Page 59 of The Last Tiger

Eunji

“The well—” Seung stammers. “Maybe it can heal her. We have to get her up there.”

He shakes his head, running a hand across the tiger’s side. Crimson blood is everywhere, matting her fur. I press on the wound, trying to stop the flow, to no avail.

“Okay. Get on my back,” I say.

Seung shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll climb beside you.”

“You won’t be able to match my pace. We’ll be too slow,” I say. “She doesn’t have much time.”

Just then, a rustle passes through the trees to our left. I turn, then spring back in fear as a familiar long, white face emerges from the brush.

It’s the gumiho.

“Stay back, Seung,” I warn. “That thing—”

But the nine-tailed fox doesn’t take another step forward, doesn’t attack. Instead, it simply lowers its nose to the dirt. Then rises up onto its hind legs and begins to transform…

Into the image of Captain Nari. She nods reassuringly at me, then gestures uphill, toward the top of the mountain. She points at me, then Seung, then the tiger, before bending down and morphing back into the nine-tailed fox.

I furrow my brow. What is it trying to say? Is it another trick?

My shoulders tense as the gumiho takes a careful step in our direction. It sniffs the tiger a few times, nuzzles it with its brow. It kneels down before Seung—

And then I understand.

“I think…it wants you to climb on.”

It takes us only forty minutes to get to the peak of the mountain. But forty minutes are an eternity when there’s a dying tiger in your arms. Especially if she’s the last one.

As we sprint up the mountain, the moonlight streams through the canopy, illuminating our path.

We race uphill: me, with the Tiger spirit sprawled across my shoulders; Seung, riding upon the back of the gumiho, his fingers entrenched in its thick white fur.

On the way, we’re joined by creatures from beyond my imagination—I spot a pack of goblin-like monsters squealing with laughter, racing through the woods to one side of us, as overhead, a trio of crows soar through the air—I can’t quite catch a glimpse, but it appears that each has one too many legs.

With every bounding step, I silently pray to these spirits.

Please, please, please let her live.

When we finally arrive, the monsters hold back, watching us through the woods below the mountain peak. The plateau is now cut in two; a stark, jagged cliff falls away where the mountain split apart days ago.

The gumiho bows deeply, letting Seung off its back, before stepping to the side and observing us through shining, black eyes. It joins the other spirits. I can feel their stares, even when I turn away.

“This way,” Seung says, urgently beckoning me over to the cave.

We enter.

The well is cracked; the water is gone. It’s just a dried-out ruin.

I lower the tiger down beside the empty well, then bend over so that my ear nearly touches its fur. I listen as the tiger’s breath grows more and more shallow—

“She’s going to die,” Seung says, dumbfounded.

The spirit’s blood soaks into the stone, spreading a dark, wet stain over the rock.

She tries to lift her head, in pain. She shudders as an ashen shadow emerges from her form, flickering back and forth between the shape of a woman and the animal spirit below.

I gasp as the woman opens her mouth to speak.

“It’s all right.” The Tiger spirit winces. Her voice weakens with each word, but even so, I can hear the music in it. “You’ve done it. Both of you. You’ve done everything you needed to do.”

“No—we haven’t saved you—” Seung cries.

“I am the spirit of the Tiger people. That spirit was dying until today. But did you see what happened back there? Did you hear the voices crying out? The people feel hope again. You have awakened something that can no longer be stopped.”

“Isao told his soldiers to stand down,” I tell her. “Does this mean it’s over?”

“This moment goes beyond the decisions of one man. The actions of one pair. Or the magic of one spirit,” she replies. “What matters now is that hope has returned where there was none. The spirit lives again in the Tiger people. That is what you did today.”

“But you’re the last of your kind,” Seung cries. “What does it matter if hope has returned to the Tiger people if we don’t have you? We’ll be powerless again. Without Tiger ki…”

“No, Seung.” The spirit smiles. “With hope living again in the Tiger Kingdom, so will Tiger ki.”

And then, in a blink, she’s gone. The tiger’s body disappears, leaving only the bloodstain on the ruins of the well.

I turn to Seung.

“What happens now?”

