by J D Astra
“I thought you were part of the Historian’s Guild?” My pounding heart quickened as I tried to make sense of everything. She’d known all along that I’d been coming here? Ryni and everyone else had been talking to her this whole time? Maybe she knew about Mae, too...
Woong-ji dipped her head. “I was a great Historian, yes. Now, I’m retired.”
The announcer came on over the loudspeaker. “This is going to be a fight to remember. Student against the master!”
“If I lose, do I still get my apprenticeship?” I asked, worry pooling in my gut. I needed something to mask the nerves, something to help me get past the fear of fighting my master.
Woong-ji cackled. “Of course! But you better fight like you need to win. I don’t play around, and I certainly won’t surrender for you.”
The crowd cheered with delight. I looked down at Tuko, his two severed legs wrapped dilapidatedly around his shell, the blasted open chassis revealing his tender innards. He wouldn’t survive this fight. But we could still win.
The announcer boomed. “Fighter, at the ready! Boss, how’s it going down there?”
Woong-ji gave two thumbs up to the crowd, and they roared anew. She bowed to me, then took her seat, pulling her small control panel onto her lap. I did the same, keeping my breaths slow and even. I could do this.
I looked down at Woong-ji’s bot, a small, white-painted thing that looked very similar to a bunny. Part of me had a glimmer of hope that this would be fine, and the other half knew that little bunny was about to show its true, rabid colors.
“Begin!”
The white rabbit rocketed from the spot with a powerful hop. I wobbled Tuko sideways to avoid whatever strike would come from that move, but mid-flight, the rabbit changed. It was as if the entire outside of the bot exploded in one move, and metallic tentacles erupted through the surface. She cast a wide, wired net that Tuko couldn’t escape.
The rabbit clobbered Tuko, digging the long tentacles into his exposed belly and pulling. I had no choice but to launch the sneak-attack early. The razor-wire compartment opened with a snap, and Tuko’s busted legs fired off his back with an elemental blast. The wire coiled around the bunny and its tentacles, wrapping it like a bola. Woong-ji’s bot was pulled back by the sheer force of the blast, and it landed in a struggling heap three meters away.
I turned the stick on the control panel to get Tuko back on his feet, but I felt something was wrong. I looked down to see his two back legs spitting sparks and spilling gold munje.
I changed the flow of munje and cut the defective limbs free with his last remaining claw. They would only weigh him down. Two legs... that was all he had left.
Tuko scrambled across the arena floor on the last two rickety legs with the front claw as a crutch. It was an awkward and slow canter, giving the rabbit ample time to work its way through the razor wire. Four of its many little tentacles had been severed and wriggled on the ground like they were alive.
I’d never seen this type of bot before and had no idea how to classify the fighting style. Worse, I had no idea what else she had in store for little Tuko. If I could just get there first!
Three of the long, metal tentacles burst free of the wrap and slapped Tuko away. He fell onto his back, the last two legs twitching with desperation. I pushed the claw into the ground and flipped him over as the rabbit burst free from my bola trap. With four snaking tentacles left, she hopped toward Tuko.
I dropped a smoke bomb and teetered around the backside of Woong-ji’s pedestal. I’d done this before, but last time I had razor wire, now I had practically nothing. What was I going to do? Run forever?
Thoughts of Eun-bi filled my head again and a lump grew in my throat. I was going to let her down. I was going to fail her if I didn’t do something.
Mae whispered, “Just breathe, Jiyong. Be here and now.”
Just breathe.
I nodded and closed my eyes. The momentary smokescreen would be enough to protect him, hiding against the side of the podium. I breathed deep and focused on being here and now. Being with Tuko. Feeling the controls in my hands. Sensing his replies.
I could see along his battered body in my mind’s eye, see the rabbit hunting him through the cloud as she whipped her tentacles around. I could feel the aching in my damaged body.
My body?
Was I inside Tuko’s mind? Did he have one?
I embraced the pain and allowed it to live in me. My missing limbs throbbed at the stumps, and my damaged claw seared with agony. There were still three rounds ready to fire in my underbelly. The smoke was beginning to clear, and I could see the outline of the rabbit as she hopped closer. There was no way I could get past those tentacles.
