Silvern (The Gilded Series)

by Farley, Christina

  A twinge of guilt tugs at me. Once again I’m keeping secrets from Michelle. But the less Michelle knows, the better. I don’t want to drag anyone into this life of mine more than I have to.

  “I’m planning on it,” I tell her as I toss my books into my locker and take out the ones I’ll need for the rest of the day. I suck in a deep breath, trying to remember how Mr. Han suggested I broach the topic. “I have a great idea for our next NHS project.”

  “Excellent. I want to hear every detail,” Michelle says as we head to the cafeteria to pick up lunch. “But first, how are you doing? After everything that happened in your aunt’s bathroom on Saturday, I can hardly sleep.”

  “Tell me about it,” I mutter as I pick my usual, kimbap and bottled water. “My only consolation is that Komo is okay. She’s had no change, good or bad. The doctors said they’ll call me right away if there are irregularities.”

  Sunlight streams through the tall glass walls as we weave our way through the tables and head outside to the veranda, where the NHS is meeting today. The concrete-floored balcony is on the second floor of this five-story building. Since the school is halfway up Ansan Mountain, there’s a great view of the neighborhood, Yonhi-Dong, below. People say that Seoul’s really just a big city full of small neighborhoods. Yonhi-Dong is tucked full of tile-roofed houses and tiny alleys that have turned into tight roads.

  “I have a confession to make,” Michelle says.

  I stop midstride. “What is it?”

  “I followed you. To Yonsei University.”

  “What?”

  I think about when Marc and I stopped because he realized someone was following us. It must have been Michelle. I’m just glad we lost her in the woods. It would have made things far more complicated if she had found the actual entrance. I rub my forehead, unsure what to do with this information.

  “I know this supposed secret council meets at the Yonsei campus.” She’s whispering now. “And I know that whatever you’re planning with the NHS is about these mythological creatures.”

  I open my mouth to ask how, but she bats her hand through the air. “It’s not like you to wake up and announce that you want to organize an event. Girl, I’m not that moronic. Whatever you are planning, I’m in.” Then she bats her eyelashes and says in a mocking tone, “And if you say no, then I’m going to the police with a fun little story about the Council’s secret location.”

  “You’re blackmailing me?” I press my hand to my chest, pretending to be shocked. “My best friend?”

  “If that’s what it takes to help, you got that damn straight.”

  “I don’t—I can’t,” I moan, and close my eyes, because we can joke around about it, but it’s not a game. Not for a second. “Michelle, I told you to stay out of this. It’s not safe. Trust me.”

  “I don’t care. Because whatever you are doing, you need me, even if it’s just as your personal psychologist. So I’m in, and there’s nothing that’s going to stop you from saying yes.”

  I don’t know what to say, so I spin on my heels and head out onto the balcony. A light breeze brushes across my face, full of the first hints of spring, whipping my hair over my eyes. It smells of fresh-cut grass and cherry blossoms. I breathe it in, soaking in the freeness of the moment. It’s in these moments that I feel truly alive. I’m breathing and soaking in the sun, and I wish it was enough. That I could abandon the Council’s plan to sneak into North Korea in search of the orb.

  I want to believe that there is no such thing as magic and powerful creatures that are trying to control my life and threaten my family. But that would be a lie, and the last time I tried to pretend it all away, it didn’t work out so well. In fact, I ended up with a nice little golden trinket on my wrist.

  My toe rams into something on the ground and I stumble. My tray slides out of my hands, my food and water bottle scattering across the ground. A hand swoops down and pulls me up. It’s Marc, of course. My hero. Sporting dark jeans and a black T-shirt, looking way too adorable.

  “Your water, my lady,” Marc says with a twinkle in his eyes, handing me my bottle.

  “Thanks.” I take the bottle, its surface cool against my palm. “I was remembering a certain somebody and wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

  He wraps his hands behind my neck and kisses me on the forehead. “He’s gone,” Marc whispers into my ear. “I remember you kicking his butt. Vividly.”

