by Graci Kim
The scholars weren’t always cursed. In fact, they used to be the upholders of knowledge and truth in the gifted community. They were the keepers of the sacred texts at the gifted library, and they were well respected. Revered, even.
But then, almost thirteen years ago, everything changed. Auntie Okja said that under the leadership of their new elder, Ms. Kwon, the clan became obsessed with power. Ms. Kwon claimed she’d figured out a way for witches to become as powerful as the goddesses and that she would pursue it until the scholars became divine themselves. When the other five clans accused them of heresy, Ms. Kwon led a Horangi attack against the gifted community. You were either with them or against them.
Luckily, the scholars were stopped before a full war broke out. But not before a bunch of innocent witches were killed, including the Gom elder at the time, who happened to be my best friend Emmett’s mom.
Anyway, as punishment for their actions, the Mountain Tiger Goddess disowned the Horangi clan and cursed them never to be able to wield her divine power again. And anyone seen colluding with the clan would be stripped of their own gift, too. As you can imagine, the council had no choice but to banish them from the community. The scholars’ lust for power had made them dangerous, and it ultimately led to their demise. Sad story, really.
“And on that rather somber note, I conclude today’s service,” Mr. Hong finishes. “May Mago be with you this coming week.”
“May Mago be with you,” the congregation echoes in prayer.
Soon the kids start to gather near the elevator to go to Saturday School, which is held in the building next door. Hattie runs to use the restroom, and I see Professor Ryu’s digital perm bobbing above the crowd of kids. My heart races. Our plan had better work.
“Riley, do you have a moment?”
I turn around to see Auntie Okja standing there in her beautiful golden hanbok. She looks as graceful and poised as ever.
“Of course, Auntie O.” I smile at her warmly. “What’s up?”
“I’m so sorry about your ceremony. I tried my best, but the council overruled me.” She tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, and I melt at the tender gesture. “You know I’m always looking out for you, right? That even if it might not always seem like it, I only want the best for you?”
I nod and look at my feet. “I know, Auntie O.”
For a second, I want to spill the beans. I want to tell her our plans to steal Eomma’s spellbook and to cast the magic-sharing spell. Maybe she’d talk some sense into me. Or perhaps she’d offer to help us. Like she said, she only wants the best for me….
But the moment is broken when Mrs. Lee, the Tokki elder, comes and ushers Auntie Okja away for some urgent council business.
“By the way, I have some new plans for a diversity-and-inclusion campaign,” she says to me before leaving. “Can I run them past you later?”
“Of course,” I say. “Will look forward to it.”
“The only thing you’re gonna look forward to is getting half of my magic,” Hattie whispers, pulling me away to join the other students. “And yes, I know what you’re thinking. And no, we are not asking Auntie O for help.”
I look away, hoping I can hide the guilt written in Mago-size letters on my face. You’d think I was a book the way Hattie reads me.
“But maybe she would?” I try.
Hattie snorts. “Oh, you have so much to learn, young grasshopper. She’s a council elder. There’s no way she would help us if Eomma won’t. If we want to do this, we’re on our own.”
I frown so hard my eye twitches.
“If the tables were turned, would you do the same for me?” she asks.
“Without a doubt,” I respond immediately. “You know I would.”
“Then it’s settled,” she says, grinning. “We have ourselves an enchanted safe to crack.”
THE BUILDING NEXT DOOR TO THE H-Mart is a noraebang. Norae is Korean for song, and bang means room. So a noraebang is a song room—aka a private karaoke room. It’s where teenagers go to hang out with their friends and sing their favorite pop hits at the top of their lungs. It also happens to be another secret entrance, this time to Saturday School.
“OMG, can you believe the news about the Horangi?” Jennie Byun, with her manicured nails and Ralph Lauren Polo dress, says in her annoyingly loud voice as we walk up to the doors of Gangnam Style Karaoke. Everything from her invisible braces to her perfect designer handbag irks me. “My mom told me our Samjogo elder received a vision this morning when he touched the fried chicken counter. And get this: The excommunicated Horangi elder—Ms. Kwon—was trying to break into the temple. Freaky, right?”