Then I felt something else... The severed legs on the floor next to my podium, and the pieces left behind in the staging room. They were all parts of his whole, my munje had infused with them. Could I control them too?
I commanded the severed legs to bend and opened my eyes on the tower. A sickening double-vision filled my mind as I saw the severed legs move, and watched from Tuko’s eyes as the rabbit locked on.
My hands went slack on the controls as I ordered Tuko to move with my thoughts. He hobbled toward the severed legs, and I felt my body shifting, aching, and munje spilled out of my gaping side. I tried to cycle, but he had no breath and no fuel inside him. Perhaps I was wrong, and there was no mind, but there was a space for my mind to exist in him.
The rabbit gave chase, and as her tentacle came in to whip him from his feet, I hopped. The swipe slipped clean under my legs, and I hobbled him forward. I heard distant laughter, but it didn’t matter if they thought this sad game of chase was pathetic. I could still win.
The rabbit slapped two tentacles down, and I rolled Tuko left, narrowly avoiding the hits. I inched the severed legs forward by wiggling them, trying to get closer to Tuko. But Woong-ji was done playing. All her remaining tentacles slapped down around Tuko, not allowing for any escape.
I leapt forward with the last strength he had and landed just out of reach of the severed limbs. Her tentacles wrapped around my good legs, and I reached out with my damaged claw.
I clamped onto one broken leg just before she reeled me in like a fish on a line. I pushed his claw into the ground as she dragged him back, rotating so his belly compartment faced up, faced her.
The rabid rabbit climbed on top of Tuko and fear pounded in my heart as I watched from the tower and through Tuko’s eyes. Her tentacles yanked my legs free, and I cringed at the agony of losing them. I could still win.
I gritted my teeth and rammed the broken leg up between the joints in her armor. I turned the claw and twisted the armor plate, popping it loose. Without a second’s hesitation, I launched all three shots from my surprise compartment.
The rounds blasted between the components in her chest, spilling golden munje over my eyes as Tuko, and over the floor of the arena from my spot on the tower. The amount of stored munje was immense! I’d never seen so much spilled. I’d have to ask Woong-ji how she fit so much into such a small bot.
“Absolutely incredible. I’ve never seen something so brutal!” The voice of the announcer pulled me out of Tuko’s vision, and I was just me again, sitting on the tower looking down at my bot.
“Jiyong, do you know what you just did?” Mae asked, and I shook my head, astonished. The munje hadn’t cleared, and it was impossible to see who was left standing in the mess on the floor.
“You remote accessed Tuko’s controls. You were piloting him from inside him with your munje. I have never seen humans do anything like that.”
I was only half listening as I watched the floor eagerly. Would Woong-ji’s bot be functional? Could I still win with just one claw and a ripped abdomen, and no more rounds?
Woong-ji moved her hand overhead, and the gold munje drifted toward her like a herd of cattle being called in for the night. I’d need to learn that one, for sure.
When the golden mist cleared, the rabbit lay motionless
on top of Tuko.
“Are we seeing what we’re seeing? Did Boss just lose?” The announcer was mad with disbelief.
Woong-ji set her control panel aside and stood, then put her right fist to her left palm and bowed to me. “An excellent fight, my apprentice.”
The sheer volume of the crowd made my head swim as I rose to my feet, bowing much lower than Woong-ji. Stars filled my eyes, and I breathed deep to keep from toppling off the pedestal.
Mae was saying something, but I couldn’t hear over the pounding pulse in my temples. I climbed down the ladder and walked to Tuko’s legless corpse. My hands trembled as I pulled him up into my grasp.
“Jiyong and Tuko win!”
Chapter 41
THE SECURE PARCEL DELIVERY team walked away, and I gave a sigh of relief. They were well trained for making important deliveries and cost as much, too. Se-hun had offered to ferry the package, but it was too much money to risk him getting jumped and possibly killed over. No, the secure parcel delivery team were skilled, and they traveled in numbers.
