Page 28

CHAPTER 28

SUNHO

The Under World

Beneath the Mithril Mines

“SHOW ME YOUR wound,” Sunho said, once Yurhee had maneuvered the small flying machine from the airspace above the military compound. They were safe, for now. Captain Jaeil would pursue them, but not for some time. While Sunho had gone after Ren, Tag had tampered with the aircraft in the compound’s hangar. It would take at least a half hour for a mechanic to replace all the missing parts.

“Please,” Sunho added softly, realizing his voice had come out harsher than he’d intended. He was still feeling the adrenaline that had begun coursing when he’d returned to Wolryudang to discover Ren had been taken. It had felt like an illness. When he saw Ren bleeding, he’d never felt so close to the Demon. He could have killed the captain if Ren’s presence hadn’t stopped him.

They’d made it, and just in time, too. Sunho had wanted to go after Ren immediately, but Yurhee had convinced him to wait for Tag to finish the aircraft, now that they had the last part. Whether Tag and Yurhee would help hadn’t been a question: Jaeil and his soldiers had wrecked the main room of Wolryudang, terrified its proprietor, and taken Ren after Yurhee had promised her sanctuary. Yurhee hadn’t needed convincing—it was personal.

The aircraft jolted, and Sunho braced himself against the hull. From the piloting seat, Yurhee lifted her goggles. “Sorry about that, caught a bit of a draft. No one fell off, I hope.”

“Not for your lack of trying,” Tag grumbled from where he slouched behind Yurhee, practically underfoot. The aircraft wasn’t meant to support more than two passengers. The materials they’d brought for their mission—explosives, mostly—were stacked in haphazard piles around them. Tag eyed the boxes with a resigned sort of horror. At the rear of the aircraft, Sunho and Ren were bunched together. A thin rope stretching across the back of the open aircraft was all that kept them from falling off.

Sunho briefly glanced down at the third ward, where a locomotive was pulling away from the station, leaving behind a trail of smoke. Then Yurhee steered the aircraft upward, the pale lights of the city growing dim with their ascent.

Ren must have been in shock, Sunho decided, otherwise she’d have noticed how high they’d already gone. She still hadn’t answered his question… though he hadn’t quite phrased it like one, had he?

“Ren,” he repeated, and waited until her pupils dilated as they focused on his. It was dark, but she should be able to see. Though it gave away their location, Yurhee had risked a single guiding light at the front of the aircraft. Like a pebble dropped in a still pool, it barely seemed to pierce the darkness.

“Will you let me look at your wound?” he asked.

She nodded, and he felt the tension in his muscles ease a little. “Yes, sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

She slowly rose and he shifted his body to give her more space. With shaking fingers, she untied the strings at the side of her shirt. When she moved to pull her arm through the sleeve, she winced, her brows forming a crease.

“Wait,” Sunho said. “Let me help.”

“I don’t think it’ll come off,” she protested.

Carefully he tore the fabric apart. Beneath, the strap of Ren’s undershirt was soaked in blood. He peeled it gently from the wound, letting it fall off the side of her shoulder.

She shivered, and he moved his body to block some of the wind.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

She bit her lip, then shook her head bravely. “It looks worse than it feels.”

He nodded, though her reassurance didn’t stop the churning in his gut. He’d seen worse wounds than this, had borne them on his own body, but it was different seeing them on Ren . It made him feel similar to when the aircraft first launched into the sky—unmoored.

“Here, take this,” Tag said, shoving a small box through a gap in the pile of explosives. Sunho lifted the lid to find an assortment of medical supplies. “And this, to clean the wound.” He passed him a cloth and water jug.

Then, as if offering them a semblance of privacy, he moved a box to cover the gap.

Sunho looked back to find Ren watching him. She seemed to have recovered from her shock, her brown eyes clear. She was studying his face, her frown deepening as she spotted each of his newly acquired bruises from his time in the Madang District.

“You’re injured, too,” she said.

“I’m fine. They’ll clear up in a day.” Not like her wound. She was in too weakened a state to heal herself. Again, he felt that burn of rage.

“What happened?” he asked, to distract her from the pain, but also to distract himself, as he cleaned and dressed her wound.

“It was his lieutenant. She must have recognized me. I was out with Yurhee. I was so careless.” She wiped the palms of her hands against her eyes, frustrated with herself.

