Malware: A Cultivation Academy Series (Bastion Academy Book 2)

by J D Astra

  He turned to me, hand held out. “For your trouble,” he said, and I took what he offered; one silver coin—ten guli.

  “Thank you, sir.” I bowed, and he gave a curt jerk of his head before waddling back down the street.

  Se-hun groaned as he stepped up beside me. “So, what do we do with him?”

  In real outer-city, the shop owner wouldn’t have left him here. The other people on the street watching from far away—trying to catch a glimpse of the action—wouldn’t have left him like this. But Pi-Ki was as close to inner-city as outer-city got, and the customs seemed to rub off on the people who lived here. They weren’t interested in helping one another, especially not a junkie like the thief.

  I sighed and crossed my arms. “He needs help. I think he’s on something. His munje was tainted.” I looked down the road back into Pi-Ki. A few streets in there was a tall sign with a glowing green symbol for li. That would do.

  “Daegon, stay here with Se-hun,” I ordered, and he nodded, his hand absently ringing his throat. I stopped, patting his shoulder. “We’ll put some mint salve on that when we get home, okay?” He nodded again, giving the briefest smile.

  I knelt and lifted the thief up into my arms, instantly regretting my choice. His scent was foul from afar and rancid up close. Old, sour sweat stained his loose dobok, and there were several unidentifiable stains on his pants that I didn’t want Mae to identify.

  He was lighter than I expected, a telling sign of his health. It only took a few short minutes to walk him to the clinic. When I stepped through, the old woman behind the counter eyed me.

  “No! No junkies!” she declared and pointed me toward the door.

  I looked down at the mumbling man and his purpling neck. I had done that to him, and I needed to undo it. “I’ll pay for his treatment. His neck is injured.”

  “Show me the guli,” she snapped as she rose from her seat like a hound on the hunt.

  I laid the thief gingerly against the wall and leaned him up to a potted plant. “How much is it?” I asked and stuck my hands in my pockets, feeling out my money. There was at least one-hundred and sixty guli left by the feel of the coins, and I only needed one-twenty for the rice.

  The old woman stood over the thief with her hands on her hips. Her graying hair was curled nicely, and there was a soft dusting of face paint that highlighted her blue eyes. She used no ry to hide her age, which made me wonder if it was lack of skill or lack of food.

  She hummed loudly, then squinted up at me. “Fifty.”

  My mouth dropped. “You can’t be serious?”

  Her frown deepened. “I am! What if he steals my supplies, then what can I do? Fifty or get out!”

  I pulled out five silver coins and passed them to the woman.

  “What’s your name?” she said as she snatched the money and returned to her desk.

  “Law, Jiyong.”

  Silvery ry munje leaked from her fingertip and onto a page in a thick, black book. “City?”

  “Namnak.”

  “His name?”

  I looked back at the thief. “I don’t know.”

  She snapped her book shut. “Fine. I’ll send word when he’s healed. If he does damage, I will charge you. Okay?”

  I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t just leave him. I dipped my head to the woman. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. Pay me! Now, get out.” She harrumphed and pointed toward the door.

  I returned to the shop where thankfully, no one had taken the rice I’d left sitting on the floor. I was able to haggle the shopkeeper down to one hundred guli for the twenty kilos, then made my way back out to the bikes where Se-hun and Daegon waited. With the bike tire bent, it was impossible to drive. Though I had the know-how to fix it, I didn’t have the tools. Se-hun went on ahead with Daegon and the rice.

  “Anything?” I asked Mae as I walked the dilapidated bike home.

  She appeared in my vision beside me, walking at my pace. “His nanites were badly corrupted. Whatever he’s on, he’s been on it for at least a few months. I was able to decrypt some of the signal, but it wasn’t anything much. The reverb was his nanites sending back standard health information, nothing that seems important.”

  I scowled. “Sending it where?”

  “It was hard to tell. Your detection range still isn’t that wide, but when you walked him back toward the city, the time between reverbs reduced, so it may be in the direction of the kingdom.”

