by Kat Cho
Perfect was not the word Somin would have chosen for it, but she refused to reply.
Sinhye walked to the sink and played with the faucet, turning the water on and off. “You all don’t know how good you have it these days,” she murmured.
Somin was finally annoyed enough to reply. “I’m not really interested in hearing how hard it was before indoor plumbing.”
“I’m getting carried away,” Sinhye said with a light laugh. “I have to admit I was very intrigued to meet you. Junu’s new great love.”
Somin’s breath hitched, but she kept her face impassive. “Junu and I aren’t that serious.”
Sinhye laughed. “You think just because I’ve been trapped away for centuries, I can’t see what’s right in front of me? I’ve been watching you all the past two days as your friend unwittingly carried me around. I’ve seen how he looks at you. How he talks about you.”
Somin’s lips pressed into a thin line. This wasn’t exactly a topic she wanted to talk about with an evil spirit possessing her best friend.
“Why are we here?” Somin finally asked. “What do you want?”
“I want the people who trapped me to pay!” Sinhye shouted. “Starting with your boyfriend.”
“You killed him,” Somin said, unable to hold back her anger. “You trapped his soul instead of letting him move on. You had the shaman turn him into a dokkaebi. He lost everything because of that. Wasn’t that enough?”
“This is the problem with humans. You see everything that’s different from you as monstrous, as lesser. Do you know where the first dokkaebi came from?”
“What?” Somin frowned.
“The first dokkaebi was a mix of man and spirit. A king once loved a lady, but she was already married. But, as powerful men are wont to do, he couldn’t let go of something he wanted. Something he coveted. And so, even after he died, he desired this lady. He came to her as a spirit, and she became with child. The first dokkaebi. A coming together of two worlds. A dokkaebi is not a monster because he is evil; he is seen as evil because people do not understand him.” Sinhye shrugged. “What is so wrong about making Junu a dokkaebi? What is so wrong about it except that he is no longer human?”
Somin shook her head. She wouldn’t let Sinhye’s pretty words distract her. She wouldn’t let herself be confused. “You took a choice away from him. You made him something he never chose to be.”
“And greedy, lustful men made me what I didn’t choose to be,” Sinhye snapped, and the look in her eyes was enough to have Somin shrink back. “Junu was far from the only victim.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Somin asked despite herself.
“When I lived, if women were beautiful, we were both coveted and punished.”
“I don’t need a history lesson,” Somin said. Especially not one that would soften her to the evil thing inside her best friend. She tried to keep her heart hard. Tried to keep it cold.
“Everything that happened to me happened because I was seen as property. A sansin wanted me, but I loved Junu. I turned the mountain god down. I wanted a simple life, a mortal one with the boy I loved. And for that horrible crime.” She paused, let the words sink in. “For that crime, he cursed me. He convinced me that I could gain my mortality only if I ate one hundred livers for one hundred days. Instead it cursed me and all who came after to be immortal monsters.”
“Those who came after you?” Somin asked, like Miyoung? “So that’s it? There’s really no way for a gumiho to become mortal?”
“Oh, there is,” Sinhye said with a grim smile. “Just because I was in that prison didn’t mean that I couldn’t hear the spirits in the Between. And they watched the world of the living. They told me things. Like how some gumiho found they could become human if they refused to feed for one hundred days, three moons. And then at the end they severed their ties with their bead. A painful process, from what I’ve heard; some of them didn’t survive it. Severing yourself from your yeowu guseul is like trying to rip out a part of your own soul. But the ones who lived could be free from the curse of the gumiho. Could be human.”
Somin couldn’t help but think of Miyoung. She hadn’t fed for one hundred days, and they’d all been wondering how she survived. Was it possible for her to become fully human if she just severed her bond with her bead?
“You’re thinking of your friend, aren’t you?” Sinhye said. “Such an interesting creature. Not quite human, not quite gumiho. She’s sitting in a fragile limbo. Still attached to her lost bead. She’ll be a fun toy after I’m done playing with you.”
“I know that you’ve suffered,” Somin said, carefully choosing her words. “You didn’t deserve it. Maybe we can help you find peace.”
Sinhye was quiet for a moment. She circled the room, as if taking its measure. She let her fingers run along surfaces, creating lines and patterns in the dust. “You really think you can somehow get through to me?” She raised pitying eyes, and the seed of hope in Somin disappeared. “Any humanity in me died a long time ago. After those who coveted and betrayed me locked me away in that prison for centuries.”
Somin almost stepped back at the venom in Sinhye’s voice.
“And now,” Sinhye said, her voice quiet again, “I will repay those who cursed me. Starting with Junu. It’s so hard to decide just how I’m going to make him suffer the most.”
Now Somin did back away. She didn’t like how calm Sinhye sounded. How resolved.
“Should I wait until he’s here to watch? Or perhaps I’ll just let him find your body. It’s really so hard to choose.” Sinhye let out a macabre laugh.
“He’s not coming,” Somin said. “He doesn’t even know where I am.”
“But didn’t your little message get to him?” Sinhye asked.
Now Somin froze, her heart skipping a beat. “What?”