“Go on,” he said gently.

Taking a long breath, she recounted everything that had happened at the teahouse, the encounter with Jaeil, and the ensuing fight and capture.

“They put a bag over my head and dumped me in a room. Not the large one where you found me, but a study. I found something there, hidden away in a bookcase. It was my feather, the one I told you about, that had appeared on my pillow the morning of the festival. I thought I had lost it.”

Sunho frowned. “Then how did he come to have it?”

“I don’t know. He must have found it… Sunho, he’s—” She broke off, closing her eyes as if the memory pained her. “Jaeil is the son of the general, but he was nothing like his father when we were little. He was… kind. There was a meadow behind my home where I would meet him. He always had a book with him. He loved stories. Sometimes he would read them aloud to me. He was my friend.”

“He hurt you,” Sunho said flatly.

She opened her eyes and was quiet for a long time. “I think he was trying to prove something to himself,” she said finally. “That he could hurt me. That he wasn’t… beholden to our friendship. Maybe it made him feel weak, I don’t know…”

He shook his head, frustrated. “I would never hurt you,” he said. “No matter the circumstances.”

Ren’s eyes met his. “I know.”

She blushed, and so did he. They both looked away.

“It’s different for you, though,” Ren said, after a short silence. “Your tie to your brother is what makes you stronger. Your bond is what carries you through all the hardships.”

That might have been true before he’d met Ren. Then, he’d only had one memory, a single memory to fuel all his desires.

Sunho, you’ll survive this. You’re the best of us.

“Have you given any thought to what you’ll do, after all this is over?” she asked. “Once you’ve found your brother, where will you go?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought beyond finding him.”

“You can’t stay here.”

“No,” he agreed. There would be a lot of people unhappy with them, should they succeed. The general, for one.

“The house in the reed fields…,” she said, “I think of it, sometimes. It was so peaceful. At night, there are thousands of stars. Of course, there’s the problem of the sunlight, but maybe you’d get used to it, or your brother can make you an umbrella.”

The sun would be a deterrent, but he liked the idea of staring up at a sky full of stars. Real ones.

“If you’re there,” she added softly, “I’d know where to find you.”

He’d never thought about the future. For so long, he’d been so focused on the past.

“Then that’s where I’ll go,” he said, “when this is all over.”

His words seemed to please her because she smiled.

“Oh!” she said suddenly, reaching into her pocket. “Before I forget…” She withdrew a small tassel. “I got you a gift.”

Sunho took the tassel between his fingers, admiring the decorative knot at the top. Carefully, he tied it to the handle of his sword.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll treasure it. I got you a gift, too.” He pulled out the flowers he’d purchased earlier, though now they were crumpled.

Ren’s eyes widened, and she beamed. “I love them!”

Taking the flowers, she buried her face in them, laughing. Sunho’s heart beat faster as he gazed at her. She was beautiful, radiant.

“Ren,” Yurhee shouted, “you’re glowing!”

“Oh, well…” Ren lifted one hand from the flowers to press it to her cheek. “I don’t get flowers that often…”

“No, I mean you’re glowing . There’s light coming off you.”

Sunho realized Yurhee was right. Ren’s skin was emitting a faint silver light. It appeared to come from within her.

“Sunho.” She looked up at him, trembling. “What’s happening?”

“It must be similar to when you fought the demon on the bridge.” Before she’d released the silver light, her body had glowed. Though a similar outcome in their present circumstances might prove disastrous. He glanced nervously at the explosives surrounding them.

“Hey, she’s too bright,” Tag said. “Can’t you turn her off?”

“Oh, wow, that sounded… interesting.” Yurhee laughed.

Tag shrugged deeper into the collar of his jacket.

“Sunho, I’m afraid,” Ren said.

His focus immediately shifted back to her. “It’s your power, Ren,” he said gently. “You can control it.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. After several more, the light began to fade, her skin returning to normal.

“Did it stop?” Ren asked, opening one eye to peek.

Sunho nodded.

“Don’t give her flowers anymore,” Tag mumbled.

“We’re here,” Yurhee said.

Together Sunho and Ren lifted their gazes upward.

The mithril mines loomed above them, an endless wall of rock, like a mountain that had flipped upside down. Mithril glimmered from the stone like constellations.

