Page 23 of The Last Tiger

I grunt as a boot hits my chest, pushing me back. The force of the kick knocks the air out of me.

“Not fair ?” the supervisor says threateningly. “Are you questioning my judgment?”

I should shut up now, I know, but I can’t help it. That gold means rice, and my brother and mom are hungry at home. And I earned it—

“My family needs that bonus—”

I see stars as the supervisor backhands me. The blow knocks me sideways, back to the floor.

“Know your place, boy,” the supervisor growls. “Tiger spawn .”

Tiger spawn.

I shake with anger. All I can see in my mind’s eye are the countless times I have been in this exact situation before, helpless to defend myself and the people I care about.

It isn’t just Officer Hiyoshi attacking my dad.

The scar-faced officer in the woods. Now the supervisor in the gold mine.

No, it isn’t just these men—it’s my entire life, a lifetime of Dragon officials throwing their weight around, throwing me around like a rag doll, just because they can.

It’s every bruise I’ve ever sustained at their hands.

The flood of anger rushes through me—surging forth out of my heart like a frothing wave, picking up speed—

A red fog shrouds my vision—

I whip around, shaking, my hands held out in front of my face toward the supervisor. A flash of blood-red light passes in front of my eyes.

“Don’t—” I say through my teeth, “call me that—”

The cave darkens. The supervisor shrinks with fear as a muddy, rust-red aura of light grows suddenly from my outstretched hands.

The pool of anger builds, fed by the frustration and, worse, despair pouring out of my heart, growing steadily into a murky red cloud that begins swirling in the air between us.

I extend my hands straight toward the supervisor—releasing the torrent of anger at once. It pours in an ugly stream out of my hands toward the man’s body.

The supervisor’s eyes roll into his head, and he falls back, unconscious, slumping to the ground. The gold clatters out of his hands onto the floor. His body twitches several times. I look down, shocked.

Even as I watch, the murky red puddle of light fades from the supervisor’s body, dissipating into the air, vanishing from sight.

What the—

Next to me, the thief’s face has gone ghostly pale.

What did I just do?

I take a look around the cave. I step back, shaken. Then I back away—and run out of the tunnel, leaving the gold piece glinting on the ground behind me.

I walk through the valley in a daze. My shadow lengthens on the path before me.

Thank the spirits that the supervisor doesn’t know who I am by name. I’m plenty sure of that—we’re indistinguishable to him, the Tiger laborers. And that thief, whoever he was, I didn’t recognize either. Neither of them should be able to trace what just happened back to me.

But what is it that just happened?

What is happening to me?

It began last year, with that inexplicable incident at the Exam…My mind races back. I see those lights passing in front of my eyes again, before shaking the memory away.

Over the past year, I’ve noticed that some bizarre, unexplainable change has occurred in my perception, to my senses—I’ve become, I don’t know how to explain it, bizarrely attuned to everyone—

Living things, animals, people, anything with a beating heart. Like I can feel their presence.

I jump as the new electric streetlamps the empire has been installing across the colonies switch on for the evening, emitting a strange, incandescent white light over the path.

Down the valley, I see the unfamiliar shapes of the brand-new utility poles, standing like scarecrows, the wires stretching from one to the next across the mountains and off into the distance.

I stare down at my shadow again, newly flickering against the harsh electric light.

It looks like Dad.

That tired gait. The miner’s attire.

I close my eyes, seeing his face.

But when I open them, he’s gone. Instead, I see my house, sitting at the top of the valley. It’s the same sight my dad saw every day when he came home from work.

I make my way up the final steps of the path, my feet heavy, and stumble through the front door.

“Hey, guys. I’m home—”

I stop in my tracks. Hoyoung is sitting in the middle of the floor. Mom kneels beside him, wrapping a fresh bandage around his leg.

Bright red blood spots through the first layer of bandages.

“What happened?!” I rush over.

Mom looks up at me wearily. “Hoyoung was caught stealing.”

“What? Why?” I glance at Hoyoung, but the kid simply stares at the floor, his lips pursed.

Mom finishes bandaging up my brother’s leg, then fastens the wrap together. “He hasn’t said a word since the police brought him home.”

The Dragon Police? Hoyoung has no idea how lucky he is. If those guys were having a bad day…I can’t imagine what they would’ve done to him. I feel a wash of terrified relief that they’ve returned him in one piece.

I drop to the floor beside Hoyoung. His hand is balled into a fist, but something peeks through his fingers.

“Hey,” I murmur, “what have you got there, buddy?”

I reach down and carefully uncurl Hoyoung’s grip. In the center of his palm is a crumpled ball of parchment.

“Hoyoung? What is this?”

