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He winced at the sound of Halmeoni’s voice, forgetting the report and all thoughts of murdered salarymen. Murder seemed like nothing when faced with his halmeoni’s rage.

15

MIYOUNG SLUNK INTOthe house, slipping off her shoes, and let her backpack drop from her shoulder in the middle of the room. The clutter would annoy her mother, but she didn’t have the energy to carry everything upstairs right now.

She dropped onto the couch, planting her face into the soft pillows. Her eyes burned with tears, and she shoved her face deeper into the pillows to catch them.

She shouldn’t have left Jihoon.

He liked to do idiotic things, but that didn’t mean she had to let him. He was so infuriating. She punched her fist into the pillows beside her head.

She kept remembering the anxious concern on Jihoon’s face as he’d told her to run. It felt odd to think it had been for her. More unsettling was that she’d accepted his help without a second thought. In that moment, when she’d fled, she’d trusted him.

Miyoung rolled onto her back, staring at the great vaulted ceiling. Through the skylights shone the moon, days away from full. It pulled at her hunger, magnified it. So deep and painful she wanted to curl into herself.

At the sound of feet on the stairs, Miyoung sat up quickly. She smoothed out her messy hair and stood.

“Mother, you’re home.”

“Were you crying?” Yena stood at the base of the stairs, assessing Miyoung with sharp eyes.

“Of course not.” Miyoung fought the urge to wipe her hands over her cheeks to search for tears.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” It was the first time Miyoung had blatantly lied to her mother.

Yena stood so still, Miyoung wondered if she’d somehow broken her.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

Miyoung’s heart sped, and sweat beaded against her scalp despite the cool air.

“Perhaps you want to explain what this is.” Yena pulled a manila envelope from her pocket.

“It’s not what you think.” Miyoung tried desperately to think of a way to explain herself without toppling all of the secrets she’d kept stacked away.

“What have I told you about this kind of magic?” Yena waved the envelope like a flag of shame at Miyoung.

“I need it.”

“You will tell me what’s going on. Now.” Yena’s command filled the space so there was no room for argument.

“I can’t.” Miyoung silently prayed her mother would let it go, just this once.

“I’ll give you another chance to tell me the truth. Or so help me...” Yena didn’t need to finish. The disappointment on her face was more powerful than a thousand threats.

“It’s my bead, something’s wrong—”

“I told you those don’t exist,” Yena said. “I don’t appreciate you lying to me.”

Frustration flooded Miyoung’s brain. She knew they existed and she couldn’t believe her mother, who’d lived for so long, wouldn’t also know it. Why would Yena want to keep this from her? “I’m not lying. If you’d just listen—”

The crack of Yena’s palm across Miyoung’s cheek echoed through the room.

“What have I done to deserve your disrespect?”

“Nothing.” Miyoung’s words were muffled by the hand she held over her cheek.