Chapter 23 Rui
Rui
The karaoke club was throbbing with music so loud it gave Rui a headache. The senior cadets were in a private full-service
room with free-flowing drinks, and fruit and dessert to boot. Everyone was letting loose after a long week of training.
Rui sat in a corner, stuffing her face with grapes. There was a burst of laughter from the other side of the room where Yiran
was holding court. She hated how well he was getting along with everyone at school. Hated how she could feel his excitement like a visceral punch to her gut. His emotions were so distinct and loud whenever he was near it was hard
to tune him out.
She made a face that went unnoticed in the dimly lit room as she crushed another grape in her mouth. The sweet fruit did nothing
to mask the lingering bitterness inside her.
Ada appeared. “Pick a song!”
“Both brothers are terrible choices, but at least one of them is easy on the eyes.”
“What are you talking about? I said pick a song to sing.”
Oh. Rui said stiffly, “You know I can’t sing.”
“Neither can Teshin, and they’re about to start their third ballad of the night.”
They both winced and then laughed as Teshin’s off-key warbling blasted from the speakers.
Ada poked her ribs. “So, which Song brother is easy on your eyes?”
“I’m taking that to my grave.” Rui mimed zipping her lips, wriggling out of Ada’s reach. “Oops, nature calls.”
Ada pretended to glare before joining the growing chorus of rosy-cheeked seniors surrounding Teshin as they gave their best-worst rendition of an angsty love song.
Outside the room, the club was marginally less noisy. It was a moonless night and there was no curfew. Just like the Night
Market, every restaurant and bar in the entertainment district was packed.
Squeezing past a harried-looking staffer, Rui went to the back of the club. She groaned at the queue outside the restroom
and got in line for the long wait.
She was finally done and washing her hands when two young women stumbled in. The shorter one crammed into a stall and slammed
the door shut.
“Hurry up,” her friend said as she reapplied her lipstick in the mirror. “I called us a cab home.”
“But why?” the girl in the stall whined.
“Haven’t you heard about the murders? I don’t want to stay out too late.”
“Don’t be a killjoy! The Exorcists will handle it. There’s no curfew tonight, and I’m here to enjoy myself.”
“Exorcists?” Miss Lipstick made a face, muttering to herself, “I doubt it.”
Rui stuck her wet hands under the hand dryer, trying not to scowl at the girl.
“Oh, just hurry up!” Miss Lipstick yelled at her friend above the roar of air.
Rui stomped out of the restroom. She was so annoyed she almost didn’t see the lean figure striding purposefully in her direction.
It took her a few moments to realize it was Zizi.
Gone were the pajamas he always wore, the ratty flip-flops he shuffled in, and that bat-wing cardigan she had a secret fondness for.
Instead, his silky shirt was tucked into a pair of slim black trousers, and he was wearing actual shoes—leather loafers with burnished gold buckles.
A black blazer draped over his shoulders, and an assortment of necklaces hung down, accentuating the cut of his neckline.
Even his hair looked different. The waves were slicked back to define his features, making him look older than his eighteen years.
“You’re not wearing pajamas,” Rui burst out.
“How good of you to notice,” Zizi said.
“What are you doing here?”
He gestured in the general direction of the restroom.
“No, I mean, what are you doing in a karaoke club?”
“What do most people do at a karaoke club?”
“Do you even sing?”
“Like an angel. I’d offer to serenade you right now, but my bladder protests.”
Resting a shoulder against the wall, Zizi gazed down at her, eyes half-lidded, lips hinting of amusement and something more.
Had he been drinking? He was a complete lightweight. Once, after failing to master a spell, he’d drunk half a bottle of hard
lemonade and spouted bad, morose poetry about how pretty her eyes were before falling asleep in her lap. They never spoke
of the incident, and Rui assumed he’d forgotten about it.
Zizi was swaying on his feet now. “I came here to hang out with some friends.”
“You mean criminals.”
He grinned crookedly, tapping her nose lightly with his finger. “Boop! Don’t forget you’re my friend, too.”
“Unfortunately.” Rui swatted his hand away, her cheeks suddenly warm. She knew they had to be beet red, and she was glad for
the poor lighting in the corridor.
“Well, I’m very glad I met you here.” He leaned down, lowering his voice. “I have news. Perhaps we can go outside to the alleyway?
To talk, not to take a leak.”
“I’m with the other cadets,” Rui said, suddenly worried that one of her schoolmates or a patron might catch her talking to
him. She checked, but no one around them was paying any attention.
Zizi frowned. “You’re not afraid of being seen with me, are you?”