“It’s beautiful,” Ren breathed.

He held her close as Yurhee took the aircraft even higher.

“There,” Tag said, pointing to an aperture in the rock, “you see that?”

Yurhee shifted her goggles back down over her face. “I see it. We’re going in.”

They entered the mines through the opening, the temperature dropping by several degrees. Back at Wolryudang, Yurhee had shown Sunho the map she’d taken from the ninth ward mithril factory, with the symbol of the black wing.

I’ve collected other maps of the mines, but this is the only one that notes this specific location , she’d said, pointing to a spot that had been clearly marked, deep within the network of caves. Whatever’s here, it was important to the organization behind this symbol.

He had felt a stirring in his chest; it felt like a premonition. Take us there.

“Sunho,” Yurhee called from the helm. “Do you think you could come up to the front?”

“Really?” Tag grumbled, but he carefully got to his feet so that he could switch places and counterbalance the weight on the craft. He crouched beside Ren, circling his arms around his knees. He had a smaller build than Sunho and didn’t have to entangle with her to fit in the small space.

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to pilot an aircraft, would you?” Yurhee asked.

“I’ve never flown in one before today,” Sunho said. At least that he could remember.

“I figured, but I need to look at the map. The turns are going to be tight with the wind.”

As she spoke, a blast of air barreled through the tunnel. Yurhee placed her boot on the side of the aircraft, leaning in the opposite direction to hold the wheel steady.

“Ren!” Tag shouted.

Sunho twisted around to see that Tag had caught Ren by the arm where she was dangling off the back of the aircraft.

“Don’t move!” Yurhee bellowed, as Sunho was getting ready to lunge for her. “You’ll unbalance the aircraft. Hold on.”

She jerked the wheel forward and Ren came tumbling onto the aircraft, rolling on top of Tag, who fell into a pile of boxed explosives. They hadn’t had time before going after Ren to strap them all down.

“Oh, gods,” Tag said.

“Sunho, I need you!” Yurhee was shouting again. “Take the control stick!”

“What?”

But Yurhee had already let go. Sunho grabbed for the stick, righting the aircraft, which had begun to tilt sideways.

Leaning forward over its nose, Yurhee held the map to the guiding light, the paper fluttering in the wind. “Where is it? It should be here.”

They were deep within the mines now, the wind screaming in their ears. Broken pieces of rock and shattered mithril flew through the tunnels. Sunho winced as a shard scraped his cheek. He didn’t know how the rotor of the engine was still intact. The wind seemed to lack direction. Currents of air swept over and around them.

Behind him, he heard Ren helping Tag move the explosives.

“What about this one I’m holding?” Ren said. “Is it okay to move this one?”

“No.”

“That’s it!” Yurhee shouted, grabbing the wheel and twisting it. The aircraft careened into a narrow tunnel, shuttling quickly through it before popping out on the other side. Here the wind cut off entirely. The rotor of the engine sputtered before giving out, plummeting them to the ground. The aircraft hit a ledge, then slid down a long, bumpy slope. It finally came to an abrupt stop at the bottom of a ravine, dust erupting like a cloud around them.

“Is everyone okay?” Yurhee asked.

“I’m okay,” Ren said, clutching a box of explosives like it was a doll.

Tag mumbled a response beneath a pile of them.

Sunho, who’d grabbed on to the side of the aircraft, bracing himself for impact, stood up slowly. A dim silver light emanated from a building on the far side of the cavern.

“You two go on ahead,” Yurhee said as she began to quickly unload the explosives. We’re going to set these up around the perimeter. Afterward, we’ll warn anyone inside. Meet us back here in an hour?”

“Good luck,” Ren said, after helping dig Tag out from beneath the pile.

Sunho grabbed his sword from the back of the aircraft, and together they made their way toward the building glowing in the distance.

HE THOUGHT THEY’D be greeted by guards upon entering the building, but the outside door opened to an empty corridor. It reminded him of the halls of the train—narrow, with little room to maneuver. The halls weren’t lit by lanterns or electricity, but mithril. The stone glowed in sconces set at intervals along the walls.

Ren shifted closer to him, her shoulder brushing his arm. “Do you think we might really find a cure here?”

If it wasn’t here, he didn’t know where else to look. “We’ll find out soon,” he said grimly.