There are about twenty of us walking to class, and a good three quarters of them hang on to Jennie’s every word as if their lives depend on it.
“No wayyy,” a few of them exclaim.
“You have all the good goss,” someone else says.
Jennie smirks. “Yes way. You guys know our clan is basically the most powerful one, right? I mean, there’s a reason the chairperson of the council is always a seer.”
Hattie and I groan in unison. Jennie Byun—the most obnoxious human in the three realms—is a seeing witch. The Samjogo clan can get visions of truth simply by touching an item. They also have premonitions in their dreams, and the most powerful Samjogo can even see across space and time, which I’ll admit is pretty cool. But the inside joke is that their clan motto should be Power and Ego, not Leadership and Wisdom. Appa says they’re so full of hot air, it’s a wonder they still have their feet on the ground.
“And you know what else I heard?” Jennie continues. “All those plans to reopen the gifted library are a lie. The council has never figured out how to reactivate the library since the scholars got banished. And now, with the potential threat of the Horangi coming back, the elders have all the strongest protectors guarding the entrance. Right, Noah?”
Noah Noh, a Miru protector, looks back over his shoulder as we walk up the stairs of the noraebang. “It’s true they’ve got protectors working on a hush-hush project there. Don’t know any of the deets, though.”
I shudder thinking about the havoc the Horangi clan has caused. If it weren’t for them, Emmett would still be part of the community. His mom married a saram (which makes Emmett half saram, half gifted), and she was one of the first champions for more inclusive policies in the clans. Eomma says Mrs. Harrison and my auntie Okja used to be best friends. Then, when Mrs. Harrison died, Auntie O took over as Gom elder.
“Anyway, my mom is never wrong, so you heard it here first,” Jennie says. “You can thank me later.” She tosses her hair back so forcefully, it whips me in the face. Which hurts more than you’d expect.
“Oh, come on!” I moan. “Haven’t you ever heard of personal space, Jennie?”
She puffs out her chest and stares me down. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do, you fake witch.”
I shrink at the insult, which only fires up Hattie. “Watch your words, Jennie! Only cowards are bullies.”
“I’m not a coward!”
“Then don’t be a bully!”
Jennie harrumphs and storms off ahead of us.
Like I said, the most obnoxious person in the three realms.
When we get to reception, two people are waiting for us. They look like they could be college students. The girl is fixing her makeup (which is already flawless), and the pink streaks in her hair turn silver as she murmurs an incantation under her breath. Definitely a Gumiho illusionist.
Unlike the Gom, who, despite being healers, can’t heal their own bodies, the Gumiho can glamour themselves. It has to do with their beautiful patron, the Nine-Tailed Fox Goddess. That’s why they’re so good-looking and why so many of them become K-pop and K-drama stars. In fact, all but one of the BTS members are Gumiho. Yup. True story.
The guy at reception is wearing a sleeveless blue T-shirt with an image of a dragon swimming in a river. The message P&P 4EVA is etched onto the dragon’s chest, and I hav
e to admire the dude’s dedication. Their saram clientele would be none the wiser, but his top is a dead giveaway that he’s a Miru protector. Provide and Protect is their clan motto, and blue’s their color.
Professor Ryu rubs her wrists together and shows her green gifted mark to the witches. The Gumiho nods and signals to the Miru, who promptly disappears in a gust of wind. I have no idea where he goes, but in the blink of an eye, he’s back—this time holding up an envelope. Superhuman speed must be so useful in LA’s traffic.
He passes the envelope to Professor Ryu. “Room eighteen today, Professor.” And to us, he says with a nostalgic look in his eyes, “Have fun, guys. I remember the good old days of Saturday School.”
Professor Ryu leads us to room 18, and it’s dim and windowless inside. It’s about the size of my bedroom, and the air smells a little like Cheetos, root beer, and something sour I don’t really want to identify. The large TV on the wall is flashing scenes from music videos and various song titles you can choose from. A large couch shaped like the letter C faces the TV, and between them is a low table with a few songbooks, a remote, some mics, and a feather boa. Cosette Chung, a super-pretty Gumiho witch (but unfortunately, Jennie’s number one henchwoman), immediately puts on the boa, and it’s not fair how good she looks in a tacky piece of pink fluff.
