by J D Astra
He joined me at the mirror, and we stood next to one another, beaming at our reflections. We shaped up nicely.
“Come on, pretty boy. Let’s get going,” Mae said in my head, her voice laden with sarcasm.
“They’re selling flags right here!” Yuri said, her face pressed up against the window of the little coat shop.
The shop owner grimaced as he watched her, then looked to me. I held out the shiny gold coin—fifty guli—for the coat. It was more than I’d ever spent on a single article of clothing, more than I’d spent on anything other than food, but it was worth it.
The coat was threaded with rubbery pathways between the padding that could be warmed with a little en munje. The expert craftmanship was fantastic, and I knew I would own the coat for a long time to come—and probably pass it down to the twins when they got bigger.
The shop owner gave me two copper coins in return, and we were on our way.
We stopped to get Yuri a blue and white snowflake flag, just a guli each, which she waved through the air exuberantly. People were marching through the streets in droves toward the festival entrance. It was held partially on Insig Palace grounds, one of the only times in a year that citizens were allowed into the palace without a specific invitation.
I was sorry I had missed it last year, but this would be a better first trip. Hana had her hand tucked at my elbow and clung to me tightly as we made our way down the street. Children skipped, waving their flags like Yuri, and their parents sipped steaming drinks from matching blue and white cups.
Tiny ice crystals floated on the air, and I wondered if this was natural snow, from the sky, or contrived by the kingdom’s en masters. Either way, they were beautiful. The sun’s light reflected off every edge, giving the air a colorful gleam. Everyone was engaged in their own conversation, so I decided it was time for me to bring up ours.
“I found something when out with Tuko the other night,” I said in a casual tone. The others picked up on my tactic of talking in plain sight and kept smiles on their faces, seeming unperturbed.
“Define something,” Hana said with a sweet sharpness.
I reached into my pocket and produced the parchment I’d drawn on for Woong-ji. I handed it to Hana and said, “This was all over the boxes in the building. I only saw two open boxes, and they’d had equipment in them for broadcasting. There was a tall spire on the roof they used to route the signal from another location. Mae knows where it’s at.”
“Coincidentally, we’re headed that way,” Mae replied only to me.
Yuri leaned in over Hana’s shoulder. “I think I’ve seen this before.”
“Where?” Cho asked as he took the paper for a look.
Yuri hummed, tapping her chin with the flag. “I can’t remember. Something small I think.”
We passed near the building with the spire on top, and I looked that way. I saw the rounded top of the two-meter pole and felt relief. They hadn’t packed up the operation and moved things after my intrusion, which meant they were still none the wiser to my efforts.
After a few kilometers, we boarded a crowded inner-kingdom train that would take us the rest of the way to the palace. The train was much nicer than the one that went out to Pi-Ki. The seats looked new, the floors were clean, and the windows free from scratches and smudges.
We disembarked to a roar of activity. The train pulled away, revealing the festival entrance. Ice columns six meters tall and at least a meter thick supported a frosty arch that read: Busa-nan Winter Festival of Il-suk’s 17th Reign.
The palace turrets ripped a hole in the clouds above, and I marveled at its majesty. It was still several kilometers away and easily the biggest thing in my vision. Colored lights—though weak this time of day due to the bright cloud cover—danced across the white palace. The colorful crystals sat atop massive metal constructs that were scattered throughout the fairgrounds, and ry users manned each one, blasting bright light through them.
Vibrant tents sported strings of fairy lights and advertised hot cinnamon-apple tea, fresh dumplings, hand-crafted wood sculptures, and forged dish sets. There were more shops than I could’ve dreamed existing in one place, and there was still space for towering stages sporting live contests, dances, and music.
The atmosphere was charged with excitement, and for a moment, all my problems evaporated. Yuri squealed with delight and grabbed Hana’s hand before heading toward the stairs. The girls took off into the crowd as Cho and I chuckled.
