Subterfuge: A Cultivation Academy Series (Bastion Academy Book 3)

by J D Astra

  I’d never had a girlfriend, never thought to make time for one, but I had to admit it was nice having Hana hang off my arm. She was warm and smelled of lovely lilacs. I smiled down at her.

  Her lip curled back, and she whispered, “You’re vile.”

  “Hana,” the doppelganger warned sternly.

  She grinned, leaning her head against my shoulder as she hugged me tighter. “Oh, I love you so much. We’re inseparable.”

  He didn’t look pleased, but the double nodded. “Better. Let’s go.”

  We parted ways in the hall back to the reception area, and Hana tried to loosen her grip on my arm. “Ah, ah. Remember, every piece of the performance must be convincing. You’ve been hanging on Jiyong this whole trip, and it would look suspicious if you stopped now.”

  She grumbled under her breath, but kept the smile on her face and cozied back up next to me.

  We wound through the narrow halls and finally made it back to the grand lobby where the students mingled. Yuri and Shin-soo were gathered near the door to the auditorium, smiling while they talked. Yuri wasn’t faking, she was excited for the dance, but Shin-soo looked about as natural as a goat among wolves.

  “How was it?” Shin-soo blurted when he caught sight of us.

  “The dresses are so beautiful,” Hana remarked to Yuri with a wistful grin.

  Yuri’s eyes sparkled, and she balled herself up, trembling with excitement. “I can’t wait!”

  “Here you are,” Yamamotto said, dropping his hand on my shoulder.

  I smiled. “Yes, sorry it took so long. We, uh—” I brought a blush to my face—“got distracted.”

  Hana scowled at the implication, her own cheeks going red. Good, that looked convincing, too.

  Yamamotto laughed. “Oh, to be young.”

  Chimes dinged overhead, and the din of chatter around us faded.

  “Come along, I’ve reserved the best box for the three of us.” The would-be tyrant patted me on the shoulder, and pain rippled from the claws stuck in me. He hadn’t touched the machina itself, which was a relief punctuated by the physical pain.

  We waved farewell to Cho, Yuri, and Shin-soo, promising to meet up at the intermission. Yamamotto lead us to a set of stairs on the far end of the hall, then up to a secondary walkway. Hana’s grip was tight on my bicep, and I patted her hand gently. It was all going to be fine—other than the irritating itch of this machina lodged in my spine.

  The walkway narrowed as we rounded away from the atrium, and little doors popped up every few meters. Yamamotto opened the door labeled Box Five and waved us in. It was a lavish balcony with velvet drapes the color of midnight and plush seats—two rows of two—aligned with the stage. Yamamotto wasn’t wrong, we’d have the best view of the show from here, and we weren’t with the expendables.

  I showed Hana to the first seat in the back row like a gentleman would, and she thanked me, then sat delicately on the edge.

  “Oh no, take the front. You’ll want to see everything clearly.” The older man smiled and grabbed Hana by the elbow, leading her forward.

  I took the seat left vacant by Hana, and Yamamotto frowned. “You don’t want to sit with her?”

  I smiled. “How often do I get to see a performance with my jobu-ke?” I used the Busaneo word, just to drive home my Jiyong-ness.

  “All right, then,” he said with a chuckle and took the seat next to mine.

  Hana fidgeted as we sat in silence, then rotated in her seat to look at me lovingly. “I’m so excited.”

  My heart fluttered for a fraction, and I smiled back. “Me too.”

  By Jigu, she was good when she wanted to be.

  “Hana, you’re a dancer, are you not?” Yamamotto asked.

  “Mm-hmm. But I had a bit of a fall from grace,” she said with a wrinkle-nosed shrug.

  “How so?”

  “I made choices my former mother disapproved of. It cost my inheritance, but it was an easy price to pay, for him.” She looked at me with another coy smile, then reached out. The butterflies returned, and I took her hand in mine. Even the thrill of pretending she was mine had my heart beating fast, but I reminded myself it was all an act.

  Yamamotto scowled. “You lost everything for him?”

  Hana nodded. “Even my name.”

  He looked at me. “That’s true love, my boy.”