  “What would someone want with that information?”

  She shrugged. “I couldn’t guess. What’s weird is... it was written in my language—an old code language.”

  “Someone figured out the language of machina?” I half turned to her as I walked the broken bike.

  “I don’t think so.” She shook her head. The space between her brows pinched, and her forehead wrinkled in thought.

  “What is it?” I asked, knowing she was holding back. If only I could read her mind like she read mine.

  “You wouldn’t want to, trust me.” She paused, then sighed in defeat. “I don’t know yet. I don’t want to tell you something that might not be real.”

  I stopped. “Mae, we’re in this together.” I knocked my knuckles against my chest and held them out to her. She did the same, and her ghostly hand bumped mine with a tingle of cool.

  “I’m worried someone has found another ghost like me. The signature on the code was advanced—but not just advanced. It was...” She broke off for a beat, then looked back to me with fear. “It was me.”

  Chapter 6

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, it’s me?” Cho asked, holding his bag closer.

  Mae crackled through the speaker on my chest as we bumped along the train toward Bastion Academy. “I mean just that. The signature on the code was mine. It was distinctly me. When writing code, it’s impossible to not leave a digital footprint, and what was left behind was mine.”

  Cho sighed, exasperated. “I’m sorry, I’m not getting it. Also, code?”

  “Code is the machina language. And don’t worry, this is a tough one,” I said as I slapped him on the back.

  Mae sucked down a deep breath. “Imagine if you were duplicated right now, and then one of you went to Bastion, and the other went to the mines. Imagine that you led separate lives for two thousand years. Would you be the same people at the end?”

  “No, but how are there more than one of you?” Cho asked with a scowl.

  Mae blew out a raspberry. “That’s even more complic—”

  “Next stop, Bastion Station,” the overhead speaker cut Mae short.

  I pulled my pack over my shoulder and moved toward the exit. “Don’t worry, Cho. We’ll get this all figured out.”

  He nodded absently as he followed me toward the exit. There were a few other Bastion students from outer-cities on the train with us, most of them looking around like they’d stolen something—so they were first-years. I smirked while watching a boy a year younger than me tracing the light projection of the train’s path from Bastion, back to Pi-Ki.

  “Feeling nostalgic?” Mae asked in my mind.

  ‘Homesick. I wish mother would’ve agreed to move into the city.’ I said with my inner voice.

  Mae hummed. “Don’t we both. She’ll come around. Eun-bi is working on her.”

  ‘I’m afraid Eun-bi will go mad before she makes any headway.’

  Mae giggled. The train decelerated toward its stop and we passed the alley where I’d previously stashed Tuko. It felt like a lifetime ago that I was hiding in back alleys and using horrible ry spells to get into bot fights. It seemed even longer since I’d seen Hana, though it’d only been two weeks.

  There she was, her black hair tumbling in thick swirls past her shoulders as the train breezed up to the station. She waited on the platform in her fitted Bastion dobok with Yuri, who seemed ecstatic to spot me in the window. Yuri ran alongside the train, jumping and waving until we came to a stop.

  The doors opened, and Yuri put her hand
against the sides. “Welcome back!” she said in a jubilant tone.

  I gave her a quick hug and pat on the shoulder. “Clean a lot of sewage this summer?”

  Yuri grinned. “Me and Hana both. I told my parents they couldn’t work me for free anymore, since it was my apprenticeship.”

  Cho’s cheeks were bright red as he joined us on the platform. “How are you?”

  Yuri beamed. “Great! You?”

  Cho bobbed his head a few times, but said nothing. I chuckled, then felt the presence of Hana’s ry tickling my mind. The scent of lilacs followed, and I allowed her to drift through my conscious thoughts. All I was thinking of was her, anyway. She beamed when our gazes met.

  “Seems you’ve gotten in some trouble without me,” she said as she reached out for me. I grabbed her hand and pulled her close into a hug, nestling my face in her thick, black hair.

