by J D Astra
“Did you run out of Cho’s pollen blocking elixir?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to waste it. I’m fine.”
I drew in a deep breath to start my rant on how the pollen is controlled in the kingdom. It wouldn’t bother her so much there, and she wouldn’t have to worry about wasting the potions I bought specifically for her.
“Remember the goal of the conversation,” Mae whispered gently.
I swallowed and then put my hand on mother’s while we swung. “It was a good day. I finished two upgrades and a repair.”
“Did Hana bring you anything for dinner?” she asked, poking for weaknesses in Hana’s character. I hated when she did that.
“She worked today, too, on the other side of the kingdom. There wasn’t time to see one another,” I said with a resigned sigh. I knew what came next.
Mother scowled. “I’m not so sure about this girl, Jiyong.”
Why did she always want to test my nerves? I pulled in an even slower breath than the first had been. “Because she had to work? You’re being too harsh.”
“So, you’re hungry then?” My mother rose from the swing, and I put a gentle hand on her shoulder to pull her back.
She looked at me, puzzled, and I smiled. “I can eat soon. This is nice, and I’d like to sit here with you.”
“I don’t want your energy too low. You need to be able to make munje.” She tried to pull away again.
“Eomma, please sit. I want to talk to you.” I used the childlike moniker for mother, one that Minjee and Daegon used.
Her shoulders tensed. “I know what you want to talk about. I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve made up my mind.”
“Se-hun said he’ll take care of the house and farm; we won’t have to sell it. He’s been wanting a place of his own since his older sister will be taking over his family’s farm.”
“When is she due again?” my mother asked, changing the subject.
I chided her softly. “Eomma, please, focus. This is important. Your health is important.”
“I’m fine. I haven’t had a relapse in over eight months. The ghost’s recommendations are working, I think,” she said, but I could hear the annoyance in her faked positivity.
She did look better. Her skin wasn’t radiant, but it had fewer wrinkles, and her cheeks weren’t so hollow. Some of her silver hairs had faded and were black once more. Her fingernails weren’t so brittle and broken, and she had gained a few kilos. Her red nose was due to that pollen, but otherwise, she was looking much healthier.
“It’s in remission, Jiyong,” Mae reminded me in my head. “The disease will get worse again, and she will continue to decline until death.”
I squeezed my mother’s hand. “Mae is very smart. She knows a lot, and what she knows is helping you right now, but—
“You said it was nice, that you wanted to sit,” she snapped and pulled her hand away. “This isn’t so nice for me anymore.”
My frustration was boiling into anger. “It’s not going to be so nice for Minjee when you die before she’s even thirteen. It won’t be nice for Eun-bi and Suyi to have no mother at their Secondary graduation, or—
Mother stood, tutting away my words as she threw her hands up. “Mae doesn’t know everything!”
“No, but she knows a lot. The disease is in remission because of your reduced core activity, but it will return when it gets cold again. Your body will automatically respond to the weather and attempt to create zo to protect your muscles, and the disease will attack the munje and your core. It is still in your body, no matter how much better you are right now.”
Mother was silent as she stared across the garden, arms crossed.
I sat back, exhaustion overcoming me. “There are so many natural triggers that can be controlled in the kingdom that will extend your life while we search for a cure. My siblings will be able to attend better Primary schools, they’ll have better apprenticing opportunities, and we’ll all have so much more.”
“And yet still have so little in our souls,” she sneered.
I gritted my teeth. “We’re supposed to let Minjee be a mute forever because Father wouldn’t be able to find us if we left? You’d damn everyone else in the family to a lesser life because you’re scared?”
She glowered down at me. “I’m not afraid. This is our home, Jiyong.”
“Our home is where our family is healthy and prosperous,” I retorted, feeling heat in my face.
Mother laughed. “Yes, and with all the money you make from your apprenticeship we can afford much more here. Oxtail! We haven’t had it in six years.”
