by J D Astra
“He’s quite good at masking it. I only realized when I noticed his heart rate and breathing shift was not a temporary change,” Mae said.
I looked down at him and couldn’t tell the difference. He could’ve been dead for all I saw, apart from the tiny breaths he took that lifted his chest. Why would he keep faking sleep when I stood right over him?
“Ko-nah,” I said gently, but he didn’t stir. “Ko-nah,” I said again with more force, and he popped open one eye weakly.
He pulled the sheets up over his head and rolled away with a groan. “It’s too early.”
What was he playing at?
“It’s the same time as every morning. Let’s go,” I said forcefully.
I went through the morning meditation with great interest as I felt Mae moving munje all over my body and into the device. It made concentrating on clearing my thoughts difficult, but no one else seemed to notice my distress. We made it through breakfast with less complaining than the previous weeks, for which I was grateful.
With a few minutes to spare, we made it to Li Alchemy I only to see the door had been sealed shut.
“What is this?” Cho asked with outraged concern. He pushed on the door, pulled, and then scowled. “I’ve never been locked out of the alchemy lab before!”
I smirked. He’d only been using the alchemy lab for a few weeks but had already become quite attached to it.
Cho knocked with annoyance. “Excuse me! It’s time for class!”
Nothing moved, and no one answered from the other side. Cho tapped his foot and crossed his arms.
“Little Pak getting his sogos in a bunch?” Tae-do jeered, and his entourage chuckled.
Cho turned to him, red-faced and ready to spout something that might get him in more trouble than he wanted. I put my arm around him and turned him back to the classroom. “Ignore him. He’s an idiot.”
Cho gave a resigned, “Yeah,” as the other students sniggered behind us.
The warning bell rang, and there was a clicking of locks on the other side of the door. It slid back, and Cho marched forward, his chest puffed up.
“Take your seats without comment,” Sung-ki said from the dais at the front of the well-lit room. The windows faced out over the garden, but backless shelves crisscrossed the spaces between and over the windows. They were lined with different herbs and fungi. Those that needed lots of light were positioned over the windows, while those plants that liked the dark were hidden away in blackened alcoves.
We filed in, and I took my place next to Ko-nah at the back. Why he had selected the farthest back seat in every class was beyond me. It was like he was trying to fail out.
The room was quiet apart from the pattering of feet and the scooting of stools. Because we had to work with toxic substances, we had tall, metal desks and backless chairs—ones we could run away from faster in case of emergency.
I remembered from my first year that minor accidents happened with some regularity, and serious ones occurred about twice a year. The most memorable from my first year was that the whole alchemy room had filled with black foam from an unexpected mixture, forcing me and the other students for the ry class out onto the balcony. That was where I fought wansil-yu Jun’s guard and Hana lost her name...
Sung-ki cleared his throat, then spoke in a condescending tone as he said, “There are always students snooping about the alchemy lab,” he said as he eyed me, then Cho. “There will always be lying thieves in our midst.”
I assumed he meant last year when Mae and I went through the storeroom looking for substances to help my regeneration, but we hadn’t stolen anything. My eyes shot up to the door to the alchemy closet behind Sung-ki. It was barred and locked up, an ominous sign that there was something far worse than a little bit of snooping around going on.
He turned on his heel, looked at every student in turn. “Lying thieves don’t just get thrown out of my class... they get expelled. Permanently.”
Chapter 14
MY HEART THUDDED INJUSTICE in my chest. I hadn’t stolen anything. I had only looked!
Sung-ki went on, “That was how I wanted to deal with the situation, but the Grandmaster felt differently. The offender will be confronted, scolded, and returned on their way with a strike on their record.
“In addition to that minor slap on the wrist”—he laughed with disgust—“we will be locking the classroom every day, much how the ma antiques room is locked. You will not be able to access the lab after hours without explicit permission from me.”