  “Thieves and junkies and stolen machina. We have a whole story to tell.”

  She grinned up at me. “I can’t wait.”

  Hana looped her arm in mine as we walked to Bastion. We presented our papers, and the gate guard stopped at Hana’s.

  “Your family name is missing,” he said and handed the sheet back to her.

  Hana straightened. “I still haven’t decided what my family name will be.”

  My cheeks flushed as I thought of her taking my family name, and I swallowed back the tightness in my throat. Maybe someday...

  “You’re that Hana. My apologies. Min-hwan mentioned something... You’re clear to enter,” the guard stammered and touched his cheek. Perhaps he’d been the one wansil-yu Jun had slapped that fated day Hana lost her name.

  We strolled down the wide, tree-lined path toward the main pagoda. I nudged Hana’s arm and gave her a sympathetic smile. She beamed in return, but I could see the pain behind her gem-like eyes. She’d lost her family name, which was often a death sentence. No more connections, no more status, but Hana had taken it in stride.

  She’d worked hard all summer to support herself in her tiny apartment on the upper end near Yuri. Yuri’s family had been more than welcoming, and I couldn’t wait to officially meet them.

  Hana had spent time with her aunt, too, which was practically wansil-suicide for the elder Jun. Hana hadn’t just lost her name, she’d been excommunicated. Any Jun to fraternize with her would get that family member punished. Yenni Jun, Hana’s aunt, was far more powerful than Scilla when it came to family hierarchy, and so she could withstand the judgement—or so Hana had told me.

  It could be that Hana was taking so long to choose her family name because she was hoping that Yenni could help her talk her way back into the family. Not as the successor to the Rising Phoenix, of course, that would pass to the next of kin—Hana’s younger half-sister, Yunah.

  Or perhaps Hana was uncertain about her future. She was still searching for her excommunicated father. Maybe she would take whatever name he’d given himself and try to rekindle their relationship? Whatever the outcome of her name, I hoped her father could be found. I wished my father could be, too.

  I shook the thoughts from my head and collected my class schedule. Mae assimilated the data so I could access it easily in my mind by requesting it. Our integration had been instrumental in creating little efficiencies in my day-to-day, and I appreciated all her work.

  On odd days I had Zo Strengthening II, Ry Glimmers I, Munje Recycling II, and Ma Design and Repair I—which I was most excited for out of all the classes. I was self-taught and certain there were many gaps in my skills. At least, that’s what I hoped, otherwise the class would be a bore.

  Even days I had Li Alchemy I, En Manipulation II, Martial Competency I—which I was very interested in—and Zo Calm II. The first year we had learned basic stances in Zo Strengthening I, but we didn’t learn the techniques. I’d seen Hana’s movements change from fluid, to aggressive, to rebuking as she shifted from style to style to fit her fighting needs. I couldn’t wait to be a step closer to her skill level.

  “What do you guys have?” Cho asked as he scrolled through his list.

  As we compared, I noticed I shared a significant number more classes with everyone this year, likely due to the reduction in students. By year five, I assumed, we would share every class. Six shared classes with Cho, five with Yuri, and four with Hana. I would’ve liked more classes with Hana, but we would be spending meals and rest days together, too.

  Next was lodging. We made our way to the student village where the fourteen pagodas clustered together based on their year. Year two was still gender separate, but this time, there was no specific lodge for outer-city kids. Apparently, not enough made it to year two to warrant one.

  Cho and I left the girls at their lodge before heading into ours. There were groups of students on the benches outside both lodging options, but we noticed a familiar face at the one farthest back, near the first year buildings. Il-sung waved, jumping up and down as he caught sight of us.

  He thumped his knuckles against his chest twice and held his fist out to me. I mirrored the movement.

  “It’s good to see you two,” he said with relief.

  “Same,” Cho said. “It was sad to see Hoon declined a second term, and Ki-tae...”

  Il-sung shrugged and said, “Ki-tae wasn’t putting in the effort, so of course he fell below the fail line. It doesn’t matter. We’re together, and we’re going to work hard this year, right?”