  “I know.” I grinned, basking in pretend love for however long it could last.

  The lights overhead dimmed low, and the audience clapped. Hana turned back to the stage, and we joined in clapping as the curtain rose. Six figures sat motionless on the blue-lit stage. The four women were dressed in silver silk, and the two men, a deep purple—symbolizing the main colors of ry munje.

  The ceiling far above was a fair white stone, reflecting the light of the stage to create an aurora glow. Two stagehands in tight black suits walked tall on nearly invisible catwalks overhead. They pushed and pulled the light, shaping it into rippling clouds.

  Gentle flute tones drifted on the air, quiet at first, but as the volume lifted, so did the dancers. They moved in exaggerated unison, as if waking from a long slumber and stretching. The dancers continued these slow movements, drifting across the stage like snow blowing over the mountains.

  The dance was enchanting, but my gaze kept drifting to the back of Hana’s head. Her hair was up in a loose bun that left strands of silky black hair hanging around her neck. Her skin was fair and smooth. The blue light of the stage highlighted her high cheekbones and delicate ears. She was beautiful. It was no wonder Shin-soo fought so hard for her.

  But she was more than beauty to Jiyong. She was fire, strength, grace, light, and life—among other qualities like nearly intolerable stubbornness and a severe adrenaline addiction. I’d heard enough of his thoughts to know how enduring their love was, despite both of their flaws. I’d envied him more than once in the years we attended school, but never because of Hana. This was a first.

  Yamamotto leaned close to me. “The show is over here,” he said, pointing toward the stage.

  “Yes, jobu-ke,” I replied, a real blush coming to my cheeks this time.

  He chuckled silently and returned his attention to the performance. I didn’t let my eyes or my thoughts wander back to Hana, reminding myself that at any moment, everything could be turned upside-down. We had no idea what kind of attack was going to be used, but given the nature of the many others, we had to assume it would be a powerful munje user—perhaps more than one.

  I kept my face pointed at the stage and allowed my gaze to wander around the room, taking note of objects, materials, and people. The terrorist might have already been inside the building, and could even be Yamamotto himself.

  No. He wouldn’t jeopardize his reputation in such a way. He’d try to look like the hero.

  The halls had mainly been constructed with wood—nothing he could manipulate with en or li. The front was glass and steel, and while those could be manipulated, it would be difficult. The chairs and curtains were all out of the question too, nothing to do with those except perhaps set them on fire...

  The ceiling. I looked up again to the white stone above, and the hundreds of students below. The nerves in my stomach squeezed at the image of heavy stone slabs crushing them. Yes, that was a likely scenario. If only the Bastions had been able to break their Silent Pact and tell me anything that would’ve been of use, I wouldn’t have been puzzling it all out on my own. Fortunately, I wasn’t a complete dunce.

  The slow opening dance faded out to silence, the dancers going still once more. We clapped when the lights dimmed out, which covered the sounds of pattering feet as the stagehands moved the backdrops for the next set.

  I had filled my reservoir to bursting with ry munje, not knowing how long I’d have to maintain the Jiyong façade, but now I thought it wise to recycle some into en. Even if my mask failed me too soon, that would be better than letting all these people die in such a horrible way. Jiyong was down there, too... Without him and Mae
, the rest of this mission was moot.

  The stage came to life once more, this time in an explosion of bright orange. My heart hammered for a second and I jumped, thinking this may be the attack, but it was only the performance. Yamamotto patted my shoulder, and I sighed, then leaned back.

  Men and women in the colors of fall twirled and weaved across the stage like autumn leaves caught in a strong breeze. The music was fast paced, giving my nerves a jolt of frenzy. I was too on edge for this. I could imagine this was how Jiyong, Hana, and the others felt. We all knew something terrible was coming, and every second we sat here brought us another moment closer to that event.

  There was a good chance my intuition was right on the ceiling, and so I committed. I dropped my hand over the side of my chair and let as much en munje as I dared leak into the floor. I felt the mild reply from the composite stone and sensed the dead emptiness of the wood and rugs.

