by J D Astra
Sung-ki sucked his teeth. “I suddenly find myself wishing the exchange program was for fifth-year students.”
I pinned him with an annoyed stare.
He rolled his eyes. “You’re right. They aren’t ready.”
My shoulders slumped, then Sung-ki went on. “But Cho is also right. There are many people suffering and many more who will suffer if we do nothing. As Jiyong said, we have an opportunity to make a difference and we must take it.”
Sung-ki valued honesty above all other things—except perhaps extracts—and so I knew this was important to him. He’d been unable to do little more than keep the critical students from dying earlier this year when Dokun’s malware was distributed throughout the school by some of the third-year exchange students and the treacherous Ko-nah.
Min-hwan paced. “You must be cautious and decisive at every step if you are to accomplish these goals with your life intact. It is not just your lives on the lines, but the life of every exchange student going with you. Any plot discovered could implicate all of the students from Bastion.”
“We understand, Grandmaster,” Hana said, determined.
Cho nodded. “We won’t abandon our classmates, no matter what.”
Min-hwan sighed and turned back to face us. “Then we will proceed as planned. Go and enjoy your last day of the summer with your families tomorrow, and I will see you soon.”
I nodded, suddenly feeling reality. We were going to Kokyu to spy on the kingdom’s ambassador at the peril of execution—if we weren’t caught by Dokun first. We would have few resources apart from each other, and no way off the island until our exchange was complete.
But we could do it.
We were Bastions.
Chapter 2
I STOOD ON THE PATIO of my family’s kingdom apartment, overlooking the city. Orange and pink clouds from the setting sun drifted lazily overhead, and the call of distant sea birds soothed my anxious mind. The Silent Pact I made with Min-hwan at the end of last year prevented me from telling my family about the true dangers of the exchange program, but my mother knew.
She had told me all about Dokun and Hiro Kumiho, the man who’d been my father. He and Dokun had been working together for years, and I knew from seeing Hiro how hard those years had been. His green irises and wrinkled face appeared in my mind’s eye. There were streaks of white in his hair and deep bags under his eyes. He’d looked at least ten years older than he should’ve. What had happened to him?
The patio door slid open behind me and I turned to see Eun-bi, a smile gracing her round face. She was looking more and more like our mother every day. Eun-bi crossed her arms and leaned against the metal railing like me. We looked out on the city together in peaceful quiet. The orange and pinks in the sky turned to purple.
“I wish you’d go to school,” I said.
Eun-bi groaned. “Not this again, Appa-yo.”
I scowled at the new nickname meaning Brother-Father.
She looked out at the city with a gentle smile. “There’ll be time for school later. I want to see Busa-nan. I want to work.”
“Mm-hmm,” I hummed incredulously. “It has nothing to do with me being gone most of the year?”
She blew a raspberry. “Cho is right; you’re full of yourself.”
We fell silent, but the air around Eun-bi was charged with emotion. She knotted and unknotted her fingers, picked at her fingernails, and chewed her lip.
“What is it?” I asked, turning to face her.
The smile disappeared from her lips. “Don’t go.”
“What are you worried about?” I asked, amping up my brotherly charm.
“I’m not stupid, Jiyong,” she said with annoyance.
I laughed it off. “You’re one of the smartest people I know.”
“Stop acting like nothing’s going on. The exchange students who helped spread that poison at Bastion came from Kokyu, and that’s where you’re going. You’ve been quiet about it all summer, and when it does get brought up, you look like someone caved your skull in with a hammer. You’ve been leaving early every morning and not coming back until sunset, and you’re not always in your workshop—"
“Okay, stop.” I cut her off, pinching my nose bridge with frustration. The pact made it painful to say anything about our mission, Dokun, or the other Mae who programmed the malware. There was hardly anything I could say, and certainly nothing that would make Eun-bi feel better.
“You’ve always been able to tell me everything,” Eun-bi murmured as she turned back to the darkening sky.
