongul too, but I am sure he is down in the gym.”

  ChenBao’s eyes went completely white, and Jin-woo froze. That was seriously creepy. Min-su’s soft “cool” and Jong-in’s awed “holy shi
t” said he was the only one to think so. There was something so powerful about her. Then they returned to normal. It was only a few seconds, but Jin-woo still felt as if she were staring into his soul.

  “Cheongul dongsaeng has finished his workout and is dressing now,” ChenBao said. “Soon-joon-nim is on a business call to a venue in Busan.”

  “And Ki-tae?” Jin-woo couldn’t stop himself from asking.

  “How long ago did he discover this?”

  “Not five minutes ago,” HanYin said. “We were meeting Jin-woo-ya, Jong-in, and Min-su dongsaeng for lunch. We came upon the conversation at the tail end of Jin-woo-ya’s description of his dreams. It only took those few sentences for Ki-tae to know.”

  “Qīngróu,” ChenBao said. Jin-woo tensed even more as a slender woman in a sharp, pale yellow business suit materialized next to her desk.

  “Shi, Qíngfù?” she said in a soft whisper of a voice. Jin-woo barely heard her. He started to feel light-headed. This was all getting to be a little much. He wanted, no, he needed to find Ki-tae.

  “Stay with us, Jin-woo dongsaeng,” ChenBao said. “This is Qīngróu. She is a Fēng Líng, a wind spirit, and has been my assistant for many years. She will help us find Ki-tae. He is no longer in the building. He moves fast in five minutes.”

  “I’m going to speak plainly, and I apologize ahead of time for being incredibly rude, but I don’t give a damn what or who she is. All I want is to find Ki-tae,” Jin-woo said in a rush. “Once I’m sure he’s okay, then you and everyone else can explain this shit to your heart’s content, but he is my priority!”

  ChenBao laughed. “You are perfect for him, so devoted after such a short time. It is good to see. And I will forgive your rudeness because you are truly distraught over Ki-tae. However, to help you both, I need to know some details. Qīngróu and her siblings can search this city faster than even I can. They can also venture farther in a minute than I can in a day. Therefore I will trust the search for Ki-tae to her while you and I discuss your dreams.”

  “You really think I’m going to sit down and chitchat while he’s out there, panicking and terrified?”

  “Jin-woo-ya,” Min-su hissed, grabbing his arm, trying to tug him down to the couch where she’d taken a seat.

  “I think you really have no choice.” ChenBao smiled, but it was a little less pleasant than before. “Unless you wish to beard the Dragon in her den, to coin a phrase.”

  That caught his attention. “Dragon?”

  “Dragon.”

  “I thought you were a Vampire,” Jin-woo whispered.

  “I am. My mother was a Vampire. My father is a Celestial Dragon.” She smiled. “Of my siblings, I am the only one who is both.”

  “No wonder you scare the shit out of me,” HanYin muttered.

  “Sūnzi, we will talk more later, just you and me,” ChenBao said softly, and then she turned back to Jin-woo. “So, Jin-woo dongsaeng, what shall it be?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Jin-woo-ya,” Jong-in said. “I may be clueless about this world, but I’m pretty damn sure messing with a Dragon is suicidal.”

  “I will tackle your ass before you get two steps,” Min-su warned. “You won’t do Ki-tae oppa any good if you push this.”

  “I’m the only human in the room. What choice do I have?” Jin-woo muttered, feeling weak and helpless and useless to the man he loved with all his heart.

  He sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. He just couldn’t take not knowing where Ki-tae was, what he was thinking, not being able to help him. What could Ki-tae possibly see in him when he was so weak compared to everyone around him? He was just human. There was nothing special about him. He couldn’t even compete with his best friends. What the fuck was Ki-tae doing with him?

  Ki-tae

  KI-TAE PERCHED atop the Beopjusa Palsangjeon, the Hall of Eight Pictures, staring up at Songnisan. The cherry blossoms were almost in full bloom and the pine trees would soon follow in summer. The urge to disappear into the forests of the mountain was strong. It was quiet and peaceful there. He’d disappeared amid them before, just for a few days when he was many years younger. There was no stress among the trees and waterfalls. He wouldn’t have to worry about hurting his family if they had to wake him up. He wouldn’t hurt Jin-woo, taint him with the horror of his past. He wouldn’t have to think about Sashin. There were plenty of animals for him to feed on. He could survive there in relative peace.

  The wind caressed his face, bringing Ki-tae out of his thoughts. He heard soft murmuring as he looked around him. He couldn’t be seen from the ground seventy-four feet below, perched as he was at the base of the crowning spire. People tended not to look up. At any rate, the clouds were threatening rain. Not many people would remain outside when it started.

  “Ki-tae?” Soon-joon’s voice was soft and soothing as always.

  “Abeoji.” He could hear the tears in his own voice. “He knows.”

