by Kat Cho
Somin purposefully turned her back on the piano and moved to the opposite end of the room. There was no rhyme or reason to the organization of the books on the shelves. But she could tell that most were well-used.
Smiling, she shook her head at Junu’s previous claim that these books were just for show. Her mother had always said that a well-read book was a well-loved book. And as she pulled some out at random, she found that most of them were dog-eared and worn. Some even had writing in the margins. Small notes Junu had made. Some of them his musings about the characters. Some little notes to someone—who, Somin wasn’t exactly sure.
Piggy has a point, there do need to be rules. Otherwise how can you break them? But what an unfortunate name Piggy is.
An agency that only exists to apologize? What a futile endeavor. This book was almost pristine except for this note, a sign to Somin that Junu hadn’t liked this novel.
Just tell her you like her. Rejection is fleeting and then there’s wine was scratched into Pride and Prejudice and made Somin laugh. Like Junu would know what rejection felt like.
She placed a copy of Persuasion back on the shelf and tried to pull out the next book, but it wouldn’t budge. She yanked again, gritting her teeth with the effort. With a click it jutted out of the shelf but didn’t come completely free; instead the bookshelf swung out on a hinge like a door.
Somin almost laughed. Of course he would have a hidden room in this place. Probably where he kept his vault so he could sit in piles of his money. But when she pulled the hidden door open, she was shocked at what she saw.
Instead of the sleek steel safe she’d expected to find, she found a room filled with paintings and sculptures. Delicate ceramics sat on tables that lined the walls. Canvases were stacked on top of one another. The middle of the room had paint splatters marring the floor. Something that shocked Somin, as she knew what a stickler Junu was for cleanliness in his space. But here there was chaos. There was color. There was beauty. She was amazed at the gorgeous paintings. Why would Junu keep them in here and not display them proudly? They were obviously his own work.
How could a person who loved to brag about all of his accolades hide such obvious talent?
Somin stepped to a ceramic jar. It was smooth and delicate, decorated with birds and flowers painted in blue. Another had a leering tiger. And yet another had a fox. Perhaps inspired by Junu’s new housemate.
She turned to the finished paintings leaning against the wall in a small stack. They looked like they were painted in styles from across the centuries. Some were sweeping watercolors. Some were bold acrylics and oils. She found one that looked as abstract as a Picasso, though it was the only one of its kind. Perhaps a phase where Junu had wanted to experiment?
Another pile had a tarp thrown over it. And when she moved it, dust flew into the air like it hadn’t been disturbed in years.
These were done in the muted golds, reds, and earth tones of ancient Korean paintings Somin had seen in museums. Each of them was a portrait of a single person. Three different girls of varying ages. A man who could be anywhere from his late teens to his late twenties (it was always hard for Somin to tell with these older paintings). A woman old enough to be Somin’s mother. There was something in her eyes that Junu had captured. A spark as if her soul were truly living inside this painting. As if she felt love for the person who painted her. And then she found a final painting, if you could call it that. It was mostly a splotch of colors—blacks and reds and browns—streaked over it like someone had thrown whole jars of paint over the canvas. But there, in the middle, peeked out an eye, brown and bold, staring so sharply that Somin felt it would come alive. She felt sweat bead at the base of her neck, a strange feeling like she was being watched. There had clearly been a portrait of someone on this canvas once, and Junu chose to cover it up, but not throw it out . . .
Suddenly, Somin felt like she was invading something private. There was something about these paintings that felt very personal. Like something she didn’t have a right to see without permission. So she stepped back out and, with one final look inside, closed the door.
26
THE NEXT DAY, the trip back to Seoul was a sullen ride.
Junu had ushered them off the mountain as quickly as he could with Jihoon’s slow, stumbling pace. He didn’t want to stay there any longer than he had to. Every extra minute spent there meant more time for the god of the mountain to find out he’d come back and punish him for it.
But the long hike and the disappointment of the day soon caught up with both Jihoon and Junu. After dinner, Junu was faced with a dilemma. Try to drive through the night or find a place to sleep. Jihoon didn’t have a license, and Junu would never have let him drive the Porsche anyway. So, as the sun set, he decided they better get a room at a small inn at the edge of the town close to the mountain. Junu had lain awake most of the night listening to Jihoon toss and turn.
Now they drove with the sun rising behind them, carrying the weight of failure with them. If his bangmangi wasn’t in that cave, Junu had no clue where to start searching for it. Who had the power to take the staff? Another dokkaebi?
They were stuck in standstill traffic, strange for this highway, and it made Junu anxious. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he craned his neck to see if he could spot the source of the traffic jam.
Jihoon’s phone buzzed, and he silenced it. But when it buzzed again, Junu got a quick glance of Somin’s name before Jihoon hit the ignore button.
“If you don’t answer, it will just make her angrier.”
“I think I know how to handle my best friend, thanks,” Jihoon said irritably.
“Fine,” Junu said with a shrug. But Somin’s voice echoed in his memory, I need you to promise you’ll take care of him. I need you to promise it in a way that will make me believe you.
