Page 22

CHAPTER 22

SUNHO

The Under World

Fourth Ward, the Outer Ring

SUNHO REACHED FOR the remainder of Ren’s coins to pay the boatman, an eccentric grandfather with an extraordinary beard. He’d fished Ren and Sunho, unconscious, out of the water shortly after they’d jumped from the bridge. The River Nakjin was actually the most direct route between Seorawon and the Under World, except from the Under World it was entirely upriver. That wasn’t the case from Seorawon, and they reached the Under World in three days, the boatman navigating the rapids and rocky parts of the river with impressive, if alarming, dexterity.

“Keep your coin,” he said, his gaze moving toward the back of the boat. “You’ll need it…” He stroked his beard, and several acorns hit the deck. “The celestial princess… is it truly her?”

Sunho eyed the boat docked beside theirs, where deckhands were unloading cargo from a ship—out of earshot. “I’m grateful to you for bringing us here,” he said. “And for what you did back in Seorawon. But it’ll be a problem if you can’t stay quiet.” Sunho slid his hand to his sword, wrapped in cloth across his lap, his meaning clear. He wondered if he should feel more guilt, threatening an old man. But he’d do worse to protect Ren.

The boatman let out a bark of laughter. “I might have doubted you after your heroic but ultimate defeat on that bridge—”

Sunho scowled.

“—but never have I been more reassured by a threat!”

With a grunt, he stood, placing a hand on Sunho’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, boy. Your secrets are safe with me.”

As the boatman left to finish unloading his cargo, Sunho stood. At the back of the vessel, curled atop a pile of fishing nets, Ren was sound asleep, her arms circled around a woven basket.

She’d slept for most of their journey. It was as if the power she’d called upon on the bridge had drained her of energy.

The power. The light. When Sunho closed his eyes, he could still see it. That brilliant silver light that had filled the whole sky.

That was the light that had started all this, that had called him, and the others, from so far a distance, like a beacon. And she had done it again. There had been dangers before; from now on, it would only get worse.

He recalled a conversation they’d had the night before, in one of the rare moments she’d been awake.

“Sunho?” The boat rocked gently beneath them—they were on a calmer stretch of the river, the water glowing in the moonlight. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

He wondered if he should be upset that she hadn’t told him the truth. He searched his heart for even a flicker of resentment, but felt only relief—that she was safe, that none of the hundred mercenaries, assassins, and killers had harmed her. Before, he’d told himself that there was nothing she could have said to him that would have made him turn from her. He had meant it.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” Her question was earnest. She must have felt overwhelmed with guilt—he needed to ask for something of equal value to her lie.

“Tell me your name.”

She blinked. “It’s Sareniya, the same as my mother’s. But even when I lived on the Floating World, no one called me that. They called me ‘Ren,’ for short.”

“Ren,” he repeated. The name suited her. It was lovely, and steady, like she was.

She blushed. “That can’t be it. There must be something else…”

“That’s enough for me.”

She looked to argue, but then she yawned, stretching her arms wide above her head before settling back onto the old fishing nets and falling asleep.

On the boat, Ren stirred, her eyelids fluttering before she opened them. She sat up groggily, rubbing at her eyes. He knew at once that she couldn’t see him, a crease forming between her brows.

“Sunho?” Her voice was small, hesitant.

“I’m here,” he said quickly, crouching beside her.

She reached out, her fingers curling around his sleeve. “It’s so dark. I can’t see a thing.”

“It’s still early yet,” he said. “The sun hasn’t risen.”

“The sun reaches the Under World?” She sounded hopeful.

“Not like you’re used to. But it won’t be as dark in an hour.”

She rose to her feet, still clinging to his sleeve. He guided her from the back of the boat down the rickety plank the dockworkers had set against the ship to facilitate the unloading of cargo. The water sloshed, inky in the darkness and thick with the stench of the sewers. As they neared the end of the dock, Sunho looked back to see the boatman on the deck, holding a lantern. He nodded at Sunho, glancing briefly in Ren’s direction before turning away.

Ren didn’t notice the exchange, her gaze trained upward, though it was unlikely she could see anything. Her pack slipped down her back, and she let go of his sleeve to catch it, fumbling in the darkness.

Reaching out, he grabbed her pack from her, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said. He took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “My apartment isn’t far from here.”

