Vicious Spirits

  “Release him. Please, Sinhye. Or you’ll both die.”

  She shook her head, then winced as if the slight movement brought her pain. “I can’t. It’s like I’m rooted in this body. I can’t let go on my own.”

  “Somin-ah,” Junu called. Urgency making his voice tight. At first, she didn’t reply. She was still trying to revive Miyoung.

  “Somin, please.” Perhaps it was the desperation in his voice that finally got Somin to look up. She scrambled over, kneeling beside Sinhye.

  “Are you okay?” But when Somin reached out, Sinhye jerked back.

  “We don’t have much time,” Junu said, drawing Somin’s attention to him. “We need to get Sinhye’s soul out of Jihoon so his body can regain its strength.”

  “But that would mean—” She broke off like she couldn’t say the words. “There must be some other way.”

  “There isn’t and we don’t have time to sit around debating this,” Junu said.

  “You don’t need to do this,” she said. “Please, I don’t want you to do this.”

  He held Somin close, letting her sobs shake them both.

  “I can’t let you lose Jihoon. He’s too important to you. And he’s also innocent. And he doesn’t deserve any of this.”

  Somin’s fists turned to grab hold of his shoulders. “You were innocent, too. You never chose this either.”

  “Even if I was innocent once, I’m not anymore.”

  “That doesn’t mean you deserve to die,” Somin sobbed.

  “Perhaps not, but it’s what needs to happen now.”

  Somin cupped his face, her eyes taking him in, boring into his like they could see everything inside of him. “You were wrong about something.”

  “I doubt it. I’m usually never wrong.”

  “You said you’re broken. You said you can’t be fixed. But you don’t need to be fixed. You’re a good person, Jin Junu.”

  “I’m not a person, Lee Somin.”

  That earned a scowl from her. “This isn’t a time to make jokes.”

  “I think this is the best time to make jokes. Why be a morose bore when I’m about to die?” Junu grinned his devil-may-care smile. He didn’t want to leave her with a vision of him in despair. Perhaps it was selfish, but he wanted her to remember him with joy.

  He wanted nothing more than to stay here with Somin. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even take a few minutes of grace to show her how much she’d come to mean to him. There wasn’t enough time to show her. Even if he lived another hundred years, there wouldn’t be enough time. So he pressed his lips against hers. Trying to push every part of his heart into the kiss. Trying to show her that even though his spirit would leave this earth, a part of him would stay here with her.

  Before he was ready, he pulled away, turning to Sinhye.

  “We’re going to cut your connection to that body,” Junu said. “If you try to hold on, I don’t know what it will do to either of you. But it won’t be punishing me anymore. I won’t be here to mourn him.”

  Sinhye scowled, then nodded. “I’ll let go. I have no need to stay here any longer. The sansin is dead. You’ll be dead. I’m not afraid to move on.”

  Junu wasn’t sure if he could truly trust Sinhye to keep her word here. But it was all he had and they didn’t have time to bicker over it. So he helped her sit up.

  “I see it now,” Sinhye whispered into his ear.

  “What do you see?” Junu asked.

  She pulled back to study him with such intensity he wondered what she was searching for. “I see that what we had was not the love I thought.”

  “We don’t have time for this.”

  Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to absorb her pain. “You’re willing to sacrifice everything for that girl. We pretended we’d sacrifice for each other. I would give up my immortal life and you’d give up your family. But really those were both things that didn’t matter enough to us. And we were fools for that. For so many things.”

  Junu nodded at the truth of her words. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I loved you because you helped me forget how pathetic my life had become. And I held you up in front of my family like a trophy I had won. That was selfish of me.”

  Sinhye’s internal conflict showed in the furrow of Jihoon’s brow, now so sweaty his hair stuck to his skin. “And I reveled in the fact that I was the only one who could make you happy. But I think I always knew it was because I was the only one you let make you happy.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I’m glad,” Sinhye said. “That now, in the end, we can be honest with each other.”