  “Hey, you two.” Michelle bats me on the shoulder with her chopsticks. “Enough. Come and sit. We only have twenty-two minutes left of lunch.”

  “We’ll talk later,” Marc says.

  “Talk?” I flash Marc a mischievous grin.

  He laughs as he sits next to me. Most of the NHS students have already gathered at the concrete tables, so after we settle in, Mrs. Freeman gets right to business.

  She starts off the meeting with a quick reminder of what we’ve been doing as a group. “We have one final project that we want to do before the end of the year. Any thoughts?”

  “Lily has this great idea of doing a Dano mask party,” Kumar says.

  “I posted the details on the wiki,” Lily adds, tucking her long blond hair behind her ears. She’s biting her lips as if she’s nervous. From her tense posture and wide blue eyes, I can tell this Dano mask party means a lot to her. I cringe, knowing I’m about to shove her idea aside as if it’s not important. I flip open my tablet and log in to the NHS wiki. I scroll down until I find our brainstorming thread.

  “I also posted an idea on the wiki last night,” I tell the group.

  “Jae Hwa,” Mrs. Freeman says, smiling and bobbing her head vigorously. “I’m so pleased you’re starting to contribute to our group.”

  I want to sink under the table. I don’t deserve her praise. My motives are far more complicated than I could possibly explain. Instead, I plunge in. “I’d like to raise money to buy medical supplies for North Korean TB patients. And then deliver them.”

  Everyone stares at me, gaping mouths and saucer eyes.

  “Dude,” Yuuki says. “That’s crazy talk.”

  “A death wish,” Myung-Hee says, nodding. “But it’s a heroic way to go down.”

  “I thought North Korea wasn’t allowing tourists into the country,” Kumar says in his usual practical voice. “Not that anyone would after that last missile launch test.”

  Everyone starts sharing the most horrific North Korean story they can remember. I look over at Marc, seeking his support, but he’s sketching a picture in his notebook of two people lying on the beach under an umbrella. He labels it “Bora-Bora” and then shoots me a wicked grin.

  “There’s still time to back out,” he whispers. “Think of all the fun we’d have there.”

  “You’re not helping,” I whisper. Still, a smile creeps over my face.

  “What an admirable endeavor,” Mrs. Freeman says, a smile plastered to her face. One that appears to be painful, as if she’s trying not to grimace. “But I doubt Dr. Baker would approve.”

  She’s right. Our principal will nix this faster than I can eat kimbap. My mind scrambles for a convincing argument. Honestly, it feels as if this mission is doomed before it’s even begun.

  “True, but I was doing some research,” I say, even though it was Jung who did the research. “They do allow relief and medical aid workers in. And it’s something the North Korean government encourages for their supposed reunification image.”

  “The Keck School of Medicine has recently started a program for their students to volunteer at a medical facility near the North Korean-Chinese border,” Marc says. “If our school could provide a similar program on this southern border, think how great it would look on our college transcripts. And it’d be great media coverage for the school.”

  “Or bad media coverage”—Mrs. Freeman frowns—“if my students don’t return.”

 
; I kick Marc under the table. “Don’t mention media,” I say under my breath.

  “North Korea is currently in need of TB medicine,” Marc says hurriedly. “All we need to do is raise the money and send a small group to deliver it.”

  “Plan on me not being in that small delivery group,” Yuuki says.

  “Hear, hear,” Myung-Hee says, laughing, along with a couple of others.

  “Well, we’ll add this to our list of ideas,” Mrs. Freeman says, and then clears her throat. “Any other proposals?”

  “Jae’s idea sounds fabulous.” Michelle taps her manicured nails on the table. Crap. She’s got that look in her eyes. I can already see the schemes churning through her head. “What if we use Lily’s idea of doing a Dano mask party to raise money for this? We could combine both of your ideas.”

  “I’m game for anything,” I say. To be honest, I don’t care how we raise the money. If it means we’re going to bring medicine to TB patients in North Korea while searching for the orb, it’s a complete win in my book.