“I don’t want anyone thinking I might be involved in something I’m not supposed to be.”
“Involved in something? Are you sure you don’t mean someone?”
“What are you talking about?”
His wounded expression vanished as quickly as it came. “Guess I’ll have to text you about you-know-what,” he said blithely.
If he had information about Hybrids or reversing the spell, she wanted to know immediately.
She grabbed his wrist.
Zizi’s eyes widened, but he allowed himself to be led outside. They ducked into an alley, searching for shadows to hide them
from the bright city lights. It was always like this with him: the clandestine meetings, the hiding, the moments that felt
stolen. It felt forbidden. It felt special.
Rui pushed that thought away. “What do you have to tell me?”
“Remember the client who hired me to create the separation spell? I was going to ask him why he needed it. I thought if I
found out the why, I might get closer to figuring out the how. Maybe it’ll help me reverse engineer it in a way that wouldn’t affect your spirit core and Mochi’s.”
“Did you talk to him? What did he say?”
“He was supposed to contact me a couple of weeks ago to check if the spell was ready, but he didn’t. I tracked him down. Guess
what? He’s dead. The man lived alone, no family. His neighbor said she heard he died of a heart attack. Seems a tad too convenient,
doesn’t it?”
“Are you reading too much into this?” Rui wondered. “Maybe the timing’s coincidental.”
“That’s what I thought. But then I found out I wasn’t the only one hired to create a spell like this. At least three other
mages had similar jobs.” Zizi paused, raking a hand through his hair. The slicked-back locks loosened, waves tumbling down
to his cheekbones, shadowing his eyes.
He was hiding something. “What aren’t you saying?” Rui asked.
He glanced away at the street.
“Zee zee.”
“Gods.” His shoulders lifted and sagged as he stared at her in a way that made her head fuzzy. “I can’t keep anything from you when you look at me like that.”
Feeling smug, Rui crossed her arms. “So tell me.”
“All three of the mages the man hired have disappeared.”
“Is that a euphemism for—”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if they’re still alive or dead. No one has seen or heard from them in weeks.”
Was Master Kang one of them? But she couldn’t ask that; Zizi would want to know why she was snooping around the Night Market.
“Are there any more mages who were hired but haven’t gone missing?” she said instead.
“I’m not sure. I’m still looking into it.”
It couldn’t be a coincidence. Even if Master Kang wasn’t one of the three mages, it only meant there were four missing ones.
She looked up at Zizi. His face was as familiar as her own. She couldn’t imagine what she’d do if anything happened to him.
“You’ll stay safe, right?” she said, a little shaky.
“I will.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. Leave the sleuthing to me and focus on getting better.”
“But I can—”
“You can stop by the shop to say hi,” Zizi suggested, grinning lopsidedly. “You haven’t in forever.”
“It’s only been a couple of weeks. I’ve been busy at school.”
“Time is a construct.” Zizi tried to stand straight, clearing his throat like he was an orator giving a grand speech. “Haven’t
you heard the saying? A day feels like three autumns when one is missing one’s beloved.”
Was he calling her his beloved? He’d definitely had a drink. Or three. Flustered, Rui latched onto a random thought. “When your spiritual energy
is transferred to someone else, does it make you more aware of them somehow?”
Zizi’s expression sharpened immediately. “Are you talking about Mochi?”
She couldn’t tell if he was peeved that she had changed the topic or that the topic she chose was Yiran.
“I want to know what the separation spell did to us, what it did to me. That’s all,” she said. “I’ve been sensing his feelings.
It’s not very clear—well, it is sometimes if it’s a strong feeling. Is that because of what happened between us? Are we connected
now?”
Zizi’s expression changed. Guilt battled with something else. Guilt won, and the something else folded away, tucked out of sight.
He turned away from her, his shoulders taut. “You’re both connected now, that much is true.” Rui thought he sounded a little
sad. “But I’m not sure if it manifests in the form of what you’re saying. It makes sense you’ll be hyperaware of each other
now, but this is new territory. The spell worked in a way I never anticipated. I don’t know the parameters.”
“How about Yiran’s spirit core? He’s not having problems at training.”
“He’s not? That’s odd, but maybe—”
Loud voices carried from the street. Rui heard a scuffle, and she felt—
Yiran.
She dashed out of the alley, and Zizi followed her.
Yiran and a muscular man were having a staring contest on the sidewalk next to the club. Yiran looked like a kettle about
to boil over.
The man had a dark stain on his khaki pants, like something had been spilled on him. He slammed a palm into Yiran’s chest,
and Yiran staggered back.