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Chapter Twenty-Eight

Seokga

H e’s terrified of hurting her as he hovers over her, inside her, letting her get used to the feeling. He’s sheathed to the hilt, and trembles with the effort of remaining still. Kisa’s face is flushed and her eyes are dilated so much that they are nearly black as she gazes up at him.

When she shifts against him with a wordless plea, Seokga slowly, so slowly, begins to move, rolling his hips against hers until she moans in pleasure. Kisa gasps as he finds their rhythm, and Seokga could lose himself forever in the feeling of her. Pleasure gathers in the base of his spine, and Kisa’s begun to pant, too, gripping his ass in her hands as she pulls him forward (and she’s looking very smug about it, too—he’s aware that he really does have a great ass).

A part of him not lost to pleasure is terrified of what comes after this. He’s given himself to her so completely…only for her to leave. He knows she’ll leave. He’s certain that she knows it, too.

But if all Seokga can ever have are these fleeting moments, he’ll take them. Damn it, he’ll take them and hold them close to his chest on the lonely nights, the nights when he knows he is utterly alone in the world. He’ll forever remember the sound of Kisa’s soft gasps, the look on her face when she comes undone.

He’ll forever remember that, for a brief time, he had her.

The god and the gwisin spend the rest of the night curled up together, flipping through their raunchy romance books, laughing with as much heart and soul as they ever have.

When they fall asleep later that night, Seokga refuses to let go of her, burying his face in her mane of curls, arms looped around her slender waist.

“CAN YOU HOLD HIM?” Seokga roars, wind whipping through his hair and robes as he braces against its onslaught, barely able to see four feet in front of him where Hwanin is braced atop their father, holding him down to the cave’s slick, jagged rock that rises at least twelve feet in the air, nearly brushing the stalactites above. His brother’s only response is a guttural shout of pain. “Yeomra’s chains!” Seokga screams as Mireuk unleashes a bellow of rage, the cave quivering with his power. “Can you secure them? Brother!”

Eyes tearing from the violent gusts, Seokga staggers up the rock, head pounding from the effort of maintaining the illusion. For the Hwanin atop Mireuk is a distraction, a cleverly woven illusion that is taking its toll to uphold. “brOTHER!” Seokga shouts again, and this time it’s a signal to the Hwanin who stands next to him, hidden underneath another illusion. “NOW!”

As Mireuk thrashes, the true Hwanin lurches forward, knuckles white as he grips Yeomra’s skeletal chains in his hands. All they need is an opening to slap the bone-white bonds around Mireuk’s wrists—Yeomra’s magic will do the rest, tying Mireuk down to the rock forever more. Seokga holds his breath as the true Hwanin rips past his illusioned self and, with a great cry of rage, captures his father’s wrists in the skeletal shackles. Panting, he stumbles back as the shackles expand, clicking like old bones as their chains meld into the rock. The ankles are next, Yeomra’s death magic duplicating the bonds on the Mad God’s wrists onto his feet. The wind abruptly stops, and the cave is silent—so silent, the only sounds the rushing of the river above, the faint drip-dripping from the stalactites overhead. But only for a moment.

Seokga and Hwanin both flinch as Mireuk screams, the truth of their betrayal finally evident. They lured him here, to this cave underneath the Seocheongang River, under the false pretense of a bit of “family spelunking” (it had been Seokga’s genius idea, of course) only to commit unspeakable treason. Hwanin’s hand reaches out to grip Seokga’s as Mireuk twists and thrashes in murderous fury, unable to access his magic through the bonds, which Yeomra crafted from the bones of prisoners who never, ever escaped.

“It’s useless, Father!” Seokga shouts. Blood leaks from his nose into his mouth, and his fine, dark green hanbok has practically been torn to shreds. “There is no escape!”

Mireuk roars again, and there is no trace of sanity on his father’s formerly handsome face as it twists and contorts. This is the problem with being a creation god—the curse of insanity comes with the unspeakable power. Hwanin staggers, leaning on Seokga’s shoulder, as the two gods watch their father and former emperor thrash against his confines.

“It could have been patricide!” Seokga is screaming, fury coursing through his veins like molten lava. Centuries of humiliation, of rejection, flash through his memories. That fucking flower-growing contest. “It could have been patricide, you fucking bastard—”

“Seokga,” Hwanin rasps. His brother hasn’t fared any better than he has. Half of Hwanin’s long black hair has been singed off, and even his immortal healing strengths have yet to smooth out the mottled bruises on his face, the split lip, and his missing front tooth. “It’s over. We…we must go. Come, Seokga…”

But Mireuk’s roars have turned to laughs that send chills running down Seokga’s spine. “Seokga,” Mireuk spits, eyes glinting in the darkness. “Seokga, my son.”

Hwanin is tugging insistently at his robes, but Seokga remains still, baring his teeth as he glowers at his father.

“You can free me, Seokga,” Mireuk says, and Seokga fucking hates how Mireuk has suddenly, conveniently, remembered that he has a second son only under these circumstances. “Free me from these bonds and all will be forgiven. My son, my son. It’s not too late to do the right thing…”

“ Fuck off, ” Seokga hisses, angry tears smarting in his eyes. His rage goes deeper than the crimes Mireuk has committed against humanity. He feels like a child again, rejected by his idol at every turn. “You will stay here, Father, for all of eternity. You will become little but a desiccated corpse, sustained only by the smallest deliveries of the worst fucking foods.” The cave has been enchanted by Jacheongbi, who can wield control over agriculture, to force-feed Mireuk enough to keep him from dying. An unnecessary precaution, since if Mireuk were to reincarnate as a baby, the baby would find itself in the chains as well—but the thought does not sit well with the two brothers. “And I will never think of you again.”