  “I hope one day our souls can forgive each other, too.”

  Sinhye nodded.

  Junu turned to Somin and pulled out the knife she’d nestled in her waistband. “Aim for the heart like on the other dokkaebi. It’s the easiest way.”

  “Easiest?” Somin choked out. “Nothing about this is easy. I can’t do this.”

  When she took the knife, he placed his hands over hers like they were praying together. “I wish it didn’t have to be you. But there’s no one else.”

  Tears fell silently down her cheeks. But her face was defiant, like she would burn down the whole world to get what she wanted. It was a look that first drew him to her. It was the look that had caused him to fall in love.

  “Jihoon needs you,” he said. Somin took a deep breath, then nodded.

  Junu held out his hands to Sinhye.

  “Do it,” he said to Somin.

  “I can’t,” she whispered.

  “You have to.”

  Sinhye’s hands tightened around Junu’s. Her eyes rolled back, and her body convulsed. Her whole form stiffened as she shook.

  “Do it,” Junu said as he caught Sinhye’s thrashing body in his arms. “Somin, do it.”

  He heard her sob behind him. He felt the tip of the blade between his shoulder blades. He closed his eyes. He held tight to Sinhye.

  The blade pierced his skin. He bit his lip to hold in a scream.

  Go faster, he thought. End it before I beg you to stop. He wanted to be noble. To have a brave ending. He’d lived a messy, cowardly life. He’d lived a selfish life. And he knew he would never be able to erase the centuries of shame. But at least he could commit one act of bravery. One selfless thing as a final punctuation to his shameful life. And at least he could die knowing that he wasn’t completely beyond the bounds of redemption. That there was still a part of him that could love and be loved.

  His whole body shuddered, his teeth chattering so violently that he thought he would bite off his own tongue.

  As he felt the blade dig deeper into his flesh, he tried to let go. He could almost feel his soul becoming untethered. He could practically feel himself coming apart. And he welcomed it. He held on tight to Sinhye, now unconscious. And when he thought the pain would consume him in a fire of agony, a cold hand came over his. It felt like ice. It felt like death.

  He finally screamed out as the sting of the blade lanced down his back, and his eyes flew open.

  Kneeling beside him was Yena. Her form so solid that he could be convinced that she’d come back to life. But her hands, holding his and Sinhye’s, were too frozen to belong to someone who was living.

  He realized that everything felt cold. The air around him, which hung still and heavy. The world felt like a haze around them; the colors of the mountain were leached and lifeless. He still held on to Sinhye’s hands, except now she sat before him in the form he remembered. A beautiful girl, long ebony hair, light porcelain skin. She blinked in confusion as she held up her hand to glance at her slender fingers. They still sat on the mountain, except it was as if there was a spotlight on them, only three meters in circumference, and beyond the light lay a dark expanse. Where it led, Junu didn’t know.

  “Somin! Miyoung!” Junu called, hi
s voice sounding garbled, like he was underwater.

  “I don’t think they’re here,” Sinhye said, her voice equally warped.

  “Where is here?”

  “You’re in the Between.” Hyuk stepped out of the darkness, shadows dancing around him. In this strange washed-out world, he looked almost vibrant in his full black ensemble. But instead of the suit he’d been wearing of late, he now had on the traditional black hanbok that had been common in Joseon times and a black gat atop his head, the kind of tall hat that Junu had once also worn over a hundred years ago. Its wide brim shaded Hyuk’s eyes, but they seemed to glow as he watched Junu and Sinhye.

  “So you’ve come to sacrifice your soul to deliver Sinhye to the underworld,” Hyuk said, and he sounded morose. Like he mourned.

  “I have.” The voice that spoke was neither Junu’s nor Sinhye’s. It was Yena’s. Her face serene, her eyes clear. She did not look like the rabid gwishin that had appeared on the mountain but like she once had, calm and beautiful, even in death.