“I assume that’s what you were doing with that halmeoni out front,” Sinhye said calmly. Like she hadn’t caught Somin trying to pull one on her. “I mean, that’s why I let you choose the location. I figured a girl like you wouldn’t be able to resist trying to get a message to her friends. And now they’ll come for you, but it’ll be too late. Oops!”
“Michin-nyeon!” Somin couldn’t hold back her anger anymore and swung a fist. But she miscalculated. She was so used to Jihoon being slower, she could clock him without any effort. But Sinhye was too fast. And she dodged the punch and swung out with her own fist. Stars exploded behind Somin’s eyes as she went sprawling onto the floor.
“I think I’ve made up my mind,” Sinhye said. “I think I don’t want to wait to snap your pretty little neck.”
Somin scrambled back, crab-walking to get away from Sinhye. But, of course, it was futile. She was nowhere near as fast as the gumiho. So she pushed to her feet. If she was going to die, then she’d go down fighting. She’d just lifted her fists and stepped forward when the kitchen door slammed open and Mr. Ahn stumbled in. Somin considered using the momentary distraction to make a run for it, but Sinhye wrapped her in a choke hold.
“Well, what did I just walk into?” Mr. Ahn asked, his bleary eyes taking in the scene.
“Get out of here or I’ll snap her neck,” Sinhye growled, holding Somin like a human shield.
“Wow, Son, I didn’t know you had it in you. But I don’t care about that brat,” Mr. Ahn said with a low, gravelly chuckle. “I just want the money you’ve been hiding from me.”
“Money?” Sinhye asked with a laugh. “What nonsense are you talking about?”
This enraged Mr. Ahn, who was already sloppy from drink. “I know your halmeoni had money secreted away. Even when we asked her for help, she wouldn’t give it to us. Said it was in a college fund for you. Well, now that she’s dead, you’ve got to have it. And I raised you, so I’m entitled to at least half.”
“Mr. Ahn, get out of here,” Somin choked out.
“I
see now. I see what type of man you are,” Sinhye said, and Somin didn’t like the glee she heard in the words. “I see that there is so much greed in your heart that your soul is black. I wonder what it will taste like.”
Sinhye flung Somin aside. The momentum threw her into a metal column holding up one of the industrial shelves. Her head slammed against it with a thud that echoed through her ears. The sound reverberated. Her vision blurred. The world spun and twisted into three rotating layers as she fell. The last thing she saw was Sinhye lunging at Mr. Ahn.
KING JINJI FELL in love with Lady Dohwa and asked her to be with him, but she refused, as she was already married. Even if she didn’t love her husband, she was loyal. So King Jinji was forced to live without the woman he loved until his untimely death. But as a spirit, he returned and found that Lady Dohwa’s husband had died as well. She accepted him into her bed, and King Jinji stayed with her for seven days before leaving again.
Lady Dohwa became pregnant and gave birth to a son that she named Bihyeong. He was born of a mortal and a spirit, so he was unlike any other who’d come before him. He was extraordinary, and the new king, Jinpyeong, recognized this and raised him at the palace. But despite his royal heritage, Bihyeong much preferred to spend his nights on the hills by the river west of the city, in the company of ghosts instead of humans. These ghosts served as friends and confidants of Bihyeong. When the king ordered Bihyeong to build a bridge, he did so with the help of the ghosts and finished it in one night. Once they’d finished, they named it Gwigyo—Ghost Bridge.
But despite his unwavering friendship, Bihyeong’s ghost friends did not stay by his side. They left him eventually and he was alone in the world of mortals, not quite human and not quite spirit. A new breed of creature that came to be known as dokkaebi.
41
MIYOUNG RAN AROUND the back of the old building that Jihoon used to call home. Her heart hadn’t stopped racing since she’d received the call from Hwang Halmeoni.
He was acting so weird. And I could tell Somin was afraid of something. It seemed to me like she might have even been afraid of Jihoon, Hwang Halmeoni had said. She’d always been such a perceptive woman.
Miyoung said a small prayer that Somin and Jihoon were both okay.
And that prayer was dashed as she pushed into the back room and found Somin sprawled across the floor, a smear of blood leading into the kitchen. Like she’d crawled out here to get help.
“Somin-ah!” Miyoung shouted, kneeling beside her friend. When she turned Somin onto her back, Somin groaned and Miyoung thanked all the gods in the heavens for that. At least Somin wasn’t dead.
“Don’t move, I’m here. I’m going to get you help.” But before Miyoung could take out her phone, Somin grabbed her wrist.
“Stop her,” Somin said. “She’ll kill him.”
Then she passed out again. Miyoung picked up Somin, carrying her outside. Junu rushed up to her. “What happened?” he gasped out.
“Watch after her,” Miyoung said.
“No,” Junu said. “I’m not letting you face Sinhye alone.”
Miyoung started to argue when Hwang Halmeoni spoke behind her. “Leave Somin with me.”
She followed Hwang Halmeoni and gently laid Somin on the wooden deck. “We’ll come back for her,” Miyoung promised.
“Just go help Jihoon,” Hwang Halmeoni said.
