Night Kiss

by E. T. Malinowski

  She paused to take a breath and Cheongul tightened his arms around her. “You don’t have to tell me if you are not ready.”

  Min-su shook her head and continued. “Min-seok and Abeoji would fish, always catching enough for dinner. That’s how we worked. I mean, we brought stuff from home, but there was nothing like having fresh fish for dinner.”

  “Can’t say I love fish,” Cheongul said. “It’s okay, but I prefer pork.”

  “The year I turned thirteen, we did our normal camping trip. We had just come back from hiking a trail, and Eomeoni was sorting the plants we’d picked along the way. Min-seok, my older brother, he was sixteen, was helping Abeoji clean the fish. Maybe that’s what drew his attention. I don’t know.

  “We were all laughing and joking, and the next minute, Eomeoni was screaming and Abeoji was yelling, pushing her down onto the ground, covering her. I could see underneath Min-seok’s arm as this huge dark thing tore at him, but he wouldn’t move. He just wouldn’t move, Eomeoni pinned beneath him, covered in his blood. She fainted, I think, because her screaming stopped. Abeoji wasn’t moving, and Min-seok was shaking, but he wouldn’t move either, and it came at him, knocking him over before turning to look at me, eyes red and glowing. It lunged for me, claws digging through my sweatshirt, ripping the hell out of my side. I threw my arms up, trying to push it off. Gods, its breath smelled horrible, like rotting meat and blood. It was so strong. I knew it was going to kill me. I was going to die there with my whole family.”

  Min-su could see it all. It played in front of her eyes like some personal horror movie. She hated horror movies. She was cold, but there was heat at her back. She snuggled into it, not realizing she started talking again.

  “Min-seok hit it with a camp chair, beat it until it turned its attention to him. In the blink of an eye, he was beneath it, its muzzle buried in his stomach. He screamed, screamed at me to run, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. All I could hear was my brother’s screams. All I could see was his face distorted with pain. I think there was a loud bang, but I can’t be sure. Everything went black.”

  “Min-su,” Cheongul whispered, and she felt his lips against her hair.

  “I woke up in the hospital, Eomeoni in the chair next to my bed. She was using her arm as a pillow, and she had a death grip on my hand,” Min-su said. “We were the only ones left. Abeoji and my brother were dead, died protecting us. But could that fucking thing be satisfied with that, with killing them? No, the fucking thing had to turn me too.”

  “Things changed between you and your mom?”

  “Not really. I mean, I changed, but it took a while to figure out why,” she said with a sigh. “I was more aggressive, more prone to fight. The first time I changed, I was at my grandma’s house in Busan. She lives outside the city proper. I woke up in her shed, bare-ass naked with what looked to be rabbits sort of gutted next to me. Halmeoni found me in there, shaking and crying, covered in dirt and rabbit bits. She took me into the house, cleaned me up, and put me to bed. Then she talked Eomeoni into calling her friend, a priestess. That was a weird conversation, let me tell you.”

  “I can imagine.” Cheongul chuckled. “I’ve always found priestess and spiritualists to be an odd bunch. I guess it comes from having that connection to the spirit world.”

  “Anyway, while Mudangnim was quite the eccentric, she knew what she was talking about, and she helped Eomeoni and me adjust to what was going on.” The look on Cheongul’s face puzzled her. “What?”

  “Did Mudangnim give you anything? A charm or anything like that?” he asked.

  “She gave me this jade earring,” Min-su said showing the small jade hoop she never removed. “She said never to take it off.”

  “Would… do you mind removing it now?”

  “Why?”

  “With my exposure to Shifters, I should have been able to identify you as one at first meeting. While not all Shifters smell the same, the different species have certain scent markers that link them together. I think that earring is actually a charm to disguises your scent.”

  “Okay.” Min-su didn’t quite understand what he meant, but she removed the earring. His nostrils flared wide and his eyes went silver. “I’ll take that as a yes, this hid my scent.”

