Page 4 of The Last Tiger

Eunsoo carries on with his histrionics. Once he’s sure he has our attention, he quiets himself, inhales deeply, then exhales, focusing his ki on the injuries. The red blotching on his feet gradually heals and disappears. Eunsoo sneaks a glance at my parents, making sure that they’re watching him.

Father nods slowly with approval, a mixture of jealousy and pride on his face, which is how he always looks when he sees Eunsoo use ki powers.

Father was only eighteen when the empire took over; even if he hadn’t been two years past the age cutoff for acquiring ki, Adachi Academy wouldn’t open its doors to citizens from the Tiger Colonies for another twelve years.

So Father spent the rest of his life allying our family as closely as possible with the empire, ensuring that his children would receive the education he never had.

Mother rises to her feet soundlessly and shuffles to my side. Which is how Mother does everything, of course—drawing as little attention to herself as possible. Like any good yangban wife, she keeps her gaze fixed to the floor as she moves around.

“Aiya.” I wince as Mother holds my hand up between her two palms, examining the damage.

“It’s just a little burn. Should be gone by sunrise,” Mother says quietly, the corners of her lips curving upward ever so slightly.

Choi women are expected to smile through pain.

Father turns his attention to me now.

“What has gotten into you, Eunji?” he barks, scolding me for my clumsiness.

“Just a matter of time before that girl is out of the house—then she’s her husband’s problem.” Eunsoo rolls his eyes.

I bristle at the particular way Eunsoo stresses the word husband , as if he knows something I don’t.

Surely, Father hasn’t decided on a match yet.

Following my sisters’ timelines, that conversation shouldn’t even begin for at least another year or two…

although of course, Eunsoo will be the first one informed, followed by Mother, and then, once the decision has already been finalized, I’ll be the last to find out.

But if they’ve already begun discussions, I’d at least like to know that it’s happening…

“Father…” I begin, searching for the right words to raise the question without offending him.

As the two men turn toward me, a servant boy emerges from the kitchen with a cloth in his hand.

Moonhee has probably sent him out in her place, hoping to avoid Father’s wrath.

With his head down, the boy rushes to the base of the table and kneels to wipe up the puddle of tea.

I avert my gaze from the men, instead watching the boy’s hand as it circles steadily over the wooden floorboards.

“Well? What is it, Eunji?” Father prompts me.

Just as I open my mouth to speak, the servant boy looks up.

A shudder jolts through my body. My chopsticks clatter to the table.

No. It can’t be.

“Eunji? What’s the matter?” Impatience flickers through Father’s voice.

“N-no-nothing, sorry,” I stammer, fixing my gaze on my lap.

Eunsoo scoffs in annoyance.

I barely hear him. A sudden, deep alarm is ringing in my ears.

I can’t help it—I steal another look down at the servant. Beneath a shock of shaggy, black-brown hair, he’s looking back at me with a quizzical expression in his dark, pensive, chestnut-brown eyes.

And then, and then —! He smiles .

As if to say, I know what you’ve done.

It’s him. Undeniably it’s him. This servant boy is the one who recognized me yesterday at the Slaying Ceremony.

What am I going to do? What can I do?

Why was I so stupid to sneak outside just to see a tiger? Was it really worth risking what little freedom I already had?

Dumb, dumb, dumb —

My imagination spirals, unveiling a horrifying collection of scenes: the servant boy whispering mischievously to Father for an extra coin, the yelling and retribution sure to follow, and the forbiddance of ever stepping outside these walls until they can finally ship me off to the academy.

A wealth of pain and imprisonment—all because I dared, brazenly, foolishly, to leave the house on my own without a chaperone.

Before I know it, the servant boy has disappeared, scurrying away into the next room over.

No. No way I can let this happen.

Not without a fight.

I swing my legs out from underneath the table and lift myself onto my feet.

Everyone turns to me in surprise.

“Please excuse me—I think I’m feeling ill,” I blurt, before mumbling a quick “thank you for dinner” and darting from the room.