“I have to go. It’s more important than what happened earlier this year.”
Eun-bi nodded. “But you won’t tell me about it.”
“He can’t,” Mae rescued me from Eun-bi’s anger. “And neither can I. We’ve sworn ourselves to silence in a binding spell that causes Jiyong great pain.”
Eun-bi snorted, tightening her crossed arms.
I grabbed her shoulder and turned her to me. “I haven’t hidden anything from you since last year. I know you’re more grown up than the other kids your age, ye-jah, even me when I was your age.”
“Even now,” she said with a sad smile. Her lip quivered and her almond eyes were glossy with tears.
I pulled her into a hug, rubbing big circles on her back as she sobbed silently. Daegon pressed his nose against the glass patio door, then crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out. Mini was quick to mimic the playful gesture. I waved him off with a stern glare. He elbowed Mini before retreating to the table and she followed.
“Are you going to die?” Eun-bi asked, her voice tiny as a cricket chirp.
“I hope not,” I whispered back.
Her whole body shook from withheld sobs. “I don’t want to lose my hyeong.”
“Oh? I thought I was Appa-yo?”
“You’re old enough,” she said, a jovial note to her choked-up voice. She released me and sniffled. After a moment, her tears ceased and her breathing calmed.
“You’re very strong,” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for working while I’m away.”
She nodded. “I’m going to Bastion next year though, so you better watch out.”
The patio door slid open, and Suyi stepped out with two steaming mugs. “Tonic time,” she said with a smile, then she looked to Eun-bi. “Did you get it out of him?”
My eyes narrowed on my oldest sister, and I crossed my arms. “Were the tears even real?”
Eun-bi’s mouth dropped open, appalled. “Yes, of course! And no, I didn’t,” she said as she took the steaming cup from Suyi.
“Shame,” Suyi said with a sigh and handed me my cup. “I guess we’ll just have to find out when strange men show up at the apartment.”
That was low.
“No one is going to be showing up here, I made sure of that.” I took a sip of the bitter tonic. I was getting accustomed to the flavor, though I still wouldn’t call it pleasant.
This special blend of herbs was designed by Suyi herself—with a little help from Cho—to purify the body by cleansing lingering munje out of the system. It was a helpful drink for me and the others if we didn’t want to spend the time cycling, but it was a lifesaving drink for Mother.
Our mother’s munje activated and attracted the core deteriorating malware we had yet to resolve, and so getting that out of her body through herbal cleanses meant that she’d have greater health for a longer time. It gave us precious years to research and work on a cure, and gave us all more time as a family.
The three-times daily tonic had Mother back to good health, and with that, the smiles returned too. Of course, Mother didn’t like being the only one forced to drink special tonics every day, and it made everything easier on all of us if we maintained the same regimen.
I downed the rest of the drink and went on. “Ryni has the sharpest eyes in the business, and she’s got her eyes on the doors all the time. There’s Gon-ju, Sam, and Babi, too. Someone will always be watching over you and this home.”
“And who’s going to watch over you?” Suyi asked.
“Hana will be with me, so will Cho and Yuri. There’ll be several instructors and sixteen other exchange students going, too. Nothing bad will happen to us.”
Suyi nodded at Eun-bi. “Hana, Cho, and Yuri know too. Maybe we could question them?”
I growled in frustration and opened the patio door. “You two are the worst.”
“Love you, Brother!” Eun-bi said with a bright smile, and the two girls giggled.
I closed the door on them with a playful sneer.
“Hyeong, look!” Mini said and turned her paper to me.
My heart thudded in my chest as I looked on the chilling scene from a few months ago. It was me, floating in the blackened garden, surrounded by the green life-force munje of everything I’d destroyed. She’d captured my likeness with striking accuracy, so much it raised goosebumps on my arms.
I swallowed hard and took a gasping breath. “That’s really good, miss Minjee.”
“Thanks,” she said with a smile, and returned the page to the table to finish coloring.
