by J D Astra
School was still in session when we arrived, and the students on campus didn’t know how to receive us. Some clapped or cheered, cried grateful tears, and some still kept their distance with suspicious glances. Min-hwan met us in the main hall and ferried us out of sight to his office.
I set Mae’s second device on the table and showed him everything it had captured. We talked about Dokun’s address to his people, his declaration of peace in Chi-ganya, and the likely deaths of our instructors.
“Oh,” was all he said when we’d finished. He got up from his desk and moved to the back of the room to brew a pot of tea.
Perhaps it was the several days’ hiking through the mountains, or the half week at sea trapped in a tin can, but I was low on patience. “Grandmaster, what is our next move?”
He continued making tea. “There isn’t one.”
“But there has to be. They killed Woong-ji and Sung-ki, Ko-nah, two of our classmates! Dokun fed the people of Kokyu lies and took the city out from under them. He’s building a base in Chi-ganya to deploy satellites!” I reminded, as if that would spark Min-hwan into action.
He nodded. “And King Il-suk will be working with Dokun to resolve these issues and get reparations.”
“Reparations?” Hana yelled and jumped to her feet.
Yuri cut in before Hana could go on. “Grandmaster, I don’t mean to be rude, but you do know that he’s trying to enslave the world and strip us of our munje, right?”
“Yes. I understand the implications of the information you’ve uncovered,” he said.
“So then why don’t you want to do anything about it?” Shin-soo asked, an angry growl in his voice.
“Something is already being done about it,” Cho said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. I looked at him, puzzled, and he sighed. “He’s taken another Silent Pact. They’ve already sent others to clean up our mess. Min-hwan was right. We weren’t ready.”
Shame burned up my cheeks.
Min-hwan poured the tea and brought the tray of treats to his desk. “You may return to Bastion next year, if you wish.”
I swirled a plume of red munje between my fingers. “Will you teach me how to control this?”
Min-hwan straightened. “This munje is dangerous, and its use outlawed. I will not train you, nor will any Bastion instructor.”
How could he deny me control over knowledge I already had?
“If I can’t use it effectively, I’m a danger to myself and others,” I said.
“I could teach you to suppress it, and help you safely deconstruct the rings that can generate it,” he replied with a dip of his head.
I pushed my seat back. “If you won’t teach me, I know someone who will.”
Min-hwan didn’t move, but all at once his presence darkened and the room grew cold. It was like a thousand meters of crushing water dropped on top of me.
“Any student caught practicing the forbidden arts of the red munje will be expelled, permanently, and the king will have more severe punishments in mind. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
Min-hwan didn’t know what I knew about Minjee—information I’d kept exclusively myself for her safety. He didn’t know how bad I needed to learn this magic, so when Dokun came for her, I could protect my family. But if I told the Grandmaster so he could help protect her, he might deem Minjee too dangerous to exist.
I dropped into my seat. “No, sir.”
“You may return to your homes to rest, but I’d like you back for the remainder of the semester in one week.”
“Our instructors and classmates, sir? When will we hold a service for them?” Cho asked.
“For your classmates, we will perform the passage ritual on the day of your return, but I’m afraid we cannot publicly hold a service for those who’ve committed treason.”
Min-hwan’s words burned through my heart with angry fire—but this was what we’d signed up for. This was the price we had to pay.
“That will be all. Please get some rest.” Min-hwan excused us.
I stared out the train window all the way home. Hana’s arm was looped in mine, but loosely. We didn’t speak. There was nothing we could say. I had a difficult choice ahead of me, but one that I didn’t have to make for another several months. Would I return to Bastion next year, or risk branding myself and my family as traitors to train with my father?
Hana came up with me to the apartment, and we did our best to cleanse our minds of the troubles before entering. Mother’s smile lit up the whole apartment when she saw our faces. She ran into my arms, pulling Hana close, too, and kissing our foreheads.
Mother grabbed my face in hands covered with sticky rice. “You look different,” she said softly.
I nodded. “A lot has happened.”
“But you all made it back,” she said beaming.
“Not all of us,” Hana whispered.
Mother’s face scrunched in fear. “Oh no. What happened?”
“Woong-ji, Sung-ki, two of our schoolmates, and a few others... among hundreds or maybe thousands of Kokyu citizens,” I said, anger swirling in me. I took a breath and let the hate drift away on my exhale. The poison in my heart would do me no good and only upset my mother.
She nodded. “I’d heard about the incident, the—” she glanced around the room, then whispered—“the coup.”
Minjee came rushing around the corner and barreled into me, a broad smile on her face.
“How are you, little Mini?” I asked.
She pulled her notebook from her pocket and scribbled a few words. “I’m so happy you’re home.”
“Me too,” I said, hugging her tightly as confusion coursed through me. I looked up at Mother, who only shook her head sadly.
“Minjee, don’t you have anything to say to me?” I asked.
She looked up from my chest, her dark eyes hiding something. I pulled back and dropped to one knee, getting us eye to eye.
“What’s wrong?”
She pulled up her notebook and scribbled again. “My throat hurts from tests.”
I scowled and looked up at Mother. “What tests?”