“Come on,” she said to Junu, and moved into the restaurant and toward the kitchen. This place was the site of one of the darkest days of her life. Second only to the day she’d lost her mother. She hated this room. But it seemed she couldn’t escape its horrors as she watched Jihoon rip into his father’s unconscious form.
“Jihoon-ah!”
He didn’t even look up.
“Jihoon,” she shouted, trying to get him to stop. “Ahn Jihoon!”
“Sinhye,” Junu said.
Sinhye looked up, her face splattered with blood, and the grin she gave was one of malice and hunger.
“Stop this.” Junu added command to his voice that Miyoung had never heard before.
“Do I look like I take orders from you?” Sinhye asked. And Miyoung realized that even though she spoke with Jihoon’s voice, she sounded different. It was the cadence of her words and a slight accent that Miyoung couldn’t place.
“I’m hoping that you’ll see it as a request. A plea,” Junu said. “If you’re here to punish me, then punish me. Not anyone else.”
“It seems that your immortality hasn’t done much good for you.” Sinhye sneered. “You’re still soft and weak. Letting yourself become attached to these humans.” Mr. Ahn lay at Sinhye’s feet, but Miyoung could finally make out his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He was alive, but Miyoung wasn’t sure how long that would last.
“I’m not attached to anyone,” Junu said, and Miyoung recognized something in his words. He was parroting things she used to say. Things she said when she was lying to herself about being able to live with no connections. How had she not realized that before?
“I’m alone,” Junu said, and now the words made Miyoung sad. “So don’t punish anyone else for my mistakes.”
“You really think you’re capable of holding yourself separate from a world you’re still so desperate to be a part of?” Sinhye asked with a laugh. “You, who always cared so much what everyone around you thought? I was wrong; you’re not the same as you were before. You’re worse because now you’re deluding yourself. Playing at being strong, when inside you’re the same scared boy I knew.”
Junu’s voice came out tight, choked. “You don’t know me anymore.”
“I don’t need to know you to see right through you. Your weak heart cares about these humans.”
“Leave him alone,” Miyoung said. She felt a need now to shield Junu from the cruelty of this fox spirit. Because, whether she’d wanted to admit it or not, Junu had become a part of her life. A part she wanted to hold on to.
“Make me,” Sinhye said with a hard grin.
Miyoung started to step forward, but Junu stopped her. “I’m asking you to leave these people alone and let Jihoon go,” Junu said. “And I’ll help you find another way to live.”
Sinhye sneered. “You think I need your help? Don’t you get it? I don’t want or need anything from you except your pain.”
“And how do you think this will help? I don’t care about that man.” Junu flung his arm toward Mr. Ahn.
“Yes, but you claim to care about this one and his friends.” Sinhye gestured to Jihoon’s body. “Let’s see how you deal with the pain you’ve caused them.”
“What?” Junu asked, but he was cut short as Sinhye’s eyes rolled back and her body went slack.
42
JIHOON’S BODY FELL back, his head slamming against the hard floor. As Miyoung ran to him, Junu called for her to stop. They had no way of knowing what Sinhye would do if she got her hands on someone else. But Miyoung didn’t listen.
Jihoon moaned, and Junu prepared to fight her off.
“Miyoung-ah?” Jihoon murmured, sounding distinctly Jihoon-like, but Junu was still on edge. Waiting for even the slightest hint that it was a trap. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Miyoung said, trying to block the sight of Mr. Ahn lying in the middle of the floor. But Jihoon followed the trail of gore until he spotted his father’s body.
“Is that . . . ?” A gasp of horror escaped his throat. Jihoon lifted his hands as if to hide behind them; then his eyes widened as he saw the blood covering his skin. “Oh God. Did I do that? Did I kill—”
“No,” Miyoung said firmly. “It wasn’t you.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Jihoon started shaking, his body jerking with agitation as he ran his red-stained hands over his face. It transferred the blood to his cheeks, stuck in his hair, made him look gruesome. His hands fisted at his temples, and he sobbed. “I remember
now. I remember what happened. I’m a murderer. I killed him. I killed my own father.” The last words were akin to a wail of pain so sharp that even Junu felt it.
“No,” Miyoung said. “It was Sinhye, and she’s gone now.”
“She’s not.” Jihoon shook his head frantically. “She’s still in here. I can hear her. She says she wants me to see what we did. She wants me to watch him die.”
Jihoon’s father twitched, let out a cough that spewed blood from his mouth.
“He’s not dead,” Miyoung said, latching on to that fact. “Look, he’s not dead.”
“Yet,” Junu said, and she sent him an angry glare.
“You’re not helping,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Neither are you if you think this will help him with his guilt. There’s nothing we can do for this man.”
And when Mr. Ahn died, Jihoon would never forgive himself. He’d be tortured by this death for the rest of his life. And that was the punishment, Junu realized. The punishment was knowing that he was the cause of more pain. Because Mr. Ahn wouldn’t be dying if not for Sinhye, and Sinhye would not have targeted him if not for Junu.
The guilt he already felt over his part in Yena’s death expanded, threatened to choke him.
You can never do anything right, his father’s voice echoed in his head. Angry and hard. I’m ashamed to have a son like you.