Mini was struggling to adjust to kingdom life, and she often liked to draw our old farm. Mother looked up at me with compassion in her eyes. Sorry, that look said. She knew how much it hurt me to think of what I’d done—the crime I’d committed against Jigu.
I waved the painful memory away and moved to the kitchen to clean up. The ruined house flashed in my mind as I sponged the bowls clean.
“Stop it,” Mae whispered. “There’s no more that can be done now than what Se-hun is already doing.”
Se-hun, my best friend from Primary, promised to have the old farm back better than ever before the end of next year, and I believed him. He’d been promoted at the arborum and was getting good lumber at a discount. I had no doubt the house would be twice as large as when we’d lived in it, with secret rooms and space for everyone, not that we’d be back any time soon.
Mother knew moving back to the farm wouldn’t be an option until the problem was handled. Mother also knew that problem couldn’t be handled unless I went to Kokyu. She was scared, but hadn’t fought for me to stay. That alone warmed my heart. She believed in me.
“Us,” Mae said in my mind.
‘Right,’ I thought with a smile.
Mother had been skeptical of Mae at first, even defensive, but as mother had healed from all our hard work, the trust grew. Now, Mae was as much a part of the family as Hana, or Se-hun. I felt Mae’s joy bubble up at the edges of my consciousness, like she was dancing happily across my mind.
I grinned at her happiness and swirled en munje between my fingers to rinse the dishes clean. In one swift movement, I pulled all the water off them and dropped it into the sink, then returned the clean, dry dishes to their cabinets.
“You’ll be leaving so soon,” Mother said from the doorway.
“A few weeks of class first, but yes, it’s upon us.”
She was quiet, but didn’t move. I turned to look at her. She had her arms crossed tight over her chest, just like Eun-bi did.
“Everything will be fine,” I said, patting her shoulders.
“I know. You’ve gotten so strong... but what if it’s not okay? I know who you will face if things take a turn for the worst.” She held me at arm’s length. “What will we do without you?”
“Well, Woong-ji will need a new apprentice, and the twins are getting a little too good at my job,” I smirked, and Mother put her hands on her hips.
“This is serious,” she said in a hushed voice.
My expression went blank. “I’m being serious. You don’t need me anymore. Eun-bi has a job—”
“That may not work out for the best,” Mother cut in, and I sighed.
“She has a job for now, and Suyi will have a good apprenticeship in no time at all. The twins are right behind them and getting cleverer every day.”
Mother tutted. “Too clever.”
“We’ve saved a small fortune compared to what we’ve survived on for years, and even with no munje, there are opportunities for you to work in the kingdom. Woong-ji and her staff are watching over you. You’ll never be in danger.”
She took a silent moment to consider it all, her eyes shimmering with tears. “You have it all planned out, do you?” she asked, devastation thick in her words.
I sighed. “I’m planning on coming back, but if I can’t... there had to be another way forward for you.”
She shook her head. “You’re always scheming.”
I smirked again. “And I almost always get what I want.”
“You blew up the farm on purpose then?” she asked with playful intent that felt sour in my heart. My cheeks burned with guilt and I looked down.
She cradled my cheek, lifting my gaze back to hers. Her face softened. “I’m sorry. I was trying to be funny. I really frustrated you, didn’t I.”
I took a deep breath and cleansed myself of the shame. “So that’s where they get it from,” I replied with the same playful tone.
We turned from the kitchen and walked to the table where Minjee was still coloring.
“Where who gets what from?” Mother asked with pointed interest.
“Eun-bi and Suyi. They’ll be excellent interrogators one day.”
Mother laughed out loud, prompting a giggle from Daegon and Minjee—though I was sure the joke was beyond them. I laughed with them, sustaining the joy a moment longer.
It was good to hear her laugh like that. It had been so long. Too long. And I wasn’t going to give it up so easily now that we had happiness. We couldn’t fail in Kokyu. I could die if it meant that Dokun couldn’t enact his terrible plot against them and the thousands of families in Busa-nan.