“She worries about you a lot,” Junu said conversationally.
“Who?” Jihoon asked, still busy on his phone.
“Somin. She worries so much about you that she ignores her own needs to make you happy.”
Jihoon looked up at that, his expression twisted in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous. Somin can take care of herself.”
“Of course she can,” Junu agreed. “That’s why the perfect person to hurt her is herself. And she is constantly ignoring what she wants to make sure you get what you want.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jihoon glared back down at his phone. “Somin and I want the same things. Why would she have to give up anything for me?”
“Really? She wanted you to come with me on this trip?” Junu asked.
Jihoon’s expression became pinched.
“She was really worried yesterday, but she knew that this is what you wanted. So she let you come with me even though it upset her.”
“How could you know what Somin was like yesterday? When did you see her?”
Dammit. Centuries of a pristine record of keeping his promises, and he slipped up this one time because he’d let himself become too involved. This is why you don’t mix business with personal. Or have nothing that’s personal at all, much cleaner that way.
Junu sighed. “Just remember that your choices affect other people before you go riding off into danger. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Somin about this conversation. If it gets out that I had loose lips, then my business could suffer.”
“Sure, whatever.”
Jihoon let out a yawn, and Junu realized for the first time how exhausted Jihoon looked. Maybe Junu had been wrong to assume Jihoon wasn’t worrying. It seemed he hadn’t gotten any sleep either.
“You doing okay?” Junu asked.
“I’m fine, I just didn’t sleep well last night. I had the weirdest dreams, but I can’t remember them now,” Jihoon muttered as if talking to himself.
They finally reached the end of the traffic jam.
It was a car accident that had closed two lanes. Police were talking to both drivers and neither looked very happy. One was animatedly gesturing toward the road, and the officers were staring at him like he was spouting nonsense. But Junu saw what had caused the accident. A ghostly woman stood in the middle of the lanes, her hair hanging in her face, dripping wet. A mul gwishin. And it seemed only one of the drivers could see her. Had probably swerved to avoid her.
“It’s getting worse,” Jihoon said. “The tear between the worlds.”
“We need to get home,” Junu said, stepping on the gas now that they were clear of the bottleneck.
27
SOMIN DISCOVERED THAT, though Junu’s kitchen had all the state-of-the-art cooking tools one would desire, it had no food. When she asked Miyoung, she was informed that Junu liked owning shiny things but he hated cooking, so he ordered in more often than not.
Annoyed, Somin reluctantly went out to buy food before they starved to death. Okay, fine, maybe that was an exaggeration, but she felt better being annoyed with Junu than being worried about him. So she held on to the feeling as she traversed the neighborhood to the closest market.
She was baking under the sun and out of breath as she lugged her groceries. Maybe she’d let her anger push her too far, as she’d bought enough food to make a full banquet. Sweat dripped into her eyes, and since both of her hands were filled, she tried to wipe it away with her shoulder. She heard shouts but ignored them as she shifted the bags digging into her palms. She didn’t realize that people were shouting at her to get out of the way until someone slammed into her and she went sprawling, groceries spilling into the road.
More people were shouting, yelling things she couldn’t process at first.
“What are you doing?”
“Wait, don’t!”
“Somebody stop him!”
She pulled herself up in time to see a man race into the street, right into oncoming traffic.
He turned for just a second, so Somin could see his face. His wide eyes were shifting wildly. And she had a moment of recognition as he howled, “He’s after me!”
Then a cab screeched as it slammed on the brakes and swerved to avoid him. But the cab clipped the man with the edge of its hood and he went flying. For a moment, as he soared through the air, she saw a moment of clarity on his face. And the madness was replaced with terror. Somin turned away, not wanting to see what happened next.
She heard the screams. People shouting about calling an ambulance, about getting help.
It’s that man, Somin thought. The one who said he was being haunted.
“The ghost drove him mad,” said a low, clear voice.
A shiver raced down Somin’s spine before she looked up. The boy in black stood beside her. The one she saw outside of Jihoon’s apartment. This close, she could see that he was gorgeous. Smooth pale skin, a long thin nose, and full lips. He was again dressed head to toe in black, including a black trench coat that was inappropriate for the sweltering weather.
“I’ve seen you before,” she said.
“This will happen again if he does not hurry.”
“Who has to hurry? What happened here?”
“Spirits should not spend too much time in the world of the living. Their influence can be . . . harmful.”
“Like driving a man to throw himself into traffic?”
“He must hurry,” the boy said, instead of answering her question. “The tear between the worlds is widening. This will happen again.”
“What are you?” Somin asked, because she knew that this beautiful boy could not be human.
“My list changes every day, every hour, every minute. The souls I must reap are no longer set.”
“You’re a jeoseung saja,” Somin said, taking a step back. She’d never met a reaper before. Never knew she could while still living. She was just getting used to the idea of there being gumiho and dokkaebi. She wasn’t ready to meet a servant of King Yeomra. “What do you want from me?”