My little brother begins to sniffle as I unfold the crumpled paper ball and smooth it out. Then I start, feeling a jolt of recognition as I read the all-too-familiar words:

Introduction to Philosophical Foundations of Dragon Ki

It is essential for young aspiring professionals to understand the philosophical foundations of the Dragon Empire’s greatest source of pride. In this unit, students will learn the underlying principles that dictate not only the practice, but also the societal and political history of the art form.

Chapter 1—The Spirit of the Dragon

I recognize the passage immediately.

“Hoyoung,” I say slowly, “you tried to steal a textbook?”

Hoyoung looks up at me, his cheeks smeared with tears and mud, and nods.

“Why did you do this?” I demand, suddenly angry.

Hoyoung finally opens his mouth to speak, but it takes him several tries before he can get the words out.

“I—I thought…,” he mutters, shivering, “if I could get one of the books, if I could start to study right now, like the rich kids, I might have a chance…”

“Oh, Hoyoung…,” I begin, a knot forming in the back of my throat.

“When it’s my turn, if I can pass the Exam, then maybe I can get a good job. And you wouldn’t have to worry so much.”

My chest caves.

“Come on, kiddo,” I say, my voice cracking as I scoop him up and lift both of us to our feet. “Let’s get you to bed.”

I lie on my floor mat, staring up at the ceiling. I can’t stop thinking about Hoyoung with that paper ball in his hand.

The first rays of sunrise bleed in softly through the window to my left, illuminating Hoyoung’s soft cheeks, peaceful in sleep. Beside him, Mom snores lightly, a small frown etched into her face. Above us, the roof still looks patchy and misshapen, because, let’s face it, I’m no carpenter.

I’m due back at the marketplace in a matter of hours to start my morning shift. But despite the ache in my bones and the fatigue weighing me down, there’s no way I can fall asleep now.

If I could start to study right now, like the rich kids, I might have a chance…

A wave of revulsion rises in my stomach.

No.

Not Hoyoung.

The Exam is a trick, my friend. The memory of another voice stirs in my head.

I see it play out in my mind: Hoyoung studying for years, imagining that he could pass the Exam. As he grows older, the dream grows larger in his mind, filling him with hope. Hope that someday he might get out of here. Hope that we might somehow, some way, escape this life.

But now I know the truth.

That hope is a lie.

The Exam was always a lie. Who could afford the tutors? Only the yangban. It was a privilege saved for a select few, never meant for me and Hoyoung. For us, that “opportunity” was a mirage designed to keep us compliant.

But it isn’t just the Exam, I realize suddenly, my thoughts racing now in the dark.

Everything about this colonial society the empire has built for us—it’s all intended to keep us hoping, striving for a better life, but never quite able to achieve it.

Our wages are barely enough to subsist on.

The best jobs, the most coveted diplomatic and business positions, are reserved for Dragon people.

The entire social reality of the Tiger Colonies is that there is no way to succeed , no way to advance, no way to escape the system.

We’re second-class citizens in our own homeland. That’s how the system is designed. That’s how it was supposed to work. And it’s supposed to keep us there forever.

When you are in the mood to finally stand up for yourself, come find me.

I sit up straight in bed.

I remember her. The rebel girl in the moonlight. The girl with the pale face and hair the color of magpie feathers.

Take it.

She gave me something. A way to find her.

Where did I put that flyer?

As quietly as I can, I scramble to my feet. I slide my floor mat to the side, careful not to wake my family. Then I lift the wooden floorboard directly underneath it.

Resting there are my Exam notes, coated in cobwebs and dust—where I stored them a year ago.

I sift through the papers, and my gaze lingers over Eunji’s small, neat handwriting.

My heart pangs as I remember her penning these words, remember the edge of her lip curling upward mischievously as she graded my practice test…

I swallow the painful memory, shoving it down.

Eunji’s probably already married by now. She’s living far away in the Dragon Empire with her new family. She’s moved past me. She’s begun a life I’ll never be a part of.

I flip through the papers, continuing the hunt.

I know it’s here. I put it here somewhere…

Come find me. The memory of the rebel girl’s offer surfaces again. Now that I’ve remembered the words, I can’t seem to think of anything else.

And then—aha! There it is.

A single piece of paper with the head of an angry tiger painted in broad brushstrokes. I squint through the darkness, holding it up.

I pull the flyer free, then replace the rest of the study materials and lower the floorboard into place. I look down at the floor—for a moment, I wonder whether I should give these to Hoyoung. Then I shake my head.

No more with the Exam. No. There has to be another way.

For Lover Boy—Jin Xx

Whoever this Jin is—I have to find her.