  I raised my arms in a stretch, guiding the munje up the walls toward the ceiling. I didn’t know how many more stretches I could get away with before Yamamotto said something. I did it again and again over the course of the next two dances until finally he leaned over.

  “Tired?” he whispered to me.

  I shook my head with a scowl, then muffled a fake yawn.

  “We’re almost to the first break,” he said with a knowing smile, then sat back in his chair.

  I glanced down, trying to catch a glimpse of the audience. There, in the third row, I caught sight of my distinctive hairstyle. My body-double looked up to the massive ceiling, and the intense dread of failure washed over me. He’d figured out the same as me, and his ghost was likely to come to the same conclusion.

  There was no way I could contain the whole ceiling from collapsing, even with all the munje I’d poured into it. It wouldn’t be enough, and there was nothing I could do to save them all.

  Chapter 34

  MY KNEE BOUNCED, EMITTING a tap-tap-tap from my heel smacking the stone floor. My shoes felt two sizes too small, as did the rest of my compressed body. Cho towered beside me in the plush seat, obstructing my view of the balcony.

  I leaned forward again to catch a glimpse of them. Hana was the only person I could make out. She sat alone in the front row, and shadows of tall men sat behind her. My palms clammed up as thoughts of betrayal swam through my head. Jigu be damned, if Ko-nah hurt Hana in any way, I would invoke every ancient dark magic to hunt him down and destroy him.

  “Jiyong, you have to calm down,” Mae whispered to me.

  I turned my head back to the stage, watching the performance.

  Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

  The urge to look around Cho pulled my chest forward, but I sat back. She was right. I needed to calm down. Hana was strong and very capable. If she were in trouble, she’d likely have a better chance of escape than any of the rest of us. Thespra was strapped to Ko-nah’s back. If he made one wrong move, I could sever his spinal cord with two easy swipes.

  “That was dark, Jiyong. Where is your head?” Mae said with a hint of shame.

  I took a deep breath. My head was circling around fear for Hana’s wellbeing, not on the mission. This was the exact thinking that could get her, or others, hurt. I had to be present, calm, and aware. I had to be able to react in an instant.

  I recalled the moment I’d felt danger in my heart, looking into the reflective visor of the terrorist in the other train. He’d had a smirk on his stubbled face—like he was excited to do it. My leg stopped short mid-bounce and heat filled my chest.

  Anger wasn’t better than fear.

  I had to be still if I was going to think clearly.

  I closed my eyes and took a long inhale through my nose. Air filled my belly, and I let my hands rest on my knees. Another breath, deeper still, and out. The air coming in was chilled and smelled of the perfumed dancers. The music stilled my thoughts, carrying me into the moment. Thoughts came in flashing pictures: the child, the man, the train went down. I breathed and connected with the memory.

  The man appeared in my mind’s eye as a still, and this time it stayed.

  “I’ve stabilized the connection to this memory, so we can recall and rebuild data that may have started to fade due to trauma,” Mae said quietly.

  ‘Great work, Mae,’ I thought with a smile.

  My focus in that moment shifted all around, between the girl and the man, the floor, Hana, and then back to the man. The scene slid forward flash by flash—

  There. What is in his hand?

  The audience clapped, pulling me from thought. I opened my eyes and clapped along with them.

  ‘Mae, what was that?’ I asked, trying to keep my focus on the fuzzy object in his out-of-focus hand. There were freckles of light coming from the object, blues and golds.

  “Looks like another piece of my old systems. But why didn’t I detect it?” she wondered quietly.

  ‘Does this mean they’re using you to take over the trains?’ I asked, excitement growing in me.

  “Very likely. But why wouldn’t they just control it from the train station?”

  ‘Maybe they can’t?’

  “No, there has to be a larger system in play here operating all Dokun’s technology. I’d say it’d have to be an AI on my level of sophistication—which could be why it was so loud at Yamato Corp! Jiyong, that face in his office, I don’t think that was a trick! I think he has one of Japan’s AI!”

  I winced from her loud excitement, asking, ‘And this is a good thing?’

  “Oh, I never said that. What’s good about it is that I don’t think he has any pieces of me. I think Hiro had one of the only pieces—though I have no idea if my personality copied to all of them. There could be emotionless data crunchers out there who sign like me, but aren’t even close to being what I am.”