This was too precious to lose.
Chapter 3
DEEP NAVY MUNJE SWIRLED from my core in my mind’s eye and flowed up my chest. The magic tingled as it surged up my neck and engulfed my skull. I breathed through my nose and cycled another round of energy. The raw power surged through the ry block on the second band, down to the zo block on the first, and then into the core crystal.
My third band was started, but due to our intense training this summer, I hadn’t made as much progress on it as I’d wanted. Most of the spells we were learning required two munjes, and they’d been complicated to master... especially the mental shield, jang-ryzo.
In my mind’s eye, the dark blue munje flowed up my spine and reinforced the barrier already started around my skull. This much would last at least ten hours. I would have to reinforce it again after dinner. Maintaining the jang-ryzo at all times was one of the requirements from Min-hwan to pass his training. Thanks to Hana, I’d been able to master it at the end of the last week of training.
The train in to school was quick and uneventful. I met the Bastion Bros—a nickname Yuri had coined for the five of us in on the Kokyu Secret—and we moved through the gates with the swarm of bright-eyed students. The courtyard was already teeming with the first-years, holding tight to their bags and their fresh doboks, waiting to get their class schedule.
The Kokyu Exchange students had their own, much shorter line to gather their things, which were many. On top of the schedule we would use for the first five weeks at Bastion, and the ID card, we received a disc thick with forms for us to fill out for the program.
“Sorry, but what is all this?” I asked Sung-ki as he handed a disc to Cho.
“It’s the new customs documentation Kokyu requires of everyone entering their borders. It started just this year. I’m sure it’s a bureaucratic nightmare,” he replied, shaking his head.
I used a bit of ma munje to activate the device and scroll through the lists. My typing skills had improved only marginally since first-year. A question caught my eye and I stopped scrolling, then went back.
“What is the family name of your father?”
My blood pumped faster. “Sung-ki, they’re asking some interesting questions,” I said as I held the device out to him.
>
Sung-ki groaned. “Yes, I’m sure someone wants to know who is coming into the kingdom.”
I got the message. Dokun wanted to know exactly who of us were coming, and to which school we would be going. I wondered if he had used the mass potion poison event in Busa-nan to push this idea of stringent exchange applications forward. Up front he would have a great reason, something like, “To ensure no unsavory people will be entering the kingdom. People with a history of radical thinking or family members who fought in the war.”
But Dokun’s true motive was to find me—and anyone aiding me.
“Oh, and we’ll need those back by the end of the first week,” Sung-ki said before I turned away. “We have to ship those back to Kokyu so they can evaluate them in advance.”
So, Dokun would know before I even got there. It was a stroke of genius that would put us at a disadvantage immediately. Dokun would have plenty of time to talk to the instructors of our transfer school or rig traps into my dorm room.
“Hey,” Hana’s familiar voice eased my frustration. She was getting her supplies from Woong-ji, and looking stunning in the process. I didn’t understand how she made the Bastion uniform look so good.
I smiled. “Hi.”
“Hey Jiyong! So glad to see you after so long,” Yuri said with unnecessary emphasis. Sung-ki glared her down. Our training hadn’t been public knowledge, or else every wansil parent of a Bastion student would demand summer classes with Min-hwan. It was also to keep our mission a secret.
If anyone knew we’d trained with one of the most highly skilled Grandmasters in Busa-nan when we were going to Kokyu at the start of the third year, some heads would turn, and information would leak. There was no doubt that Dokun had his own agents planted within the Busa-nan kingdom, watching and reporting on many goings-on, but we’d been cautious with our meetings, and kept them very exclusive. It’d be unlikely he’d know we were trained.
“What’s this?” Hana asked Woong-ji when she received the Kokyu visiting documentation disc.
My heart sank. Hana was going to find that question just the same as I did, and she’d have the same exact thought. I knew she was going to use it against me to convince me not to go. This information could put our mission at risk, it was true. Dokun might not yet know everyone who was involved...