Professor Ryu finally opens the envelope, revealing this week’s glamour-reveal song. “‘Fake Love’ by BTS,” she announces, to which everyone fist-pumps and grins. It’s an oldie but a goodie.
“Now, when we get to Jimin and Jin’s hook,” she explains, “we just need to replace the words fake love with secret life. Everyone ready?”
She uses the remote to select the song. Music fills the room, and as the class stands in front of the huge TV with the scrolling lyrics, we sing our hearts out.
I’m so sick of this fake love secret life, fake love secret life, fake love secret life
I’m so sorry but it’s fake love secret life, fake love secret life, fake love secret life
As soon as we say the last words, the Gumiho’s glamour on the room starts to dissolve. The dingy walls shimmer as if they’re made of silvery water, and slowly they melt like hot candles.
Before we know it, the noraebang has disappeared, and we are standing in a spacious, brightly lit classroom with large beanbags instead of desks and chairs. Three of the walls are painted with meticulous landscapes that look so realistic they could be photos.
One is of the sandy beach under Santa Monica Pier. (I recognize the Ferris wheel. They also have the best teeny-weeny donuts there—drool.) The second must be New York, because I see the Empire State Building, and I think the last mural is Lotte World—one of the world’s largest indoor theme parks, which happens to be in Seoul. Gumiho witches change the murals from time to time, because, in addition to looking awesome, the images also double as portals. They’re so well guarded by the Miru, though, you’d never risk sneaking through one—not unless you want to know what superhuman strength feels like when it’s directed at you.
Professor Ryu encourages everyone to grab a beanbag and get comfortable, and Hattie and I camp out in the back, as usual.
“All right, class, I know you’re all on summer break from saram school, but how lucky that you still get to come to Saturday School. A whole summer of learning! Oh, how fun. Would anyone like to start us off by suggesting a topic? Remember, there’s no such thing as a bad idea. We’re all here to feed our brains and, as I always say, everyone all together now—”
“There’s no food like knowledge,” the class chants back.
I glance over at Hattie and she nods. This is it. This is our chance.
“I have one.” In my excitement, my hand shoots up before I have the chance to fully form the question in my mind. “So, um…how exactly would you go about opening a lock enchantment? Like on a safe or something?”
As soon as the words are out, I realize I should have been 1000 percent more subtle. “That is, hypothetically,” I hasten to add. “Not for, like, really opening the safe—because there is no safe—but I mean, if I wanted to open a purely theoretical safe, one that doesn’t actually exist. Like, academically speaking…” Ugh. Total facepalm.
My cheeks go hot, and I mouth a quick Sorry to Hattie. Why didn’t I just let her do the talking? She’s the smooth operator, not me.
Hattie smiles back, though. Don’t worry, you’ve got this, her eyes say.
Professor Ryu taps her chin. “Well, that’s a very specific question, Riley, but as I’ve said before, curiosity is the foremother to knowledge, and knowledge is the most powerful gift of all. So thank you for your contribution.” She scans the room. “Before I provide my thoughts, does anyone else want to volunteer an answer? Remember, this is a safe space”—we all groan at her pun—“where everyone’s opinion counts. Within these four walls, we all have a voice.”
“Except for the wannabe witch.” Jennie sneers over her shoulder at me.
“Just ignore her,” Hattie whispers. “We have more important things to worry about.”
I nod, but my eyes sting. Jennie is officially the worst.
David Kim, a rosy-faced infuser from the Tokki clan, pipes up first. “My mom has one of those safes. She keeps it at the restaurant for her really potent potions and tonics. Once, one of the waitstaff came into the kitchen and accidentally drank a triple dose of confidence potion, thinking it was juice. He then robbed a bank, because he was convinced he wouldn’t get caught. Mom keeps all her stuff locked up now.”
I think of David’s family restaurant, Seoulful Tacos, and immediately feel saliva pool in my mouth. They have the best bulgogi tacos in the city. Which makes sense. Tokki witches have the ability to infuse food with magic.
