Page 37 of The Last Tiger

Eunji

It’s been a full day and night since we set out from the cave, and we’re still no closer to finding the tiger.

We’ve been trudging forward, down into valleys, up rocky terrain.

Despite Kenzo’s pleas for me to rest, I haven’t slept.

He hasn’t, either, even though we planned to sleep in shifts for safety.

Kenzo only made it an hour or two before he devolved into yet another fit of nightmarish groaning and thrashing, gasping awake with a panicked start.

I haven’t asked him what the dreams are about.

As for me? I don’t trust Kenzo enough to leave him sitting there awake while I’m out, lest he find a way to somehow sabotage my plan while I’m unconscious.

As we trek, I’ve been picturing whoever it is that got to the tiger first and what exactly I’ll do when we find them.

Lover Boy. Certainly a code name of some sort.

He could be anyone: old, young, tall, short…

Whoever he is, he’s certainly light on his feet.

Considering how quickly we’ve been moving.

At least we haven’t encountered any Dragon Army. Traveling this barely charted path through the woods, we’re far from the gates of any city. No one’s looking for the tiger out here.

Maybe because it’s a fruitless endeavor.

What’s more, the temperature has suddenly dropped today. And as the sun sets over the horizon, it’s only going to get colder.

“Take it.”

I glance back at Kenzo. He’s removed his cloak and is extending it toward me.

“Why?”

“You look cold.”

I scoff, wrapping my own worn, brown cloak tighter around my arms.

“I’m fine.”

Kenzo reaches forward and grabs the edge of my cloak without asking, rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb disdainfully. “Come on, this is barely an extra layer. What is it, cotton? Mine is actually built for insulation.”

My body shivers, and I curse it, simply quickening my pace. Kenzo lets out an exasperated sigh behind me before hurrying to catch up. A blanket of warmth cascades over me as he wordlessly places the coat around my shoulders.

Aish. It does feel a lot better.

“See?” he says, smirking. “You’re welcome.”

Maybe I should thank him. Instead, I roll my eyes. Mother would be mortified to see my manners, or lack thereof.

“Why, Eunji…?” Kenzo says, perplexed, shaking his head. “Why are you choosing to make life so hard for yourself?”

I grit my teeth. “Life is hard.”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

“Maybe for you ,” I reply, blowing the hair out of my face as I tighten his soft, downy cloak around my arms.

“Things haven’t always been as easy for me as you think, Eunji-ji.”

I flinch, remembering a certain conversation from a kimchi cabinet what feels like a lifetime ago.

“Anyway, you’re so obsessed with this capture-the-tiger idea that you’ve been willing to wear yourself down to the bone,” Kenzo continues. “It’s not healthy. You should rest a little.”

“I don’t have any choice in the matter,” I say. “And neither do you. Our families are ruined. The empire literally thinks I’m better off dead. And if I can’t capture the last tiger, I…I might as well be.”

Thankfully, just then, a glorious sound pushes through to my ears.

Rushing water.

Kenzo looks up thirstily. Suddenly nothing else matters but the prospect of fresh water .

I sprint, smashing through the forest, snapping branches and crushing dead leaves in my wake.

When I break through into the open valley, I’m hit with a thirst so palpable that it nearly knocks me over.

A vast, blue river lies before us, deep and flowing fast. White water skims over sharp, jagged rocks downstream, as the river speeds down the incline of the valley.

An enormous, white stone bridge leads from one side of the riverbank to the other.

I’m about to go down—

When I spot her.

Standing at the center of the bridge, peering despondently toward the river, is a woman dressed in an exquisite hanbok so colorful and ornate that it must be for a very special occasion.

Odd. It’s almost evening, out in the countryside, a strange place for a yangban woman to be wandering so far from home.

At the sound of my footsteps, her head swivels my way.

It’s… Mother .

My throat clutches.

What is she doing here?

When she meets my eyes, Mother’s lips edge up at the corners into a relieved smile, and unexpected warmth fills my chest. She opens her arms, beckoning me to come closer as I run to her.

Mother’s mouth moves, but I can’t make out what she’s saying; the roaring river must be drowning out her soft voice.

I sprint forward, suddenly flooded with an intense urge to go to her, to wrap myself in her embrace, to listen as she promises me that everything’s going to be okay.

Unable to think of anything else, I dash as fast as I can down the slope toward the bridge.

I have to go to her. A rainbow sheen wavers in the air over the bridge.

But then—just as I’ve set foot atop the stone—

Her face begins to melt .

