Page 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

K i s a

O ne perfectly rejuvenating nap later, Kisa tips the shot glass of soju into her mouth with a small smile, relishing the sweet grape flavor that masks the edge of the alcohol astoundingly well. Deck 10 of the SRC Flatliner is empty save for the four of them—plus a babbling, floating baby Hwanin—with most guests hiding in their rooms as the clock strikes eleven, still traumatized from the day’s events. The sundeck at night is strung with fairy lights, illuminating the rushing waters of the river below, where the SRC Flatliner is firmly anchored.

Somi is giggling as she drinks straight from the source, cheeks flushed as she passes the green glass to Hajun, who Kisa can tell is already on the verge of drunk. Her friend is lying on the pool chair next to Somi, eyes glimmering as he seems to trace the contours of her moonlit face with them. “Would you be my Valentine?” he whispers, despite it being not at all close to the day of love. Kisa bites her lip, smile faltering while she watches as Somi bursts out laughing, the gumiho’s hand rising to her lips as a bit of soju sprays out. Again, she feels that twinge of envy at their newness, how Somi and Hajun are so unweighted, unanchored, by the past. They are as fresh and young as the first morning of spring, both of them.

“It’s not even February,” Somi wheezes in reply to the smitten Hajun. “It’s autumn.”

He blinks dreamily at her. “Will you be my…pumpkin, then?” Kissed by the Mafia Cowboy is spread open on his chest. Somi grabs it and playfully swats at him with the raunchy novel.

Kisa swallows hard as she turns to Seokga. Despite the festivities, the god looks exhausted, holding on to Hwanin’s foot as the child floats in the air to stare up at the fairy lights. As Seokga looks back at her, there’s a question in his eyes she’s not yet ready to answer. Here, on the highest deck of the SRC Flatliner, she’s as far away from the elevator as she can be, and she doesn’t want to think about it.

Kisa quickly pours herself another shot of soju, grabbing the bottle from the small table between Somi and Hajun before walking to Seokga. “So,” she says, studying the rim of her glass, “we solved the mystery.” The novelty of it hasn’t quite worn off. They did it.

(Didn’t they? What if… Oh, no. She grimaces. Kisa knows herself to be a terrifying overthinker, and she mustn’t overthink this. Just because she was, well…somewhat occupied…during the last hours of its investigation doesn’t mean that her brain can slide off and question if the conclusion is right. Stop it, she tells her overactive mind. It is over. Stop searching for what-ifs when there aren’t any. )

“We did,” says Seokga, somehow managing to look and sound solemn while holding on to a flying baby’s chubby foot.

“And I get to reincarnate,” Kisa adds, trying to sound as cheerful as she knows she should feel. But after all of this…the spa, the banmal, the baby, the bed…

She’s not cheerful. Oh, she’s not cheerful at all.

“Yes,” the god replies, averting his eyes. “You do.”

A moment of silence falls between them. Behind them, Somi and Hajun are laughing. Seokga’s eyes slide over Kisa’s shoulder and soften. Hajun is laughing hard as Somi reads him a passage from the book, wiggling her eyebrows salaciously.

“I didn’t realize it before, but Hajun reminds me a bit of Hyun-tae,” he murmurs. “Before we knew that Hyun-tae was really Eodum.” When his gaze drifts back to her, as if to see if she’ll agree, Kisa’s heart breaks a bit.

“I don’t remember,” she reminds him gently.

Seokga swallows, eyes falling. “Yes. I know that.” Above him, Hwanin giggles in delight as he touches one of the tiny lights. Kisa watches as Seokga gently tugs him back down to rest in his arms.

“Seokga…” Suddenly, Kisa’s throat is tight. “Seokga, I…I’ve had a really wonderful time with you this trip, and…and I’m glad that—that we met, even here…” It’s felt as if she’s lived more with him than she ever did while she was alive. So much laughter. Nude swims in a cold cavern. The way he looks at her makes her feel like she’s still living.

It’s not a research project anymore.

It hasn’t been for a very, very long time.

Kisa’s voice trails off as Seokga’s expression hardens, rather than softens. He’s still not meeting her eyes. “You’re a great friend,” she says desperately, wanting him to look up at her, and perhaps wanting so much more than she is determined to allow herself.

He laughs, but it’s not an amused laugh. It’s something hoarse and tired. “Yes,” says Seokga. “A great friend.”

The bitterness in his voice stabs at something deep within her. “I…”

“I’m tired, Kisa.” Seokga hasn’t looked at her again. “I’m so—tired.”

—she’ll leave—just like—Hani—won’t—find—again—so—alone—so—tired—

It’s as if the breath has been knocked out of her as a deep blue color crawls down the red thread, cold and lonely and heavy with grief. She reaches for him, needing to—comfort, to help, but he steps away. A small smile curls his lips, but it’s barely more than a flicker of bittersweet longing before it’s gone. “Tell me something,” he whispers. “If we’d had more time…”

“Yes,” she whispers before he’s even finished his sentence. “Yes.”

Joy and heartbreak race across his face. “Would you have?”

She swallows, wiping away an errant tear. When did she start crying? Hajun’s and Somi’s bright laughter is a world away as she nods. “I know I would.”

“I can’t ask you to stay,” he breathes, “can I?”

Kisa closes her eyes. A cold underworld wind runs its clawed fingers through her hair.

“Not here.” Not on this ship. Not in this world of death and sorrow.

Perhaps her earlier fear was unfounded. That if she allowed herself to—feel for him, she would run from reincarnation. Yet here she is, feeling so very much for this god who is not at all what she expected…And here she is, knowing she cannot stay.

Not here. Not here.

“Why did you do it?” His voice breaks. Somewhere far away, Hajun and Somi stop laughing. “Why?” Her eyes flutter open as his free hand cups her face. She leans into his touch before she can stop herself.

“Why what?” Kisa breathes up at him. There’s such terrible anguish in his eyes as he shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he whispers, but his thoughts don’t lie like he does.

—why did—she—jump—

Her heart gives a terrible twist as she lurches away. Is that what he thinks? That she jumped from that roof, hurling herself into the night sky like a baby bird who’d not yet learned to fly? She presses a shaking hand to her mouth as her thoughts drift back to that spring night all those years ago. With effort, she manages to stuff her rising grief into a box just as she failed to do in the elevator, and turns to the logical part of her mind to calm herself. Of course he would think she jumped. No person in their right mind tempts fate by sitting on the edge of a skyscraper.

“Kisa?” Hajun is rising unsteadily, arm around Somi’s narrow shoulders for support. “Kisa, are you okay?”

“What did you say to her?” snaps Somi, stomping over to Seokga and practically dragging Hajun with her. “It’s Kisa’s business whether she wants to reincarnate or not, and you have no— hiccup —business telling her otherwise!” Her face is blue with indignation, and Kisa feels a surge of fondness for the gumiho, even as she shakes her head at her.

“Seokga didn’t do anything wrong,” she tells her quietly. “But I’ve been—keeping something from him. From…all of you.” Pained, Kisa meets Hajun’s eyes. She knows what he believes, and she’s never tried to tell him otherwise, thinking a lie by omission wasn’t so bad if it made the broken boy feel less alone. She doesn’t want to tell them what happened that night on the roof. But friends, she thinks, taking them in—the gumiho, the idol, and the god—confide in one another. And this might be one of her last chances before the cruise ends and she leaves for the DAR queue. She takes a deep breath. “That night, I didn’t fall. I didn’t jump.” Kisa clutches her shot glass so hard that it could shatter and she wouldn’t be at all surprised. “I was pushed.”