The money would get to Li-sung—the debtor—and Eun-bi would be free. Mother had recovered from her health lapse but was still incapable of using munje. That was fine, for now, just so long as she was healthy.
I jogged back to Bastion in the cold, early morning at the edge of spring. It was the last week of school, and the cherry blossoms had budded all around Busa-nan. Frost lingered on the streets and tarp-covered shop stalls. Not every shop was covered, though. The scent of fresh, rolled dough sizzling in oil and melted chocolate wafted on the air.
Coins jingled in my pocket, and I reached in to count them. There was still plenty left, and I had earned a treat. I took a small detour, making good on a lie I told weeks before. I tipped the artisan well and held the bag of hot, fresh donuts close at I ran back to school.
“Stop!” the guard ordered as I approached the open gate.
I grinned, holding up the bag of donuts. “I got one for each of you, too.”
“Bribes? Really, Jiyong?” Mae asked, and I ignored her.
“Woong-ji sent you out again?” the woman asked and held her hand out for a donut.
I bobbed my head and made a non-committal noise as I dished out the goods. They let me pass without a hassle, and I ran in to the main pagoda, a grin warm on my cheeks—until I ran into Shin-soo.
He turned with an angry growl that simmered to a grumble when he noticed me. “What do you want, ganhan? Ready for your ass-whooping early?”
“Donut?” I held one of the glazed spheres out to him with a wide grin.
He sneered. “No thanks, I bet it’s poisoned.”
I shrugged, saying, “Suit yourself,” before popping the little ball of delicious joy in my mouth.
I walked with a spring in my step toward Woong-ji’s office. I passed the digital ranking board in the main atrium on my way and checked my standing among the other students. My gaze drifted down from the top and came to a stop at number twenty-one, Hana. I was down at forty-five, Yuri tailing me at forty-six, and Cho didn’t do too bad for himself at eighty-eight—lucky.
The cooling bag of deliciousness reminded me I had an office to get to, and I stepped on, taking the stairs two at a time. Students weren’t typically allowed in the instructors’ area unless invited or an apprentice. I smiled at my fortune. Things had gone wrong all year, but here I was, following the path I set out to take.
“Don’t get so heady, sir. You’ve had help,” Mae said with annoyance.
‘Of course, I couldn’t have done any of this without you,’ I remarked, and I felt her mood shift.
“Suck-up,” she teased and little digital, play-angry Mae faces drifted up through my vision.
I stepped up to Woong-ji’s office door and stopped short of knocking as I heard voices on the other side. Woong-ji was talking to a man whose voice I’d never heard before, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t another instructor. There were plenty I hadn’t met at the school.
“Someone’s here,” I heard him say loudly, and I knocked as my stomach tightened with shame. Why had I stopped to listen in? How rude of me to intrude on my master’s conversation.
Woong-ji smiled as she opened the door. “Ah, my apprentice. What is it?”
“Donuts,” I said as I held out the bag.
Woong-ji laughed and invited me in. The man at her desk was tall, I could tell even though he was sitting. He had hair as black as night with streaks of silver that he combed back. There was a dark red cloak over his shoulders that shimmered with ry munje. He looked over his shoulder at me.
“Jiyong, this is Saito Akihiro, a fellow instructor from a well-regarded munje academy across the sea. Akihiro, this is my apprentice.”
The man dipped his head, and I bowed deeply as I came to stop at the center of the room.
Woong-ji reached her hand into the donut bag and pulled out two. She handed one to her guest and returned to her seat. “Akihiro and I were just discussing the tensions between our kingdoms and speculating whether or not our student exchange was still on for the next year.”
“Exchange?” I asked stupidly.
“Every year we trade third-year students for half the year,” Akihiro said, his trilling accent thick.
Woong-ji took a huge bite of her donut and hummed enjoyment. “It’s a symbol of our cooperation for knowledge.”
I nodded along though I didn’t understand why the room was so tense. Hana had mentioned what felt like a lifetime ago that there were problems between Busa-nan and the kingdom across the sea, but I hadn’t really believed her. It had been decades since our kingdoms had any scuffles and almost a hundred years since we’d warred. Surely, things couldn’t be as bad under the surface as they seemed in this room.