“My older brother has an enchanted safe in his room, too,” Noah Noh says, pushing his on-trend round glasses up the bridge of his nose. The Miru normally have a certain athletic look about them, but Noah’s style is more hipster than jock. “I’m pretty sure he cuts off a lock of his hair, burns it outside the safe door, and then chants his password three times. Not that I spy on him or anything.” He quickly glances at Hattie and his face goes a little pink. “I’m just observant.”
Cosette giggles and flicks her hair at Noah even though nothing he said was remotely funny. Hattie goes unusually still, and I’m momentarily confused why there’s a weird vibe between the three of them.
I would normally pester Hattie for details, but right now I’m too distracted by other matters. As I wait to see Professor Ryu’s reaction, I pinch Hattie’s thigh in excitement.
“You’re absolutely right, Noah,” Professor Ryu confirms, clapping. “A two-step enchanted safe lock involves the burning of hair and a password repeated three times.” She leans forward and motions for us to come closer.
She lowers her voice as if she’s about to tell us a juicy secret. “But if you want to be extra safety-conscious, some witches go one step further. They have a two-step lock and also require that a few gifted tears be dropped on the hair before it’s burned. Then, voilà, they have themselves a three-step lock. Isn’t that fascinating?”
I throw Hattie a nervous look. Gifted tears?
Our eomma is so meticulous, she would definitely use a three-step lock. That means we need to take a chunk of Eomma’s hair, which I guess is doable. And considering I know all her laptop passwords, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out the one for her safe. But we’re never going to get our hands on Eomma’s tears. No way.
My heart drops, and I shove my hand into my pocket to fiddle with my teardrop stone. I knew this was a bad idea. I knew getting my hopes up was a sure way to get hurt. I shake my head in disappointment. I can’t believe I let Hattie talk me into this.
“Don’t worry,” Hattie whispers, as if reading my mind. “We just need to brainstorm a little. We’ve got this.” She sounds so certain, and I desperately want to believe her.
“Fine,” I whisper back, getting out my phone. “I’ll invite Emmett over.�
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“Good idea.” She nods in approval. “We could use his smarts.”
By the time we get home from class, Emmett is already waiting on the front porch. He’s perched on the railing, and he’s so short, his feet dangle freely. As usual, he’s dressed from head to toe in black, and he’s sporting his signature scowling resting face, which is basically the only accessory he ever wears aside from his silver ring and black cord necklace. There is a Tupperware container of donuts in his lap, and I fist-pump the air. Twice. Baking is Emmett’s number one love in life, and his donuts are so good I once bedazzled a T-shirt to say DONUT TOUCH MY DONUTS! Uh-huh, I’m totes obsessed.
Emmett passes me the Tupperware. “Thought we might need some brain food.”
I throw him a grateful smile and hug the donuts to my chest as we walk to the front door.
“Thank you for keeping the leaves out, door-sin,” Hattie says to the door.
“You’re so good at keeping the rain out, door-sin,” I coo.
The door groans happily in response and unlocks itself for us.
Emmett, on the other hand, forgets to address the door-sin correctly. “You look so shiny and mahogany today,” he says.
Sure enough, the door hits him in the butt as he walks over its threshold. Rookie mistake.
“Ow! I mean, you look so shiny and mahogany today, door-sin,” he corrects himself.
Gifted homes are pretty special. Eomma says it’s because they witness so much magic they become a little magical themselves. The walls breathe and the floors listen, and sometimes they whisper into our ears while we’re asleep. Certain parts of the house—usually the ones we use the most—absorb so much enchantment that they come alive as spirits, or sin. The door-sin, the kitchen-sin, and the toilet-sin are the main ones, but sometimes you get others, too.
The house-sins protect our homes, but you have to make sure you say something nice every time you use them or they can make your life pretty miserable. One time Hattie forgot to give the toilet-sin a compliment, and for the next two weeks the lights kept turning off while she was doing her business. It was particularly scary at night, and I had to stand outside the door each time she peed so she wouldn’t freak out.
