Page 8 of The Last Tiger

Eunji

“This isn’t a fair deal,” I protest.

“Hm?”

Seung glances up at me from where he’s been squatting on the floor. I’m leaning against the door frame, watching him pack up his cleaning supplies at the end of our second week of tutoring.

“Think about it. Consider the amount of energy I’m spending on you,” I continue, “then compare that to the energy you’re spending on me . I’m teaching, prepping, grading. Meanwhile, you’re just withholding some information.”

I’m not lying, either—it really has been a lot of work.

On Mondays, while Seung comes over to my house to clean, I prepare him intensively for the Exam, cramming over a week’s worth of lessons into a single day.

I also hand him the following week’s preparatory materials—books, practice exams, the works—which I’ve prepared for him to study at home.

Not to mention grading his answers from the previous week and passing those along too.

Seung stops putting away his things.

“Surely you’re getting something out of this too, no?”

A blush spreads across my cheeks. I do have to admit it: The last two weeks, as strange as they’ve been, they’ve also been…fun.

For the first time, I’ve had something to plan for. A secret to keep. Someone to talk to.

But Seung doesn’t have to know that.

He already thinks I’m a snooty, out-of-touch, untrustworthy yangban daughter. I’d rather not worsen his impression by adding lonely and friendless to that list.

“What are you implying?” I ask evenly.

“By teaching me, you’re also studying,” Seung clarifies. “Which you need to do anyway. Isn’t tutoring someone else the best way to learn?”

He’s not wrong; I did earn my highest score yet on this past week’s practice exam with my tutor.

“True,” I concede. “But you can’t argue with the fact that this arrangement is lopsided . See here—”

I step away from the door frame and join him in the center of the room. Bending over, I lift one of the books on a section we haven’t yet covered from the top of the stack and open it to the first page.

“For example. Let’s start with some very basic questions. Where does Dragon ki come from?”

“Uh…” Seung falters. “From the academy. Adachi Academy.”

“Yeah,” I respond, pushing him, “but how do the students there actually get their ki powers? Where do they come from? Do you just magically acquire ki as soon as you pass the Exam?”

Obviously, from the blank look on Seung’s face, he hasn’t got a clue.

I flip the book around and show it to him. The open page shows an artist’s rendering of a Dragon spirit coiled around itself, facing the reader with its fangs bared. Beside the dragon is a young man with his head bowed, facing the spirit.

“Ki comes from the spirit world—from Dragon spirits ,” I tell him. “For a human to have ki, they must be initiated by a Dragon spirit. In other words, the dragon chooses you and grants ki powers onto you.”

“Ah,” Seung replies stiffly.

“In ancient times, there wasn’t any Exam.

The Dragons just chose whichever humans they thought were worthy of having ki.

But after the empire was founded, the government eventually took exclusive control over the Dragon spirits.

Ever since, they’ve been extraordinarily careful about guarding access to them.

Which means that now, obviously, they control who does and doesn’t get to have ki. ”

Seung peers closely at the textbook. His brow furrows as he reads.

“Next question.” I slap a hand over the pages. “What powers does having ki bestow?”

“Strength,” he replies curtly.

“Is that it?”

I turn the page. This time, the picture shows a young man in Dragon garb practicing martial arts. A large stone is cracked in half at his feet. Opposite him is a picture of a young woman climbing a mountain slope.

“Dragon ki does give incredible physical strength, indeed. But ki also grants endurance —allowing humans to travel for hours without tiring. And possibly more important than that…”

I indicate the picture on the next page. A young man here is injured, holding his hands to a deep wound at his stomach. In the following picture, the injury has disappeared.

“Dragon ki gives humans the power to immediately heal their bodies from even grievous injuries. That’s one of the key reasons why the Dragon Army is so hard to defeat.”

Seung purses his mouth. I snap the book shut.

“In conclusion,” I declare, “you’re years behind schedule. You don’t even know the very basics, let alone the higher-level knowledge tested by the Exam. Given the amount of information we’ve yet to cover, you don’t have a shred of hope of passing this test without my help.”

“So?” Seung says, annoyed. “We already knew that. Weren’t you the one who suggested—”

“Yes, the original proposal was my idea, but I miscalculated,” I cut in. “Now I’ve discovered just how desperately you need me.”

His scoff doesn’t manage to disguise the way his face pales. “Is that so?”