Mireuk’s smile is bloody and wet. “Oh, you will, Seokga,” he promises, laughing again. “You’ll think of me every day…You can leave me down here for as long as you want, but I’ll always be with you.” He coughs, blood dribbling down his chin. “Do you want to know why I’ve always hated you?” The Mad God sniggers. “Because we’re the same, Seokga…The very same…You’re no better than me, boy, and time will tell…Oh, yes, time will tell…” As Mireuk begins to laugh once more, Hwanin yanks Seokga roughly back to Okhwang. “You’ll be back, boy!” Mireuk roars as the two brothers vanish. “You’ll be back!”

“It’s over,” Hwanin gasps as their feet hit the tiles of the throne room. “It’s over.”

“Yes,” says Seokga, wiping the blood from his nose and attempting to return Hwanin’s smile.

But even in the heavenly palace, his ears still ring with the sound of his father’s crazed laughter.

And it never fades, not even through the centuries.

It never fades.

Seokga jerks awake with a start, drenched in a cold sweat. It takes him a moment to reorient himself, to remember that the woman lying in his arms is Kisa, his Kisa. Trembling, Seokga buries his face back in her hair, only to jerk away with an angry hiss as his phone rings. He snatches it from the bedside table, furious at whomever has decided to call him at such an ungodly hour and risk waking Kisa—but pauses.

annoying and murderous nephew , the caller ID reads.

Hwanung. Snarling, Seokga disentangles himself from Kisa, and locks himself in the bathroom. Before he can think better of it, he’s answering the call.

“I’m going to find you,” Seokga growls into the phone, “and I am going to disembowel you so very slowly—”

“Uncle…” Hwanung’s voice crackles. “I didn’t do it. I swear. I didn’t kill the captain; I didn’t kill my father. I was framed. Someone—someone framed me.”

“Where, exactly, are you?” Seokga continues, leaning against the door and envisioning how he’ll reap his bloody revenge. It’s most entertaining.

“You’re not listening to me!” Hwanung cries, and his desperation sounds real enough that Seokga pauses. “ I didn’t do it! ”

“Then why did you run?” Seokga growls. “Only the guilty flee. I should know.”

“Because,” pants Hwanung, “I was afraid. I heard what was broadcast over the ship, but I wasn’t there ! I was on Deck 9, looking for you, because my father hadn’t been returning my calls. I thought you might know where he was. This is the longest we’ve ever fought and I was worried…It was my voice on the speaker, but it wasn’t me—but I know how you fucking work, Uncle, and it’s ‘kill first, ask questions later.’ I ran because I was afraid. Part of me thought it was you —and part of me still thinks it is—but you’re all I have. Please, Seokga, help me. I know I’ve been horrible to you, but you have to believe that it wasn’t me!”

Seokga grips his phone and glares at his reflection in the mirror. “I’ll remind you of what you said the last time we spoke,” he spits.

“What?” splutters Hwanung.

“Your allusions to the murder, you whimpering ninny, weren’t as subtle as you thought.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Hwanung cries. “I was angry at my father, and you told me that he was crying and napping! At the time, I didn’t take that to mean he was a baby again…I thought he regretted our fight!”

“And your statement that you didn’t plan on giving the throne up anytime soon?”

“I don’t even remember saying that!”

“Give it up, Hwanung. I know about Soo-min,” Seokga snaps. “I know all of it. Now, I’ll ask again: Where are you hiding?”

There’s a beat of confused silence. “Soo-min?” Hwanung asks carefully.

“Don’t play dumb,” Seokga snarls. “Lee Soo-min. The woman you had an affair with, the woman Hwanin didn’t approve of. You went to couple’s therapy with her. Dr. Jang told me everything.”

The line is silent until Hwanung, very slowly, says: “I went to couple’s therapy with Ungnyeo.” Seokga freezes. The immortal bear-shifter is a far cry from Soo-min. She and Hwanung have been on and off for centuries, even after (accidentally) having a son together—Dangun, who founded Korea’s first kingdom. “I don’t know anybody named Lee Soo-min. I never have.”

Something awful is beginning to prod at Seokga’s mind. He takes a thin breath through his nose. “Do you have any proof?”

“Ungnyeo will corroborate it,” Hwanung says desperately. “Call her, Uncle. But if Dr. Jang lied to you, that means she’s part of it. She knows I never brought in Soo-min. And—” He starts breathing heavily, as if realizing something of great importance. Sweat slides down Seokga’s bare back. “I saw her. Today. She was the one who told me you were on Deck 9. She walked with me as far as Deck 8.”

Deck 8. Where the bridge is. But it doesn’t make any sense. Dr. Jang said that Hwanung had slipped away—

“Heejin is involved. She has to be. She framed me—”

Seokga’s head is swimming, and he feels as if he might faint.

“—is there a jangsan beom on the ship?” his nephew is demanding. “They mimic voices. There has to be a jangsan beom because I swear—on me— that I’m innocent!”

To swear on Hwanung is the deadliest oath one can make. For Hwanung to do it now…Seokga’s throat has long gone dry. The satisfied feeling of having closed a case drains away from him. “If you’re lying to me, nephew—”

“I swear on myself that I’m not!”

Shit. Fuck. Shit fucking shit. Somi is right. Seokga is an awful detective. Chief Shim would be so disappointed. He can feel him rolling in his grave. “Stay hidden. Stay down. I’ll call you back soon.” Before Hwanung can reply, Seokga is ending the call and stumbling out into the bedroom. “Kisa,” he says urgently, “Kisa, wake up—”

He cuts off short.

The bed is empty. The lights are on.

And the door is wide, wide open.