  “Almost completely masked it, in fact,” Cheongul agreed. “It definitely prevents other Spiritual Beings from identifying you as a Shifter.”

  “Why would she think I needed the protection? I mean she just said don’t take it off.”

  “Did you express any interest in learning more about what you were? If not, then the charm would have prevented them from finding you by scent.”

  “No definitely not. I didn’t want to have anything to do with the thing that made me this way.” Min-su growled. “But Mudangnim, she didn’t know any other Shifters, so I still had to learn most of this on my own. There’s things I still don’t understand, but there’s one major rule for me. Getting mad is not a good thing.”

  “That is something I’m all too familiar with,” Cheongul said softly. “Saying getting angry is bad for me is like saying a monsoon is a little wet.”

  “What happened?”

  “Ah, it’s my turn, now, huh?” Cheongul said dryly.

  “Only if you want to.”

  “I fell in love with a woman, Mikiko,” he said. “We were living in Japan at the time, just Abeoji and me. I spent months courting her, bringing her gifts, helping her with anything she needed, just being there. I worked her family’s fields just to be near her.”

  “Sounds pretty serious.”

  Cheongul stared at the small black lacquered box on his dresser before turning back to look at Min-su. “She was so beautiful, elegant, demure, and soft-spoken.”

  Min-su winced inwardly. This woman was everything she wasn’t.

  “I was one hundred and seventy-five years old, and I thought I had found the one person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” He sighed, and Min-su looked down as he caressed her hand gently. “I was a fool.”

  “Cheongul.”

  “I was so happy,” Cheongul said, leaning his head back.

  Min-su wanted to make him stop but didn’t. He needed to talk about this just as much as she had needed to tell him her story.

  “There was this young man I hung out with, Tashi. He was a Shifter, and we were best friends. I told him of my girl, and he shared that he, too, was in love. When we weren’t courting or working, we were together. He was like a brother to me.”

  Min-su knew where this was going.

  “I found them together by the pond at the edge of her family’s land, a place I had thought special to us,” he said quietly, his voice catching. “She sat there, tears rolling down her cheeks, saying nothing when I confronted them. Tashi told me they had been betrothed as children and were in love. He asked me to understand as if he’d known all along and said nothing, but what man lets his betrothed step out with another man? I couldn’t understand that. I couldn’t understand why she hadn’t told me at the very beginning. I was furious, beyond furious. I punched Tashi, sending him flying into the tree I had found them under. When she slapped me and ran to him, I blanked out. The next thing I recall is standing in the middle of our home and Abeoji telling me it was time to leave.”

  “You killed them,” she said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. “That’s why you left me that day because you thought I was with Jong-in and messing around with you.”

  “Yes and no,” he said, pulling her closer into his chest. “You are so very different from Mikiko. I was young and foolish, and she was beautiful. I wanted to give her everything. I make no excuses for what I did. There are none. The guilt, however, that’s another thing entirely. It eats at me still, haunting my dreams. The anger is a beast inside me, clawing its way out of me. It’s been a part of me for as long as I can remember, even before I was turned, coloring everything. I can push it down, lock it away for a time, but eventually it breaks loose. On top of that, I ha
ve… no luck in relationships and stopped looking for one about three hundred years ago.”

  “What do you mean, no luck in relationships?” she asked.

  “I’m terrible at reading feelings,” he said after a few moments. “It’s different when it’s just lust. That I can smell and there’s no way to fake that, so I know when someone wants me in their bed. Most of my encounters were hookups, but every couple of decades or so, I would meet someone I wanted to have more with. Either they were playing me for the fool or they ended up marrying someone else, mostly as part of a family arrangement. There weren’t a lot of love matches in those days. That wears on you, having such a pisspoor track record in finding someone who both wants you and is free to be with you.”

  “I guess I can see that.”

  “I started focusing more on hookups and less on long-term partners, but I also started in with drinking. And then I found the pit fights. I almost want to say they helped, but it was more like a Band-Aid than a real solution.”

