Vicious Spirits

by Kat Cho

“So you lied to me? For over a decade? Why would you think that’s better?” He was looking at her like she was a stranger, like he thought she’d done something shameful.

  “I did it to protect you,” Somin said, suddenly defensive. “I did it because it’s what you needed.”

  “Maybe you should stop thinking you know what’s best,” Jihoon said. “And start thinking about why you feel like you need to control everyone around you instead of letting us just live our lives.” Jihoon slammed into his room.

  “Fine!” Somin shouted after him, the word echoing uselessly in the empty room.

  30

  MIYOUNG WALKED THROUGH mist so thick she could barely see in front of her.

  “Mother,” she called. “Mother, if you’re here, say something.”

  “I’m lost.” Yena’s voice sifted out of the fog.

  “I am, too. Just follow my voice.”

  “I cannot find you.”

  “Mother, please. I have so many questions,” Miyoung said. “Do you know where my bead is? We need it back and if you can help—”

  “It’s all that keeps us together,” Yena said.

  Miyoung’s limbs shook. Her stomach felt like it held rocks. “Does that mean it’s here? Is my bead with you?”

  “It is lost.”

  “I know,” Miyoung said. “Please, help me find it.”

  “He is lost.”

  “Who?” There was a shadow of movement to her right and Miyoung turned to follow it. “Mother, stop moving. Let me come to you.”

  “You’ll lose him. You’ve already lost so much. My poor daughter.”

  “Who are you talking about?” Miyoung’s vision wavered. “Please, Mother, you’re scaring me.”

  “Good, you should be scared.”

  That made goose bumps rise on her skin, but still she moved forward, determined to find her way out of this. Determined not to let her mother’s cryptic words stop her. “Tell me who you’re talking about, Mother. I can’t do anything if I don’t know what the threat is!”

  Yena’s laughter rang through the mist. “Oh, my foolish daughter. You think you have the strength to fix this? A problem of your own making, because you were too sentimental to protect yourself over others?”

  “That’s not true!” Miyoung shouted, her tears making warm tracks down her cheeks. “I refuse to be alone any longer. I refuse to push people away.”

  “And when you pull others close, you put them in danger. He is lost because he loves you.”

  Miyoung’s pulse leapt with knowledge now. “Jihoon-ah? Where is he?”

  “Even he no longer knows. He runs and runs. Dirt and sticks.” The dark shape moved closer, so fast that Miyoung barely blinked before Yena’s pale face melted out of the mist, her eyes wide but unseeing. Her teeth bared. Miyoung tried to jerk back, but Yena clasped onto her shoulder, her nails digging into flesh. “He runs, but he cannot escape. Because the threat is coming from inside.”

  Then Yena shoved Miyoung away and she fell through the mist.

  And she woke with a start at the moment she was sure she would have hit the ground. She lifted a hand to her sore shoulder, and it came away with a streak of blood. She leapt up and ran to the mirror above her dresser. Twisting so she could see the back of her shirt, she made out the smudge of blood above her shoulder blade.

  If this was real, then . . .

  “Jihoon,” Miyoung whispered before running for the door.

  31

  SOMIN WOKE TO the ring of her phone. When she picked it up, she saw Junu’s name and pressed ignore.

  Just as she was about to fall back asleep, it rang again. And with a jab at the screen, she sat up. Fine, she’d just be awake.

  She’d almost forgotten what day today was. She wished she’d forgotten. But as if her mind wanted to remind Somin to be miserable for the next twenty-four hours, she’d woken up at 3:00 A.M. and noticed the date. It had taken her over an hour to fall back to sleep.

  Somin told herself lack of sleep was the main reason she was so irritable, but she knew it was a lie. She hated being alone on this day. So she waited for others to join her in the land of the awake. Finally, with a frown she glared at the clock on her phone. It told her it was already 9:00 A.M., which meant either everyone had overslept or she was alone. But that couldn’t be right.