  “What are you doing?” Junu gasped out. It was hard to breathe in this place. But it also seemed like he didn’t need to. Spirits didn’t need air.

  “I’m giving my daughter what she needs.”

  “I don’t understand,” Junu said.

  Yena didn’t reply. Instead, she held out her hand to Sinhye, who looked at Junu with confusion before accepting Yena’s offered palm. The two stood together, and Hyuk approached.

  “Wait, what’s happening?” Junu asked. “I thought I had to die for Sinhye to leave Jihoon’s body.”

  “In order to release Sinhye’s soul from Jihoon’s body, an immortal soul must be sacrificed. The energy of that sacrifice cut her soul free. As Yena’s soul was still tethered to the mortal realm, her act of letting go was enough to break the bond between Sinhye’s soul and Jihoon’s body.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do now?” Junu asked. “If I’m here, then does that mean I’ve died as well?”

  “No, you merely came to the brink of death,” Hyuk said. “If there is one who wishes to hold on to you, then you can return to where you came from.” The reaper motioned to the shadows that surrounded them, and Junu realized he meant for Junu to step into that unknown place.

  “How will I get back?”

  “If she holds on, then you’ll find the way.”

  Junu wanted to ask more, but Hyuk took Yena’s and Sinhye’s joined hands in his. He led them into the shadows, and soon their forms dissolved into the darkness, leaving Junu alone.

  He stood alone now, the silence almost overwhelming him. He peered into the darkness himself before reaching out. His hand was devoured by shadows, and he jerked it back, making sure it was still whole. It was still there.

  “Hello?” he called, and nothing echoed back, not even his own voice.

  “Hello?” he tried calling again. And this time he thought he heard something. “Can anyone hear me? Is anyone there?”

  And he saw movement in the dark. Something superimposed on the nothing that surrounded him. It shifted. It came closer. And then Junu saw a man. He had salt-and-pepper hair under a dark cap. But his face was younger than Junu expected. A young man whose face was thin, ravaged by illness. Still, there was a glint in his gaze. And Junu recognized the shape of his eyes.

  “You’re Somin’s abeoji.”

  “I’m here to take you to her,” he said, holding out his hand. “She is holding on to you. She is waiting for you.”

  Junu nodded and stepped into the dark after Somin’s father.

  65

  SOMIN COULDN’T LET go of him even as Miyoung called her name. Even as she heard Jihoon moan and regain consciousness. Even as her friends told her that they couldn’t find a pulse. That they had to leave Junu’s body. She wouldn’t let go.

  “Somin-ah,” Miyoung said. “We have to get Jihoon to a doctor. We have to make sure he’s okay.”

  At that Somin finally studied her friend. Jihoon leaned heavily against a boulder. The bleeding from his wound had stopped, but he looked awful, with his washed-out face and bloodshot eyes. And she knew that they couldn’t stay. She knew that they had to leave. But she couldn’t get herself to let go of Junu. Like this, he looked like he could just be sleeping. There had been no blood when the blade had gone into him and none when she’d pulled it out. So she could almost convince herself that he was asleep.

  “He hasn’t turned to dust. Not like the other dokkaebi. That has to mean he’s still alive,” Somin argued. She’d been arguing this point for almost thirty minutes. As the moon had risen. As the night had deepened.

  She wrapped her arms around Junu, trying to find a way to say goodbye. But instead she just whispered his name in small sobs as she held on. “Junu. Junu.”

  Somin-ah. Her name tickled her ear. A familiar voice. A flash of salt-and-pepper hair racing through her mind. A glimpse of eyes framed by smile lines.

  “Appa?” she whispered.

  My daughter. Be happy.

  “Somin-ah.” The croak of her name was spoken against her neck this time.

  Shivers of hope raced through her. But she didn’t let the tears fall until she pulled back and saw Junu blinking up at her.

  “You held on,” he said.