“Hi, excuse me?” I hiss, trying to keep my voice down as I dash into the side room after the servant boy. “You!”

He turns around, pointing toward himself and cocking his head inquisitively. As if he doesn’t know.

“Yes, you! You’re…um…” I trail off, embarrassed. He’s been working here for a while, but I don’t know his name.

The servant boy averts his gaze, looking anywhere but at me as I take him in.

He appears to be around my age more or less, but looms several centimeters taller than me.

His height is further accentuated by his limber frame.

Every part of him seems to be composed of sharp angles—elbows, shoulders, jawline.

But beneath a shock of unruly dark hair, his face looks soft. Kind.

“Seung. Lee Seung.” The servant boy’s voice surprises me. Low, with a slight rasp—perhaps from disuse—a hint of laughter just below the surface. “It’s all right. I wouldn’t remember my name, either, if I were you.”

The corners of his lips twitch, and I’m not sure whether to bristle or admire his audacity.

I can’t tell if he’s about to crack another sly grin, or if it’s a nervous tic; either way, I don’t like how exposed we are, standing out here in the middle of a room that Eunsoo or Father or Mother could enter at any moment.

This won’t do.

“Okay, Lee Seung,” I say, grabbing the servant by his arm. His smile vanishes as he lurches back in shock. “Just a moment.”

Then I lift the floor hatch and yank him down after me into the food cellar. The sharp, pungent stench of pickled radish and fermented cabbage fills the air as I pull the door shut. It’s dark and cold in here.

“Whoa,” Seung coughs out, his back flush against the packed-dirt wall.

Here, beneath the ground, I can barely hear the clattering of dishes and my family’s voices from the dining room. Much better.

“Listen,” I hiss. “I think that we both know exactly why we’re here.”

“I—” he stutters. “I’m not sure that we do…?”

I slam a palm against the wall behind him and raise my chin toward his. “Oh, yeah ?”

Pushing away the urge to shiver in the cold, I fall silent. Wait for him to crack.

People tend to speak the truth when left in the quiet; I know this tactic from witnessing Father expose unloyal business partners for treasonous opinions against the empire.

I know it from watching my second sister, Eunyoung, admit to harboring a secret collection of banned Tiger history books, resulting in a beating that I’ll never be able to unsee, nor unhear.

If Father’s taught me anything, it’s that no one can be trusted with confidential information—not a family member nor a friend, certainly not a servant.

“Look, I know it’s not my position to say,” Seung begins, “but don’t you think—if someone were to open the door now—this would look just a little, uh…”

He trails off as I catch his drift.

The dark cellar. The cramped space. My lips, centimeters from his.

It is most definitely against the rules for any unmarried girl to be in such proximity, alone, with any boy—especially one outside her social class.

I lurch away.

“I know you saw me yesterday.” Better get to the point, then get us out of here.

Seung pauses. He seems to be weighing his options.

“Saw you where?” he replies carefully.

For one beautiful instant, I hope that I’ve been mistaken. Perhaps he didn’t see me! Perhaps he has no idea—

“Oh,” he says. “You mean at the Slaying—”

I slam my hand over his mouth before he can say any more.

“Don’t you dare say so much as a word about what you saw to anyone,” I hiss. “Got it?”

A restrained sigh shakes out of him, the warm air coasting over the edge of my palm. Then he reaches up, takes my fingers in his, and slowly lowers my hand. Though the movement is measured and his grip gentle, I can see his glower in the dark. I practically feel the irritation radiating off him.

My stomach drops. I’ve crossed the line.

“Okay, uh, sorry.” I pivot, dropping the tough act.

“What’ll it take for you to stay silent?

How much do you want?” I desperately dig into my pocket and offer up a handful of silver and gold coins.

I’m supposed to use this money for tips and emergencies only, but I’d say this qualifies as an emergency.

In the darkness of the storeroom, Seung stares down at my hand. The round metal pieces, catching a hint of light from the gaps around the closed hatch, glint back up at him.

“If that’s not enough, I can get you more,” I add quickly.

“As much as it takes. Just please , don’t tell my family that you saw me outside without a chaperone.