She was furious, arms crossed and face red. “I’ve pulled her from school for now. I asked for their data, what they were doing to her, and they refused to give it to me.”
The blood drained from my face. “I’ll get it handled tonight.”
I doubted the facility would have any greater protections than Yamato Corp, and with a little uw munje, the new and improved Tuko would be a force to be reckoned with. I’d get that information one way or another, and then erase everything they had on her.
I smiled at Minjee. “I’m sorry about your throat. Maybe Suyi could make you a tonic?”
She nodded with a wide smile.
We moved into the house, trying not to let this darken the mood. Hana helped Mother with dinner while Minjee and I cleaned up. The boys were ecstatic to see us, and Daegon wouldn’t leave me alone for a second. Eun-bi and Suyi embraced me, but their hugs felt distant. I tried to pay it no mind and keep the evening cheerful.
After dinner, we played several games of qua-mon—a dice game where the purpose is to cheat, but not get caught. Hana claimed more victories than any of us wanted to admit. It was still a school night, and most of the kids—save Eun-bi and Minjee—would need to be up early, so they were all sent to bed.
I was right in my assumption about Minjee’s school. It wasn’t well protected—not that they knew they needed to protect against someone like me. Mae and I found their storage systems easily. We copied Minjee’s information to the secondary device, then destroyed her data on their servers so they couldn’t send it on. Perhaps they already had, which was something we would investigate, but I hoped for all their sakes they hadn’t. I wouldn’t be kind to anyone sharing our information with Dokun.
Over the last few weeks of school, Hana, Yuri, Cho, Shin-soo, and I told the students and instructors we would host a private service for Woong-ji and Sung-ki, since nothing p
ublic would be done at Bastion. Most of the students were open to the idea, but some were in stark opposition. Numane led a group to condemn the instructors for their treachery, trying to stop us from holding it, but in the end, after the last day of school, we gathered on the grounds of Yuri’s private estate without interruption.
Cherry blossoms of gold, white, and pink bloomed in the garden where we gathered. Fresh water trickled between koi ponds, and bamboo bridges connected the islands of peace. Hanging chimes rang out in the breeze, warding off bad spirits, and lanterns lit the way for lost souls.
Hundreds of students, instructors, and family members gathered, spread between the many islands. Soo-yon, Sung-ki’s wife and mother of their three children, spoke a brief yet poignant eulogy. She reminded us of his boundless love for teaching and for his children. The trio of boys, eight, ten, and thirteen, held their tears back during the service.
Ryni stood to represent Woong-ji, but had difficulty getting out a single word in her memory. When it was apparent she couldn’t overcome her tears to finish her speech, Babi—the bouncer for the Rabbit—helped her.
Babi took Ryni’s parchment in his hand and read, “‘Woong-ji never married or had children, but gathered her family about her from the aimless, the hopeless, and the lost. She showed every one of us a light in times of darkness—and not just the giant crystals in the stadium,’” he paused to chuckle, then looked at Ryni. “That’s a good one.”
“‘That light lives in all of us now, and we must shine brightly in these dark times,’” he concluded, holding tight to Ryni as she silently sobbed.
At that, we raised our hands to offer up our zo munje. Soo-yon gathered the munje in the towering statue of Sung-ki, and Ryni shaped the image of Woong-ji—wild hair and all. The zo statues bowed, and I dropped to my knees to press my face to the ground. I stayed that way for many minutes, after the zo had drifted away on the wind and the crowd thinned.
When only a few of us remained, Ryni came and knelt at my side. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
Kokyu had since reported on their deaths, stating they fell fighting a group of Enjiho. I didn’t know if this wasn’t true. I wasn’t sure if I believed she was dead, nor Sung-ki. Or perhaps that was my childish desire to hope for a future that wasn’t so grim.
I put my hand on Ryni’s shoulder. “Like you said, her light lives in all of us.”
Ryni frowned and shook her head. “I don’t feel any light in me right now.”
“I know. I don’t either,” I whispered.
We sat in silence for another few minutes, and then Ryni climbed to her feet. “I have something I need to show you back at the Rabbit. Do you have time tonight, after sundown?”
“I’ll be there,” I said.
She tried to smile, but her lips didn’t look quite right. Then she waved and left.
My family had come to the service as well, since Woong-ji had been like an aunt to the boys. They were exhausted from tears—those Daegon had shed and Do-hwan had suppressed. They were both asleep by the time the train hit the lower east district of our home, so Hana and I carried them the rest of the way.
When everyone was tucked in, I hugged my mother. She didn’t let go when I did, and for a moment, I felt trapped in her embrace. Over the years of her decline, physical touch had become so painful for her, and I learned to keep my hugs brief. I wrapped my arms back around her and hugged as long as she wanted.
She released me, then smiled somberly and said, “Ryni has something for you?”
I nodded.
“You better not keep her waiting.” She went back to the kitchen, tidying things that didn’t need tidying and keeping herself busy.
Ryni wasn’t behind the bar when I came down, but sitting in front of it like a patron. She ordered me a drink—the same amber liquid Woong-ji had given me to celebrate in my second year. We toasted her memory, and I didn’t even wrinkle my nose when I drank it back. The liquid warmed my stomach and invigorated my core, with the added effect of a slight head-buzz.