I contained my growl of impatience, but only just. “We can still have those things in the kingdom. We can have more of them. We can have someone else make the oxtail soup so you can spend time with Minjee or the boys. Or you can go see a close doctor who knows what they’re doing.”
“Why do I need a doctor when we have Mae? She seems very knowledgeable about what’s going on,” she fired back.
The cyclical hypocrisy was burning through my patience. I stood to face her. “Mae is very smart, but if you’re not with me, how can she work on your problems? If I can’t see you for six months, how can we help you?”
“You’re just making excuses to live closer to Hana.”
The words were worse than a slap across the face. I hated her for a flash, but sent a calming wave of zo down my arms to release the muscles. “Yes, I do want to be closer to Hana, too. She’s all on her own, and most of her family has abandoned her. But this isn’t about her. It was always our plan to move to the kingdom when I got a good apprenticeship.”
“No, it was always your plan!” Mother screamed, pointing at me with tears in her eyes. “I’ve never had a say in any bit of this plan! I’m your mother!”
“And you’re dying!”
The world fell silent as her lower lip trembled. My heart hammered and tears blurred my vision. My cheeks were hot, and my throat tight. “You’re dying, Eomma.”
She stood up straight, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders. “Go to bed.”
I turned away but stopped at the door. I swallowed away the searing outrage in my chest, bringing kindness to my voice. “You can’t keep fighting this. One day you’ll be too weak to fight.”
“Is that a threat?” she growled the question through her pollen-sore throat.
“It’s reality,” I whispered sadly and looked to her over my shoulder. “I love you, Mom.”
Chapter 3
I WOKE TO THE GENTLE chime of my automatic alarm and blinked away the crust in my eyes. I sat back in my lumpy little bed and rubbed a hand over my face. Daegon and Do-hwan, my twin brothers, were sound asleep on the bunk they were quickly outgrowing.
Daegon seemed to have shot up like a bamboo plant over the summer, and he was now almost up to my nose. I had also grown several centimeters, so it was a feat that he’d changed so much. Do-hwan said he wasn’t bothered by this, but I could tell he was disappointed he had yet to hit his growth spurt.
Still, seeing Daegon’s toes hanging over the edge of his bed reminded me how much we needed to move into something more suitable, with more space. I was running out of time to convince Mother to move before the school year started next week.
There was a tinktink at the window, and I looked over to see our rooster eyeballing me with impatience. His feathers ruffled like they always did before he crowed, and then he let out a long, annoying, ggo ggeh oh-oh!
It hadn’t been long, but it felt like a lifetime since I’d done a full non-rest day’s worth of chores. First, I went to release and feed the chickens, lest the rooster stampede through the house, crowing at the top of his lungs and waking everyone. I grabbed the old water buckets and made four trips down to the river. On the last trip, I splashed some of the cool, refreshing water over my face.
I hadn’t missed these mindless chores.
School had been hard, as had apprenticing with Woong-ji, but it was work that
I loved. It was work that got me closer to my dreams. These chores were busy work. Running back and forth from a stream to collect water for the house when the kingdom had perfectly good running water? Why would anyone want to live like this?
“I think some people like the simplicity of it,” Mae spoke up for the first time this morning.
“Or perhaps it’s because they’ve never known the convenience of the city,” I posed back.
Mae hummed. “Maybe. But you recall how you feel about the rude people who bump you on the street, or try to sell you something, or try to rob and kill you? That’s not out here—at least, not much.”
I nodded. “That’s true. A trade-off I will gladly make to give my family a better life. I can protect them from robberies.”
“But not rudeness. Consider it, Jiyong. Your siblings will attend Primary in the kingdom. You know how it’s been for you as an outer-city boy at Bastion. Shin-soo...”
I sighed. “I know. We’ll make do.”
I made my way back into town. The sun had just shone its first light over the horizon, and the sky colored with bright pinks. I didn’t see the full sunrise that often in the kingdom; the buildings were too tall. That was one thing I did miss...