A tiny projection of Mae popped up in my vision. She said to only me, “We’re not far from the signal source now. It’s not the palace, I can tell you that, but it’s close.” A map appeared beside her, and she pointed to a glowing red spot. “This is the location. This was the rough map I was able to create from what you’ve seen.”
‘We can investigate after a few hours at the festival,’ I said, ignoring the twinge of guilt that needled my guts. I was supposed to be enjoying the festival with my friends, but I did have a responsibility to my mother—and perhaps the kingdom—to solve this mystery. I took a deep breath and cleared my mind. A few more hours of fun wouldn’t hurt anything.
I followed the girls as the flittered from shop to shop. I wished I hadn’t eaten so much at school, but it was nice to share a hot, fresh dumpling with Hana. It was a spicy salted pork with crunchy kimchi and a thick gravy for only three copper guli!
We watched a performance of dancers from the Silver Dragonfly, the rival to the Juns’ Rising Phoenix. They twirled and twisted in mesmerizing unison with powder white gowns that flowed around them like an avalanche. Their faces were pale white with brilliant red lips, and their black hair was pinned with blue snowflake hairclips in various designs on top of, or behind, their heads.
But not all of the girls’ hair was black. One girl in particular with light golden hair stood out. She was allowed to have her hair down, and her makeup was sparse. Her gown was trimmed with vibrant purple and green like the aurora of the northern regions. She was special.
“That’s her,” Cho whispered, his gaze tracking the elegant woman.
“That’s who?”
“Zari, my sister,” he said in a hushed whisper. “I have to talk to her.”
I nodded to Hana and Yuri to move on, since Yuri’s attention span was nonexistent. Cho and I moved our way through the crowd to the front of the stage. When the dance came to an end, the girl with the golden hair locked eyes with Cho. Her bottom lip quivered, and her shoulders shook as a tearful smile lifted her lips.
The girls came to the front of the stage to accept tips, and I pulled the spare parchment from my pocket when she approached. She knelt at the edge and Cho raised a trembling hand with coins.
“How can I message you?” he asked, his voice wavering with emotion.
“My name is Mae-li, Silver Dragonfly,” she said, holding back tears as she reached for the tip.
“Why haven’t you written?” He grabbed her hand as she tried to pull away.
Her brow pinched with worry. “It’s complicated—”
“No touching the dancers!” a guard shouted from the side of the stadium, approaching fast.
Cho released her, and she stepped back.
“Write me,” she said, her voice desperate.
The girls retreated to the back of the stage, and a thick curtain fell. The crowd slowly dispersed, but Cho stood there, his gaze a hundred kilometers away.
I nudged his elbow gently. “You okay?”
He took a deep breath, and his eyes fixed on me. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m going to write her tonight.”
“I’m sure there’s a good explanation—”
“Yeah, of course.” He cut me off and waved away the conversation. He put on his best grin, though I could see he was shaken. Then he said, “Let’s get back to the festival.”
It took us a few minutes, but we found the girls perusing an apothecary shop. Cho buried himself in one of the textbooks, and I surveyed some of the available ingredients.
; I found a jar of honey crystals I knew my mother would like and, at the next shop, a tote bag with a flowery print that was perfect for Eun-bi. It had been a long, long time since we’d exchanged winter gifts, and with my extra funds, I decided it was time to start again.
I found a wood-carved miniature set of po-pong, Do-hwan’s favorite logic game, a four-tool kit for ma repair for Daegon, a horticulture master guide for Suyi, and a white, fluffy stuffed cat with jade-bead eyes for Minjee.
When I had everything secured in Eun-bi’s new bag, I relished the feeling of fewer coins in my pocket for the first time in my life, rather than dreading it. We had more than enough to thrive, and still buy nice things. Sure, not all the choices had been perfect—or practical, in Mini’s case—but I was happy to be giving them gifts.
We were making our way back toward the festival entrance when I saw a shorter boy with shoulder length black hair I knew all too well. He was walking with a woman only a few centimeters taller than him—his mother, I assumed, since that was who he’d complained nonstop about having to attend the festival with. She was delicate and petite, wearing a knee-length red coat trimmed with black fox-fur and a white dress.