” An image of a bruised, bleeding Eunyoung flashes across my mind—the fire blazing as Father ripped her books to shreds and tossed them into the flames. “Please.”

Seung doesn’t speak for a long time. I can just barely see the frost of his breath spreading in the cool air.

“Put that away.” His voice turns deathly serious. “I don’t want your money.”

My face falls.

“Well, what do you want, then?”

He scoffs bitterly, turns his head away. When he finally speaks, the laughter is gone from his voice.

“What is this?” he says. “Are you trying to test me? I’m not going to take a bribe. I know how easily I could be fired for that.”

His body arches away in distrust. It’s clear that my position as his boss’s daughter is the only thing subduing his thinly veiled resentment.

“Please, just take the money,” I beg him. “I’m not trying to trick you, I promise. I really just can’t have anyone know that I went outside without a chaperone. Please swear that you won’t tell my father, and I’ll never bother you again.”

He looks down at the money.

“This is how you solve your problems, huh?” he says softly. “You just wave some coins around, and everything disappears? That’s just how your life works, isn’t it?”

My cheeks burn as though I’ve been slapped. I can only hope my voice isn’t shaking as much as I’m trembling on the inside.

“Look,” I reply slowly. “You don’t know anything about my life. I can’t just make my problems go away—”

“Oh yeah?” he replies. “It must be so hard, sitting in patterned silk, dining on feasts in a mansion every day.”

“Hey—you have no idea what I—”

“When’s the last time you went to bed hungry?”

I fall silent, speechless.

He doesn’t stop there.

“When’s the last time you walked ten kilometers through the freezing rain, before sunrise, to work to save up enough to buy shoes for your little brother? When’s the last time you worried about anything or anyone other than yourself?”

My hands ball into fists. I desperately hope that he can’t see the blush in my face.

“Look,” I snap, pissed. “I’ve never gone to bed hungry, it’s true. And I may not know what you’ve been through. I know my life may look easy to you. But at least you get to go outside whenever you want, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” His face falls into a scowl.

“Guess what, buddy—it’s not just rainbows and cherry blossoms over here, either.”

I don’t know where the words have come from, but it’s as if a dam has suddenly burst inside me. My anger rushes out.

“This place looks like a home, but it’s also a cage.

The only way I can ever leave these walls,” I tell him, pushing a finger into his chest, “is with an older male chaperone who watches my every move.

I can never go out alone by myself, not ever.

Do you have any idea what that feels like, to be constantly watched?

“And it’s no better inside the house. I’m forced to study, day and night, until I can hardly think—and I’m constantly being tested, reminded that I’m never smart enough, fast enough, never as beautiful as my older sisters were.

And if I don’t pass the Exam at the very top of my class, I’ll be an outcast and a failure to my whole family. ”

Seung mutters something.

“What did you say?!” I demand.

“I said, at least you have a chance .”

I pause.

“I don’t understand.”

“At the Exam,” he clarifies bitterly.

What is he talking about? My brow furrows in confusion. “Everyone takes the Exam. It’s mandated. It’s a free civil service test, you know, designed to create an open and merit-based society…”

The words flow out as if from a text I’ve diligently committed to memory…probably because they’re from a text I’ve diligently committed to memory.

“That’s what they tell you, huh?” He laughs emptily. “If the Exam is really based on merit, why don’t you ever see people from my side of town pass it?”

This I don’t have an answer to.

“I don’t have the tutors, the classes, the connections that you do.

I can’t even afford the textbooks,” he whispers.

“I would give anything for a fair shot at the Exam. To have ki powers, and a good job, to avoid a life of manual labor. But I don’t have those things.

And I never will. I’m sure you think what you have to deal with is hard.

I’m sure it is for you. But excuse me for not weeping with pity. ”

It’s never occurred to me to see the Exam as anything but a burden before.

And I’d never thought about how desperately some people must dream of having the chance to pass it.

As quietly as I can, I drop my hand and put the coins back into my pocket. “Well then, forget these,” I tell him. “I think I’ve got a better idea.”