by Kat Cho
“Something created a space, an energy, that is perfect for Sinhye’s soul.”
Junu’s stomach dropped as he pieced it together. “Dammit, Miyoung’s yeowu guseul. Of all the humans to take to that cave, I had to bring the one person in this world that’s had a fox bead inside of him. I should have known better.”
“Could you? Could even someone as clever as you have anticipated this?”
Junu knew that, despite his cold demeanor, this was Hyuk’s way of comforting him. Of telling Junu that he could never have known.
“You could have warned me,” Junu said.
“You know that jeoseung saja do not interfere with the affairs of the living,” Hyuk said.
“But you’re here now,” Junu said.
“I shouldn’t be,” Hyuk admitted. “I just wanted to check on my old friend.”
“What do I do now?”
“When something like this happens—a spirit finds the perfect vessel—the longer they spend within it, the more their energies fuse. The longer she stays in him, the more it will take to pull her free.”
“What will it take?” Junu asked.
Before Hyuk could reply, the door opened with a beep and let Miyoung in. She paused at the sight of Hyuk and Junu.
“I didn’t realize you had a guest,” Miyoung said, holding two bags from the local fried chicken restaurant. “Where’s Jihoon?”
“So you are the source of all this trouble,” Hyuk murmured. “I can see it now. The energy around you, it reeks of death. You hold on to it like a lifeline, but you know you should let it go.”
“Who are you?” Miyoung looked ready to attack at a moment’s notice if Hyuk so much as breathed wrong.
Not wanting to see the result of a fight between a reaper and a former gumiho in the middle of his pristine house, Junu stepped between them. “He’s leaving,” Junu said. Then he turned back to Hyuk. “You promised. I have three days left.”
The reaper was still a moment before lowering his chin in a nod. “Then I’ll be back in three days.”
“Yes, and try to actually give me the full three days. No more check-ins.”
“Her life is in your hands. Be sure to keep your promise. Because I will keep mine.”
“What are you talking about?” Miyoung demanded. But Hyuk ignored her.
“Tell her about your ghosts. And ask her about hers.” And he turned to go, disappearing into vapors that sifted through the air.
Miyoung jerked back in surprise. “What is going on here? Who was that? Why did he say my life is in your hands?”
Junu frowned, wondering how many of those questions he could skirt around. He decided to answer the easiest one first. “He’s a jeoseung saja.”
Miyoung’s eyes widened. “If he’s a jeoseung saja, then has he come for me?”
“No, there’s still time. We just have to get your bead back.”
Miyoung shook her head, her expression one of guarded distrust. “A reaper’s list doesn’t change. When they come for you, you can’t do anything to fight it.”
“You heard him. We still have time.”
“How do you know this reaper? Why would he come to you? Why would he give you this time?”
“I knew him in a past life,” Junu said quietly, unwilling to elaborate. His private life was never something he liked to discuss.
“That’s how you got him to wait? Because you’re friends with this reaper?”
“I don’t know if I’d call us friends. And he wouldn’t have given us more time if he didn’t benefit from it. The reapers want this resolved without getting their own hands dirty. The reapers don’t like to get involved in matters of the mortal world.”
“But if we can’t solve this in three days, he’ll come for me, right?”
And Junu couldn’t lie, so he just nodded.
“I don’t get it.” Miyoung frowned. “You always said you don’t get involved in things unless it benefits you. Why are you helping me like this?”
“I owe you a debt for the part I played in your mother’s death,” Junu said.
Miyoung laughed bitterly. “Is that what this is really all about? You paying off a debt?”
“Isn’t that what it looks like?”
She nodded, pursing her lips. “It could be that. It would be so much simpler if it was that. But I can’t help but think there’s more going on here.”
“When will you finally trust me?”
“I don’t know,” Miyoung said. “Maybe never.”
“Never?” Junu let out a harsh laugh because what he really wanted to do was throw something. “Just because I made one mistake?”
“One mistake?” Miyoung shouted. “You say that like it’s about the quantity of the betrayal and not the glaring, awful quality of it. What you did cost me my mother.”
“And I’m trying to make up for that. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
“You’re trying to do the right thing for the wrong reason,” Miyoung said. “You’re not doing this for me. You’re doing it because you hate feeling guilty. You’re selfish, Junu. You always have been and you always will be.”
She was right, Junu realized. He used all the bad things that had happened to him as an excuse for being selfish. He’d always thought that because no one would care about him, he had to do it himself. But seeing how hard it was for Miyoung to trust him hurt. Somin’s words came back to taunt him: You, who gives nothing and tries to convince himself he can live alone because he’s scared to let go of any part of himself?
As she turned to leave, he spoke, one final last-ditch effort to get her to understand: “I am sorry for what I did.”
“I know you are,” Miyoung said without turning back to look at him. “But I don’t want to forgive you.”
“Fine,” Junu said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Don’t forgive me. But we’ve got bigger problems right now.”
Miyoung’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Like what?”
“Jihoon.”