“Ko-nah,” I called out, and he turned. There was a half-snarl on his lips as his gaze hunted for me. When our eyes met, he smiled and waved, but didn’t stop. He turned back and kept a steady forward pace.
His mother turned to look as well, and I gave her a little wave to let her know it was me. She tugged on Ko-nah’s arm and pointed to us. He turned back with a hint of detachment, like he was above visits from friends outside of school, but not above his mother’s requests.
She smiled, revealing perfect teeth as she approached. “Are you Ko-nah’s friends he’s been talking so much about?”
“I’m Jiyong, this is Hana, Yuri, and Cho,” I said and pointed to them in order.
“Nice bag,” Ko-nah said with a smirk and a nod to Eun-bi’s floral tote.
“I’m wansil Wong, Marina. Are you leaving the festival?” she asked, and Ko-nah shifted impatiently.
“Yes, I think so?” I asked and looked to the others. They nodded consent.
“It would be my honor to host Ko-nah’s friends for a late lunch. Would you join us?” she asked.
Ko-nah grimaced. “I’m not feeling up to it, mother.”
She giggled and playfully patted Ko-nah’s hand. “Nonsense, you won’t have to do a thing but sit there.” She looked back to me. “Will you come?”
I wasn’t of a status to decline the invitation of a wansil, but we did need to investigate the signal source. “We do have another obligation, but we could spare an hour?” I asked Hana, and she smiled politely, understanding my dilemma.
“We do need to get to that obligation, soon,” Hana stressed the word and made it known we didn’t have time to dally.
“They’re busy,” Ko-nah pressed.
“There’s already curry on the boil at home. Shouldn’t take more than an hour to eat and get to know one another,” his mother offered, and the tone of her voice tugged at my heart. She wanted to spend an hour with her son’s friends, getting to know him better, not us. She was a good mother.
“We can spare an hour,” I said with finality.
Marina beamed brighter. “Wonderful! Follow us to transportation.”
She turned away, and Ko-nah glared me down with annoyance.
We let Cho and Yuri walk ahead as Ko-nah and his mother lead the way. Hana pinched my side, though it hurt considerably less due to the thick coat. I looked down at her, and she mouthed the word, “signal.” One hour wouldn’t ruin everything.
I nodded and said, “We’ll get there.”
Chapter 27
WANSIL Marina had a personal rickshaw and ordered two more for all of us to travel comfortably. The streets at this end of the kingdom were all clean. The shops were orderly and neat. There were no gamblers or obvious escorts, and no street food. The bay was used for personal watercraft instead of import ships, and the open spaces were well manicured parks.
I never wanted to live on this side of the kingdom. There was no adventure, no fun! Mostly, there didn’t appear to be any bot fights. Though it’d been a few months since I’d participated in a fight, it would always be part of my life.
Just when I thought we’d reached the height of wealth, the rickshaws took a turn toward the bay and a new standard was set. A white stone mansion was built into the hillside facing the bay with a sprawling green lawn, tall trees, and flower gardens reaching all the way to the shore. A paved road carved up through the hill to the front door. That was where we were destined.
Mae made a sound like clearing her throat, then said, “Not to interrupt your ogling, but I thought it important to mention that we are within range of the signal location.”
I scanned the hillside, then the bay, and saw another feat of modern architecture. A long pier reached out into the water, and atop the end sat a massive black and red wooden dojang. It mimicked the ancient temple design in the awnings and peaks of the roof, the shingles, all the way down through the sturdy wood columns. It was incredible.
“And also, very likely the source of the signal,” Mae mentioned, and the map reappeared before my eyes. The view zoomed in as street and building details were added, and the red dot encompassed my vision. It could’ve been in the dojang or the mansion, but either way, it was here.
I turned to Hana and leaned in to whisper, “The signal is here. Smile and laugh.”
She giggled and covered her mouth, then asked, “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” I said with a grin that belied my anxious pulse.