  I nodded. “Right.”

  “Come on, I picked out a good room,” Il-sung said with excitement as he waved us into the lodge.

  We used out passcode for the first time and opened the door to the new, second-year lodging. My jaw dropped as we stepped into our home for the next six months. The first-year lodging had been nice, but this was a step up, twofold. The entrance was open all the way to the third floor, like the first-year lodge, but that was where the similarities ended.

  To the left was the sitting lounge. It had a fireplace the size of my kitchen back home, with two plush couches and five very comfortable looking chairs gathered around it. There were two massive tables with a stack of pillows in the corner behind the fireplace. To the right was a small kitchen with running water, an icebox, and various utensils for eating, but nothing for cooking. I wondered if it was only first-years who were required to eat lunch in the dining hall and everyone else had a kitchen to take their food back to.

  Il-sung led us through the first floor to the northeast corner of the lodge. Our room was the very corner, which meant we had windows facing north and east. All the dark drapes were pulled back, and the polished red wood floors shone with the mid-day sun.

  The room had four beds instead of the first-year’s five, which meant a modicum more privacy. Each of the beds were dressed in soft cotton sheets and had a chest at the foot. I flipped it open to discover there was a thick, hand-stitched quilt inside that promised warmth. This was luxury!

  Il-sung said as he nodded to the windows pointed at the forest, “Sorry about the lack of view. Last year I almost died going up and down the stairs after Zo Strengthening, so I figured this would be better.”

  We knew from experience that third floor windows had a view over the wall, which allowed us to see the city. But the forest was nice, and we had a panoramic view of it. Much better than two windows of city that only one person could enjoy.

  “Not a problem,” I said as I put my few possessions away in the drawer next to my bed. I’d brought the family portrait, two casual hanboks for rest days, and the secret bento containing Mae’s upgrade I had won from Woong-ji last year. I had high hopes set on the ma class giving me the tools I needed to finish fixing it.

  “Give it back!” a panicked voice shot through the open door, and we all looked up. There were thumps indicative of a scuffle—I knew this well from having twin brothers—and then laughter.

  “Aga lost his schedule,” came a taunting reply. He’d called the other student a baby, which wasn’t the worst insult, but something about his voice tick
led at the back of my memories.

  Mae cleared her throat in my mind, a subtle cue she’d picked up to avoid startling me after long periods of silence. She spoke as I walked to the door. “It’s one of Shin-soo’s goons, Tae-do.”

  ‘The one who called me the fujek ganhan, right?’ I asked with my inner dialogue.

  “That’s the one,” she replied.

  ‘They waste no time asserting dominance,’

  “The primal ones never do.”

  Chapter 7

  “STOP, hyeong, it’s not funny!” The student—a boy with black shoulder-length hair who’d missed his growth spurt—reached up for the schedule disc Tae-do held just out of reach.

  “You might not think so, but I’m having a great time,” Tae-do said with a smirk as his hand grasping the schedule flickered with ma munje.

  “Should we do something?” Cho whispered next to me as we watched the bullying.

  I sighed. It was the outer-city way to take care of our own. Though I wasn’t sure this boy came from an outer-city, he was a Bastion, and that made him one of our own.

  “Tae-do,” I boomed with an infusion of ry and stepped from the doorway. The hall went silent and twenty pairs of eyes fell on me. “Give it back.”

  Tae-do’s face screwed up with confusion. I hadn’t changed that much over the summer, but I was certain he hadn’t saved space in his memory for a fujek ganhan like me. Tae-do, on the other hand, had changed over the summer, and while I knew his face, he was much bigger—and far angrier—than I remembered.

  His short brown hair was parted down the center and held in place with wax. His neck was about twice the circumference of my upper arm and joined with broad shoulders that were more muscular than seemed natural. His nose was crooked from repeated breaks that never healed right, a sign of weak healing zo, and there were more than a few scars decorating his face and arms. One scar in particular stood out over his left eye—a burn.