  “Students, we should focus our efforts on real, tangible projects,” Mrs. Freeman says, checking her watch. “We don’t even know if the North Korean authorities have opened the border. Didn’t they close it a few years back?”

  “Actually, the entry point from Goseong has been open for six months,” Marc says.

  “Just realize that before any decisions are finalized,” Mrs. Freeman says, “we must get approval from Dr. Baker and the school board.” She picks up her notebook and flips the page. “Lily, do you wish to share your ideas on the Dano Festival?”

  Lily stands and her long blond hair flutters in the breeze. She shoves her hands behind her back and then clasps them in front of her before clearing her throat a couple of times. “For those of you who don’t know what the Dano Festival is, it’s a traditional Korean holiday that falls in the fifth month after Lunar New Year. Some people call it the festival of love.” Lily blushes at this, glancing over at Kumar, who is all smiles.

  “Anyway,” she continues, “I thought we could decorate the cafeteria with paper cherry blossoms and lanterns. Everyone would come wearing a mask, and we’d serve rice cakes and cherry punch.”

  “That sounds fun and expensive,” Yuuki says. “How will this raise money?”

  “We could charge a cover fee,” Kumar suggests.

  “What if we have everyone make a wishing lantern?” Lily says. “I could check out their prices over at the Namdaemun Market. People could buy the lanterns from us, write their wishes on them, and we could release them to the sky.”

  “That sounds great.” I give Lily a high five.

  “Love it.” Michelle types furiously. “I say we vote, and I vote yes.”

  She raises her hand, daring anyone in the group to say no to her. The truth is, she runs the show. I lean back in my chair after Mrs. Freeman approves Lily’s fund-raiser.

  “So what are we going to use this money for?” I say.

  “For your TB medicine drive,” Michelle says. Mrs. Freeman raises her eyebrows. “After it’s approved, of course. Jae and I can work on the proposal for the school board together. How many college applicants to Harvard organize relief aid to North Korea? Zilch. If you ask me, it’s a one-way ticket to Ivy League heaven.”

  “Or a one-way ticket to the morgue,” Yuuki says, shrugging.

  “And who wants to risk it to deliver the supplies?” Kumar asks.

  I glance over at Marc. He crosses his arms and looks away. I know he’s not happy about me going to investigate this orb, but the Council is right. I have the ability to fight, and Marc can spot any creature from the Spirit World in seconds. Still, the whole idea scares the heck out of me. And I haven’t even broached the subject with Dad yet.

  “My parents travel nearly every month to remote areas,” Marc finally says. “They are always getting visas and could help us out.”

  “Fabulous,” Michelle says. “And I will be going, too. My parents won’t care. Dad is on another business trip to Shanghai together and Mom is too busy planning her journalism trip to Tokyo.”

  “Yeah,” Marc says. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “It’s the only option.” Michelle flashes him a steely smile. “Ask Jae.”

  I glower at her. “She goes,” I mutter.

  “There,” Michelle says. “It’s all settled. Let’s schedule our next meeting for Friday. Lily, Jae, and I can try to meet at my house one night before then and organize the details.”

  “Keep me informed at all times,” Mrs. Freeman says, her forehead knit together. “I suppose if this plan works, this group will be making history.”

  “Yep,” Marc mutters under his breath. “History in the making.”

  In the media center after school, Michelle and I draft up the medical relief proposal for the principal and the school board. We use the Keck medical school program as our model and make our list of arguments. It helps that Michelle has a knack for making something horrible sound wonderful.

  “Are you sure this is something you have to do?” Michelle asks me.

  “Yes, but you don’t,” I say. “You’re being helpful already just by helping me write this.”

  “Listen. Whatever you are involved in is way bigger than my latest calculus class. I’m in this with you 100 percent. I just don’t understand why you suddenly have to go to North Korea.”