She gripped my hand and smiled wider. “We’ve got this.”
I had planned on canvassing the area, looking for windows and other ways that Tuko could sneak in, but now I worried Hana would try to act. The Bastion gate guards knew we were heading out to the festival, so if anything happened to us, they would have no idea where to look. Trying to investigate or expose the Wong family would be too dangerous to risk any of my friends.
I leaned in once more as the rickshaw driver pulled up to the front. “Observe only.”
Hana pursed her lips, then sighed. “Okay.”
“Here we are!” Marina said with delight. She disembarked and stretched. We did the same, and I worked hard to keep an expression of awe as my heart raced.
“You have the most beautiful home,” I remarked, gesturing to the entire hillside.
Marina giggled. “Wait until you see the inside. Where are you from, Jiyong?” she asked as she took the pristine white steps up to the front double door. A servant emerged, holding the door open with a bow for us all.
“I live in Namnak with my mother and five siblings,” I said.
“Namnak... is that on the lower west end of the kingdom?” she asked with a puzzled expression.
“It’s an outer-city,” Ko-nah said with a grumble.
Marina stopped at the doorway and straightened as she looked at me again, this time with a more critical eye. “Outer-city, huh? You look very”—she paused, rolling her hand around as she searched for the appropriate word—“well put together.”
As she turned away, I saw her give a conspicuous nod to the servant inside the door. As we followed her through the entry, so did the servant follow me. Great. All the more reason we would be observing only.
The entrance hall floor was polished white stone with long black and red rugs. There was a sitting station where we all removed our shoes and put them away in solid, black-wood cubbies.
“Hana, tell me about yourself,” Marina said while another servant helped her out of her coat. They tried to do the same for me, but I kindly refused, holding tighter to my bag as well.
Hana pulled in a deep breath, then said, “I used to be a Jun—”
Marina cut her off with a gasp. “Rising Phoenix Jun? You’re that Hana?”
Hana nodded.
There was a gleam of gossipy hunger in Marina’s eyes as she asked, �
��What happened?”
Hana stepped closer and laced her fingers with mine, then held up our joined hands.
Marina winced. “Sorry, dear. I heard about your father a few years back and wondered if you’d been doomed to the same fate. No wonder your mother remarried so quickly. What a terrible loss for you.”
Hana’s cheeks flushed, and her grip tightened on my hand. “I prefer to think of how much I gained. Jiyong is a gifted munje user, an excellent teacher, and very supportive of my personal goals.”
Marina hummed and nodded, but turned away. “Yuri, how about you?”
“My family owns the sewage treatment plants on the west side, and the desalinization facilities on the north side,” Yuri said with a bounce in her step. “Oh, and we own the piping infrastructure for most of the kingdom, and the small power plant that supplies the palace.”
“You must be a Kim, then,” Marina said with a wink over her shoulder.
Yuri hummed confirmation, and Cho glanced back at me with wide-eyed surprise. Yuri hadn’t talked much about her family beyond the sewage plant, but it seemed they were a big influence in the kingdom. Not the most prestigious work, like running a renowned dojang or entertainment business, but still powerful.
Marina led us down another narrow hall lined with portraits of wide-faced, black-haired men; all Wongs. Tae-do’s portrait hung at the very end of the line, and there were still several meters of hall left to go. There was no portrait of Ko-nah, I noticed.
We wound through several more impressive rooms, some of which appeared just for sitting, but others that were obviously for sparring, and others for games. There were staircases leading up to the next level, all white stone with black and red rugs, and long, glittering chandeliers of crystal.
‘Can you make a record of this?’ I asked Mae.
“Way ahead of you,” she replied in my head with a glimmering wink.
We passed through a grand dining hall that seemed to go on forever. There were tall windows open to the hillside beyond, and massive sculptures of all different kinds of stone littered a well-manicured yard. The table was polished to a high-shine, and fluffy pillows with a low—but stable-looking—back rest sat at every place setting. It was luxurious.
