Page 9

CHAPTER 9

SUNHO

The Under World

Beneath the Border of Sareniya

THE TRAIN HORN blared, emerging from a tunnel on the other side of the Wall. It began to accelerate as it left the city behind. From his seat by the window, Sunho observed the landscape sweeping by, barren and flat, with a few sparks of light in the distance—small towns and settlements. Though it was late in the afternoon, the world outside the Wall remained in shadow, as the edge of the Floating World extended beyond the perimeter of the Under World for several miles. In the distance, he could make out a faint glow along the horizon—sunlight. He didn’t stare for long. He’d be in the light soon enough.

Several miles outside the Wall were the mining camps. There were four total, located at the northeast, northwest, southeast, and southwest corners of the Under World. Here mithril ore was extracted, then later transported to the factories. The most dominating aspect of the camps were the Towers, massive structures reinforced with scaffolds that reached toward the lowest points of the mines on the underside of the Floating World. They were built with the purpose of hoisting equipment and machinery upward, as well as transporting the precious ore down to the surface through a series of pulleys and counterweights. Mechanical lifts assisted workers up the Towers, though they never ventured more than a hundred feet above the surface, their jobs primarily to oversee the transport of materials. Those who worked in the mines themselves traveled in aircraft specially designed to withstand great winds, as the airspace beneath the Floating World was tempestuous on a good day. From the rooftop of his apartment, Sunho would sometimes see the scaffolds sway, though they never did fall.

As the train continued past the mining camps, he leaned forward in his seat to gaze up at the nearest Tower. Across from him, his seatmate—the old bounty hunter from the teahouse—snickered, likely guessing that he’d never been outside the walls of the city.

His cheeks heated and she cackled louder. Ducking into his scarf, he stood and headed down the aisle of the car, toward the back of the train.

He needed to concentrate. He was at a disadvantage from the others. Even if he had been outside the Wall before—and he must have, when he served as a soldier—he had no memories of what it was like, of what to expect. His lack of memories was frustrating on most days, but that it might prevent his success on the mission was especially annoying.

Shifting open the door of the car, he was met with a blast of wind, and he staggered back.

Three couplings linked the two train cars together. Beneath them, wheels turned violently against the track. One misstep and he’d fall off the train, then get crushed beneath the wheels. Quickly, he stepped over the gap and dragged open the door of the next car.

As he entered, he felt a dozen gazes upon him, appraising him. It had been like that in the previous car. At Bo Dan’s, he’d guessed around twenty mercenaries would go after the girl, but he now suspected that those numbers were far greater.

Wooden benches on either side of a narrow aisle groaned and clacked together above the low rumble of the train. Sunho pulled up his scarf, moving warily down the aisle. He found what he was looking for in the second to last row. Unstrapping his sword, he slid into the empty seat. Affixed to the wall was a map of the train’s route. Their destination was Seorawon, the northernmost city in the Occupied Territories, on the River Nakjin. The train’s route would take them past the point of where the light had come, from the east. But he would make up the time on the airship, which, according to the map, would likely pass over the mountains at their lowest point, nearest Seorawon, and then head south.

An object rolled to tap the heel of his boot. Glancing down, he saw it was a small wooden toy. Carefully, he reached down to pick it up. The toy was a miniature of the train’s locomotive, the smokestack painted red. Turning the train in his hands, he saw that it was missing a wheel.

A soft gasp came from behind him, and he turned to see a young boy clinging on to the back of his seat. For a moment he was reminded of Haru, but the boy was younger than his neighbor, four years old, if he had to guess.

Sunho peered around his feet, spotting the missing wheel lodged between the wall and the wooden bench. Picking it up, he slipped the wheel onto the spoke, where it slotted neatly into place. He spun it once, the wheel turning end over end, then handed the toy over to the boy, who grinned, revealing a gap where he’d lost a tooth.

The rear door to the train car opened with a bang.

A group of thugs slunk down the aisle, leering at passengers, laughing when they cowered in their seats. While there was a significant number of mercenaries on the train, the majority were civilians. Sunho’s breath slowed as he recognized two members of the group. Claw and Dagger. Uninspired names, but they were sadistic killers who belonged to the most ruthless gang in the Outer Ring.

Sunho hadn’t given much thought to the identity of the girl, as it mattered little to him—he would go after her regardless—but now he wondered who she was. He’d memorized the drawing of her. When he closed his eyes, he could see her face. Dark eyes, with brows straight like arrows and lips curved like a bow. A nobleman’s daughter? What had she done to inspire such hatred in someone that they’d send a hundred mercenaries after her? Though he supposed for the captain it had been the reverse—he’d sent them to save her.

Sunho’s head hurt. This was why he didn’t get involved in Sareniyan affairs. They were messy and made little sense.

The group of killers continued forward into the next car, so he stood and exited in the opposite direction. The last car of the train was a luggage car. A single lantern hung from the ceiling over a couple hundred stacked crates, many marked with their destinations in the Occupied Territories.

He turned from the crates, heading toward the back of the car and opening the door. This time, he was ready for the wind that pierced his skin. He’d reached the end of the train. For a moment, he faced the barren landscape, everything a still, gray blue. In the distance, the Towers reached up toward the Floating World like the arms of a goddess.

Then the train, which had been moving in darkness, was suddenly in the light.

He winced, raising his arm against the brightness. Heart pounding, he lifted his gaze skyward.

The Floating World stretched the length of the horizon. A waterfall streamed off the edge on the eastern side, sunlight glinting off the water. From within the verdant green sprang watchtowers of red and silver.

Gazing upon that beautiful country, he felt an odd burning in his chest, a feeling that he recognized, though he couldn’t place its origin— you can erase memories from the mind, but not from the heart .

What was this feeling? Like a knife through his chest.

A feeling like hatred .