“Come on,” Ryni slurred and hopped off her bar stool.
I followed her to the back, then down the hall to Woong-ji’s workroom. It was twice the size of mine, and at least twice as messy. Ryni moved aside some boxes at her work desk in the center, then opened one of the lower drawers.
She pulled out a disc and handed it to me, then pulled another from her own pocket.
Ryni pressed a button on the side of her disc, and a sharp pin popped out. She pressed her thumb against it, and I noticed several red pinpricks covering the skin of her finger. When the pin retracted, the device sputtered to life with a still image of Woong-ji.
“I don’t know how to start this message. Ryni, you’ve been more than a good business partner, you’ve been a loyal friend. If I’d had a daughter, I would’ve wanted her to be just like you—”
Tears dripped from Ryni’s chin, and she flicked her fingers through the display. The voice and images accelerated by in a blur, and she stopped when the image of the Rabid Rabbit appeared.
“I’ve signed my last will leaving the Rabid Rabbit to you, at eighty percent ownership. The other twenty is to be divided up among the others as you see fit. I know you’re going to run it even better than I did—you’re so organized and disciplined!” Woong-ji laughed in her recording, and my nose burned from the onset of tears.
Ryni clicked the button again, and the display cut out.
I took a moment to sniff back the mist in my eyes, then nodded to Ryni. The message was loud and clear. “I wasn’t going to challenge you for the Rabbit. I know how much you love it. Plus, I have school, and don’t even know how to run a business.”
Ryni smiled, this time naturally. “I was just showing you mine, so you can see how to work yours.”
My throat constricted as I looked down at the disc in my hand. When had Woong-ji recorded it? What might it say?
“I’ll leave so you can open it in here, in private.” She touched my shoulder, then left me. The room felt too big, like I was a child in his mother’s office. All her tools lay quiet, and their silence threatened to swallow me up.
I took a deep breath and pressed the button on the bottom, revealing the pin. I pressed my thumb into it and felt the device extract a fraction of my blood.
“Jiyong,” Woong-ji’s voice wrapped around me and silenced my thoughts. “You once asked why me? I’d told you it had just been a feeling, that it was nothing particular, and certainly nothing special.”
She trailed off, and I shook the device to ensure it was still working. “I wanted to say something wonderful. I wanted to tell you I picked you because of your strength, your determination, your absolute unwillingness to fail... and those were traits I very much admired in you that blossomed as you grew. But that’s not the real reason.”
She took a deep breath and let it all out. “I’m still bound by my pact, so explaining this will be difficult, but you must know. This has all been going on since before you came to Bastion, back almost forty years ago. I met a certain man on the battlefield, and when I saw your face, I saw him.”
She hissed in pain, then went on again after a moment. “I must kill that man, and you’re going with me. His personality is magnetizing and his purpose seductive. He seduced me with it, for a time...”
The pain raked over her, coming through in her clenched teeth and haggard breaths. I wished she would stop. I wished she’d had something kind and simple to tell me. Why did it have to be this?
“There will be hard choices ahead for you. Your allegiance to Busa-nan will be tested, if it hasn’t been already. I fear he will try to take you.”
And that was why she’d tried to send me away.
“Your munje is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. You’re a genius and a wonder. Mae, you too.” Her voice was strained, like the pain had taken everything out of her.
Another voice came from the background. “Need anything?” Ryni asked from some distant place in the room where Woong-
ji had been recording. My gaze fell on the chair at her desk. She was probably sitting right there.
I pulled the chair out and sat.
“I’m fine. Almost ready,” Woong-ji said to the Ryni of the past.
When the door closed, Woong-ji went on. “I’ve left you something in my vault—well, the whole vault really. And I’ve left Ryni instructions to give you my workroom and raise your hourly rate.”
She took another deep breath. “I’ve failed you.”
“No,” I murmured, my vision blurring.
“I wanted to do more for you—for your family. After everything I’ve done to help bring about this future...”
She grunted in pain once more and there was a clattering, as if the recording device had fallen to the floor. I clutched the disc in my hand and leaned forward, urging her to pick it up and go on. Don’t leave me like this.
“Oh my,” Woong-ji’s voice was quiet and strained in the recording. “I seem to have said too much.” I heard her lean forward in the squeaky chair and retrieve the disc.
“I hope you can accept this offer without balking, but I’d like for your family to stay free of charge, indefinitely. You’ll never have to worry about their rent, and that’s one less thing for your already troubled mind.” She chuckled weakly and I smiled, hot tears spilling down my cheeks.
“I’d wanted to do so much more—”
“Master?” I heard my own voice on the recording. “It’s time.”
Woong-ji hummed. “It’s my time. I accept it.”
I remembered these words. It was the night before the last major gauntlet of the summer! She’d squared off against the Iron Mountain. It was an amazing fight, and of course Woong-ji had won.
“Farewell, Jiyong.” Woong-ji’s voice was soft, and I knew she’d been smiling.
“What do you mean? I’m right here—”