I glanced around to see the other students looking at one another with confusion and suspicion. Shin-soo caught my gaze but held it for only a second. He didn’t wear his typical angry or arrogant face, but he was perturbed. There was fear etched into the lines of his forehead. His eyes flickered toward Ko-nah, then he averted his gaze.
Ko-nah adjusted his posture, shrinking in his seat as I looked down at him. He shrugged with a face that feigned innocence. He knew something he wasn’t telling me. Shin-soo did, too.
“I’ve got it!” Mae’s excited voice blasted over my thoughts, and I nearly jumped off my stool.
‘Got what?’ I asked as I calmed my racing heart. I turned my attention back to the front of the room where Sung-ki droned on about the consequences of stealing from Bastion.
“I opened enough space to start more critical analysis of your mother’s data,” she said with glee, then her tone dampened as she added, “But I can only focus on either fixing the rest of the device or processing the data. And I won’t be available to monitor your surroundings while I’m processing the data; it’s too complex to lose focus on distractions.”
‘I leave it up to you, but would prefer to have your eyes and ears on the lookout while I’m sleeping.’
“I’ll start working on the data now,” Mae said with enthusiasm. She was really enjoying herself. I was happy she had something to be excited about.
Sung-ki moved to the first shelf next to him and plucked a few leaves from the nearest plant. “Today we will be learning the importance of preparation. Some substances are toxic when raw, others become corrosive when they’re turned into extract, and others still can be made into powerful battlefield aids when powdered.”
He held up the green leaf with fat purple freckles for us to see. “This is sayuki basil. Delicious when raw in soups and fried rice. It’s known to have mental wellness benefits, increased clarity, and calmness. However, when the leaves are dried and burned, the smoke can induce hallucinations, sometimes permanent psychosis.”
He popped the leaf in his mouth and chewed. “So, you can see why after several incidents of these plants going missing—and others—why we will be locking the room. This is the last I want to hear on this matter. Let us begin today’s lesson.
“Extracts are an essential preparation process. You can’t always know what potion you will need on the battlefield. You must bring a host of raw ingredients with you and mix in the heat of combat. You must be poised, skillful, focused, and accurate. One misstep could be your death or the death of your allies.”
He retrieved a dolly from the back that was loaded down with equipment. Seven tall, glass vials were held upright in a wooden construct designed to prevent vibrations from jostling the tubes. Sung-ki walked the rows, passing out the trays of vials.
“Extracts allow you to compact the essential munje in a plant or animal required for crafting your potions. You can then heat them until they’re ash, chill them to subzero temperatures, or agitate them into action.
“Extracts are how you will build your foundational knowledge for all potion making,” he said, placing a tray on my desk.
“Mr. Law, do you know anything about potion making?” he asked with a smirk.
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t some li munje dunce... but then he would make me create something. I could end up like one of those yearly incidents—one of the bad ones.
I shook my head with embarrassed heat in my cheeks. “No, Maste
r.”
His smirk changed to something more respectful, and he nodded. “Make sure, then, you pay close attention to this lesson. No one here has mixed extracts like we will in this class, save for me.”
It was a trick! He had wanted to see if I would be truthful. And I had. His smile wasn’t one of gloating glory, but acknowledgement of my morals.
Sung-ki moved on, until he made his way back to the front. He took to his dais with his own vials. “I will be leading you through these exercises by example. Theory will not do in alchemy. You must be precise—measured—all things accounted for. Li alchemy is all about controlling your environment.” He spoke the words with reverence.
“You’ve learned in Primary to create slurries, less refined and therefore less potent. Extracts are all we use on the battlefield. Measurements are memorized by all combatants, so anyone on the field can craft a cure or an aid. Extracts are compact; a little goes a long way toward saving lives.”
“This is not easy to accomplish, but I know you are all up to the challenge. Do not fail me,” he said with warning, and I feared what the consequence of failure was. He didn’t let on, and I was too nervous to ask. I would just have to succeed.