  The lights on the stage dimmed, and the set change began. Gentle music kept us company for the transition, and I closed my eyes once more. The image of the man appeared in my mind’s eye again.

  ‘If they could control it from the train depots but don’t, that means they have a specific reason for not wanting to.’

  “Correct. But why?”

  The answer struck me like a meteor. ‘Because he wants to boost public opinion of AI and machina. He’s playing the long game to win their hearts and minds. He wants proof that his AI tried to prevent the attacks, and that the terrorists came from the outside. He’ll use the Enjiho footage to capture everything, make a compelling story out of the footage, and sell it to them easily.’

  Mae cut me short. “But why wait? Why hold onto this data and direct several attacks to take place? Why not look like the hero now?”

  Ena appeared in my mind’s eye. “And you’re what, our fuhyō?”

  A sense of understanding washed over me as everything came together.

  ‘He was waiting for all the pieces to fall into place. He doesn’t just want to look like a hero and boost public opinion. He wants to frame someone for it all.’

  The lights came up, and a new stage was set. Cho’s sister Zari stood at the center of eight girls, all her junior. She was in her flowing mountain robe. The shawl that had been at her shoulders floated above her, dropping real snow that hung on her lashes and melted on her skin. A stringed instrument played a low, dreary tune.

  Zari twirled and the cloud above her blew away, turning and swirling into a vortex of white mist that engulfed the audience. I looked up, marveling at the tiny dots of snow. The balcony caught my attention, and I leaned back a little more to see it. Either Ko-nah or Dokun had their arms raised in the air, and twinkles of en munje drifted up the walls.

  The blue sparkle was hardly visible through the cloud, but I saw it snake up and behind them to the domed, stone ceiling.

  The ceiling...

  I’d remembered seeing the trains, some of them several kilometers in the air, and thinking how horrible it would be for one of them to go down. The passengers inside wouldn’t just be hurt, like the little girl and those others had been,
and whatever they hit would suffer severe casualties, too. I recalled our walk into the performance hall—the towering buildings around us all had trains ferrying passengers hundreds of meters in the air.

  ‘Mae, what can we do to stop a huge train from smashing through that ceiling and crushing us?’

  “Little to nothing. Reinforcing the ceiling, if that’s what Ko-nah is doing with his en, won’t stop a train from obliterating us.”

  My heart pounded in my throat, but I knew what I had to do. I couldn’t let everyone die here. I stood, terror vibrating in every centimeter of my body. Cho took one look at my face, and his eyes bulged like mine.

  “What is it?” he asked, dread in his voice.

  I sent ry to my throat. “Everyone has to get out! There’s going to be an attack on the Performance Hall!”

  The music faltered, and murmurs drifted up through the room.

  I moved past the students to the alley and raised my voice louder. “Run! Get out! It could happen at any moment!”

  An older woman with curling purple hair and an elegant dress boomed behind me from the stage, “Given the times, any threat on our lives must be taken seriously. Everyone, proceed out of the theater in an orderly fashion.”

  I refused to let my gaze drift up to Hana, no matter how desperately I wanted to look at her. I was Ko-nah, not Jiyong. Ko-nah wouldn’t look at Hana, and I had to keep the performance up if we were going to have any chance at accomplishing our mission.

  The hall grew louder as the students evacuated from the back rows first. The dancers fled the stage into the back rooms, Zari giving us one last look before disappearing behind the curtain.

  Cho waved her off, then bent down to whisper. “What’s going on?”

  “I think a train—”

  A roaring boom flattened me to the ground and deafened my ears. My head bounced against a chair cushion, and my vision went dark. When my sight returned, the bright world was spinning. I blinked and popped my ears, trying to regain equilibrium as my eyes focused on a dark object hanging above me.

  The ceiling was destroyed, and noon light streamed in on rays of brilliant color. I shook my head and looked once more at the massive chrome object hanging above my head, restrained by a swirl of red and blue munje. I’d seen Hiro support so much weight on nothing but air with the Valeria, somehow. How could they hold up all that metal with munje alone?