“Tell him to hurry. Tell him that his time is running out.” And the boy disappeared into a haze of vapors like heat waves fading into the sun.
She didn’t know how, but Somin knew that the reaper spoke of Junu. She took off down the street, leaving her groceries behind as she ran.
* * *
o o o
Somin ran so fast she was gasping for breath when she rounded the corner toward Junu’s apartment. Relief and anxiety raced through her, braiding together as she spotted Junu and Jihoon approaching the front door.
“Junu!” she called. He turned in time for her to barrel into him.
“I see you missed me desperately.” Junu’s voice rumbled in Somin’s ear.
She pulled away and cleared her throat as she tried to find something sharp and clever to say. But she was still wheezing for breath and her hair was plastered to her face with sweat. It wasn’t the most dignified look. So she turned to Jihoon instead.
“Are you okay?”
He was watching her curiously, like he was trying to figure out how to react to what he’d just seen. Somin blushed under his stare. She knew Jihoon would probably give her an earful later. But right now, he just nodded.
“We’re fine. It was a very quick trip.” His eyes slid to Junu meaningfully.
“You sure?” Somin asked. Her best friend had dark bags under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept since he left.
“I’m fine,” Jihoon insisted. “Let’s go inside. I’m melting out here.” He turned to open the front door, and as soon as it beeped, Miyoung came rushing toward them.
“Thank the gods you’re back,” Miyoung said, wrapping Jihoon into a hug.
“So . . .” Jihoon hesitated. “You’re not mad?”
“Of course I’m mad. You did the exact opposite of what I asked you to do. What happened to ‘people don’t like martyrs’?”
Jihoon hunched his shoulders like he used to when Halmeoni scolded him. “I wasn’t going off to die. We were just trying to get Junu’s staff.”
“Did you get it?” Miyoung asked, turning to Junu.
He shifted, his eyes not quite meeting anyone else’s, and Somin knew the answer before he replied. “It wasn’t there.”
“Wasn’t there?” Miyoung asked. “Then where is it?”
“That’s a great question,” Jihoon said.
“What are we going to do?” Somin asked.
“I don’t know,” Junu admitted.
“Well, we have to do something,” Somin insisted. “I just saw . . . it was horrible. And this jeoseung saja said—”
“Wait, what jeoseung saja?” Junu’s voice was sharp.
“I don’t know. Just this boy, he appeared like from nowhere. He said you had to hurry.”
Junu and Miyoung shared a pointed look.
“What is it?” she asked.
“So the reapers really are here,” Miyoung said.
“I told you,” Junu said.
“You knew?” Somin asked. “You both knew that there were reapers here?”
She turned to Jihoon, who didn’t look surprised either.
“Did you all know?” she asked, her chest constricting with that familiar feeling of being left out. It happened so often these days.
“That’s not important,” Miyoung said. “What else happened? You said you saw something?”
Somin wanted to demand more answers. She felt like the kid that had been locked out of the secret clubhouse. But she knew that her feelings weren’t the important thing right now. “I just saw a man run into traffic. I saw him yesterday and he was scared, but he didn’t look like he was ready to jump in front of a speeding taxi. It’s getting bad. Just like Junu said it would. We have to do something.”
“Yes, we do,” Junu murmured. “And we will. I just . . . I need to think.”
“Think? We
need to make a plan. Where else could your bangmangi be?” Somin asked, and if her voice was a little higher and louder than normal, then she felt she had an excuse after what she’d just witnessed.
“I need a minute.” Junu turned and retreated into his room, closing the door on any protests Somin might have made.
She spun on Jihoon. “What exactly happened?”
“We got to the cave and there was just a random jar.” Jihoon shrugged, then started to walk back toward the kitchen. Miyoung and Somin gave each other a confused look. Jihoon wasn’t one to give up the chance to share a good story. They followed him to find Jihoon staring at the fridge, frozen like the appliance was perplexing to him.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“I didn’t say anything,” Somin replied.
“Oh,” Jihoon said with a frown.
“Did you want water?” Somin asked, stepping forward and opening the fridge.
Jihoon blinked, his eyes clearing as he focused on her. “Oh yeah, that would be great.”
“Tell us what else happened,” Somin said, placing a cup in front of him.
“Well, he said that the cave was dangerous because”—Jihoon’s eyes slid to Miyoung—“because he’d helped trap a gumiho in that jar. He’d used his bangmangi to do it. That’s why he was convinced it would still be there. But it wasn’t.”
“Why would he do that?” Miyoung whispered. “Why would he capture a gumiho?”
“I guess you have to ask the guy,” Jihoon said, lowering his head into his hands. “Is there any aspirin? I have a splitting headache.”
“Sure,” Miyoung said. “I think Junu has some in his medicine cabinet.” She went into the bathroom to fetch it.
“What else did he say?” Somin asked. “Where else could his staff be? What else did you guys do?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t talk much. Why don’t you go to Junu behind my back and ask him what else I did?”
“What?” Somin asked, her spine straightening in defense. “Why would you think I’d do that?”