I nearly fall over as I grind to a halt, aghast.

Wait—she’s not melting. She’s…shifting. Growing.

Mother’s spine lengthens, and her shoulders begin to expand as, before my terrified eyes, she transforms—into a man.

Not just any man. Father.

Clad in his finest suit—the one I last remember seeing him wear, at the wedding—Father towers before me, his face contorted into an expression…of rage.

Is this some kind of terrible nightmare?

I pause dead in my tracks. Father—or whatever is taking his shape—takes a step forward. Then he opens his mouth—releasing a shriek so inhuman and grotesque that it turns my blood ice cold.

I should run away. I know I should.

But instead, that incessant, desperate urge to go to him—to kneel at his feet, to apologize, to beg his forgiveness—still beckons me forward—

I’m barely aware of Kenzo’s voice as he shouts somewhere behind me, panting.

“Eunji, wait up!”

I continue stepping forward, unable to look away, toward the image of Father. I’ve let him down. I have to go to him. If I do, maybe he will forgive me. I have to do it now, before it’s too late.

But then Kenzo steps out of the forest. Father’s head swivels away from me.

Seeing Kenzo, he begins to transform again. He contorts and stretches—becoming a striking replica of Minister Kobayashi.

The spell breaks. Suddenly I seem to regain the movement in my legs, the control over myself. Flushed with alarm, and the sense of immediate danger, I turn toward Kenzo and wave my hands wildly in the air for him to stay back .

But Kenzo isn’t looking at me. He’s staring straight ahead at the man on the bridge. His eyes are glassy, his jaw slacked. He rushes forward.

“Father…?” Kenzo gasps, his face even paler than usual.

Minister Kobayashi raises a disdainful chin toward Kenzo, dripping in disapproval.

“Kenzo,” I shout, “stop—you have to get out of here—”

He doesn’t seem to hear what I’m saying. I watch, mortified, as he strides steadily forward over the grass toward the bridge.

Grass. It’s lush, dark green; the only place we’ve seen since the tiger’s cave that isn’t blighted by drought. Unlike the parched, dying woods everywhere around us, the grass and trees surrounding the bridge are vibrant and alive. Almost eerily so.

This creature…is another spirit.

The vision of Minister Kobayashi beckons Kenzo forward, extending a hand toward him. Kenzo shrugs past me onto the bridge, stopping just before the image of his father. I try to tug Kenzo back, but he shakes me off.

“Sir…please…I didn’t mean to disobey you…”

“Kenzo, listen to me—” I plead, pulling at his arm. He fights me off.

Kenzo kneels before the image of Minister Kobayashi.

Just as Kenzo raises his head, the replica of his father pounces, releasing another deafening screech.

The minister’s open mouth is utterly inhuman, filled with way too many rows of jagged teeth and a blood-red, impossibly long tongue.

Kenzo yelps in confusion as the monster slams him on his back, pinning his arms above his head.

The monster transforms yet again, growing even larger. Its human nose lengthens into a wolflike snout, its ears becoming pointed and flat. A flash of luscious white fur springs through the clothes as I count five, seven—no, nine tails.

A gumiho.

Moonhee used to tell me stories of these shapeshifting, deceptive nine-tailed foxes who could pull the deepest secrets from your soul and use them as bait to lure unsuspecting travelers to their deaths.

Don’t worry, she assured me as I squealed in fright and ducked under the covers. They aren’t real. Just legends.

As the gumiho reveals its true shape, Kenzo shouts in fear, returning to his wits, and begins to thrash about, attempting in vain to escape.

“Kick it off! Fight back!” I shout to Kenzo. “Use your powers!”

Of course, a normal human would’ve been torn to shreds by now. But Kenzo is no normal human—he’s exceptional , so talented in the use of Dragon ki that he was granted an early graduation from Adachi Academy and sent straight to the military with a prestigious promotion.

So…why isn’t he fighting back against the demon fox?

Kenzo grunts, writhing, but his ki seems to have left him.

His arms are flimsy, powerless against the overwhelming strength of the monster.

Before I can even register what’s happening, the gumiho raises a paw with claws as jagged as scythes and brings it down in a white flash, sinking it deep into Kenzo’s shoulder.

It tears through his clothes as easily as a knife cutting through parchment. Kenzo screams out in pain—

And I spring into action.

I might be running straight to my death here. If Kenzo’s ki powers don’t work against this monster, mine likely won’t either. But I can’t just do nothing—I can’t stand there and watch my only companion be eaten alive.