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head, tearfully pulling me into an embrace.

We hold each other as the cave goes dark.

The sun is rising, casting the horizon in red. I can see the city below, the bustling streets, the river, shining in the light.

I never knew how beautiful this country was.

So many years I spent cooped up inside my room, knowing nothing but those four walls and the one surrounding our little town, oblivious to just how much life existed out here in the world…

Kenzo is down there, somewhere. When the sun rises high and the dust clears, I wonder where his loyalty will fall.

Seung and I sit side by side, looking out over the landscape. I watch the seagulls soar through the air ahead of us, and for the first time, I find that I’m not jealous of them.

For the first time, I’m as free as they are.

For so long, I chased freedom, believing I would find it in power.

Instead, the closer I got to the top, the tighter the cage became around me. I was looking in the wrong place—to the wrong people—for the key.

I had to let go. I had to fall. To break, and put myself back together. I had to finally listen to myself, to take the terrifying risk to trust myself to do what I knew was right.

And I did. Finally, I did.

I think about my family—their desperation to maintain their social standing, something that seems so small to me now.

Their fear, and the way it controlled them.

And I understand. I understand why one would choose to remain within the four walls over the vast, endless expanse.

I understand that there’s more than one type of cage.

That the worst one of all is the one you place yourself in.

But now that I know it is possible, I choose to step out and beyond. Not to be led by fear, but by purpose. I know now that sometimes you have to be willing to step away from power to truly find your own.

No matter what happens after we come down from here, I’m going to use everything in my power to build up this place.

To keep fighting back, no matter what the empire or anyone else may throw our way.

And I have a lot at my disposal. I know how to deal with the very pinnacle of social elites.

I personally know, through my family connections, some of the most powerful people in the colonies.

I know that not everything can be solved with punching and kicking.

This time, instead of falling slave to the powers that be, I’m free to stand for what I believe. Maybe some of the yangban will come along with me, even if not all of them do. And together, we’re going to help build a free world. A free Tiger Republic .

Seung breaks the silence.

“Eunji…”

I finally raise my head and turn to face him. “Yes?”

He smiles forlornly and reaches out his hand—and I take it.

As I face him, my heart grows full. With hope, and with pain. The pain of having lost him and found him again; the hope of the future that we might still, somehow, have together.

He’s come a long way from Kidoh. We both have.

I lean forward and let his warmth envelop me as I shut my eyes.

Our lips touch, and as we sink deeper into each other, suddenly I’m back on that rooftop, gazing at the stars in Seung’s eyes—I’m back at the cliff side, falling faster and faster—I’m at the foot of the dragon, adrenaline pulsing throughout my body—I’m somewhere that I’ve never been, somewhere that I’ve always known—

As we part, I feel the hope bloom in my chest. And perhaps it’s a trick of the light, but Seung seems to almost shimmer, to glow. As he holds my hand, a brilliant luminescence shines around us. The light expands, covering the world…

With hope living again in the Tiger Kingdom, so will Tiger ki. I hear the spirit’s voice echo in my mind.

Behind us, I see something flickering, a small orange flame. It becomes an incandescent child—a spirit—and then I realize with a gasp what it is—

“Wh-wha—”

Out of the trees, something small appears: a tiny, transparent creature. It pads forward and shakes its head, pawing at its eyes…

Followed by several more.

The light fades as the creatures begin to take shape. One of them gives a little kitten call.

They’re tiger cubs.

Nearly a dozen of them.

Seung and I share a stunned glance, our cheeks glistening with tears.

The August 15, 1945, was the liberation of Korea from Japanese rule or the Korean Independence Day and finally we could have breath of freedom with no fear of oppressive forces.

—Grandpa Changkiu “Keith” Riew

When I recall how each of you grew up when [Changkiu] and I struggled, enduring difficulties of life, I am so very thankful that you all are raising your children well-provided for and allowing them each to develop to their fullest potential.

[Changkiu] and I lived through some very difficult decades, but with every mountain to climb, every wide river to ford, and with every stifling difficulty, we see in hindsight with grateful hearts, how God brought us through!

—Grandma Hyunsoo “Kim” Riew