She kept close to him, occasionally bumping into his side. He regretted not asking the boatman for a lantern. Luckily the fourth ward sat adjacent to the fifth ward, and they reached his building without meeting anyone on the street.

The metal stairs groaned as they made their way to his rooftop apartment. Outside the door, he reached into an inner pocket of his robe, surprised to find he still had the key. Pushing it into the lock, he gave it a twist, shoving the door open when it caught at the frame.

His landlord had obviously been snooping around. He righted the single chair, then reached down to pick up the lantern heater, placing it on the small table. Striking a match, he brought the flame to the wick, and the lantern sputtered to life.

He picked through the containers on his counter, opening lids and sniffing the contents. A sound creaked behind him. He glanced over to see Ren had taken a seat on his small cot. He caught himself staring and looked away. He felt oddly restless, seeing her in the apartment he’d lived in for two years alone. He’d never invited anyone inside before. At the bottom of the last canister, he found a handful of dried tea leaves.

“Ren,” he said, and she looked up. He held up the canister. “Would you… like tea?”

She laughed, a bright, startling sound in the quiet of his apartment. “Yes, thank you.”

He had to go back outside to retrieve water from the wall spigot, then, placing the teapot above the flame, he turned up the burner. A quiet settled around them as they waited for the water to boil.

“Your place is… nice,” Ren said, gazing around the small room.

“It’s a dump.”

Her eyes widened, then she laughed. That sound again. Was it the quiet of the Under World that made it sound so bright? No, it had been bright from the beginning.

When the leaves finished steeping, he poured the tea into the cleanest and least damaged of his cups. He handed it to Ren, who took it between her fingers, blowing on the surface before bringing it to her lips.

He replaced the teapot with the lantern. Now that they were safe for a time, he could inspect the wound on his shoulder where the demon on the bridge had pierced him with its claws. He removed his robe and peeled back the bandage, wincing at the sharp pain. The boatman had done a thorough if uneven job stitching him up.

“Let me look at that,” Ren said, placing the cup on the floor and quickly moving to his side. Studying the wound, she shook her head. “I need more light.”

“Outside.” He stood, and she followed him from the apartment.

It wasn’t as dark as when they first arrived, though he wondered if she noticed. From the pinkish tint to the air, it must be close to dawn.

He led her to the raised platform in the middle of the rooftop.

“The house in the reed field had a platform like this,” she said, climbing up beside him after he’d sat down. She’d grabbed the teapot and a cloth from her pack before they’d left. Angling the spout, she poured a generous amount onto the cloth. “I would sometimes sit out there at night and look at the stars.”

He remembered that first night, when she’d cleaned and bound his wounds. Her fingers had been gentle. It was the same now. He closed his eyes as she pressed the warm cloth to his skin.

After a few minutes, she lowered her hand. “On the bridge, when the demon…” She took a shuddering breath. “I’d thought you…”

He opened his eyes. She was staring down at the cloth, stained blue with his blood.

She shook her head. “ Before that , something happened.” He knew what she spoke of, the moment when he felt as if his head were being split in two. “I didn’t know how to help you. Was it because of the darkness you spoke of?”

“I’m not sure.”

She nodded, lifting the cloth to his wound once more.

“I’d have to go back to the beginning to understand,” he said quietly. He drew in a long breath. What he was about to tell her, he’d never told anyone before. And Ren’s opinion of him mattered more than he thought imaginable. He didn’t want her to fear him. “Two years ago, I woke up without any memories, but I still knew I was different . I was faster, stronger. Minor wounds healed overnight. My senses were heightened, and I could see in the dark.”

She blinked. “You can see in the dark?”

He nodded. He’d thought, briefly, that having spent some time in the sunlight, his ability to see in the dark might have dulled, but his senses were stronger than ever.

Ren seemed to consider this difference of his more than the others. “I wish I could do that,” she said finally.

He raised a brow. She could wield celestial magic.

“Then there was my blood, and…” The most significant difference, the one that made him realize the new powers he wielded weren’t a blessing but a curse. “The Demon.

“I called the presence inside me a darkness, but that’s because I was afraid to name it for what it is. The demon on the bridge and the one that attacked your uncle, I’m no different than them, except this Demon lives inside me.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “The similarities are undeniable—the blood, the strength. If I were ever to lose control, I fear I would become the strongest monster of them all.”