HEOUNGAEGI WAS A mother with many children. So, when she died and was sent to the underworld, she wept with worry for her children. The king of the underworld saw her tears and felt compassion for her. He gave her permission to travel to the human world by night to care for her children. There was only one rule: She had to return to the underworld before morning came. And so Heoungaegi was able to spend each night with her children. For a time they were happy. But an elderly neighbor soon became suspicious that the children were always well-kept and cared for despite losing their mother. When the neighbor questioned one of the younger children, they said that their mother came back from the underworld every night.
The neighbor, thinking that this was no proper way to live, told the children that she would come up with a way to keep their mother from returning to the underworld. She tied one end of a string to her foot and the other end to the foot of the eldest. She told the children to signal her when their mother came by pulling on the string. When they did, she hid the mother’s spirit to keep it in the world of the living. When morning came and Heoungaegi did not return to the underworld, the king was enraged. He came to the world of the living himself, found her spirit, and took her back. And for this breach of trust, he said that no spirit would ever be allowed to enter the world of the living again.
38
AS SOON AS Somin stepped into the apartment, she was pulled into the whirlwind that was her mother.
“Somin-ah,” her mother said, rushing out of the back room. She had on her robe, thrown over a camisole that she often wore under her work clothes. “Have you seen him?”
Him? Who? Jihoon? Somin wondered. Or did her mother know who she’d spent the day with? She truly hoped not. Her mother always had weird questions for Somin every time she started dating someone new. And she really wasn’t in the mood for it now.
Maybe because her mom had been too young when she got pregnant. And instead of raising Somin like a daughter, she’d raised her like a friend.
It had been great when Somin was a kid. And when she’d discovered makeup and fashion. But as soon as puberty had hit, her mother’s questions had started to make her uncomfortable.
“He’s back, and I just don’t know what to wear if he comes by again. I just don’t know what to do when we see him,” Somin’s mother said, her words tumbling over one another.
Her mother had started toward the bedroom when Somin grabbed her arm and turned her. Her eyes were overly bright. Like she’d drunk too much espresso.
“Who’s back? Who are you talking about?”
“Your father,” her mother said. And Somin’s hands dropped in shock. Her mother spun around to rush into her room.
Your father—the words echoed in her head like a cruel joke. Except her mother would never do that, not about this. Your father. She’d said it with such conviction. With such hope. With such manic joy.
“Eomma,” Somin said, walking back to the master bedroom. Her mother stood in front of her closet, dresses clutched in her hands.
“Which one looks best on me? I mean, which one makes me look less old? It’s been so long. I don’t want him to think I look old.”
“Eomma!” Somin shouted, pulling the dresses from her mother’s hands. “What are you talking about? Appa is . . . he’s not here anymore.”
“I know he’s not supposed to be here. But we were given a miracle. I don’t know how. I didn’t believe it at first, but then he said my name. And I’d never forget your father’s voice. It was him. It was really him!” her mother said, her eyes becoming wider, almost panicked. Like she needed Somin to believe her. Like she’d break if Somin didn’t.
“Oh, Eomma,” Somin said as she realized what was happening. “I have to tell you something.” Her voice cracked; she wasn’t sure how to say it.
But she was saved from it by the chime of the doorbell.
“That might be him!” her mother said, rushing to answer.
“Eomma!” Somin called, starting after her, when her phone dinged. It was a text from Miyoung: Jihoon is not Jihoon.
Somin frowned. What was that supposed to mean?
“Jihoon-ah,” she heard her mother say. “You didn’t have to ring the bell.”
Jihoon was here? Where had he been all day? Maybe he could help Somin explain things to her mother.
“Interesting.” Jihoon’s voice echoed down the hall. “You’ve been touched by a spirit.”
“A spirit?” Somin’s mother asked with a light laugh, but there was tension in the sound. Somin knew her mother well enough to recognize it.
What was Jihoon doing? Somin wondered. This wasn’t the way to tell her mother about the supernatural world. She glanced down at Miyoung’s text again. What was wrong with Jihoon? What did it mean that he wasn’t being himself?
“Oh, I see. You were hoping he was real, weren’t you? Hoping a dead loved one had returned to you through some kind of magic of what? True love?”
“Jihoon-ah?” Her mother’s voice shook.
“Jihoon!” Somin barked, stepping into the foyer, intent on giving him a piece of her mind. But instead, she watched as he swung out, slamming her mother into the large shoe cabinet. Her head smacked against the wood with a heavy thud before she dropped.
“Eomma!” Somin yelled, bending to catch her mother.
“She’ll be fine,” Jihoon said, stepping around them. “I just didn’t want her listening in on our conversation.”
Somin stood, positioning herself between her mother and Jihoon.
“Get the hell away from us,” she said, her fists clenching. Never in her life had she wanted to strike Jihoon. Not even during their worst fights. But she also never thought she’d be forced to choose between her mother’s safety and Jihoon.
Jihoon laughed, a low rumble that sounded unnaturally cruel. She’d never seen such violence from her friend who usually had a friendly smile for everyone.
“This isn’t like you,” she said. “You’ve been acting off since . . .” Her breath caught. Jihoon is not Jihoon.