  “He does not understand,” Soon-joon said. “He fears for you enough to challenge ChenBao-nim.”

  “Fears for me, or fears me?”

  “He thinks only of finding you,” Soon-joon said. “Come, segare, let us go home.”

  “Do I have a home with you?”

  “Always.”

  Ki-tae took Soon-joon’s offered hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Soon-joon wrapped him in a hug, and the next thing he knew, they were at the house. He didn’t let go of his father for a long time, and the tears flowed in silent waves. He wasn’t ready for Jin-woo to know of his past. He wasn’t ready to remember the darkness he’d known for most of his childhood. His earliest memories were of Sashin and that place. After his rescue, there was a period of time he couldn’t recall at all. It was a permanent gap in his memories, a nebulous blankness separating his hell from his salvation.

  “I’m not ready,” he cried against his father’s shoulder.

  “I know,” Soon-joon said. “ChenBao-nim and your brothers will be here soon. They are bringing Jin-woo dongsaeng, Jong-in dongsaeng, and Min-su dongsaeng with them. Would you like me to put you to sleep so you may actually rest?”

  “Yes,” Ki-tae whispered, feeling like a coward for taking that escape from his nightmares, but he was so exhausted, and if he closed them, Sashin’s face immediately appeared behind his eyes, that cruel, sensuous mouth grinning in triumph. Soon-joon placed his hand on Ki-tae’s forehead. Ki-tae barely registered the whispered chant before blackness claimed him.

  Soon-joon

  AFTER HE put Ki-tae to bed, Soon-joon changed out of his suit and into something comfortable. He had picked up some habits from his boys and donned a pair of worn jeans, a long-sleeved shirt that went past his wrists, and bare feet, carrying his shoes over to the shelves by the door. In truth they got the bare feet from him. As a boy he hated shoes, and that carried through his life. He wore them when he must, but if he had a choice, he would not don shoes or socks. He padded into the kitchen and began pulling ingredients from the pantry and the refrigerator. Ki-tae would be hungry when Soon-joon woke him, and he wouldn’t do that until everyone was here.

  Never had he had so much going on with his family and business at one time. He saw his sons struggling with their pasts and their fears all at once, and he didn’t know how to help them. He struggled with his own mistakes, and desire warred with guilt. For a long time, he confided in no one, but with ChenBao’s return from solitude, he found his desire to confide in her as he once had very strong. Even when she yelled at him about Hyun-jo, he could still feel her love for him.

  Soon-joon was not prone to indecision, especially where his family was concerned, and to see his sons falling in love filled him with joy and trepidation. Cheongul had not opened his heart to another in centuries. Yet Min-su brought out something in him, something Soon-joon had feared lost. She was not a demur woman, docile and subservient, and perhaps that was exactly what Cheongul needed. Perhaps he needed a woman who would stand beside him, who would be his strength when he ha
d none left, and who would always speak her mind to him whether or not he wanted to hear the words.

  HanYin had spent the night with Jong-in. That in and of itself was an achievement. Never had he risked such a thing. He had taken a chance on Jong-in, and it seemed to be working out. His middle son was smiling more, his chatter bright and cheerful. Yes, there were some dark moments in the last several weeks, but the change in HanYin was obvious. He was in love with Jong-in, and he was reaching out for that love. It made Soon-joon proud to see HanYin actively pursuing his own happiness, rather than focusing all his efforts on making sure his family was happy. That part of him wouldn’t change, but that he now felt he could have happiness for himself was a wonderful thing. Jong-in had brought that out in him, had made HanYin think more of his own wants and needs.

  Of his three sons, Ki-tae was the one he worried about the most. Ki-tae’s greatest fear had happened: he was bound once again. Yet this time was different. The person was different. Jin-woo was nothing like Sashin, may that bastard fall to the depths of Mugen Jigoku, the eighth and deepest circle of Jigoku, never to return. When Ki-tae had a nightmare or awoke in a state of aggression, Soon-joon found himself wishing he’d made the bastard’s death last longer. Sashin had not suffered enough, not when compared to Ki-tae’s continued misery.

  Ki-tae didn’t remember the time when he went through blood withdrawal, but Soon-joon did. They all did. He almost died several times, struggling to return to that place, to seek out the source of his addiction. He escaped into the mountains at one point, wearing only the clothes on his back, searching for a way back to Sashin. There were times when they had to restrain him, and he fought them. Oh, how Ki-tae fought them. It had been a daily struggle to see him through the physical and mental trials addiction and withdrawal placed on a person.

  Yet Soon-joon had hope for him. As he watched the interactions between Ki-tae and Jin-woo, he saw a change in his youngest son, a change for the better. The way Jin-woo looked at Ki-tae, the love Soon-joon saw there, gave away how he felt. He didn’t know if Jin-woo had acknowledged it in himself, but if his reactions earlier today were any indication, the answer to that question was yes.