  She walked to Jihoon’s room and hesitated before knocking. Jihoon was not a morning person. But shouldn’t today be different? He’d never miss today. In fourteen years, he hadn’t.

  So Somin rapped on the door. When there was no reply, she knocked again. Slowly, she chanced opening the door a crack. If he was a grump, then so be it. She’d dealt with angry morning Jihoon before. But when she poked her head in, the room was empty.

  Where could he have gone so early in the morning? She dialed his number, but it went straight to voice mail. As if he’d turned it off. Or was screening her call. Could he really have forgotten?

  Her phone buzzed, but it wasn’t Jihoon. It was her mother.

  I’m sorry I had to leave so early. The office called and asked me to come in. But I left soup on the stove, or there’s bread if you want toast. I’ll see you tonight for our family dinner. I love you.

  The message was a small comfort. She knew her mother wouldn’t be having an easy time of it today either. And though Somin knew it was selfish, she wished her mother had played hooky and spent the day at home. At least then Somin wouldn’t be alone. But her mother probably thought Jihoon would be here.

  Somin and Jihoon had a tradition for this day. For her father’s birthday. Since it always fell during summer break, she and Jihoon would go out and eat ice cream, go to an arcade, maybe go to a movie. It varied, but Jihoon always planned a full day to keep her preoccupied. It was the one day a year that Somin let herself be the one taken care of. But now he was nowhere to be found. How could he forget today?

  Or maybe he hadn’t forgotten. Maybe he was still angry from their fight yesterday.

  It stung that Jihoon could be so mad he’d abandon her on today of all days. But a part of her was worried she deserved it. Jihoon’s parting words still echoed in her head. Was it so bad that she wanted to help her friends? Was she really so controlling she couldn’t let the people she loved live their own lives?

  She’d already been feeling useless the past week, unable to do anything to help her friends. But maybe Jihoon was right. Maybe they didn’t need her help. She balled her fists, her useless fists, and slammed them into her pockets.

  And before she knew it, she was crying. Just letting loose with all of her frustration, and fear, and anger. She gave the door a couple of punches for good measure.

  She was crying so hard she barely heard the doorbell. But when it rang again, she answered with an angry jerk.

  Junu’s eyes widened as they took in her blotchy, tear-stained face.

  “I take it this is a bad time.”

  “I take it you’re an asshole and I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She tried to slam the door shut, but he reached out and stopped it.

  “Listen, can you just tell me if you’ve seen Miyoung today?”

  Somin frowned up at him. “You’re looking for Miyoung?”

  “Yeah, I woke up, and she was just gone. She’s not answering her phone and neither are you, apparently.”

  She was confused for a second before she remembered what had woken her up on this already awful day.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry, now’s not a good time. Today’s not a good day.” Somin suddenly felt too drained and just sat on the step between the foyer and the living space.

  “What is today?” She felt Junu’s hand come down on her shoulder and the warmth of his body as he sat next to her.

  “Today,” Somin said into her knees, “is a day I don’t want to be alone.”

  She heard Junu’s sigh
before he said, “Tell me what to do for you.”

  “Will you take me somewhere?” Somin asked without looking up.

  “Anywhere.”

  32

  MIYOUNG RAN THROUGH the forest quickly and quietly.

  Jihoon hadn’t answered her dozens of calls. And though it had been so early the sun had barely peeked over the horizon, Miyoung knew in her heart that it wasn’t because Jihoon was sleeping. Something was wrong. Yena had said Jihoon was running. Dirt and sticks, she’d said. The forest.

  There was a hum in the woods. A low rumbling that settled into Miyoung’s ears. It felt like every tree, every beast, whispered around her. Wondering why she was here. Warning her away. Because in this forest she’d done unnatural things. She’d stolen life. She’d destroyed lives.

  Miyoung tried to shake the thought out of her head. But it wouldn’t break free. As morbid as it was, she realized it was fitting as she broke free of the trees into a clearing. Her mother’s grave.