  66

  SOMIN WASN’T SURE what to do with herself. A week had passed since they’d gotten back from the mountain. A week where Jihoon had to stay overnight in the hospital for observation, despite his objections. Somin and Miyoung had told her mother a horrible excuse, that they’d gone hiking and he fell, practically skewering himself on a tree branch.

  No one pointed out that Jihoon would never be caught dead hiking.

  Miyoung was also recovering, gaining back her strength and looking more like the girl Somin had first met almost a year ago.

  And Junu . . . she hadn’t seen Junu since they’d returned to Seoul. Somin had gone to his house at least a dozen times in the last seven days. And finally, she’d stopped because it had hurt too much to feel the rejection every time his door stayed shut.

  She’d tried to throw herself back into school as it started up again in mid-August. But today was Sunday and she was stuck with nothing but her brooding thoughts at home.

  “You know, if you pick up your feet, you won’t make that annoying shuffling noise,” Jihoon said from the couch as Somin came out of the kitchen.

  “You know, you’re not actually a permanent resident of this house, and I’d be happy to relocate you onto the balcony,” Somin bit back.

  “I hate mopey-Somin. She’s so mean.” Jihoon pouted and went back to surfing the channels on the television. He stopped at a weekend drama, the soapy kind with melodramatic story lines and lots of slapping and water thrown in faces.

  “I can’t believe you watch these,” Somin said, flopping onto the couch beside him. She hadn’t changed out of her pajamas yet even though it was almost noon. She just didn’t see the point.

  “Miyoung got me hooked on them. Girl loves her dramas.”

  “Where is she? You two have been glued at the hip these days.”

  “She’s going to her mother’s grave. Said she needed to be alone for it.”

  Somin nodded. She knew what it was like to need to be alone for these things. Sometimes she went to see her father in the columbarium alone. She didn’t tell her mother because she didn’t know if she’d be upset to know how often Somin went.

  She’d gone this week. She’d felt her father that day on the mountain. And somehow, she was sure her father had helped her hold on to Junu.

  “Have you seen Junu at all?” she asked. She hated that the question made her sound so pathetic.

  “No,” Jihoon said. “But when he’s ready, I’m sure he’ll reach out.”

  “I’m not so sure of that,” Somin said.

  “He cares about you,” Jihoon said. His teeth gritted,
like he was reluctant to say the words. “Even I can see that. He didn’t do what he did just for me. He did it because of how he feels about you. That doesn’t just go away.”

  “He’s lived a dozen lifetimes; maybe love means something different to him.”

  Jihoon shrugged. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I don’t think you should give up on him.”

  “I don’t know if I have your annoying tenacity,” Somin said. “If someone doesn’t want me around, then I can take the hint.”

  “That’s not the Lee Somin I know,” Jihoon said with a frown. “You never give up on people.”

  “Even I get tired sometimes. I can’t fight for everyone’s soul.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jihoon said.

  “Why? It’s not your fault.”

  “I think it is. After all, I’m the one you’ve been fighting for the past fifteen years. And I think it’s time you stopped.”

  “What?” Somin’s heart lurched. A queasiness settled in her stomach. “I don’t understand.”

  “Somin-ah,” Jihoon said quietly. “Why did you lie to me about remembering your father?”

  “Because I didn’t want to hurt you,” Somin said slowly. She didn’t know if she wanted to dig this up, but she knew that she wanted to stop keeping secrets.

  “Why would you think that would hurt me?”

  “Because you had such horrible memories of your own father. It felt like I’d be flaunting my good memories if I told you I remembered. But I do remember him. And I miss him every day.” Tears fell down her cheeks, hot against her skin.

  “Somin-ah, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you back then.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Well, no matter whose fault, I’m here now. And Junu was right.”

  “Wow.” Somin let out a choked laugh. “Hell must have frozen over for you to say that.”

  “Well, I’ve learned that the dokkaebi talks so much that statistically he has to get some things right.”

  Somin laughed again, and she wiped away the last of her tears. “What was he right about?”