I nod, smug. “I’m giving you the opportunity of a lifetime. If you snitch, that’s it. You’d never report me to Father now—because your only chance at passing the Exam would fly out the window. Not to mention,” I add with a sweet smile, “you don’t really seem like the blackmailing type.”

Our eyes lock as I dare to reach up, dusting a rogue piece of hair off his shoulder.

For this to work, the faux confidence is a must. See, I’m testing Seung. Challenging him to either contradict me, or—hopefully—to confirm what I pray to be true: that the secret of my transgression is safe with him.

A risk, I know.

But being in Seung’s presence—acting against the rules, quietly rebelling these last two weeks—has sparked within me a new sense of boldness. And if he falls into my trap, I can finally rest easy.

I stare at him, tensely awaiting his response.

“You’re right. I’m not a blackmailer,” Seung admits, shifting.

I withhold a sigh of relief.

Seung’s still looking at me. “So, what’s your point?”

“Um.” I falter.

Honestly, I was so caught up in trying to confirm that Seung wouldn’t rat me out that I forgot to consider where the conversation would go from here. “As I said. This isn’t a fair trade.”

“All right,” Seung says, his prickly gaze remaining on mine. “And what do you expect me to do about that?”

Is this a challenge of his own?

How brazen. Perhaps it was a mistake to tell him to drop the honorifics around me…

It appears that he’s truly taken that request to heart.

Mother would surely command me to berate the “servant boy” for speaking to me so casually.

In fact, it’s the first time in my life that someone my age, let alone one of Father’s employees, has addressed me in such a familiar manner.

I’m far more accustomed to indifferent dismissal from fellow yangban or overly humble kowtowing from everyone else.

But instead of anger, a certain thrill passes through me at the bite in Seung’s voice.

I like that he’s begun to see me as a peer.

And maybe he knows that.

I lean in. “Well, Seung…I think you should propose a better deal.”

I try not to watch too intently as Seung runs his tongue over the edge of his bottom lip, nodding slowly as he processes my request. Finally, he breaks away, scratching his head as he paces the room.

“Huh. A better deal…,” he repeats, a soft smile forming. Then he snorts.

“What’s so funny?” I frown.

“It’s just…” He laughs again, throwing his arms up in the air. “What can I possibly give you? You already have everything.”

“Not everything.”

My eyes act on their own impulse, darting toward the window.

Then I pry my gaze away, toward the floor. No. I shouldn’t.

I shouldn’t ask for things that I can’t have.

“Oh,” Seung says softly. Then he gasps. “Oh!”

When I raise my head, Seung has lit up. He’s got an idea, and of course I know exactly what it is.

“No,” I snap immediately. “Forget it.”

“Why not?” Seung asks surreptitiously. “You’ve done it before.”

“That was a…one-time mistake,” I say, paling.

He raises an eyebrow.

“A lapse in judgment,” I continue, flinching. “That—wasn’t me. I wasn’t thinking straight—”

It’s true. Sneaking out of the house wasn’t me at all. Normally I’m the good daughter—the perfect daughter—doing everything that’s required of me. No more, and no less.

“Yeah, you definitely weren’t thinking.” Seung chuckles. “I mean, sneaking out to the village alone in that expensive woven cloak? You’re lucky you weren’t caught sooner. Or robbed.”

“Hey.” I frown.

“You obviously don’t know the first thing about pretending to be a normal person. You couldn’t pass for a commoner if you tried.”

I don’t have an answer to that. He’s right, and it hurts.

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t exit the premises at this hour,” I protest. “There’s doormen stationed at the entryways past midnight.”

“Not all the entryways,” Seung replies, raising an eyebrow. “Not the back one that the servants use on supply runs to the marketplace.” He grins wryly. “Clearly, you could use a teacher. Someone who knows the ins and outs not just of this mansion, but the world beyond.”

I shake my head. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Is it?”

Seung swiftly puts down the books, then walks over to the window and lifts it open. He sticks his neck out, looking one way, then the other. Finally, he hoists himself onto the sill and swings his legs outside.

Grunting, he lets himself down and then clambers up onto the outer wall surrounding the compound, fitting one foot at a time onto the stones. He climbs up onto the tiled roof of the wall and sits there, catching his breath.

Then he turns back and reaches his hand out toward me.

“Are you coming?”

“Are you crazy ?” I hiss at him, running to the window.

“Scared much?” Seung grins. “Do you plan to stand there forever, or do you wanna learn how to sneak out like a pro ?”