  She almost turned and made her way back into the forest, but the hum seemed louder here and she moved out of the shelter of the trees. As she approached the maehwa tree, her steps slowed as she searched the area for any threats. Old habits were hard to kill, and to Miyoung, the forest was a place where she’d learned that threats could lurk in every shadow. The dappled sunlight that fell on the forest floor should have seemed beautiful, even magical. Instead, it felt like shapes that could twist into monsters to pull at her.

  Still, she stepped toward the tree, close enough that she could place her palm against the trunk. It felt warm to the touch. Was that because of the summer heat that permeated down here despite the shade? Or was it because of something else?

  “Mother,” she whispered to the tree. “Can you hear me?”

  Miyoung closed her eyes, waited for that whisper of a voice. Waited to see if she could call Yena forth when she wanted. But there was nothing but the whisper of wind through the trees.

  “Please, if you’re here, help me find him.” Her voice trembled.

  There was a rustle of sound and her eyes shifted, half expecting a spectral Yena to step out of the foliage. Instead a small rabbit scurried through the underbrush, and Miyoung laughed in embarrassment. The sound faded, but in its place she heard a soft huffing.

  Her ears perked. Miyoung might not have super gumiho hearing anymore, but she recognized that sound. The sound of crying.

  She stepped slowly around the maehwa tree and let out a breath of relief.

  “Jihoon,” she said. “I found you.”

  He was slumped against the tree, his knees hugged close to his chest. He looked up at her with bloodshot eyes.

  “Miyoung-ah?” Her name came out like a hoarse question.

  “What are you doing out here?” She bent down beside him.

  “I can’t—I can’t—” Jihoon pressed his hands against his temples. “My head. It hurts.”

  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I can’t sleep. I keep waking up like I’m having nightmares, but I can’t remember them.” Bags sat under his eyes as physical proof of his sleepless nights.

  “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  “No, no more doctors. I just . . . I need you. I have such a need for you.” He grabbed her shoulders, fingers digging into her cuts, making them sting, but she didn’t pull away.

  “I’m here,” she said. “I’m always here for you.”

  Jihoon squeezed his eyes shut. Miyoung wrapped him in her arms, and she could feel his whole body trembling, like a live wire. And she realized he was the source of the humming. Like every cell of his body was vibrating so fast that it let off a buzz.

  “It hurts,” he mumbled. “Fighting hurts.”

  “What are you fighting?” Miyoung asked. She could taste his gi even though she wasn’t trying to. It was too bright, too sharp. How long had he been out here?

  “I can’t fall asleep again. If I do . . . bad things wait for me there.”

  His words were an eerie echo of Miyoung’s. In her dreams, Yena waited with her frightening proclamations and accusations.

  “What waits for you in your dreams?”

  “I don’t know. She doesn’t like it when I fight. She wants control,” Jihoon moaned.

  Now Miyoung pulled back and saw that Jihoon had started quietly sobbing. “Don’t let her. Don’t let her take me!”

  “Who?” Miyoung asked as fear sliced through her. Yena? But she didn’t dare ask the question aloud. What was her mother doing?

  “No! I don’t want to!” Jihoon shouted, fisting his hands in his hair and jerking his head back and forth.

  “Jihoon-ah, stop it.” Miyoung tried to stop him; she was afraid he’d rip out his own hair at this rate.

  He slumped into her, his face pressing into her throat.

  “Hold on to me,” he said, his lips moving against her skin. “I’m so tired. I don’t think I can take it anymore.”

  “What do you need from me?” Miyoung asked, desperately holding him close. “Tell me.”

  “Don’t let me go.”

  “I won’t,” Miyoung said. “Of course I won’t.”

  “Miyoung-ah,” Jihoon murmured.

  “What?”

  “Miyoung-ah!” This time he choked on her name before he started to seize, shaking so hard that she couldn’t hold on to him and he fell to the forest floor.