We spent the entire duration extracting the essence of seven plants: sayuki basil, maggot-rot mold, purila’s tail, lychii seed, yellow juniper, poh-pah berry, and witch-weed. I struggled, trying to hide my failure, but Sung-ki noticed.
“Troubles?” he asked with a helpful tone.
I furrowed my brow. “Some, yes. I’ve never been good with li flow.”
He put a hand to his chin. “You mean to say, your li flow has been an issue at all times, not just in my class?”
The eyes of neighboring students looked to me, and my cheeks reddened. “Yes, Master.”
“Why haven’t you said something?” he asked with concern.
I did not want to keep answering truthfully, for the truth was so, so embarrassing... but I knew if I didn’t, I would lose what little respect I’d gained from Sung-ki. Bastion was also about making connections—creating a network that could help me move my family into the city.
“I was worried you would make me feel like a fool for having li flow issues,” I said with a wince. Hushed murmurs bubbled up around me, some of them jeering.
Sung-ki pulled down a deep breath. “Look at me.”
My face felt like it was on fire. My flushed cheeks must’ve been visible from outer-city, but I met his gaze.
He didn’t break eye contact as he spoke. “I will never turn away an honest, eager learner. Speak the truth with me, and I will reveal the wonders of the li munje around you.” He turned and looked to the rest of the class. “That goes for every last one of you. No lies in this room. Lies create errors.”
He turned to a girl two seats up. “Ms. Zho, what happens if you lie, putting the maggot-rot mold label on the witch-weed vial?”
The short, round-faced girl shrugged. “I don’t know.”
His voice was stern, and he projected for the whole class to hear. “I could misuse those extracts on the battlefield. Extracts are stored in insulated, reflective vials to protect them from the elements. You cannot see the color of the extract or the viscosity. You cannot see it until you begin to use it, and by then it could be too late. The fumes from one extract could come into contact with another, and you could create an explosion that rips off half of your face.”
The room gasped collectively.
Sung-ki nodded. “I’ve seen it happen. Labeling is important. Lying will cause death.
“Now, let’s get back to it,” he said as he returned to me.
Sung-ki guided me through the process of unblocking my li munje by visualizing the vibrance of life in the plant I held. I was to imagine its smell, taste, or color with clarity, until I knew the plant from the inside out.
And just like that, my li was flowing freely.
I didn’t feel embarrassed as other students in the class experienced their own struggles and needed help. Sung-ki attended to every one of them, answering questions and helping them visualize the munje they were looking for, until they were successful.
Even when Ko-nah whined and complained, Sung-ki told him he’d need to suck it up and try another option, because failure wouldn’t be accepted. Sung-ki pushed, but he was there by Ko-nah’s side the whole time, making sure it got done right. Maybe that’s all I had to do for Ko-nah. Be more relentless.
Sung-ki made his rounds until everyone was working away at their assignment with ease. He returned to his podium looking satisfied. Perhaps his only true love lay in the teaching of li alchemy. If he’d only loved potion-making, he would’ve gotten a job at an apothecary or hospital.
But he’d chosen Bastion. No. His passion was clearly for teaching new generations how to accomplish these wondrous feats.
A spark of hope warmed my chest. I had thought Sung-ki hated me because I was from outer-city. Sure, he had a bit of a prejudice since he assumed I’d lie straight out of the gate—
“You did lie the first time you spoke to him,” Mae reminded me.
I rolled my eyes. ‘You can pipe down. I was having a fleeting feeling of true wonder to receive respect from a man I thought hated my guts for no reason.’
“You can still have it. Just remember that you earned his distrust first.”
‘Thank you, I remember now.’
En Manipulation II came before I knew it, and I was moving rocks within a few minutes. After all the practice with water the previous year, rocks were a breeze. The principles behind moving the elements were the same from water to earth, which was as surprising to me as it was to the other students—except Yuri. By the end of class, she had her stones piled up in a huge construct that looked like the greatest structure of Busa-nan, Insig Palace.