But not forever. We could come back home once mother was cured and I was done with school. I could help Se-hun build his own house, and we could make additions to ours so there were enough rooms that each sibling could have their own. I could create a plumbing system, expand the boundaries of the garden, and so much more.
Once Mother was better.
I put the last bucket into the house reserve, and Eun-bi waved me out to the garden.
“You’re home,” she exclaimed in a hushed voice as she opened her arms for a hug.
I squeezed her tightly. “Woong-ji released me for the week.”
“That’s great. Come see this,” she urged, pulling my hand as she moved her way through the sprawling garden. They had already added on another ten meters at the back end where three tall trellis archways stood.
“What do you think?” she asked, sounding giddy.
“It’s wonderful. What’s here?”
“Grapes over there, tomatoes right behind them, then pole beans and snap peas on the center one, and the last one has cucumber and squash.” She was positively glowing as she showed me from trellis to trellis. We picked a few ripe cherry tomatoes to eat while we walked through the new space. Their flavor was sweeter than any other tomato I’d ever tasted.
My chest tightened with worry. Would there be space for Eun-bi to grow her garden in the kingdom? We could create a private window garden, or maybe if we got a patio, she could grow plants there, but that was insignificant compared to what she had here. There were group garden areas for the apartments I’d looked at, but would that be enough? Eun-bi loved this like I loved Tuko, and taking her into the city would take her away from the garden.
“What’s wrong?” Eun-bi asked. I shook myself out of the thought as we stopped amid flowering bushes shedding their last blossoms for the summer.
“It’s nothing,” I said with a laugh.
She crossed her arms and cocked out her hip, just like Mother. “You’re lying.”
I bobbed my head, weighing whether to be honest. Eun-bi was a strong, independent girl, and if I didn’t tell her what was going on, she’d find out her own way. Still, I could obscure the full—deadly—truth. “You can’t talk to the others, okay? You know I’ve always wanted to move us into the kingdom, but Mother doesn’t want to go. She’s well now, but what if she gets sick again? She needs real help.”
Eun-bi nodded solemnly. “I know.”
I sighed. “Sorry, I don’t want to take you away from this. That’s what’s on my mind. You love this garden.”
She stepped closer, a kind smile gracing her round face. “I will always be growing something, wherever we go. My family is more important than a garden. Mother’s life is more important than cucumbers.”
I gasped, my eyes going wide for a split second, and Eun-bi giggled. “You and Mom were screaming last night, and our room is over the back patio. Suyi and I heard you fighting.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Stop. We’re with you, Jiyong. We need to move to the kingdom.”
I rested my hand on her shoulder. “You’re too young to have to know this.”
“And you were too young to become the head of the household, but you did it. Every choice you’ve made has been to help us survive, and we know it. Mother knows it, too.”
I nodded as a lump grew in my throat.
“Oh, don’t cry, hyeong.” She used the familial “big brother” and pulled me into a hug.
I held her tight and laughed. “I’m not crying,” I said, but tears were blurring my vision. I used en munje to swirl the droplets off my lashes and flick them out into the cucumbers. She would never know.
“Breakfast soon,” Minjee called from the back window, and I pulled away from Eun-bi.
She rubbed a gentle thumb across my cheek. “You should learn to lie better.”
“Hana’s been teaching me,” I said as I moved toward the house.
“When are we going to meet her?” Eun-bi whined and threw a playful punch I dodged on instinct.
“Soon,” I said, dodging her question like I had her punch.
“Soon like tomorrow, right?” she asked.
“Next week is better,” I said as I stepped to the patio door.
She groaned. “You’ll be in school next week, Jiyong! When are we meeting her?”
“Soon!” I closed the back door, leaving Eun-bi to rant in peace among her creation. Mother shooed me away to the family room when I came in, so I took a moment to meditate.
