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Chapter Eighteen

Seokga

S eokga is not sure which he hates more: Adult Hwanin or Baby Hwanin. Both are exceptionally annoying, but only one wails so loudly that Seokga fears his ears might fall off. Sitting on a sun chair on Deck 10, Hwanin in his lap, Seokga closes his eyes and wishes for the end. He has tried everything to cease his brother’s relentless crying, but the child seems determined to make his every moment miserable by screaming his head off …

Often, Mireuk had told Seokga that he had been the most difficult out of the two to raise. With Hwanin shrieking loud enough to scare away some of the sundeck’s guests, Seokga feels entirely inclined to vehemently disagree. Hwanin is a nightmare. A raging nightmare shaped into the form of a tiny person.

“Please be quiet,” he begs his brother.

Hwanin’s response is to glare at him.

Seokga glares back and—to his complete and utter shock—Hwanin grins and abruptly cuts off his wailing.

A shadow suddenly falls over his face, and he protectively scoops Hwanin closer to him. Although the mustachioed man leaning over him looks generally harmless with his salt-and-pepper hair and bespectacled eyes, it would be a lie to say that every moment spent on this damn ship isn’t taking a toll on the trickster god. For motives still relatively unknown, his brother was murdered. Seokga has absolutely no desire to be reverted to baby form, and is well aware that he could be next—hence why, before he slept, he transformed his cane into a sword and slept with it in one hand while waking every ten minutes to ensure he—and the baby—were unharmed. Seokga is running on fumes and caffeine at this point: Apart from waking every ten minutes, Hwanin also apparently took a great delight in screeching his lungs out during random points in the nighttime.

An effective torture method. Seokga took copious notes.

So, needless to say, Seokga is inherently suspicious of this man, even as he takes in the white suit and its shoulder stripes, indicative of the ship’s captain. A gold name tag indeed reads, Captain Lee .

“Is there something in particular you want?” Seokga snaps, very rudely.

The captain shakes his head, crouching down to look at Hwanin. “Always a shame when there are babies on board,” he murmurs, reaching out a finger to poke Hwanin’s nose. Seokga grits his teeth and moves Hwanin away. He didn’t give the man permission to touch him, and contemplates slapping his hand away. But Captain Lee seems to have gotten the point, folding his hands behind his back. “How did it happen?”

“How did what happen?” Exhausted, and wishing Kisa were here, Seokga doesn’t even attempt to be polite.

Captain Lee’s bushy brows rise. “You died together, I assume?”

With a start, Seokga realizes that Captain Lee doesn’t recognize him. He smiles slowly, and most unpleasantly. “Yes.”

“How?”

Will this man not leave? “A gigantic volcano exploded,” Seokga says nastily. “On us.”

Hwanin blows a raspberry, either amused by the lie or more probably amused by the man’s mustache, which he swipes at.

“A shame,” the captain says again then sighs. “To die so young…I’m very sorry.” As Seokga continues to smile unpleasantly, Captain Lee’s cheeks tinge pink and he rubs his mustache awkwardly.

Pink?

“You’re alive,” Seokga realizes, surprised. He’d assumed the captain was just as dead as his guests. And—from what he’s observed—Captain Lee is very human. What sort of living mortal accepts a job navigating a ship in the underworld? Why in hells did Yeomra employ him?

Captain Lee’s expression turns guilty and he suddenly looks hesitant, possibly fearing Seokga’s jealousy. “Well, yes,” he admits, and is quick to add, “I’ll be dead eventually, though. Just like you two.” He tries to tap Hwanin’s nose again. Seokga fixes him with an icy stare, and he gives up.

“What are you doing down here?” he demands, still rather shocked. “Yeomra doesn’t employ the living.”

“Ah. The CEO.” Captain Lee sighs. “He heard about my former ship, the Seoul Carnival. Apparently he views it as the SRC Flatliner ’s competition, although they’re in completely different realms—literally and figuratively. He, uh, offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse.”

Seokga is quite an accomplished blackmailer, and thus immediately recognizes what Yeomra likely did—sending a jeoseung saja after the captain with some mellow bribery ( How’d you like to skip the seven hells in the afterlife? ) and reverting to other tactics (kidnapping) when the mortal man refused/expressed disbelief in the Korean underworld. To his great disgust, he feels a twinge of respect for Yeomra. It was nicely done. Very nice. He’s taking notes. “Ah,” says Seokga. Captain Lee appears to be sweating nervously.

“It’s not so bad. I get Seollal off. Sometimes my birthday, too.” He glances around anxiously, as if worrying that Yeomra might be listening in. It’s not exactly unlikely. “Well, I hope that you’ve been enjoying the cruise together.” He rises. “Just off for a quick stretch of the legs myself. Navigating these waters can be a tiring business…If you and your son are ever interested in watching how this ship is piloted, the bridge is on Deck 8, just past the spa. We’d be happy to have you.”

Seokga only relaxes when the captain has walked off. He’s cradling Hwanin protectively and, in that moment, realizes his brother has stopped crying and is instead staring up at him with those ridiculous, star-studded eyes.

“What do you want?” Seokga mutters in annoyance, but finds himself delicately adjusting his tiny bonnet and slipping sunglasses. Jeoseung’s sun is disgustingly hot on the sundeck, and he checks Hwanin’s exposed arms and toes to make sure they’re not burned. He relaxes slightly when he sees that they’re fine. “You look ridiculous, brother,” he informs Hwanin. “You should see your hat. Absolutely atrocious. A disgrace to the pantheon.”

There’s an ache in his chest when the baby stares cluelessly up at him. Although he’ll eventually regain his memories, his stomach knots with the knowledge that this child knows nothing of Seokga’s ancient betrayal, or the years of resentment festering between them. For a moment, he longs for the adult Hwanin. He misses fighting with him. They would never again be brothers that casually hugged and laughed, but they’d developed a new kind of brotherhood—one built on insults. For thirty-three brief years, it had almost been glorious. But only now does Seokga realize that.

And one can’t exactly insult a baby or blame a baby for machinating a series of events that led to Hani’s death. Some of his bitterness begins to unwind, and Kisa’s question—about the Ship of Theseus—comes back to him. Is this the same Hwanin? Will he ever be the same Hwanin again, even when his memories come back?

Perhaps this could be a clean slate for both of them.

Hesitantly, Seokga smiles down at the baby. It could be magnificent, a terrific story of redemption wherein he raises Hwanin like his own, and Hwanin—when he regains his memory—is entirely indebted to him…Perhaps Hwanin might even offer to share his throne…

Seokga’s smile abruptly drops as Hwanin sticks out his tongue and begins to float up into the air.