  She reached out for him again with the half-formed idea of holding him still to stop him from shaking. But at her touch, he stopped. Like she’d pressed a switch, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he flopped back.

  “Oh gods. Oh gods. What do I do?” Miyoung stammered. “Hospital. We need to go to the hospital.” She started to rise when Jihoon grabbed her wrist.

  He sat up, his eyes clear again, no longer hazed with fear and confusion.

  “Miyoung?” he said again. And this time his voice was stronger.

  “I’m here. I’m right here. I’m going to take you to the hospital.”

  “I don’t need the hospital,” Jihoon said, standing and brushing off his pajama pants so casually, you’d never have thought he’d just had a seizure in the middle of the forest.

  “Something is wrong with you,” Miyoung said, reaching for him. But when she touched him, a spark raced across her palm. She jerked her hand back. It had felt like pure energy sizzling under her skin.

  Jihoon chuckled, but it sounded jarring while Miyoung’s heart was still racing with fear for him.

  “I was just disoriented. I think I was sleepwalking last night and I had no idea how I got out here.”

  Call it instinct, but Miyoung wasn’t sure if she fully believed this sudden story. But what reason did Jihoon have to lie? “You’ve never mentioned sleepwalking before.”

  “Well, that’s because this is the first time it’s happened. It’s why I was so freaked out.” Jihoon gave a quick smile.

  “Then shouldn’t you get checked out? I know you hate the hospital, but I think we should see your old neurologist, just in case,” Miyoung said, trying to wrap her arm around him for support.

  “Fine, if it will get you off my case, I’ll go,” Jihoon said, rolling his eyes, like she was overreacting.

  “Why are you acting like this?” Miyoung asked. This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t mean or callous.

  He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were filled with tears. “I’m just . . . I think I’m just stressed. I’m scared every day that I might lose you.”

  Miyoung let out a deep breath, which eased a bit of the tension that still sat in her chest. “You won’t lose me,” she assured him.

  “Of course I won’t,” Jihoon said, his eyes suddenly dry again. “We love each other. Love can conquer anything.” He gave a sly smile that looked like he was making a clever joke, but what he was joking
about, Miyoung couldn’t tell.

  She remembered her conversation with Somin. How those words were hard to push out, but how Jihoon needed to hear them. And it seemed he needed them now more than ever. So she took a deep breath, held it, and then dove in. “Jihoon-ah.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I do love you. You know that, right?”

  He gave her a crooked grin. “Of course I do. Now let’s get going, the faster we see the doctor, the faster we can eat breakfast, and I’m starving!”

  “Okay,” Miyoung said with a frown. That wasn’t the reaction she’d been expecting to her first true declaration of love. But she supposed after everything they’d been through, words could pale in comparison. She tried to push away the worry that still poked at her. She wasn’t so insecure that she’d assume her boyfriend was sick just because he didn’t react the way she’d wanted to her confession.

  So she let Jihoon guide her out of the forest. But as they left, she heard Yena’s voice echo behind her, Be careful, Daughter.

  33

  “I DON’T KNOW about this,” Junu said warily.

  “You said you’d take me anywhere,” Somin reminded him, pulling him through the lobby. His shoes squeaked against the gleaming floor as they dragged. Then, finally, with a sigh, he let her drag him to the entrance of the indoor amusement park.

  “I can already hear the creatures screeching.”

  “You mean the happy laughter of children?” Somin asked, rolling her eyes. “I never knew you were afraid of kids.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Junu insisted. “I just keep a safe distance. They have sticky hands and sharp teeth. They’re like trolls.”

  “Are trolls real?” Somin asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

  Junu laughed. Throwing an arm over her shoulder, he said, “Let’s get this over with.”

  With a whoop of joy, she raced forward to give her ticket to the boy standing at the entrance, Junu trailing slowly after. As they rode the escalator up, she felt butterflies in her stomach as she remembered staring at pictures of this place as a child. It’s where her father had promised to take her. A promise he’d never been able to keep.