Akihiro chuckled, then said something to Woong-ji in a language I didn’t understand. She nodded. “We have work to do. Thank you for coming, Akihiro. It is always a pleasure.”
The guest stood and set his donut down on the desk, then bowed to Woong-ji. “Until our next meeting.”
He walked toward the door, and as he passed the mirror, his reflection revealed a deep burn scar up the side of his head and neck that disfigured his eyes and nose. His hair was silvery-white like Woong-ji’s real hair, and he was ancient compared to the ry glimmer he projected. I averted my gaze and dipped my head as I snapped my open mouth shut.
Akihiro shut the door behind him, and I heard Woong-ji tutting. I lifted my head, and she wagged her finger. “So rude, Jiyong. Never talk about a man’s battle scars.”
“But I didn’t say anything,” I said, my eyes wide.
“Thinking that loud is practically speaking. But that lesson is for another time, in a few years. Come here,” she ordered, and I came to the desk, wary about all my thoughts and wondering if they were all loud enough that anyone could hear.
Mae spoke up, sounding as confused and uncertain as I felt. “I’m not sure what she’s talking about. You weren’t audible—”
“That’s what you think, Little Ghost.” Woong-ji winked. “I can hear you, too.”
Goosebumps prickled my arms, and a shiver shot down my spine. Our thoughts weren’t safe.
Woong-ji laughed, throwing her head back. “Your thoughts are safe. Mostly.”
“How are you doing this?” I asked as I plopped into the seat and picked up Akihiro’s discarded donut.
“I can’t explain how, yet. You don’t have the necessary foundational knowledge to understand. But this does bring up a point. Not everyone can hear your loud, unprotected thoughts. It is an uncommon ry munje spell, and only well-schooled individuals will be able to use it. All Bastion graduates can. It is unfortunate that you won’t be able to learn for many years, and so I offer this word of caution to you, Little Ghost. When you’re around someone new, stay silent. If Akihiro had heard you, there could’ve been... complications.”
“I understand,” Mae said with a crackle through the speaker on my chest.
Woong-ji grinned. “You’re
very special, aren’t you?”
Mae materialized on the desk in front of me with a burst of purple-blue light. “I’m not sure.”
Woong-ji looked up at me. “And you too are special, Jiyong. What happened to you and this ghost should’ve killed you both. I’m not entirely certain how you survived.”
After a moment of silence, Woong-ji asked, “You understand what ghosts are?”
I grimaced and shrugged as I took a bite of Akihiro’s donut. I thought I knew, but I was sure based on the way she was looking at me that I was wrong.
Woong-ji nodded. “There are a great many, many things you think you know, and you do not. Not of any fault of your own, of course. You were taught what you know, you believed your parents and your Primary instructors when they told you the ancient ones were a strange, magical civilization who used advanced machina to escape to the stars. Perhaps they did leave for the planets beyond, and they were strange compared to our lives...” She trailed off as she stood to pace.
“But there was much more to the ancient ones than what you were told. There is much about Mun-Jayu and munje that is skewed truth, and more still that are blatant lies.”
I gasped. “What are they?”
“The lies? Or the half-truths?” Woong-ji asked, amused.
“Well, everything?”
She nodded. “There isn’t time for everything. But what I can tell you about your ghost is this.” She turned and pulled a small, silvery square from a drawer on the wall. She set the object on the desk, and Mae’s image ran toward it, then put a glowing hand close.
“This is the device! This is the piece of me!” She jumped up and down with excitement as she smiled at me.
Woong-ji sat and looked at me gravely. “She is not some wispy intellect that floats on thin air. She is just as real as you and me. Real, but different. If you damage her mind, much like your own, it could be impossible to repair. Even the smallest misstep could cause irrevocable harm.
“I know how much you want your freedom back, Jiyong, but you must be careful. Moving her will not be an easy task. She has integrated into your mind and pieces of your core. This is why she can hear your thoughts and speak to you silently. This is also how I believe you both survived.” Woong-ji sighed. “Unfortunately, her removal will be a delicate process I don’t believe you’re skilled enough to perform.”