Do-hwan pulled a pillow from the table up next to me and sat down. “Can we talk to Maeyoung?”
Blue light rippled on the air in front of me as Mae materialized on the table. “What can I do for you, Mr. Law?”
He sat up straight with his hands in his lap. “I’m curious about the nanites and how they create different spells from one type of energy. Can you tell me more?”
Mae tapped her chin. “I don’t know everything—”
Mother harrumphed in the kitchen while she stirred the pot of breakfast porridge. Mae stammered, then started again. “I don’t know everything about nanites, not yet at least. Soon, Jiyong will figure out how to fix the next piece of me and we can see what information is hiding inside it. I fear I’ve told you everything I know as of yet.”
“I see. That’s alright,” he said and started to rise.
She held her hand out to stop him. “I can tell you that there’s something very special going on inside your core. The crystal is a component I’m eager to analyze and learn more about. Through Jiyong, I’m learning more every day. The crystal seems to be some kind of coding mechanism. It takes the raw energy and encodes the nanites with specific types of instructions based on your intentions. It’s fascinating.”
Do-hwan smiled. “It is. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, Mr. Law.” Mae bowed, then disappeared into the air.
Do-hwan got up and left with Daegon to perform their morning chores. Mother gave me a sidelong glare while she poured steaming water into the teapot. She cleared her throat as if she were going to say something, but then returned to the porridge.
What I wouldn’t give for one of Li-Zigi’s intense training classes, or Shin-soo challenging me to a duel, even Hana berating me in the halls of Bastion Academy. Why did Mother have to be like this?
She sighed loudly and clanked the wooden spoon against the side of the porridge pot. The gonging of her frustration rang through the air and set my nerves on edge. I took a deep breath through my nose and closed my eyes as I retreated to the solace of my core. I cycled zo for calm and reminded myself that this was temporary. Her anger and frustration would pass. She would see reason and—eventually—everything would be fine.
But another thought nagged at the deep recesses o
f my mind regarding the impermanence of her mood. If she didn’t change her mind, didn’t see reason, there would be far too few of these moments left anyway. I opened my eyes and moved into the kitchen, stepping right up to Mother.
She looked at me, bewildered as she held the wooden spoon caked with glutenous rice. I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed. She patted my back softly and turned her head against my shoulder. I closed my eyes tight and imagined it was the last hug I’d ever give her, since it very well could be.
She finished up with the porridge, and Minjee called everyone in to eat. I finished my breakfast in record time, though I had to wait for Mother to finish before getting up to wash my dish.
“In a hurry to get somewhere?” she asked as I jumped up from the table.
I nodded. My stomach turned with anxiety and excitement. “Se-hun and I are going to Pi-Ki for supplies.”
Traveling to Pi-Ki was a regular affair, but it was typically done on foot with a wheelbarrow. Due to Se-hun’s sister, Aera, marrying up to a young man who’d forged his own business, we were given access to one of the coolest commodities in outer-city:
Motorbikes.
Daegon’s eyes were bright with excitement. “Can I go with you?”
I looked to Mother, who nodded approval. Then she added, “At least ten kilograms of rice, fish if it’s cheap, and organ meats, too.”
Daegon stormed up the stairs like a madman, yelling, “Let me get my cape!”
I had grabbed a bit of coin from one of the stashes around the house and pulled my bag over one shoulder. Daegon hopped down the last two steps, a dirty crimson cloth tied at his neck that stretched down past his waist.
“Ai-yah, Daegon, it’s filthy!” Mother exclaimed as she rounded on him.
He ran for the door. “No time to wash it now, gotta go!”
“You can take it off and leave it home or lose it when you get back,” Mother warned.
Daegon tore off into the street with a zip of black zo. “What? I didn’t hear you, Mom. Come on, Jiyong, rice won’t buy itself!”
I put a hand on her shoulder as I stepped through the door. “We’ll wash it when we get back.”