  “Pit fights? Against humans?” Min-su asked.

  “No, one of my old compatriots brought me to this seedy little place in Shanghai, a dark, dank place that reeked of piss and rice wine, and blood. In the back, they had a big room with a dirt floor. It had four pillars in the center with thick ropes wrapped around them. Everyone inside was a Spiritual Being. Most were audience members, but a good portion were participants. My first match was that very night and not only did I take home a healthy chunk of money, but I found an outlet for the rage.”

  “How was that supposed to help?” Min-su asked. “I mean you’re still getting violent.”

  “It was a controlled violence. I have to focus because my opponent is just as capable of kicking my ass as I am of kicking his, but killing each other is less likely. Most of the fighters are Shifters and you guys are notoriously tough. Not to mention there were guards to pull the fighters apart if things went too far. From that point on, it was nothing but hookups for me. I was alone, but I wasn’t getting hurt or hurting people either. Well, not much. I stopped seeing Mikiko and Tashi every time I closed my eyes after about a century or two, but I still feel the pain. I killed them. There’s no getting around that. I felt betrayed and in that instant, I let my rage loose, I wanted them to hurt as much as I was hurting, and I made that happen. I can’t even say it was an accident.”

  “You’re not the first person to lash out at the people who hurt you, and you won’t be the last,” she said quietly, placing a kiss on his bare chest. “You have to forgive yourself. It’s hard. I know that from personal experience, but you can’t let this keep you from being happy.”

  “I’m working on it,” he said. “I’ve been working on it for centuries, even went so far as to spend time in a monastery.”

  “You and sitting still? How did that work out for you?” She smirked, trying to lighten his mood.

  “Yeah, it didn’t,” Cheongul said, his smile faint but there. “They had some good ideas, and for HanYin and Ki-tae, they might have worked. But I cannot sit still for long periods of time. I won’t say I didn’t take anything away from their teachings. I learned better control over my body.”

  “What about the anger?”

  “As the years passed, I got better at pushing it down and holding it inside. There have been times when I’ve lost it, different situations,” Cheongul said quietly. “Shortly after HanYin joined us, the bastard that had slaughtered his family in front of him kidnapped him. We went to get him back and when I saw him in that fucking cage, yeah, I lost it. I don’t recall much of what happened. The first thing I remember was carrying HanYin into his room and curling up in the bed with him, holding him while he shook and cried. When Abeoji brought Ki-tae home, I spent three days in the pits because of the things I wanted to do to Sashin, because of the rage his actions triggered in me. There were others, too many to say I had mastered my emotions.”

  “You know, you’re entitled to feel, Cheongul,” Min-su said quietly. “Everyone is and I doubt there’s a person on this planet who has mastered their emotions, except maybe the Dalai Lama.”

  “Sometimes, it’s just too much,” he said.

  “What about relationships? Have you completely given up on them?”

  “Over the years, I’ve stayed away from docile and demure. In the beginning, it was because all I could see was Mikiko’s face as she sat there and cried, instead of explaining why she hadn’t been truthful with me. Then I began to value the women I was with because there were no pretenses. We were both in it for the sex and there were no expectations beyond that. I prefer feisty and petite, straightforward, mostly the straightforward part and until you, I haven’t looked for a single relationship. I didn’t want to risk being hurt again. Honesty is a hard quality to find in people nowadays.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you love me, then, isn’t it?” She looked up at him and flashed him her cheeky smile. “I’m honest to a fault and I’ll tell you when you’re being a Neanderthal.”

  He kissed her nose. “A very good thing, indeed. Gomaweoyo.”

  “Why?”

  “For trusting me with your story,” he said softly as he kissed her lips.

  “You’re welcome,” she said with a sigh and opened her mouth to his kiss.

