Page 3 of The Last Tiger

Eunji

That’s it. I’m dead.

Actually, no. I’m not dead yet .

But if Father gets wind of this, I’m gonna wish that I was.

I know the consequences if I’m found out.

Every unmarried girl in the Choi bloodline for the last ten centuries has known the consequences.

The house arrest. The further restriction of my already severely limited privileges to go outside even with a chaperone.

Much worse, the potential for a foot-binding, using the Serpent Queendom’s horrible custom as punishment for a repeat offense.

Plus the complete loss of Father’s and Mother’s trust.

How could I have been so stupid? Of course, the one time I try to sneak out on my own, I get recognized…

“The chairman said that I’m immensely promising—those were his precise words, immensely promising —better than anyone he’s seen in eleven years,” my eldest brother, Eunsoo, drones on across the dining table.

My parents are captive listeners, Mother leaning forward, Father smiling indulgently.

“He’s put me in charge of local operations this year and said that he wants me to scale up to regional by the time I’m twenty-eight.

You should’ve seen the look on Hojin’s face, Father. Priceless.”

I focus on my food, taking dainty bites as I’ve been taught—the model of a perfect, silent daughter. My older brother shoves another mouthful of sweet rice into his mouth with his chopsticks, chewing noisily.

“Superb, Eunsoo!” Father praises him, his cheeks rosy with pride. “If only everyone in our family could match up to your progress…I expect you are applying yourself to your Exam studies, no doubt, Eunji?”

“Yes, Father,” I reply softly and cleanly, without hesitation. It’s more of a reflex answer to a question that wasn’t really a question—Father had barely glanced my way before turning back to a beaming Eunsoo.

As the eldest boy, he’s always been Father’s clear favorite. And after Eunsoo became the first in our family to graduate from Adachi Training Academy and earn ki, Father’s preference grew even more blatant.

The two of them make quite a pair, huddled together by the head of the long table, which, laden with colorful banchan and steaming rice, seems much too extravagant for a family of four.

There used to be nine of us. But my five elder sisters have long since moved out, leaving only empty chairs in their absence.

Not that we were ever close to begin with.

Thanks to the never-ending onslaught of comparing and contrasting comments from Father and Mother, which drove a deep wedge between us six.

Following in Eunsoo’s footsteps, my sisters each passed the Exam, of course—it would have been a disgrace if they hadn’t—but the moment each of them graduated from Adachi Academy, they were married off, whisked away by prominent colony elites with bulging wallets and gruff voices.

Men who repaid Father for the privilege of marrying into the storied Choi family line with gifts, investments in his railroad business, invitations to exclusive social gatherings.

Men whom my sisters had never once seen before their wedding days.

This is the plan for my life too. I know the script.

I will pass the Exam in the spring. I will enroll in Adachi Academy next fall, where I’ll have ki powers bestowed upon me by a Dragon spirit.

I will subsequently be trained by the military instructors at Adachi to use those ki powers.

Then, finally, as the rest of my classmates gain prestigious positions in the colonial Dragon administration and test the limits of their new abilities—

I will follow in my sisters’ footsteps and fulfill my ultimate, and final, duty by marrying into a family whose connections will be advantageous to Father.

It’s a golden cage. I’ve known this will be my fate for years.

My family clings to its sense of tradition the way a sloth clings to a tree branch in a burning forest. I suppose that’s how we’ve managed to stay at the top for so long—through decades of gruesome violence, through countless transfers of government power and even the demise of the royal family.

After the Dragon Empire conquered the Tiger Kingdom and colonized our country forty-three years ago, many families more prominent than ours were destroyed.

But not the Chois. We have survived over the years by collaborating with the colonial Dragon administration.

We have survived by keeping our heads down, by staying obedient.

We’ve even taken Dragon names, to show our good-faith effort to assimilate perfectly into the Dragon elite class. Our Tiger name may be Choi, but to Father’s connections in business and government, we are the Yamamotos now.

Dreaming of any other life would be futile.

Women in my bloodline are strictly not to pursue their own careers, their own interests, or, spirits forbid, their own choices.

Tradition, tradition, tradition—even as the world outside modernizes apace, the Chois hold fast to the old rules.

After all, if I don’t play my prescribed part in this drama—Father would say—our entire family’s reputation would be ruined.