  “We think there is a group there that can help heal Komo,” I say. “But with North Korea being so closed off, there isn’t any way to get in touch with them.”

  “Seems like a lot of effort for something you don’t even know will work.” Michelle pulls out her ruler and starts creating a chart. “But if this is what you want, I’ll do what I can to make it happen.”

  After Michelle and I turn in our proposal, I text Marc and make plans to stop by his house tonight so we can research the Kumgangsan area and brainstorm where the orb could be hidden.

  Since I missed the school bus, I take the city bus home. It’s a long, bumpy ride, but I pull out my phone and begin to read about traveling to North Korea. Yet as I wave to the doorman and ride up the long elevator to the ninth floor of my apartment building, my stomach twists.

  I hate going home. It feels too quiet and still. Ever since Mom died of cancer four years ago, Dad’s been an insane workaholic. And I’ve been alone.

  As I press my finger into the scanner to unlock the door, I wish I’d agreed to head home with Marc or Michelle rather than deal with this huge empty lump in my stomach. The door beeps after I punch in the code, and the lock unsnaps. I slide my shoes off and shrug out of my leather jacket, letting it drop to the ground. As if anyone would notice. The black counter in the kitchen practically shines, the granite free of fingerprints, evidence of my dad’s and my lack of cooking ability.

  I grab a water bottle from the fridge and try to block out the memory of our home back in California, stuffed with books and old furniture. Such a contrast to this apartment. The silence overwhelms me, ringing in my ears. I need to get out of this place. It’s practically a funeral home.

  I spot a note from Dad on the counter. Sitting next to it is a paper butterfly.

  Jae,

  I won’t be able to make it home until after nine tonight since I’ve got a meeting in Busan. Your haraboji wants to meet us for brunch on Saturday so make sure you keep your schedule free. We’ll catch up soon.

  ~Dad

  I set the note aside, already knowing the reason for the brunch, and my heart sinks thinking about it. What if Dad says no to the North Korea trip? It could ruin everything.

  In my bedroom, I tape the butterfly next to the fish on the top of my laptop, tracing my finger around the paper edges. Then I pull out my horn bow case, get the bare essentials that I’ll need for an afternoon of target shooting, and stuff them into my backpack. Dad got me a membership at
the Pavilion of the Yellow Stork after we got complaints about me shooting in the basement, but it’s been over a week since I practiced my bow-and-arrow shooting.

  Before I leave the apartment, I check the balcony one more time. The rope I have coiled up and tied to the pole is neatly hidden beneath the porch chair. After having to climb down like I did last time, I like having a better option. I double-check the knots, because one thing I have learned along the way: it’s good to be prepared.

  Since the archery center is located near downtown Gwanghwamun, it’s a short city bus ride and then a hike up the hill. There’s something so real and alive about springtime in Seoul. Winter is harsh and bitter, but spring breathes hope and possibilities.

  The archery center is located halfway up the mountain, in a traditional wooden building that overlooks the forest below. You’d never know we were in the center of a city of over ten million people.

  I bow to Master Ahn as I enter the main building of the Pavilion of the Yellow Stork. After I slide off my shoes, I set my case on the floor and pull out my bow. I run my fingers along the dragon image carved into the handle. Grandfather gave me this bow. I have no idea how old it must be, but it’s lasted centuries. It even survived the massive fire in Grandfather’s cave. This is the weapon that helped me defeat Haemosu.

  “Miss Lee,” Master Ahn says. “Will you practice here or on the hillside?”

  I start at his voice and find my face burning. “Um, outside.”

  “Do you wish to bend your bow?” he asks.

  Most people come here to work their bows under the fire. It’s the traditional method for keeping wooden bows in proper working order. I wonder if I should tell him that my bow never needs correction. It never needs new strings either, because magic runs through its sinews.

  No, telling him would be a very bad idea. I smile. “I already did it at home. I have my own burner.”

  “Of course.” He nods and gives my bow a quick glance before he attends to some Japanese tourists coming in loaded with cameras and questions.