Page 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

K i s a

T hey might have, Kisa thinks as she stares at the god who’s just walked into the Creature Café, a teeny, tiny problem.

Or perhaps it’s not a problem at all. Perhaps this is good. Yes, perhaps it’s a good thing that Hwanung, son/probable-murderer of Hwanin, is ordering an iced tea on the SRC Flatliner and smiling flirtatiously at the flustered barista. His hair is purple rather than long and dyed silver, and he doesn’t wear the traditional robes like his father, but the resemblance is plain as day. This is Hwanung.

Hwanung, who is wearing a faded Elvis T-shirt and a ridiculous number of earrings.

Hwanung, who is one of their primary murder suspects.

With a trembling hand, Kisa sets down her pen, which she’s been using to scribble new theories that coat her in a cold, damp sweat and send chills down her spine. Theories that suggest that this entire plot has gone on for much longer than anybody has suspected.

Perhaps Hwanung is meeting his accomplice for their next crime. Are they going to murder Seokga? The thought petrifies her, but Kisa forces herself to remain seated, carefully watching as the god pays and wanders out the door, sipping indolently. After a terrified pep talk to herself, Kisa follows him through the ship, careful to remain a healthy distance behind him as he reaches Deck 7 and wanders down the hall of suites, seemingly counting the door numbers until he reaches Room 7346. His father’s room.

Kisa holds her breath. Hwanung pulls a keycard from his pocket and slips inside as Kisa watches avidly from around the corner, counting down the seconds until the god emerges, face carefully blank.

What could he possibly have wanted with Hwanin’s suite?

A moment later, a door across the hall opens, and Dr. Jang slips out. The heavy door swings shut behind her, but doesn’t click. Kisa’s entire body stiffens as she watches the therapist slowly walk over to Hwanung and place a wrinkled hand on his shoulder.

Kisa notes that Hwanung tenses but doesn’t look surprised to see Dr. Jang. If anything, he looks relieved by the sight of her—not even fazed by the hot pink sunglasses. Her mind whirls as she mentally scrabbles around for puzzle pieces to fit together. Could it really be that Dr. Jang is his lackey? Her hand drifts to her pockets, where her theories are scribbled down. If it’s true…

“Hwanung,” Dr. Jang says kindly. “I got your call. Have you had any luck so far?”

“Heejin.” Hwanung shifts from foot to foot. “I can’t find him. Do you know where he might be?”

Kisa frowns. There’s a familiarity between them, but not the sort she’d expect from two accomplices. Remembering Seokga’s lack of knowledge regarding Jang’s god or goddess, Kisa wonders if she’s one of Hwanung’s shamans. No—she can’t be. The protocol for meeting one’s patron deity is to bow at a ninety-degree angle, and Dr. Jang offered only a more casual bow when Hwanung turned. Chewing anxiously on her lip, Kisa waits for Jang’s response.

“Seokga informed me that your father ate a bad clam recently. He might be in the sick bay.” Dr. Jang smiles sympathetically. “How are things in Okhwang? I hope it’s not any trouble that’s bringing you here to look for Emperor Hwanin.”

Something flashes in Hwanung’s eyes, but Kisa is too far away to guess what it might be. “They’re—different,” he replies. It’s interesting, she thinks, that his tone isn’t as cold—or as hard—as it was on his damning phone call with Seokga. He sounds…regretful? Tired? The god sips at his iced tea. “And how is my uncle ?” There’s a sneer that accompanies those words, and it brings forth a prickling of offended anger from Kisa.

“Seokga is doing well.” Dr. Jang pushes up her sunglasses. “This vacation has been good for him.”

Hwanung’s face is still twisted in distaste. “And do you know where he is?”

Sweat slides down the nape of Kisa’s neck as she waits for Dr. Jang’s reply. The old woman is silent, as if considering something…and Kisa receives the terrible impression that somehow, she knows exactly where Seokga is. Don’t tell him, she pleads. You can’t tell him.

Dr. Jang finally clears her throat and offers Hwanung a friendly smile. “Around this time of day, Seokga is usually swimming on Deck 9.” Sweet relief cools Kisa’s anxiety—only slightly. The old shaman lied…for Seokga. Surely Dr. Jang knows that Seokga would rather die than swim in the cruise ship’s main pool, where guests shoot out of water slides and more often than not land atop another swimmer.

“I’ll be heading up there, then. It was nice to see you, Heejin.” Hwanung pauses awkwardly, a hand toying with his lip piercing. It glimmers in the hallway light. “Thanks for last time, by the way.”

Her smile is grandmotherly. “Did things ever work out with that girl?”

A wince comes from the young god. “No. But the couple’s sessions helped for a little while until she—” Hwanung breaks off, shaking his head. Metal glints, and Kisa sees that he has small silver piercings in his ears. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“Please, Hwanung,” Dr. Jang says with a laugh, wrinkled face dimpling. It occurs to Kisa that she’s deeply fond of him in an almost familial way. “I don’t mind. I’ll walk with you to Deck 9, and you can tell me everything. I won’t even charge a session fee.”

As the pair leaves, Kisa shakes her head. Hwanung isn’t acting like a murderer revisiting the scene of his crime. If anything, he’s acting like a confused teenage boy searching for his father. It could be a convincing act, of course, but as their backs recede down the hallway, Kisa doesn’t find herself following them.

Instead, she’s studying the door of Dr. Jang’s room—the door that’s been left slightly agape. Dread pools low in her stomach. The red thread flutters, perhaps in concern.

But the therapist’s door has been left open, and Kisa has a notebook in her pocket filled with theories that she needs to either put to rest or confirm. She can dart in, then back out, before hurrying to warn Seokga of his nephew’s presence on the boat. Besides…Kisa’s hand flutters to the pocket of her scrubs, where she put the bottle of lotion before leaving her room.

She should return it. She can’t stand the smell of it.

Determinedly, she slips down the corridor and into Dr. Jang’s room. Her heart pounds fiercely in her chest as she takes in the small suite, the queen-sized bed and adjoining bathroom. There’s a bright yellow suitcase resting on one of the suite’s cushy chairs, spilling assortments of random, vibrant clothes. Kisa spots another rubber-deck patterned set buried somewhere underneath Hawaiian shirts and wide-rimmed hats.

In the bathroom, she finds Dr. Jang’s tote bag and neatly slips the disgusting lotion back into it. When Kisa sneezes, her heart nearly stops—but Dr. Jang isn’t here, she reminds herself, even as her palms begin to sweat. It’s fine. It’s all perfectly fine.

Leaving the bathroom, she feels another sneeze building up in her nasal passage and practically bursts a blood vessel as she tries to force it down, but it erupts with a vengeance. Eyes watering, she looks desperately around for a tissue…and sneezes again.

Gods, it’s like the time Yuna brought home a stray cat to their dormitory. Kisa hadn’t been able to stay inside for more than a minute without sneezing or hacking her lungs out.

Feeling too sick to linger much longer, Kisa stumbles to the desk, determined to at least find something of potential worth, something to make the journey into this room worth it. Through blurry vision, she spots a well-worn leather-bound notebook sitting on the corner. Before she can think better of it, Kisa swipes the notebook from the desk and hurries from the room, in desperate need of a tissue.