Which means saying yes to my parents’ wishes.

Which means not going outside on my own, without a chaperone. Ever.

Or at least not getting caught.

Mother catches my eye before lowering her gaze meaningfully to my untouched bowl of soup.

I quickly bring a spoonful of the rich, white bone broth to my mouth and force myself to swallow it down.

The texture is so silky and thick that I nearly blanch.

Despite having hardly eaten today, I can’t seem to muster up an appetite.

Truly, I’m usually not one to break the rules.

I’ve seen where that’s gotten my older sisters, and I’ve made sure to steer clear of trouble as a result.

But something about the thought of the beast trapped within that cage called to me last night.

Some nagging sensation pulled me away from my desk, out the window, and into the streets of Kidoh, where I’d never once before been unaccompanied.

Though we are one of the few families exempt from having to attend the Slaying Ceremony, thanks to Father’s close collaboration with the colonial administration, my curiosity just couldn’t be assuaged. I had to be there.

Now the memories are seared into my brain: How the tiger’s wet eyes trembled as it strained against its bonds. How the crowd roared at the sight of the helpless prisoner.

How I was seen .

I was recognized out there.

But by who? Who was that?

“Did you hear what happened at the Slaying Ceremony last night?” Eunsoo asks suddenly, as if he can hear my thoughts.

I clench a fist around my teacup. Does he know, somehow?

“Apparently,” Eunsoo says, “the tiger’s head came back to life after they cut it off. It nearly chewed the leg off one of the officers. Took them nearly an hour to remove it, and the soldier was badly hurt. He may be permanently disfigured.”

I hold my breath, waiting for more. Eunsoo lifts his bowl to his face, polishing off the last of his broth.

It seems like that’s it. Guess he’s still clueless. I let out a barely audible sigh of relief.

Eunsoo might be able to crack a boulder in half with the flick of his wrist, but he couldn’t begin to understand the inner workings of my mind, even if he tried. And believe me, he hasn’t.

Father frowns. “I heard the news. That’s a bad omen.”

It’s rare that Father speaks of such things: omens, spiritual influence, anything implying a higher power beyond technology and the empire’s ki. I bite my tongue to stop myself from asking what he means. I know better than to expose any interest that I might have in the Slaying Ceremony.

“You’re not to discuss these matters any further, especially outdoors.

Understand, son? The empire does not make mistakes,” Father pronounces.

Then he lowers his voice soberly. “This is a difficult time for General Isao. There have been reports of vagabonds pillaging and attacking civil workers, murmurs of resistance in the countryside…The war is not popular among the lower classes. It’s our duty as yangban, as the empire’s representatives, to see to it that these youth rebels and any other troublemakers do not compromise the Dragon Empire’s authority. ”

“Yes, Father.” Eunsoo bows his head.

“Still, I can’t recall the last time a tiger head came alive at a Slaying,” Father muses. “It’s not a good sign. It may mean trouble on the horizon.”

Speaking of trouble…

Who was he—the one who recognized me? Those pensive, chestnut-brown eyes, they looked so familiar. But where could I have seen them before…?

He knew my name. A male student from prep school? Or the son of one of Father’s business colleagues? But his clothes were far too ragged for him to be one of the yangban class.

Whoever he is, I can only pray helplessly that he will keep my secret. Someone, somewhere out there knows I snuck out of the house against the rules.

Which means someone, somewhere could ruin my life at any moment.

As my mind races, a servant reaches over my shoulder, and a steady stream of barley tea cascades down. I flinch in surprise, jolting my hand—and knocking over the cup of tea, sending scalding-hot liquid splattering across my hand and pouring right down onto Eunsoo’s bare feet beside me.

“Aish!” The curse is out of my mouth before I stop myself.

“Eunji! Language ,” Father barks, with his signature scowl.

Eunsoo howls dramatically, leaping up from his seat and wincing in pain. He raises a fist as if to strike me. I cower as he seethes before collecting himself, lowering his hand.

I bow my head, quickly apologizing for my offense, wincing as the burn on my hand smarts.

The servant, a plump, kind woman in her middle age named Moonhee, glances anxiously at Father; fortunately for her, he is busy glaring at me instead.

Moonhee whispers a hurried apology before rushing away to fetch a towel.