By lunch, I could see the entire group was worn thin from Ko-nah’s relentless complaining. I didn’t share all his classes but knew Cho would frequently offer to help. It seemed that was wearing on my friend worse today with the news of the alchemy lab being closed off.
I wondered if Ko-nah was trying to force the secrets from us by annoying us, as if I would grow tired of him and say anything to send him away. The joke was on him; there was no secret. Only more work.
Chapter 15
AS THE THIRD WEEK CAME to a close, I was weary yet excited for the day ahead. Meditation always came with wiggling, humming, sighing, and complaining from Ko-nah, which was not my preferred way to begin any day. The excitement was because Mae had repaired enough of the second device that she had the power to do live analysis in detail. After a few days of processing the older data Mae had collected from my mother, we’d discovered that the information was not enough to draw any conclusions about her illness.
I finished my morning routine and went to rouse Ko-nah, prepared for his typical comeback. However, he rose without issue. Confusion furrowed my brow, but I said nothing as he walked past me to his dresser for clothes.
“I’ll meet you out there in ten,” he said as he walked out the door toward the bathrooms.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be such an exhausting day after all.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Mae warned. “We still have to travel all the way to Namnak and back before the gates close for the evening.”
‘Yes, but I’ll get to see my family for a few hours, and that’s worth the trip.’
I walked out to the glade with a spring in my step and a grumble in my stomach. Mae’s work on the device through the night had completely drained my ma munje. The constant cycle of creating and using ma was draining my energy, leaving me far hungrier in the mornings—and at every other meal—than was typical.
Hana smiled as she caught my eye, and I felt dread tug at my insides. She knew the plan to go to Namnak today and wasn’t going to let me go alone.
“Stop worrying, you’re being ridiculous,” Mae admonished.
Cho and Yuri were chatting about the best glaze for a donut when I took my place next to Hana in
the meditation circle. She touched my arm and leaned in to whisper, “What is it?”
“What do you mean?” I posed back calmly. I relaxed my face, trying to erase all emotion from it.
Hana raised an eyebrow. “You went pale when you saw me.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know wh—”
“He’s embarrassed about you seeing where he lives,” Mae blurted through the speaker in my chest.
I covered her speaker to dampen the sound as I looked around the clearing. The glade was devoid of activity aside from us. My cheeks were warm as I turned back to Hana, worried what expression her face might hold. Annoyance? Disgust? Superiority? I couldn’t bring myself to look her in the eyes.
She grabbed my hand away from my chest and held it in both of hers. “Jiyong, I’m not going to judge your home or your family. I feel like I already know them so well. There’s nothing to be worried about.”
Cho shrugged, and I looked up to him. “I’ve seen some really bad places. Yours can’t be anything like that.”
“Plus, you’ve got a goat. That’s so cool,” Yuri added. “My parents don’t own anything but tiny dogs that bark nonstop.”
Mae whispered in my mind, “Let the shame go.”
Sour tightness pulled at my guts, and I looked at Hana. She was smiling kindly, the sort of smile one gives to a child who’s hurt themselves. I straightened my back as I said, “I think it’ll be best that I go alone today. It’s a lot of tests we’ll be running, and the information might be hard for my mother to hear. She wouldn’t want an audience.”
Hana released my hand, her smile fading as she nodded. “That makes sense.”
“We’ll be here to talk about everything when you get back,” Cho said with added strength.
Yuri sighed in exasperation, then entered the meditation pose, mumbling, “I wanted to see the goat.”
I kept my ears poised for approaching footsteps as we became silent, but Ko-nah never joined us. Worry roiled in my gut and I wondered if he’d heard Mae. What if he’d been hiding somewhere nearby or snuck up on us with a ry glimmer? Who could he be telling right now, and what would he be telling them?