  Their lovemaking was slow and gentle and perfect. She could feel the love in every touch, in every caress of his fingers lightly over her skin. He took his time, made sure she was out of her mind with pleasure before letting her cum, following behind her. As she drifted off to sleep, she heard his voice, his breath tickling her ear. “I love you, Min-su.”

  “Love you too,” she murmured before sleep claimed her completely.

  Jin-woo

  WHERE HAD the last two weeks gone? Jin-woo ran across campus toward the conference room. He had about ten minutes to get his ass there and turn in his song. It was all Ki-tae’s fault he was late… again. He wrenched open the door and only slowed his pace because of the people in his way. Were he a car, Jin-woo would have drifted through the door to the conference room, but he had five minutes to spare, and that was way better than being on time. He took a deep breath and then walked calmly over to where Teacher Kim, Soon-joon, and, surprisingly, Hyun-jo sat. He smiled and bowed and then presented his USB drive.

  As he turned, he caught Min-su waving at him from her seat in one of the upper rows. Jong-in sat next to her. When he reached them, Jong-in moved over to let him squeeze between them.

  “Made you late again, didn’t he?” Min-su teased.

  “Shut it,” he grumbled good-naturedly. He could never be upset about Ki-tae desiring him. “Is it just me, or is this more nerve-racking than the video?”

  “Maybe just a little bit,” she said. “This isn’t a collaboration. It’s just us.”

  “It’s harder for us to put ourselves out there as individuals,” Jong-in admitted. “I almost didn’t hand mine in.”

  “What?” Jin-woo stared at him.

  Jong-in sighed. “Remember when we talked about HanYin?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wrote the lyrics that night. Everything came out in one long rush,” Jong-in said. “The words, I mean. It was… what I was feeling at the time, and it’s personal, but I knew it would be powerful because it was personal. Or at least that’s what I’m hoping.”

  “Did we all write from our recent experiences?” Min-su asked. “I tried writing from the very beginning and got crap-all. But after things happened, the words came. After that the music was easier because I could hear it in my head.”

  “I wonder why the guys aren’t here, though. They’re the ones who will be singing the song,” Jong-in said.

  “Think about it,” Jin-woo said. “The three of us have been around them for over two months now. If one of our songs is chosen, someone would cry foul. As it currently stands, the only one from BLE who we’ve spent any time with is Soon-joon-nim. This way it will be fairer.”

  “Makes sense,” Min-su said.

  “St
ill sucks,” Jong-in added.

  “Yeah.” They sighed.

  Jin-woo chuckled. “We sound like we just stepped out of some sappy romantic comedy.”

  “There should be little broken hearts and sad faces floating over our heads.” Jong-in snickered.

  “And silly sad background music.” Min-su grinned.

  “How about some manga chibis?” Jin-woo added.

  “Oh no, no chibis!”

  Twenty minutes later the three of them were tempted to bang their heads against the desks. It was that or walk through the room smacking one or two people for being completely oblivious of Bam Kiseu’s vocal styles and music trends. So far they’d heard American country, Japanese Kyoto style, and some genres Jin-woo couldn’t even identify and they were only a third of the way through the presentations. What part of pop did these people not get? Clearly they hadn’t taken Teacher Kim’s advice to do some research. It wasn’t that the songs were bad. The technical skill was clearly there, but they just didn’t match Bam Kiseu’s style. Experimentation with genres was all well and good when that’s what your client asked for, but that hadn’t been the parameters of the project. Song after song played, and Soon-joon’s expression grew darker and darker. Hyun-jo’s face was impassive, but he kept shooting side glances at Soon-joon. Hopefully, the submissions would get better after the first break. Jin-woo glanced at the clock on his phone—five minutes left.

  Jin-woo met Min-su and Jong-in on the stone wall running along the walkway of the building. They sat in silence for a few moments.

  “Some of that was absolutely horrible,” Min-su said. “Well, not so much horrible as not fitting the parameters of the assignment. The Kyoto was actually kind of cool. I liked how strong the drum beats were. It had potential.”