Jihoon’s lips spread into a nasty grin. It looked less like a smile and more like he was baring his teeth. It was cold. It was cruel. It was not her best friend. “I guess I should stop with the charade, huh?”
“Who are you?” Somin asked, her voice hard as iron. She looked around for a weapon. There was an umbrella she’d forgotten to store and the neatly organized shoes in the foyer. If she had to, she’d use anything she could to keep him away from her mother.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t make a difference,” not-Jihoon said with a shrug as he turned to pace the living room. His motions looked so smooth. His gait different from the way he usually walked.
“Where did you come from?”
“That also doesn’t matter.”
“Get out of my friend,” Somin said.
Not-Jihoon gave a sharp grin. It made him look like a stranger. “I can’t do that until I finish what I’ve started.”
“What have you started?” Somin asked.
“Something I’ve been waiting centuries for.” Not-Jihoon smiled again in that teeth-baring way. It looked like a tiger eyeing her prey.
“What do we have to do with your plans?”
“It’s unfortunate, really. I have nothing against you, but it seems like hurting you could hurt him.”
“Who? Jihoon?”
Not-Jihoon gave her a look of pity. A look one gave a small child or a bug that they were about to crush.
“Junu,” Somin said now with conviction. “You’re trying to hurt Junu.”
“When I’m done with him, he’ll wish he was dead. Again.”
Somin shifted her stance, picking up the umbrella and wielding it like a club. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Not-Jihoon let out a harsh laugh. “I’ve been watching you. You like to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. You have no business in this world, little girl. Does it make you feel important to pretend like you have anything to do with our affairs?”
That stung, and if it had been actual-Jihoon saying it, Somin would have thought of backing down. But there was no way she was letting this . . . whatever it was get into her head. “I might just be human. But when you put my friends’ lives in danger, it becomes my business.”
The doorbell rang, and they both froze.
“Somin-ah!” Junu yelled from outside.
She reached for the handle, but not-Jihoon grabbed her wrist and spun her around. “Don’t.”
Somin pulled back, but not-Jihoon held tight, surprising her. She was usually stronger than Jihoon. She swung out with the umbrella, but he caught it easily and yanked it out of her hands.
“You don’t seem to realize how dangerous I can be.” With a jerk of his arm, not-Jihoon pulled Somin toward him and encircled her neck with his hand. “Perhaps I should show you just how wrong you are to underestimate me.”
Somin was slammed against the door so the knob dug into her back. She clawed at his hands, realizing for the first time how big they were as they cut off her air. Somin could count on her fingers the amount of times she’d felt true fear. And in this moment, seeing the face of her best friend contorted into rage as his hands tried to choke the life out of her, she was terrified.
The ringing doorbell continued, becoming insistent.
“Somin-ah!” Junu shouted.
She tried to choke out a word but could barely breathe, let alone speak. No matter how she struggled, whatever was in Jihoon wasn’t letting go. So she let her hands fall, running them over the door behind her.
“Maybe if he finds your body, he’ll know that I’m not playing around here,” not-Jihoon mused.
White dots began
dancing in Somin’s vision. She worried she was on the edge of passing out. Then her fingers found the knob and she used the last of her strength to twist it.
The door unlocked with a series of chirps.
It swung open with such force that Somin went flying forward, her body tangling with not-Jihoon’s. His grip finally loosened, and she gasped desperately. As her wheezing turned to coughs, she shifted and bumped into something—her mother. Reaching out, she thought to pull her mother to her, to find some comfort in the unconscious arms, but Junu rushed to her side. He pulled her up so she was lying half in his lap.
She let out a hiss of pain at the jarring movement.
“Somin-ah, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she croaked.
Miyoung leapt on top of not-Jihoon to hold him down. His arms came up in defense or, perhaps, in surrender.
“This body doesn’t belong to you.” A spark flared in Miyoung’s eyes as she shook not-Jihoon.
“I guess a gumiho without her yeowu guseul can still have some fire, huh?” the thing with Jihoon’s face said with a chuckle, and turned to spit blood from his mouth. A bruise was forming on his jaw from the fall.
“I’m going to give you ten seconds to get out of that body, or else you’re going to see how much fire I have left in me,” Miyoung snarled.
Somin would have been pleased to see Miyoung look almost like her normal self if her vision wasn’t wavering from a splitting headache.
“Oh, I’d love to see it,” not-Jihoon said, his face straining forward so it was mere centimeters from Miyoung’s. Then he slammed his forehead into hers.
Miyoung went flying back.
Not-Jihoon leapt up and stalked toward her.
“Sinhye,” Junu shouted, and not-Jihoon froze, turning to Junu with a vicious grin. “Let her go. Your fight is with me.”
“Are you going to stop me?” not-Jihoon asked, lifting an arm as if to strike Miyoung. But at that moment, an avenging ball of fur came racing down the hall. With a growl that Somin had never heard come from Dubu before, the little dog launched herself at not-Jihoon’s leg, biting him on the thigh. He let out a howl and pulled at the dog, but her teeth were dug in. With a hard yank, he finally wrenched her free, flinging her aside.