He looked straight ahead, afraid to see the expression on her face—fear, disgust.

“The spark of blue in your eyes… is that the Demon?”

He frowned, unsure what she was referring to. “Any physical changes to my body are because of it, and only when I’m in the heat of battle, when my emotions are at their highest, or when I’m threatened.”

“Oh, really? That’s strange.” He felt her sudden nearness, and he was startled into looking at her. His eyes widened; their faces were mere inches apart.

Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she studied him. “It’s there now,” she said. “The light, I can see it. This place, this world, everything is in darkness. But there’s a light in your eyes.”

His chest ached, but it was different than any pain he’d felt before.

“Sunho,” she said, “you don’t look like a monster to me.”

Her eyes held light as well, though different than his, like the glimmer of sunlight on water. His eyes traveled to the curve of her lashes, to the bridge of her nose, to her lips. They looked soft, like the petals of a flower. When his eyes returned to her face, there was a flush to her cheeks. She coughed, turning her face to the side, and he wondered what he’d done to make her look away from him.

She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve, then she stopped, placing her hands in her lap. “I want to tell you the truth. And for that I also have to start from the beginning. I was born on the Floating World, and though I can’t remember much of my childhood there, I was happy. I had a nursemaid, Doona, whom I adored. And a friend—a boy, older than me by two years. I rarely saw my mother, but that didn’t matter. I loved her.

“The morning of the Festival of Light, I had woken to a feather on my pillow, and I wanted to give it as a gift to my mother. And so that night, I slipped away during the festivities, and I went to the place I knew she often liked to visit—beyond the wall of the eastern garden.

“But I wasn’t the only one who went in search of her. That night, I watched the general push my mother off the edge of the Floating World. Afterward, I was chased by his soldiers. They’d meant to kill me, but I got away. Auntie was the one who found me. She was a traveling performer, visiting for the festival. She saved me and took me home to her village. She raised me as if I was her own.”

Ren took a deep breath. “They may be searching for the lost princess, but that’s not me. Not anymore. I belong with Auntie, Big Uncle, and Little Uncle. I’m a troupe performer. No more, and no less.”

“You sound sure of that,” Sunho said.

She lifted her chin slightly. “I worked hard to be nobody.”

Sunho admired her conviction. “I’m nobody, too,” he said. “I have no wish to get caught up in some grand destiny. I just want to find my brother.”

Ren tilted her head to the side, peering at him intently. “So,” she asked, “what will you do now that you know the truth?”

He’d already made his choice in Seorawon, before he’d reunited with her by the fountain, before he knew the truth of who she was. For two years he’d felt restless, aimless, but in this he was certain. He would help her search for the cure to her uncle’s illness, and do whatever it took so that she felt safe again.

“The day we met, you sheltered me with your umbrella,” he said. “I am indebted to you.”

“There is no debt, Sunho.”

“I won’t turn you in.” The captain had said he wanted Ren brought back alive, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt her or hand her over to the general.

Ren smiled appreciatively, then sobered. “But what about your brother?”

“I’ll find another way. Like I told you, the morning we met I regained some of my memories. Maybe, in time, I’ll remember what happened to him, and to me.”

“So we’re back where we started, with me looking for a cure for my uncle and you searching for your brother. But now we’re on the same side.”

Sunho smirked. “So not where we started at all.”

She laughed, falling onto her back on the platform. “I miss the open sky,” she said, gazing upward. “I don’t know how you can bear to live without it.”

He lay on his back beside her. “The sky here is beautiful, too.”

“Describe it to me,” she said.

“Above us are the mithril mines—” he began.

“Yes, but what does it look like?”

He considered his answer. “Like rivers,” he said finally. “Or a tree, with many branches of light. Mithril is bright.”

“Like your eyes,” she said sleepily.

“Like stars,” he said, “but not unreachable like those are. There’s a feeling that if you wanted, you could climb to the very top, and you could reach out, and touch that light.”

He felt the soft brush of her hair. He looked down to see Ren’s head bobbing against his shoulder. “You’re right, Sunho,” she said, half-asleep already. “It is beautiful.”

“Do you want to go back inside the apartment?” he asked. “It’s still early.”

“I’ll just rest here for a few minutes. Like this, if that’s okay.”

She was asleep within seconds.

Sunho stayed awake a little longer, keeping watch over the stars.