After a few minutes of walking, Ren shivered. “Where is everybody?”

“Maybe they’ve all gone down into the city for the festival,” Sunho said. Though even as he spoke the words, he knew they weren’t true.

There was something very wrong about this building. The halls were a labyrinth. Each corridor looked the same as the last. An eerie, creaking sound came from far off—the wind, flowing in from the outside.

Turning a corner, they entered a large chamber. Metal stairs led downward into a room full of strange equipment. There were tables littered with broken pieces of apparatuses he couldn’t identify, though they appeared to be used for taking measurements. Several metal cots, stripped of their bedding, sat at odd angles. A few had been tipped over. He noticed that all had metal restraints, as if to hold down their occupants. The sense of foreboding that Sunho had felt since entering the facility grew stronger.

“Sunho,” Ren called out to him, her voice echoing around the chamber. “What is this place? Are those…?” Against the far wall were rooms with bars surrounding them. They were empty, their doors open. Ren peeked her head through one of the doors. “Cages?”

While she entered the largest of the cages, Sunho approached the nearest table. He picked up a book, shaking it free of dust before opening it. Inside were notes on what appeared to be experiments, though they were written in a language foreign to him, likely a code.

He flipped to a drawing of a creature he recognized—the wolf from the ninth ward mithril factory. This laboratory must have been where it came from, where it was created .

When he turned toward Ren, he saw that she was outside the cell, holding something in her hand. A black feather.

“Where did you get that?” he asked sharply.

Her eyes widened. “It was in the cage,” she said.

His uneasiness deepened until it felt like a pit in his stomach. “Let’s go.” He dropped the book back onto the table.

From the chamber, they entered another long corridor. They’d made it halfway down before a sharp pain splintered his head.

“Sunho,” Junho said, his face bloody, his eyes in tears. “You’ll survive this. You’re the best of us.”

“Sunho!” he heard Ren cry from what felt like far away. “Sunho, what’s wrong?

“I—I think I’ve been here before,” he said.

“What do you mean?” She helped him to stand. “You had another memory?”

“No, it’s the same one, only I hadn’t known where I was before. I was here . In this place.”

This was the last place he’d seen his brother, where his brother had spoken those words to him. What had they been doing here? What had happened?

He raced down the hall. They entered into another chamber like the last, the memory beating at his mind. You’re the best of us.

“Sunho…,” Ren whispered, her fear breaking through his haze.

They weren’t alone. In the middle of the chamber stood the demon.

Its black, diaphanous robes that had covered the bulk of its body on the bridge and the train were gone. Massive black wings sprouted from its shoulders to drag like chains across the floor. Except for its face, the demon was entirely covered in feathers, from its clawed hands to its taloned feet. Its horns curved upward like the tines of a crown and from its fangs dripped blue, viscous blood.

Sunho raised his gaze to meet the demon’s black, depthless eyes, and saw a flicker of something there, something human .

It didn’t move or take a step forward. It was almost as if it was… waiting.

Spotting another hall left of the chamber, Sunho turned to Ren. “You go on ahead. Find the cure for your uncle.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I want to stay. We can fight it. Together.”

His gaze softened. He knew she meant every word.

He’d been alone for so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone who cared about him; he’d forgotten about how much comfort it could bring, how much strength it could give.

She’d stay to support him because she was his friend. That was enough.

“The demon that attacked your uncle,” he said, “and the demon in the reed field, they both transformed back into humans. I think…” He drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I think this demon was once a human. And I think I know who it is.” He saw the moment she realized what he meant; her eyes widened slightly, and tears sprang to the corners. “This is my battle to fight,” he said softly.

She lifted her face, and he gently pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” she said. “After…” She didn’t finish the sentence. After you’ve fought the demon, after you’ve killed it. “Afterward, come find me.”

“I will,” he promised. He didn’t like that she was going off alone. But he had to do this, just as she had to find the cure for her uncle.

He released her and she turned from him, racing toward the hall. He listened until he could no longer hear her echoing footsteps.

Only then did he face the demon. It hadn’t moved from where it stood in the middle of the room, so still, he could have mistaken it for a statue if it weren’t for the slow rise and fall of its chest.

It had been waiting for him. For two years, it had waited for him. And he for it.

“Brother,” he whispered, feeling as if his heart were being shattered into a million pieces.

Junho.